#i might read the book and see if its any good but idk

[technicolorxsn]

watched the new hunger games movie with my mom and aunt today and was looking it up on youtube after to see what other people's thoughts on it were and. I forgot people on youtube are so stupid

[withleeknow]

moonstruck.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst if you squint; they're in love <3, mentions of menstruation, there's a bit about orpheus and eurydice so you're not familiar you might want to look it up beforehand idk, not as edited as i'd like. not a lot of warnings here tbh it's just pretty mild and mellow saur 🤷‍♀️ (also i don't exactly love this but i hope you'll still tolerate it anyway lol) word count: 4.7k playlist 🎧: moonstruck - enhypen // this is how you fall in love - jeremy zucker ft. chelsea cutler // pansy - taemin // tightrope - zayn

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho is the kind of love that you thought only existed in movies and fairytales. Make-belief, too good to be true, out of reach.

When he rests his head on your shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep like he’s been doing for the past hour or so, you give into the urge to stare at him in wonder. An angel on earth, if there ever was one.

His long eyelashes that you could only dream to have, the slope of his nose, his pink pouty lips, his impeccably sharp jawline, and even his fluffy hair that’s ticking your cheek as you look at him as if you don’t get to see him like this every day. But that kind of beauty is something that demands to be showcased in the world’s most exquisite museum and admired by anyone who comes across it.

Minho is beautiful in every sense of the word.

And you adore him. You do. You love him with every single beat of your pathetic little heart and then some.

Surely, you must’ve saved a nation in one of your past lives to deserve someone as ethereal as him.

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss against his forehead. The touch makes him stir awake, eyelids fluttering open as he groggily looks around and stretches out his limbs, in the limited space that he has anyway. His sleepy voice asks you, “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet. I think they said we still have about forty minutes before we land. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Minho shakes his head, covering his mouth when a yawn forces its way out. He straightens his back to his full height sitting down, then slumps against the seat a little bit. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while his hands find one of your own to hold in his lap.

He rubs the skin of your fourth finger for a moment before he eventually stills, lightly snoring again while you look out the window, gazing at oddly shaped clouds and blues and the reflection of the sun on the waters below.

–

After you’ve checked into the hotel, freshened up and readied yourselves to explore the scenery, Minho takes you down to the beach. It’s a little chilly, spring hasn’t yet settled into summer. Even with a light jacket on, you still shiver every time the wind rushes by like it’s playing with the waters. But it’s nice – the sea breeze in your hair and the sunlight on your face, your lover by your side, his fingers intertwined with yours as you walk along the shore together. The blue of the sea almost blending in with the sky where they meet somewhere out there on the horizon. Seagulls flying overhead, families enjoying their relaxing vacation, children playing in the sand way down the shoreline where all you can make out are blurry silhouettes dancing about.

It’s paradise on earth. It’s an escape that you desperately needed. Exhilarated doesn’t even begin to describe how you felt when he told you that he’d booked a Jeju trip for your anniversary.

He’s always been the perfect partner. Always knows just the right thing to do for you whenever you need a pick-me-up. He may not seem like it, but Minho is beyond caring and considerate. He’s a man of few words but he certainly makes up for it with his actions.

“Hey,” he says, pointing somewhere ahead of you. “Remember what happened there?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes try to follow the direction of his finger, until they find a spot where two people are sitting, watching the water in front of them, content smiles passed between lips as they talk animatedly. “Didn’t you confess to me there?”

He smiles as the memory resurfaces in his mind. “Did you know I almost chickened out?”

You two started out as friends way before you got together.

Three years ago, just a few months after you’d both graduated from college, Minho asked you to go to Jeju island with him. You thought it was a little strange – though not that strange since you had been on trips with him before, but it was always in a group setting with all of your other friends. Never just the two of you.

Nonetheless, you agreed. You wanted to get out of the city anyway. You needed a change of scenery to clear your head and to recharge. Everything was starting to become too much for you - being 22 and in limbo. You felt like you kept falling behind no matter what you did. Everyone was moving forward and you were running in place no matter how hard you tried to get out of that slump.

Everyone around you was outgrowing you and your little life, and all you could do was pretend you were fine.

It was one of the lowest you’d ever felt, and you suppose that was why you said yes to Minho’s invitation. A vacation didn’t seem like it would help much, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

A few days away, with nothing but the sun and the sea to help you get out of your own head.

A tropical paradise and Minho. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were worse things you could think of.

That, and the fact that there had always been something between you and him. Not crazy sexual tension or anything, but just enough of a noticeable spark. An inkling of something that neither of you ever acted upon.

“Did you?” you ask. “Didn’t you plan the whole trip back then to confess?”

“What? No. Why would I willingly do that when you could’ve rejected me? Then I would’ve been stuck in a hotel with you and on the plane ride back.”

You squint at him. “Then why did you take me on that trip?”

Minho shrugs. “Friendship trip to cheer you up.”

Years with him and he still makes you feel as warm as he did the first time you kissed. You gaze at him with what must be the world’s most lovestruck look plastered on your face. You reach up to press your lips to the corner of his mouth, then watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“You did confess though,” you argue.

“Well, yeah, but that wasn’t planned,” he tells you. “You just... We were sitting right there,” he tips his chin toward the same spot again, “and you had my jacket on because you were cold. You were watching the sunset and you looked so pretty. I couldn’t help it. Almost chickened out though.”

You stop walking, and this makes him stop too. Minho glances at you with his head slightly tilted, wearing a puzzled expression.

“You never told me that,” you say.

“You never asked.”

Pouting, you tug him toward you until he’s close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Minho is good, so incredibly good for you that sometimes you can’t possibly fathom how you even deserve him. He never meant to get anything out of it; he just saw that you were struggling and wanted to make it better for you.

Maybe you didn’t do a very good job at pretending, not if Minho could see right through you.

Before him, you had a fear of heights. Not the literal kind, but rather the kind of heights that often accompanies big leaps, big changes. A fear of falling, maybe that would be more accurate. Falling and failing and hitting rock bottom with no way to climb back up. A fear that you would always be stuck with this life forever, trapped in an existence you never asked for. A fear that no effort to escape your reality would be enough, and you’ll always be trailing ten steps behind even if you try twenty times as hard.

You pull him down so you could properly kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly like he was made for you, like he’s the only person you’re ever meant to kiss in this lifetime. You can taste his smile, minty and happy as he moves against your mouth, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you to his body by the small of your back.

“If I had known,” Minho pulls away slightly, mumbling against your lips, “telling you that would get me brownie points, I would’ve told you ages ago.”

You roll your eyes with affection.

“So all this time,“ he says, “you thought I asked you on that trip just to get into your pants?”

“You did get into my pants on that trip!”

“Let me remind you that I only wanted to do something nice for you. You were the one who almost jumped my bones right then and there after I said I liked you.”

You slap his chest as he throws his head back in a hearty laugh. Minho takes your hand in his once more as he drags you along, savoring the cool sea breeze and the golden daylight dancing on glittering waters before the sun bids you goodbye.

Minho is the kind of love that makes you want to curl up into a ball and ugly cry for an hour straight.

In a good way, of course. In the best way possible.

So that’s what you do, on a fine Tuesday afternoon, sitting on a couch surrounded by three cats as you wait for him to come home, perfectly sheltered from the harsh sun outside.

He returns eventually, toward the end of your crying session. When he sees the pile of tissues on the coffee table, soaked with your tears and snot, his heart nearly falls out of his ass.

Minho drops everything, rushing to you like you’re on the verge of spontaneous human combustion because clearly, this is a normal reaction to have when you come home to a girlfriend who’s been sobbing in the dark for god knows how long.

That, and the fact that said girlfriend doesn’t cry very often. Not by herself and certainly not in front of others.

Doesn’t mean that you’re immune to the occasional bouts of tears whenever shark week closes in, though.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Another rush of tears breaks as you look at him. You wipe your eyes and your nose with the tissue you’re currently holding, before throwing it on the table to join the pile you’ve accumulated.

You launch yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. The sudden force takes him aback, makes him gasp a little.

He freezes as you cling to him like a desperate koala, before his hands slowly land on your back, rubbing slowly, hesitantly, as though he’s afraid he’s hurting you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

“PMS,“ you hiccup your answer out, to which Minho only responds with a relieved Ah, his hands now moving more assuredly on your body.

“Anything hurt? Sore?”

“No. Just… missed you today. Love you a lot.”

There’s something saccharine in his gaze when he pulls back and regards you with his big doe eyes, softened and endeared, yet there’s still a twinkle of mischief peeking through the sugary glaze.

He moves to make himself comfortable next to you on the couch but still makes sure to keep a hand on you so you don’t grow impatient.

Once he’s effectively squished between you and the armrest of the sofa, he says, “You missed me so much that you started crying? You could’ve texted me, or called. I would’ve come home sooner, crybaby.”

“I didn’t cry because I missed you. I cried because I love you.”

He pretends to think for a moment. “I honestly can’t tell if I should be offended or not.”

You jab a finger at his ribs.

Sure, the mere thought of Minho brings tears to your eyes sometimes. It’s not really a secret anymore.

There’s something about him, just him, how wonderful he is and how all of the stars in the sky must have aligned themselves to make you and him happen. He’s the love of your entire life, there’s never been any doubt about it. Your other half, perfect for you.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you’re positive that you will never feel this way about anyone ever again. Your love for him runs so deep, so powerful that it overwhelms you at times, drowns you in nothing but affection for him and only him. A love that spreads like wildfire through your calm and sacred forest.

It’s cliché beyond words, that one day you would be having these thoughts about someone. You used to watch this kind of sentiment romanticized in movies, used to cringe and laugh at sappy lines in books and TV shows though there was always a part of you that longed for that kind of love.

You didn’t talk about it often, not even with the people closest to you. You always found it a little embarrassing to admit that you wanted love. To love and to be loved. There was something so utterly vulnerable in the act of yearning and isn’t it such a scary thing? To be vulnerable? You never saw the appeal in showing someone the deepest, darkest parts of you.

What if they leave? What if you bare yourself to someone and they deem you not worth staying for? How would you come back from that kind of rejection?

You suppose it always held you back - the fear of being open that goes hand in hand with the fear of being left behind. Maybe you have more fears than you’d like to admit.

Then came Minho.

No, that doesn’t sound right.

He didn’t come crashing into your life like a tidal wave and unraveled your every belief.

He was always there by your side, a calming presence that you could lean on when things got tough. A friend, a solid foundation. He’s the relief after every monsoon, the first day of sun after a long and harsh winter.

He saw you for who you were, all the messiest parts of you, and loved you anyway. In spite of your mess? Because of your mess.

He taught you that love isn’t always extravagant gestures and grand declarations that Shakespeare would applaud.

Love is acceptance. Love is staying with you on your gloomiest days and holding your hand through your dreariest moments. Love is lingering glances by the doorway before he goes to work because you’re half asleep but you’re still trying to reach for him even in your dreams.

It’s sharing joys and burdens alike. Reminders to eat and gentle wake-up calls. A photo of you in his wallet, a silly picture of him as your phone’s wallpaper. Giggling with him after he tells a joke not because of the punchline itself, but because his manic chortle is even funnier.

Love is Minho cradling your face in one hand and holding onto your shaking fingers with the other, his steady gaze holding yours, and his voice whispering gently in the darkest of nights, “Your storm is my storm.”

At the end of the day, love is pretty simple. Love is him.

“Do you ever think about Orpheus and Eurydice?”

Minho laughs, the sound vibrating where you lay your head, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing the skin of your waist over your shirt. “No, I don’t think about Orpheus and Eurydice.”

You figured as much.

Your fingers trace invisible patterns on his chest as you hum your acknowledgment. Then you ask, “If it was me, if you were Orpheus, would you look back?”

His hands pause their ministrations, a little taken aback by the question you suppose. Your brain tends to pingpong between the most random things sometimes.

“You know,“ he says with an even voice, though the corner of his mouth still curls upward in amusement. “Other people just ask the worm thing.”

“The worm thing is boring. And we both know you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm either.”

“That’s true. I don’t like worms,” you agree, chuckling while your boyfriend scoffs. “Answer the question, would you look back?”

There’s no right answer because you’re not expecting a correct response. It’s a hypothesis that can never be tested because you aren’t a nymph and Minho isn’t a bard with the ability to sway all life with his music. It’s a silly thought but it’s one that you’re curious about nonetheless, just to hear what he would say. Why not?

You’ve read many interpretations of the tragedy. In some, Orpheus hears Eurydice stumble and turns to catch her fall. In others, he can’t hear her at all. The story will forever be among your favorites, one of the things that never fails to turn you inside out no matter how many times you mull over it.

Minho is quiet for a moment. You think he’s about to shoot back with a witty retort that he always has up his sleeves, probably something about how he would find a loophole and trick his way out of the deal, or that he would personally fistfight Hades to get you out of the underworld. This wouldn’t surprise you at all.

Instead, he says, “Yes, I would look back.”

But regardless of how you choose to view the myth, the ending does not change. Orpheus always turns around.

He turns around because he loves her.

Minho’s fingers slip under your shirt to brush your bare skin, angling his head sideways so he could kiss your forehead. 

Maybe he’s just saying it for the sake of being romantic, for the sake of saying what seems to be the right thing. It’s an answer that you can never give substance to, but you believe him with all your heart.

You believe him. You do.

“If it’s you, I would look back.”

Minho is the kind of love that eclipses the sun and dims the light of the moon. The kind of love that drowns out all the noise and makes everything a little more bearable. Not just the most horrible things – your fears and struggles alike – but even the smallest, most mundane things.

If there’s one thing that you absolutely hate, it’s the smell of nail polish. You hate the way it lingers in the air even after the bottle has been capped, hate how the smell of toluene stains your fingertips even after washing your hands several times with scented soap.

Though, the only time you try to tolerate it is when Minho convinces you to stay in and pamper each other. Pizzas that he picks up for dinner and tiramisu ice cream for dessert. Face masks and fancy candles that you save for special occasions. SoonDoongDori napping on various surfaces in your living room, an old vinyl playing from the record player he got you for your first birthday you shared together after you started dating.

You each take turns doing the other’s nails on the carpeted floor. It’s become somewhat of a tradition that you indulge in every month, where you would spend cozy Friday evenings indoors just because neither of you can be assed to indulge in a “proper“ date night. Being hermits together sounds infinitely more appealing to you than any other alternative.

“I’m not done,” you say, snatching Minho’s hand back after he pulls it away to admire your work. You blow on his fingers to make sure that the layer of black polish you applied earlier is dry, then you’re reaching for a bottle of beige polish sitting amongst the ones scattered on the floor. You take a tiny brush from the nail kit - one that’s rarely ever touched because neither of you knows how to do nail art - and dip it into the sand-colored polish.

“What are you doing?“ he asks, watching as you trace some squiggly lines on his middle finger, the lighter color settling nicely on top of the black even if he has no idea what you’re trying to draw. “What is that?”

“Soonie,” you say simply. “When you flip people off, you can show them Soonie.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that his attention is fixed on you even though he doesn’t give you a response. You feel his gaze on the side of your face, soft and warm and never leaving for even a second. He doesn’t say anything while you work though, maybe he doesn’t want to mess up your concentration while you’re so engrossed in what you’re doing. He only chuckles at your answer, then nothing afterward.

You don’t mind the lack of conversation. It helps you focus better on what you’re doing because you’re no artist by any means. You can’t draw to save your life, let alone master something as intricate as nail art, but this is therapeutic. It’s perfect to help you unwind after a long week - doodling your beloved cat on your boyfriend’s nails while Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls sets the ambience. You’ll get the ice cream when you’re done with your impromptu project, along with a little headache from inhaling too much of the polish scent perhaps, but isn’t that a small price to pay?

You take your sweet time with the teeny tiny details, like Soonie’s delicate whiskers and the darker strips of fur on his face. He still turns out a little wonky, a little lopsided here and there but it’s not like you expected it to turn out like a Picasso.

The real Soonie seems to sense a disturbance in the force when he wakes up from his nap and saunters toward you curiously. You pick him up and sit him in your lap so he doesn’t come too close to the fresh polish on Minho’s nails. “Look,” you say with a proud smile, pointing toward the small cat doodle. “That’s you.”

He studies it for a moment, focused on your portrayal of him but then he’s quick to decide that he’s not interested anymore before wiggling away from your lap to go join Doongie on the couch. You chuckle lightly, watching him as he walks off, wondering if this is what it will feel like when your future children enter their teenage years.

When you turn back to Minho, he’s still staring at you, a dazed look in his eyes as he blinks slowly, his hand resting limply on his thigh.

“What?” you ask. “Do you not like–”

“Marry me.”

The rest of your question dies in your throat, wilting away like cherry blossoms when summer nears. He doesn’t break eye contact, still that dreamy gaze when he peers at you. Nothing has ever changed in the way that he looks at you.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. You think anyone would be when their boyfriend drops a proposal out of nowhere while you’re doing each other’s nails in your comfiest sweatpants.

Everything that you’ve been afraid of comes bubbling to the surface, every doubt, every fear, even every fleeting insecurity. They manifest as a ringing in your ears, a buzzing in your head that makes it hard to think about anything at all.

But then he shuffles closer, closer and closer until his warm breath fans your cheek, his nose nudging your cheekbone gently. It’s similar to what Doongie does sometimes when you’re lounging in bed and he just wants some love.

When Minho takes your hand and laces your fingers together in his lap, everything stills. The rumbling comes to a halt, the distant thunder fading slowly into the background of your mind palace until it’s reduced to mere white noise. “Marry me,“ he says again, and his voice is so tender that you ache. Tender and sweet and so full of wonderful adoration. If you ever have to describe what love sounds like, you would say it’s him and his voice, right here and right in this exact moment.

“A little dramatic to propose just because I drew your cat.”

He chuckles, presses a kiss to your cheek before he ducks down to deliver another kiss on the side of your neck. Then he pulls back, just enough to get a clear view of you and your now glassy eyes.

“Bottom drawer in our bedroom,” he tells you. You can’t lie; you have half a mind to leave him here and go check. “I bought the ring two months ago, but I knew I wanted to marry you two years before that. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do it but I realized the perfect moment doesn’t exist, because every minute I spend with you is perfect. I love you so much. It’s not because you drew me my cat, by the way. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.

“I love your weird brain and your blanket-hogging ass. I love that you’re crazy enough to listen to a song literally over a thousand times without getting bored. I even love you when you set ten alarms in the morning and still manage to sleep through all of them. I know you hate your smile but it’s my favorite smile in the world. Did you know my favorite color is the color of your eyes? The best part of my day is when I get to come home to you and the kids waiting for me. I want all of you forever. I promise I’ll love you twice as much on days that you don’t love yourself. When we’re old and gray and we look like raisins, I’ll let you go first so you won’t have to spend a single day alone. I’ll–” He stops when you let out a teary giggle, no bite in his voice at all when he says, “Please don’t laugh at me during my big romantic speech.” 

It only makes you laugh harder, though it’s just as emotional. If you focus on the other part of his sentence, you’ll only crumble into a million pieces right here.  “How very romantic of you to include the visual of us as raisins in your speech.”

Minho rolls his eyes – fondly, of course. When he pretends to squirm away from you, you tug him back by the collar of his shirt to plant an apologetic kiss on his lips which he eagerly accepts.

“Please continue,” you say, smiling against his mouth. “Tell me all the ways that you’ll love me.”

“You ruined it. I retract my proposal,” he grumbles, but his arms betray his words when they tighten around your frame, holding you close to him to steal another kiss. Then another, and another, until your faces are wet with tears and you realize that you’re both crying.

“I’m sorry,” you say through sniffles and tears. “Please keep going.”

“Make it up to me first.”

“How?”

“Marry me,” he repeats a final time. “I’ll give you a better speech on our wedding day.”

Years and years from now, when you’re old and gray and look like raisins – as he so poetically put it – you’ll remember this moment down to every miniscule detail. How the cats’ peace is disturbed by your tearful giggles and the strange look they give you before wandering out of the room, in favor of somewhere without two crying idiots. How the record starts skipping but neither of you can be bothered to do anything about the obnoxious sound. How the material of his shirt feels when you bunch the fabric in your hands because you need to kiss him, need him to be as close as humanly possible.

You’ll remember the sob that he hiccups when you tell him through choked up whispers, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” and how his lips feel when they tremble against your skin. You’ll remember the way he holds onto you like a lifeline, because he’s always been your salvation for as long as you’ve known him. You’ll remember what happens after, later that night when he finally slips the ring onto your finger. The words he whispers into the crook of your neck, “You mean the world to me,” and the emotions in his voice when you both realize this is the start of the rest of forever.

You’ll remember everything, all of it, every clumsy touch and every graceless kiss. Ugly crying on the floor and yet, it’s more perfect than anything you can ever dream of.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 13.07.2024]

[stealingyourbones]

I don't really get the people who think reading the comics is such a radical idea. Don't they want to learn more about them? aren't they curious what makes them tick? what insane adventures they went on? what fears they have? what makes them laugh and smile? I'm from europe so I haven't seen any of the DC shows I see mentioned every once in a while (which means I really don't get the whole Clark hates clones thing... but that's a different thing) and it's only been this year that I have enough disposable income to splurge on comics, aka I haven't read that many just yet.

But I do think the ones I have read enhance the stories I'm trying to tell, which to me is a good reason to read them ;p but besides that, they are fun! they are just really fun to read

I’m glad you’re having fun reading comics man! It’s a shame that folks don’t read them as much but you know, I can understand it. I both asked some folks in the Haunting Heroes discord server and have some of my own points to make about this.

First of all I do still believe that you should consume some form of DC media if you’re in the fandom. It’s fun and there are comics, books, movies, tv shows, and every other form of medium known to man that you can take a peek at! Idk I’m just a bit DC enjoyer and think that looking at canon media to expand on your knowledge and help create ideas you wouldn’t have had if you hadn’t looked at said piece of media.

Now onto why reading comic books is hard:

Some folks simply prefer the fandom and not the official DC content. Whether they prefer fanon, find fics more accessible, or like the people in the fandom, they’d rather just stick to the fandom.

They simply don’t know where to start. Getting into comics can be INCREDIBLY overwhelming ( DC has done their best to fix this and has messed up more than once. My go to is to reccomend folks just start reading New 52 comic runs as it’s really good for new readers to jump into the comics with any hero that might intrigue them). Big comic events span multiple comic story runs and not a cohesive line of comics, some omnibuses for stories are out of print, the 80+ years of comics are daunting as hell, and everyone has their own opinion on the best versions of a character/where to start/what to read.

Money. Comics are an expensive hobby to have. They may cost $1-$5 each on average but that price adds up over time. I have a comic collection of roughly 1,300 comics. I’d estimate its value very roughly around the $7,800 range. It’s probably far more than that though and I know damn well reselling it I won’t get half of that value back. I’m very fortunate to be a college student with disposable income and for this hobby to be the only thing I ever really spend money on besides rent and food. Some people either can’t afford them or don’t want to buy a comic they don’t know if it’s good or not.

Varying quality. Comics are a very mixed bag thing where they can be incredibly written or some of the worst pieces of media you’ve ever read. With this being the case, it can be really hard to find a comic character or writer you like if that’s your first experience. It takes a while to learn about different writers and find out who your favorite writers are. What’s harder is some writers can make absolute masterpieces with one character and the next comic run they cover it can be absolute garbage. Not only that, everyone has opinions on what is a good comic run or not. It’s impossible to find a repeatedly stated and easily accessible list on the good comics to read.

Pretentious “Canon is God” fans. Experiencing “um actually this isn’t good because this isn’t how the canon character would act” responses from people can really fucking suck and diminish their want to experience anything that’s official DC writing. I’ve seen more than one person go into this primarily fanon focused space and insult people saying their writing isn’t canonical and therefore it isn’t valid. It’s Uber Pretentious, demeaning, and actively harms peoples interests in checking out canon content.

Timelines. I already kind of said it but DC’s timelines are a mess. hell, even New 52 has some fucked up timelines making all of Batman’s previous timelines canon but happen only within a seven year period. That’s WAY too short for how much history is packed in there. The amount of crisises that happen and fully change the lore and timelines of characters is bonkers, the comic runs that bounce between different comic runs are really confusing, and the fact that there isn’t a True Starting Point for reading makes it so hard to grasp anything that’s happening. It’s one of comics biggest issues and no matter what DC has done they have yet to find a convenient solution.

Sensitive Content. Comics from DC are littered with either intentional, badly aged, or ignorantly written plot points and writing choices that will turn away readers. DC has its fair share of sexism, misogyny, abelism, racism, abuse, sexual harassment, sexual assaults, or topics casually addressed that can be very triggering for some people. Especially since a large amount of that sort of content is handled incredibly poorly. One particular writer, Alan Moore, writes sexual assault scenes with absolutely zero tact or the delicateness that a topic such as that should be held in. It’s almost solely used as a “let’s make the bad guy do the most fucked up thing they could do” throwaway plot point. Comics of the sort dissuade a lot of readers because of both the heavy content within comics and how that content can be incredibly poorly handled. This is partially why some folks would prefer to read fics. Comics are a unknown mixed grab bag when it comes to content like this and things exactly like this is known to make PTSD symptoms worse while fics have tags and can warn you before you consume the content within.

Time. A lot of folks have busy lives and just don’t have the time to read them.

The ways they intake media. Some folks might have a better time watching a long commentary video that explains a comic or their brain can’t process the comic medium very well. I can read and retain comic knowledge but even I am unique in this aspect, my memory is frightening levels of bad and is proven by science to be absolute shit. I have to reread comics at least once a month to retain the basic bare bones plot. Just because one person can easily digest what’s going on in a comic doesn’t mean everyone can.

Comics are such a big part of my life. I love them so much and they’ve gotten me through so many things. My own experience with comics isn’t the same for others and my thoughts on reading comics differs with other people. A lot of people have equally as many reasons for why they don’t read comics as you and I have for reading them.

[weast-of-eden]

I've been thinking about how I could contribute to the ACD/Granada Sherlock Holmes fandom for a while, seeing as I'm neither an artist, a writer, or anything actually useful lol. But then I realized something I myself always treasure are curated fic recs, which I could actually do! I've read probably like 25% of all the h/w ACD and Granada fics on ao3, so I compiled a short list for anyone who is just starting out with the fandom. Without further ado, may I present

Eden’s Top Picks for Beginning ACD/Granada Fics:

(edit: i made a second list here!!)

The Adventure of the Doctor's Heart by mistyzeo 12k | Rated E Summary: Holmes has observed much of Watson's habits and tastes over time, which is why it surprises him when his friend objects strangely to a folk song sung at the conclusion of a case. Disturbed by the Doctor's unexpected display of emotion, Holmes becomes determined to lift his spirits by any means necessary, with mixed results. Notes: obviously if you're going to read canonverse h/w, you are going to read mistyzeo. this one is just so good and angsty and features music (!!). it's got some steaminess but it also has wooing. basically it has everything you ever need. this is my odyssey, my iliad, my hamlet, etc.

Cameo by what_alchemy 8k | Rated M | For Archive Users Only Summary: Holmes and Watson become embroiled in a case Scotland Yard refuses to acknowledge. A soulmate AU. Notes: i honestly skipped over this fic for a while, since i'm not the biggest fan of soulmate aus. do not make the same mistake i did, because this shit HITS. this fic has hit after hit: soulmate-mark based case for our main duo, angst, hiatus feels, MORE ANGST, and ofc a happy ending. ugh. read this fic if you enjoy being happy.

A Tide That Does Not Turn by tweedisgood 3k | Rated T Summary: Holmes is a very bad patient with a devoted doctor who adores him. Watson wishes it was safe to speak up, but his friend is a tide that does not turn. Notes: do NOT read this if you don't like angst... ok now i'm sensing a pattern. anyways this is the first hurt/no comfort fic i read for this tag and i literally have cried more than enough tears over it. poor, poor watson :( iconic author though, read everything they write!

The Adventure of the Glad Outlaw by radondoran 7k | Rated T Summary: While Sherlock Holmes solves the mystery of a student's disappearance, Dr. Watson is more puzzled by the changing dynamic between his flatmate and himself. Notes: cute pastiche! a nice little mystery and a nice little get-together. ahhhhhh.... this fic is like cotton candy to me, so sweet and fluffy. defo recommend

Hands by MinorObsessions (draculard) 1.4k | Rated T Summary: Naturally, there are some things Watson thinks about Holmes that don't make it into the books. Notes: i'm also in the star trek fandom, so if you know anything about that then you know that hands are kind of A Thing in both circles and ergo i now Have A Thing about hands. so this is a nice little ode to holmes' hands, featuring some doctoring by watson AND a nice reverse appraisal at the end. it's so sweet :)

Conductor of Light by ColebaltBlue  1.4k | Rated T Summary: A Victorian stiff upper lip won't prevent you from falling in love, but it might prevent you from realizing it. Notes: they finally get their shit together! honestly i would recommend this fic to anyone just starting out with h/w fics in any medium. the characterization and dialogue is A1, and their argument is really realistic to me, idk. also features the iconic HOUN quote for its title so props to that!

A (Mis)fortunate Man by sans_patronymic 1.5k | Rated T Summary: December, 1880. Watson writes a note which may be his last. December, 1899. Watson writes back. Notes: READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING. this was a gut-wrenching read but god i cried at the end for watson. don't worry, this one has a happy ending. ugh now i wish there was a second chapter where watson lets holmes read the letters. to sum up: oof, my heart

The Second Smartest Man in London by FairSinner 73k | Rated E Summary: Dr John Watson returns from Afghanistan to Victorian London, wounded, traumatised and alone. When he meets Sherlock Holmes, his life begins to seem worth living again. But Holmes is a man who despises sentiment and Watson cannot seem to expunge it from his heart. Notes: congrats, you've made it to the end!! so now i must confess that it's been a loooong time since i've read this fic, but the private note i left on my bookmark was just "holy shit", so i'm sure it's a banger. i'm also sure it has angst because i love angst and i love bookmarking angst so i can read it again and again and suffer infinitely. enjoy :)

anyways, now that i've put these all here i realized how much i enjoy angst and hurt/no comfort fics. if any of you guys have a favorite fic you want to link or want to plug your own writing, feel free to!

[vvanillavveins]

I'm just going to say it: i love Good Omens for its ace-coding (and/or potential aro-coding, too). And, i think that it's very easy to view Crowley & Aziraphale as queerplatonic. When i say that, i don't mean that people are wrong for seeing their dynamic as purely romantic, i'm not at all dismissing the pair's obvious love and care and devotion towards one another. All i mean is that, if you want to, it's easy to read that love and care and devotion as platonic, i.e., a love for the other person's soul, above anything else. And that aspect of it heals a little part of my own soul every time i watch it.

Idk, it's just something about all of their little rituals, the thoughtful compliments, the favours and the gift-giving- done out of genuine kindness, not expecting anything in return except for getting to watch the other smile. Every interaction is full of symbolism and meaning, yet without being based on overt romantic love. It's also about how they can admire each other without touching- not because they don't love each other exactly- but because they are already so aware of their inherent togetherness that there is no real need to prove it through touch. Their relationship transcends physicality in the same way it seems to go beyond the boundaries of traditional romance. Even with the kiss in season 2, we know that it is not part of their established ways of showing affection, and we are shown that neither of them are comfortable with it because of that.

They've spent 6000 years cultivating their own unique love language, and the show goes to great lengths to keep expanding on that- not just throw it away or completely change it once Heaven and Hell are less involved in their lives on Earth. Crowley & Aziraphale's development together really is a beautiful thing to watch- and idk about any of you- but positive or even just neutral portrayal of non-traditional, sexless relationships feels like a rareity, especially when it comes to television. That's why this show is such a big source of comfort for me personally.

I'm autistic- so this might just be yet another case of me just not 'getting it', since i can't read faces or tones of voice- and therefore i'm just not seeing what everyone else is, but i'm hoping at least one other person out there interprets it this way too.

...

[I am talking about the TV show here; their asexuality felt a lot more overt in the book]

[dadyscumslutprincess20]

hi! was looking for park chan yeong, and saw your post 🤩 are your requests still open? Could you write something about chan yeong getting really hurt 😭 and then fem!reader taking care of him 🥺? Please 🙏 (english is not my first language, sorry for any mistake and if my ask is not very much to understand)

Chan Yeong X fem reader

Genre: idk honestly 😭

Small summary : After cleaning your small room/living space that you had in the survivors shelter/camp as you decided to read a book as you waited for your boyfriend Park Chan Yeong to arrive

(This one might be short I want to try to get 2 done before taking a nap since I’m not feeling well☹️)

It was some time after noon as you finished rearranging your book shelf, as it was filled with all kinds of books since Park Chan Yeong always make it his priority to bring back at least two books for me to try out

Letting out a soft sigh as you stood to your feet , stretching you arms as you felt your muscles become relaxed , once you got a good stretch

Your eyes quickly scan the small room , there wasn’t much , on the right side of the room , you had a bookshelf that have three shelves full of books , a old broken down dresser that was still useful for your clothes

Looking to the left side of the room , which contained your full sized bed , a small nightstand that had a small lap that lift up the left side of the room

Min the middle there was a small table , which you had your remaining makeup , bottles of water , sketches that you drew out of boredom , pencils that were scattered over the table and a framed photo of you and Chan Yeong

Walking towards the small table that sat in the middle of the room as you pick up the small framed photo , as the corner of your lips start to form in to a small smile

The picture was taken a month before the apocalypse started , you were facing the camera , with a huge smile while you eyes looked as if they sparked through the photo

As Cha Yeong had his arms wrapped around your waist , head hiding in your neck.. you couldn’t tell in the picture but he was also holding a huge smile almost as big as yours , while you held your small poodle in your arms

It was a happy family photo is what you always thought to yourself , slightly smiling as you sit the picture frame back on in its place on the small table

Letting out a small yawn as you head for your bed , heading back for your book shelve , quickly choosing a book as you head for your full sized bed

Climbing in bed as you wrap the warm comforter around your body , quickly opening your book where you last left off as you start to read in silence , ignoring out any noises that came from the hallways

As you were so invested in your book that you didn’t notice the bed room door slowly creek open , as the unknown figure slowly walks into the room , not looking up until you heard some one let out groan a of pain

Quickly sitting your book next to you on the bed as you turn to see a cut and bruised Park Chan Yeong , standing to your feet as you rush to Yeong in a hurry , carefully grabbing both sides of his cheeks in your hands as you turn his head left and right quietly examining Chan Yeong’s face not noticing as he loves at you with love

Grabbing a hold of his arm as you quickly pull him towards the bed giving him a slight push as he falls to a seating position, eyes watching as you head for the dresser , taking out a first ad kit from the very top drawer , quickly heading for Chan Yeong as you sit on his lap carefully as you place each leg at his side coming face to face with Chan Yeong

Silently looking down as you open the first ad kit , grabbing a cotton ball as you pour a good amount of disinfectant, carefully taking the cotton ball as you softly dab the cut that was at the right corner o his lip

Taking a new cotton ball as you do the same with the disinfectant now cleaning the cut above his eyes which seemed to lose lots of blood

Once you were finished you take a bit of ointment to put over the now clean cuts , as tears starts to build in your eyes , also why falling down your checks as you think of something bad happening to Cha Yeong that would leave you all alone

As if sensing your thoughts Chan Yeong slowly raise his right hand as he softly wipes away your tears

“I’m okay..don’t cry” Chan Yeong says as he gives your check as soft kiss , softly pulling you into his in-brace as he lays back on the bed not letting you go once as your softly cry yourself to sleep knowing that he was now safe with you

[pub-lius]

hiiii :3

i just read your response to an ask about your reason for disliking ron chernow’s alexander hamilton book, and i wanted to ask if i can still use it as source for some info. i’ve done my fair share of research on various topics and my opinions/what i’ve read differentiated strongly sometimes from what he wrote, but some things are just hard to come by (as somebody not from the US who doesn’t have local resources and has to rely on stuff i can find online). what do you suggest i do if i want more accurate info? i know the founders archive but other than that i haven’t found a lot of trustworthy sources concerning the amrev that aren’t $300 textbooks?

idk- sorry this is really long :,) i’m not sure in im making any sense haha

Girl have you seen the length of my posts? This is not long at all, and you make perfect sense.

And if you have seen my posts, you may notice that Chernow is my most frequent citation because of how valuable his biographies are as sources. He does intensely thorough research and his index and bibliography are so extensive, I can’t even make a joke about getting them as a tramp stamp.

Chernow is a great source and I do recommend any starting Hamilton scholar to get a copy, if you have the means and patience. The downfalls of it are its a hard read and his personal interpretations are heavily skewed and biased in various directions, which is only different from other historians because he doesn’t give proper evidence and substantiation to these claims. All you need to have in order to recognize this is basic critical thinking skills. Tl;dr: Chernow is a great source, he’s just fucking annoying and I hate him.

One very good thing about Chernow is that his book is so (painfully) extensive, that it can serve as a source for more than just Hamilton, so there’s no shame in using him as a source for *checks notes* how the island of St. Kitts and Nevis was formed from a volcano, if you’re into that.

I see your inability to access US propaganda and I raise you youtube documentaries. That may sound crazy, but you can put it on in the background and cross reference between them (usually repeated details are closest to the truth). They can also be entertaining, especially if they’re from the 80s (i love the 80s). Additionally, if you’re looking for archives, @maip--macrothorax can tell you all the benefits of Internet Archive (if they aren’t too busy borrowing all of the books on there /lh). You can also find a lot of things on the Library of Congress’s website, and also my favorite governmental department:

THE NATIONAL PARK SERVICE!!

Go to the national park service, it includes all the battlefields, important buildings, where important buildings used to be, the houses of historical figures, and really pretty parks (also like mount gaymore (rushmore) and shit but wtvr). They have tons of information and great archivists and librarians and i long for their jobs. Also, American Battlefield Trust, Mount Vernon, The Museum of the American Revolution, etc. also have great sources and tons of information- along with wonderful reenactments that they have on youtube!!

I also do my best to make these sources as accessible as possible, so if you do some perusing you might be able to find some of this stuff here, but I am always happy to answer asks with links or research though I am very slow (sorry). And of course, my dms are open and I probably wouldn’t be totally infuriated if you found me at my local library and asked for directions to the non-fiction section. I am the personal librarian of tumblr.com, so ask away and I’ll be there!!

[thebiggerbear]

Let Me Set Your World on Fire

Summary: While on a hunt, you all get stuck in an abandoned cabin in the woods due to a snowstorm that comes out of nowhere. It's cold as hell (Cas' fact checking not withstanding) and both you and Dean are trying to fight off the icy temperatures. When Cas offers his coat to Dean, in usual Michael fashion, the archangel offers you something bigger and more to his liking than a simple article of clothing to keep you warm.

Pairing: Michael!Dean x Female!Huntress!Reader; background hints of Destiel if you squint

A/N: Inspired by this post by @angelicbros 💖💖 that had me laughing for a good five minutes because I could absolutely see that happening with those characters and dynamics. Idk if this turned out okay or not but it was so much fun to write.

I'll admit that I wrote about 5k more than what's posted here, which was mostly background of how Michael!Dean and the Reader's relationship came to be, how Michael looks the way he does, why Team Free Will puts up with him, where Jack is, etc., but ultimately, I really felt it got away from the theme of what I was going for so I cut it out. I think I might clean it up and post it separately.

And you just know that Dean would be super grumpy if Baby was stuck in a snowstorm. 😉

All unbeta'd.

Warnings: implied sex; language

Word Count: 2529

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Supernaural Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @just-levyy; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith

@muhahaha303; @mariahoedt; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007

@onlyangel-444

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24

You can also read on AO3

You blew warm air into your hands and rubbed them together. You and the Winchesters were stuck in a cabin in the woods while a snowstorm raged outside. Dean had complained earlier about Baby being stuck out there, getting pounded by ice, snow, and who knew what else. “I better not see a single scratch on her,” he warned Sam. He then groused about her probably needing a new paint job once this was over, a mere three months after the last one. 

You had been hunting a pack of werewolves, hot on their trail, when the blizzard from hell came out of nowhere, forcing you to find some form of shelter quickly. Cas had disagreed when you called the storm as such. It was a known fact that snow didn’t come from Hell, it came from a weather system on Earth. Besides there was nothing cold about the pit; Chuck and Lucifer had made sure of that. Dean and Sam had joined you in your stunned disbelief at Cas’ matter-of-fact tone before you all shook your heads and continued looking for materials to burn in the fireplace. Sam had managed to find some scraps of old newspapers in the long abandoned cabin and an old book of matches that had one good match left. So now, there was a small fire burning but from the looks of it, it wasn’t going to last long.

Sam kept checking for cell service but no such luck. You and Dean sat in two opposing chairs, facing towards the fire. “Anything?” Dean asked his brother. Sam glanced at the screen and shook his head. “Dammit.”

Dean blew into his hands just like you had and then crossed his arms, keeping his fingers underneath the material of his jacket. None of you were dressed for this extreme weather or temperature drop. If you didn’t know any better, you could swear some magical being or entity was causing this sudden storm to hit. Sure, Washington was known for its colder, wetter weather most of the time, including snow that could start falling at the drop of a hat, but this fast and this hard…you tended to doubt it. Especially when you had been closing in on the werewolf pack.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas asked, drawing your attention to the eldest Winchester.

“Yeah, just cold but I’m good.” He then blew more warm air into his hands. “Can’t believe this freaking place doesn’t have blankets or something,” he muttered.

Suddenly, Cas stripped off his trenchcoat and draped it over Dean.

“I’m fine,” Dean protested grumpily, trying to push the coat away, but Cas held firm.

“No, you’re not. It’s not much but it can provide a little protection against the current temperature.”

“What about you?”

“I’m fine. I don’t feel it.”

“And Sammy?”

Sam cleared his throat and took a few steps towards you all from the other side of the room. “I’m good.” You glanced at Sam to find him smiling knowingly in the direction of his brother as he watched Cas tuck the coat a little more around Dean despite more of his grumbled protests before looking around for more materials to add to the fire. 

“And you?” Dean asked.

You met his concerned gaze and waved a hand dismissively. “I’m good, too. I mean, yeah, I’m cold but I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

Suddenly, heavy but carefully measured footsteps made their way to the opposite side of your chair. “You’re cold as well?” 

You glanced up to find another pair of green eyes intent on you. That intense gaze used to make you uncomfortable, piss you off even, but now you were used to it. Though you never quite got used to there being two Deans around all the time. “A little but I’m okay,” you reassured.

His brows knitted together in displeasure before he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. The fire in the fireplace suddenly grew without warning and sent Cas flying backwards. Dean and Sam both rushed over to him, making sure he was alright. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a cocky smirk form on the face that you loved as he watched as well. You dropped your head into your hands, shaking it.

“Michael…”

“Now, you will no longer be cold. As a matter of fact…” You heard another snap of fingers that made your head pop up. Not only did you suddenly have three different blankets covering you but you noticed a strange orange glow coming from the windows that hadn’t been there before. You threw back the blankets, making him tsk quietly in disappointment, and rushed to look outside. The snow and winds had stopped and there were flames everywhere. Trees, bushes, the ground — all of it was burning. 

“Did you just set the world on fire?” You asked in disbelief, turning shocked eyes onto the angel. 

He shrugged, not caring in the slightest.

Dean and Sam rushed to the other window to see what you were talking about while Cas, who was now on his feet, glared at his older brother. 

“Michael,” You had to be careful how you worded this; the last thing any of you needed was an archangel with an attitude. “I appreciate that you’re trying to make sure I’m comfortable, but setting the world on fire is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Once again, he gave you an unapologetic shrug with a smile. 

“My car is out there!” Dean yelled.

Michael’s smirk grew and he snapped his fingers again. “Not anymore.”

“You son of a bitch!” Dean started to charge towards him but Sam held him back. Michael’s amusement at the hunter’s anger was palpable. You decided later you would have to once again talk to him about the constant antagonizing of your best friend. You knew they were forever going to hate one another due to what happened before you came on the scene, but you were determined to keep things civil between them, for your sake as much as theirs. 

While Michael watched Sam attempting to wrangle his brother with clear enjoyment, you took the opportunity to approach the archangel. His eyes suddenly snapped to you as you got closer. “You don’t need to set the world on fire to keep me warm.” You shot him a look and he appeared pleased as he got your meaning. You watched as he snapped his fingers again and the orange glow was suddenly gone. The howling of the icy winds outside could be heard once more. 

“You couldn’t get rid of the freaking storm?” Dean threw at him. 

Michael’s gaze flickered to his doppelganger. “Do you ever stop complaining? I left the fire in the fireplace as well as the blankets. Be grateful I did.”

You took his hand in yours, urging him to look at you. “Michael,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“Are you freaking—”

“Dean, stop,” Sam warned. Cas glared at Michael but remained quiet, keeping himself positioned in between the Winchesters and the two of you.

Done with what he’d dubbed as the boring weak human sideshow, Michael pulled you closer and used his free hand to cup your cheek, tenderly brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. His gaze burned into yours and you immediately knew why he didn’t snap the storm away altogether. Sure enough, he used an invisible wing to sweep you off your feet and into his arms. You glared up at him as you held tightly onto him but he only chuckled in response. He knew you hated it when he did that; you knew he enjoyed it. 

He snapped his fingers again and a clean bedroom with its own roaring fireplace and fresh linens and pillows on the bed appeared that was suddenly boxed in by walls and a wooden door. Michael immediately began to carry you towards it.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” 

Michael didn’t look back at Dean or any of them, he only kept his focus on you. “I’m going to keep her warm. Maybe your pet should do the same for you.” More angry commentary from Dean erupted that Sam attempted to tamp down but neither of you paid it any attention. You buried your teeth into your bottom lip at the thought of him keeping you warm, his earlier transgression immediately forgotten, and your reaction caused him to flash his usual crooked smile at you. You had a feeling that the storm was now going to last until Michael decided it would end.

“You’re not seriously going in there to have sex and make us all listen to it, are you?”

Once again, neither you nor Michael paid attention to Dean’s question or his resounding groan of “Do they ever stop? They’re like rabbits” when he didn’t get an answer. Instead, Michael walked you into the room and the door closed behind him, locking itself. 

“See? You didn’t need to set the world on fire to keep me warm,” you teased.

“Oh, I’m going to set the world on fire.” He gently tossed you onto the bed, making you laugh, before crawling onto it to hover above you, watching you as you watched him. Your heart rate and breathing both sped up in anticipation. His thumb brushed over your lips once more. “Just yours.” He leaned down to kiss you then and as he’d said, your entire world ignited. 

Michael had indeed kept you warm, to the point where you had forgotten all about the craziest blizzard you had ever seen in your life still going on outside. You’d even forgotten about everyone else. Keeping his promise, Michael had set your world on fire, over and over and over again. Until your bare body lay there, blissfully sated and sprawled out over his. You were more than comfortable as you drifted off on his chest, feeling him running his fingers through your hair in gentle strokes as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

The storm didn’t begin to clear until you woke the next morning, finding Michael offering you his usual cocky smile when he murmured, “You slept deeply.” You tiredly swatted at his chest, making him chuckle, and he pulled you in for a kiss. He set you on fire one more time before you both finally emerged from the room, now fully dressed, to find both brothers asleep in the chairs under the blankets you’d left with Cas standing sentry at the window, his trenchcoat now being used as a pillow under Dean’s head. 

When you noticed the snow that had covered the window panes the night before was gone and the sun was shining through them instead, you turned a knowing look on Michael. And as expected, he gave you an unapologetic shrug and his signature smirk. You knew you should be annoyed, now knowing he had been the one behind the storm all along, but last night — and this morning — had been incredible. So you couldn’t be too upset at what he’d done, unless he was protecting the wolfpack for some reason.

As if he could read your thoughts, he yanked you up against him, making you quietly squeal in surprise. “No one has my protection. Except you.” His gaze was dark and serious, his meaning beyond clear. You slowly nodded and he framed your face with his hands, studying you before kissing you deeply. You understood his words for what they were; it was a combination of him reassuring you that he wasn’t surreptitiously working against you and him letting you know just how much you meant to him. Some might want the words said aloud, a declaration made in the form of a particular phrasing, but you didn’t need it. You felt it as he sent grace coursing through you from his hand on the small of your back. Reinvigorated from the icy hot tingles affecting your whole body, you grabbed at him and turned the kiss even more passionate, ignoring his infuriating chuckle and moaning into his mouth. You jumped into his arms and he easily caught you as you practically began mauling him, running your fingers through his hair and gripping fistfuls of it.

“They’re still going at it?” Dean gruffed out, the sound you made earlier having clearly woken him up.

“Looks like,” Sam grumbled.

“I believe this is the beginning of another round as you humans like to call it, after many successful copulations throughout the night and earlier this morning,” Cas stated, not sounding quite happy himself.

Normally, you would have told them all to shut up but right then, you were on fire, about to combust, and Michael was the only one that could push you over that glorious edge. A grace-infused orgasm was a world ender all on its own and who better to give that to you than the archangel you were currently playing a ferocious game of tonsil hockey with? The guys would never understand, just like they would never understand your relationship or how you could be with someone who had once wanted to literally burn this world to ash. They wouldn’t understand how now it was only your world that ended on an almost daily basis, that you were the figurative version of scorched earth that Michael created — repeatedly. He could send grace running through your body with any touch between you so when he pulled your legs over his broad shoulders and smirked up at you as he lowered his head…

The thought had you moaning again and him snickering as you squirmed against him and tore at his shirt and jacket, which actually ripped thanks to the temporary grace. He turned and slammed you up against the wall — something he could now do without you getting hurt — and the infrastructure of the cabin shook a bit. He sent more grace through you and you broke away, moaning as he attached his lips to your neck. “Oh God,” you gasped as more icy hot tingles flowed throughout your body.

He lifted his head, staring into your eyes. “No. Just me.” His eyes flared brightly before he kissed you again. 

“I say we go out there and try to dig Baby out rather than sit here and listen to them go at it for the six thousandth time. Whaddya say?” 

“Uh, yeah, let’s,” Sam quickly agreed with Dean the second you started to rock your hips against Michael’s, eager for him to stop torturing you and finish what he started.

You heard them get to their feet when Michael suddenly lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. Almost as if the storm had never receded, the howling of the wind sounded again and you didn’t need to look to know there was snow and ice whirling around outside once more.

It was confirmed the moment Dean yelled angrily, “Are you freaking kidding me?!?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Michael ignored him and walked you back into the bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him. The two men groaning in unison in the next room could wait a little longer. Michael needed to make you warm again and fast.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

[eerna]

Omg the way Eloise is written as a feminist character BOTHERS me. I can’t always put my finger on why, but a thing that sticks out to me the most is how she just says the most blatantly basic (for us 21st century viewers) things and idk it’s supposed to seem revolutionary… but it’s never clever. And it is never deep.

Anyways I saw your tag on the Eloise/Cressida post and I was curious to hear any elaboration of your thoughts on her feminist portrayal? (But no pressure!)

YEEAAAH EXACTLY! I have the same issue, Eloise just says 21st century equality stuff without ever having read a single feminist pamphlet (this is canon, she doesn't start reading them or attending discussions until she's 18). Somehow she developed a perfectly uniform idea of modern womanhood when she was isolated and raised to be a traditional lady. Her opinions should be WAY more half baked and full of holes because this life is the only one she'd ever known. That's not even mentioning the inability to discuss feminism without discussing class, something Eloise has No Idea About.

Then comes the issue of writing. This is a stupid show. No one looks smart on this show. So when Eloise drops a "smart comment", it is cringe and dumb. She is supposed to be eloquent and witty, but most of the time she looks like a mean snob belittling everyone around her.

Another issue is that everyone else around her is a horrible sexist caricature. Yes, she is snobby, but my god every other woman only cares about men and marriage and gossip so I can't even blame her all that much for it. Her friends don't really care about what she has to say and will always leave her to go chase a man. And even SHE starts fitting the description the moment she falls for a guy - she lies to her friend and puts everyone in danger, and 90% of the reason is a man with only 10% being her self actualization. You can't write a proper feminist if everyone in your story has the same goal, which is to find a husband. It doesn't help that we know Eloise is headed for marriage and babies because every time a character expresses they don't want one or both of those things, they are proven wrong by the narrative.

And finally, my last thing making Eloise a bad feminist character, is that she is SO PASSIVE. Sure, it might be the point of the show as Pen calls her out for it, but we still don't know if they are gonna fix it so I am putting it here anyway. She only talks and complains about her lot in life, but never acts against society. I was happy when she started sneaking out and hang out with The Working Class Feminists TM, but that turned out to be a short failed romance subplot instead of a character moment and she gave up on it almost right away, so it doesn't count. And now in s3 she decided to embrace society and its expectations, so I am not sure we will ever get to see that kind of rebellion again - I sure hope so! But idk.

As a "well written Eloise" character, I'd like to suggest Felicity Montague. She is a character from a 18th century romcom, a noble lady, aroace and trying to go to med school when her gender prevents her from getting an education. She doesn't use her screentime for long-winded monologues about the unfairness of the world, she ACTS on her thoughts and opinions so we know what they are. She switches covers of romance books and textbooks so she can study without being bothered, she runs away from home to try make her dreams come true, she finds alternative solutions. Her thoughts are never lauded as One Truth, in fact she is often called out for the blind spots in her opinions since she too grew up a sheltered noble and can't account for all experiences. She is surrounded by women who challenge her ideas and make her into a better friend and person. AND she is funny and reading her is just plain fun. You CAN do a feminist who doesn't belong in her era, you just have to be careful to also make her a good character.

[scuderiadream]

invisible string

reader x charles leclerc

⊹ ࣪ ˖ summary : the expression "invisible string" alludes to a traditional chinese tale about a crimson thread of destiny binding two people together, this recounts the beginning of reader and charles' love affair, which saw them go from being complete strangers to falling in love and discovering that they were connected by an invisible string

⊹ ࣪ ˖ faceclaim : gracie abrams

⊹ ࣪ ˖ author note : this might be kinda? long idk? but yea please enjoy!! sorry if this is just flopping and ou if u have any reqs dont be shy and request! bcos i'm kinda running out of idea here ahah 🥹

ᝰ masterlist

y/n and charles love story begin back then during the 2022 monaco grand prix, they were a complete stranger until one day y/n's father decided to held a very fancy gala in monaco just before the race day. charles leclerc was one of the many millionaires and celebrities her father invited to his gala. charles politely accepted the invitation, and when he showed up at the gala, he was astounded by y/n's appearance in general. naturally, one thing led to another, and they eventually went on dates and invited y/n to his races, which resulted in their most romantic relationship ever.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

liked by charles_leclerc, username and 7.739 others f1wagshq y/n and charles spotted toegether in monaco! the couple looks like they spent an amazing day together <3

view all 2.649 comments

username ugh they look SOOO good together

username not charles liking this..i need his level of selfishness

username i want her to step on me tbh

⤷ charles_leclerc woah, back off mate

⤷ username HELPP THE JEALOUSY

username i wanna have that y/n and charles kinda love

charles_leclerc added to their story!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

after their romantic stroll around the city of monaco, y/n and charles enjoyed each other's company as they talk about their childhood or thier past life.

y/n pov :

i can feel his warmth body wrapping around mine as i linked my arm around his, walking through the city of monaco. i confessed to him about my childhood and how awesome it was. i told him that i remembered i was sitting on a grass, reading a book at the centennial park i used to think i would meet somebody there and how stupid it sounds.

he made an eye smile as his face lit up like a clueless little kid. "what's wrong? you're smiling like crazy" i said while i tilt my head a little to the side in confusion. as it turns out, he confessed to me that he was there too while on his vacation with his family, he was wearing a teal shirt when.

somehow we ended up laughing and giggling like a crazy person. its amazing how our stories just simply connect, were there clues i didn't see? as if all along there's some invisible string tying him to me?

charles pov :

after a few hours had passed, we continued to talk about our own experiences and how they always connected. i chuckle at how ridiculously foolish it sounds, but i feel like we were meant to be. it's funny how we went from being complete strangers to developing this devoted bond that i never imagined we would, she's what i've always been wanting for.

she sees me for who i am, as if i'm perfect. she opened the door to my heart that i couldn't open for a long time as i feel proud to call her as mine, my girl, mon amour.

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, pierregasly and 357.889 others

yourusername one single thread of gold tied me to you

view all 46.512 comments

username deserves a couple of the year

charles_leclerc you make me un poco loco

⤷ yourusername ??? thanks i guess ??

pierregasly you're doing amazing sweetie

⤷ yourusername pls bringover kika next time we're hanging out

⤷ pierregasly on it ma'am 🫡

username THESE BABY PICS MY GOD THEYRE SO ADORABLE😭

username this is the cutest shit i've ever seen

© credits to pinterest for the pics .

[sailorspica]

sole salvation: zeke jaeger, messiah claimant

this is so long it has a table of contents, and prompted by an ask from @oxygenbefore1775:

salvation and atonement

recapitulation

genealogy

the paths as wilderness

biblical fiction

all the english bible citations are from the NRSVCE, i reference the gospel of john just once because it sucks, this is barely proofread and about ~4k. two shorter posts that might be of interest:

the founder ymir eve-mary replacement theology run

krista/christa

none of this is arguing iseyama consciously made any allusions!! this is just comparative reading

1. salvation and atonement

i looked up the japanese title for snk 114, "唯一の救い," mostly for the second part. "唯一" is kind of obviously "sole" or "only" (if i know any CJK characters it's number radicals), but i wondered about the nuances of "salvation" because of the association i have for it below. this had me running to good ol' biblegateway.com, whose only japanese bible translation is the from the heavily paraphrased/colloquial Living Bible. a search of "救い" lands us in exodus, isaiah, and my second-favorite gospel, luke.

you guessed it: it's part of the word choice for "messiah." section titles in bible translations are editorialization, really, but the beginning of the nativity story in matthew is headed

約束 さ れて いた 救い主 promise (...tense stuff idk) savior

救 = rescue, aid, salvation; 主 = host, leader, lord

in the hebrew bible context of exodus, 救い most often refers to god delivering the israelites from egypt through moses, while isaiah is christians' favorite prophet for all his shit cited as prophesying the messiah. the title "christus" is latinized from the earliest greek translation of the bible from hebrew, which used "christos" for "messiah." kings good and bad were anointed with oil (chrism) at the start of their reign, so "anointed one," "messiah," and "Christ" really just meant a monarch. quoting some old testament pseudepigrapha (psalms of solomon 17:23-24), the messiah was understood in second temple judaism as a future davidic king expected to "thrust out sinners from the inheritance / to crush all their substance with a rod of iron / to destroy the lawless nations with the word of his mouth." (rod reiss, zeke as marley's spear, the scream, etc)

now for the "sole" bit. i am cursed to read the kodansha USA title "sole salvation" with the connotation of the solae of the protestant reformation, which are 2-5 doctrines articulated by various reformers but not necessarily codified (or creed-ified, as it were), uh, in protest of early modern catholicism. theological authority comes sola scriptura (not the pope), justification comes sola fide (not by following rules the best), and salvation is available to all sola gratia (through god's grace, not individual merit/how many indulgences you can afford).

how we apply all this to zeke:

what is wild about christianity and islam after it is "humanity"'s fall from grace and the promise of a messiah to remedy it were initially about just one people. AoT's dramatic irony has the paradisians refer to themselves as the whole of humanity until grisha's basement, so jaegerist ethnonationalism is, really, in keeping with the prehistoric tribalism detailed in the history books of the hebrew bible. when the israelites encounter egyptians and semitic peoples of canaan and babylon, they know them as pagans, and proselytization is not on their minds at all, nor these other peoples' relation or lack thereof to adam and original sin. with zeke, we see this idea of salvation and its scale and recipients flipped between grisha and ksaver: grisha promises the restorationists that zeke will save eldia, while ksaver and zeke swear to save the world from titans with eldia as the sacrifice.

the lack of consensus of how to "save" eldia mirrors the hairsplitting of soteriology into what modern commenters call theories of atonement. there are many, but the only ones i'll mention are

substitutionary theory: the vague but broadly understood starting point that jesus died for humanity, and most subsequent theories hammer out the details. with this you'll often see writing connecting it to the story of abraham and isaac, and a classic work is derrida's the gift of death chapter 3, but i have to say if this story echoes for anyone in AoT, it is tom ksaver and not just because of the ram.

ransom theory: humanity has been satan's hostage ever since the garden of eden, so jesus was born and raised, incarnated as human by god, to be the perfect sacrifice to buy back our freedom. this is weird because it calls into question god's omnipotence: why respect satan as a debt collector?

satisfaction theory: jesus' sacrifice is more about ethics and respect in that his death is the "minimum" price for our sins, but he goes above and beyond by walking willingly through the exact cavalcade of physical torture that was the passion, which "satisfied" god, working from a classical/medieval fixation on honor and dishonor.

penal (not penile) substitution theory: god cannot forgive sin willy nilly, so jesus bore god's punishment for us. this is lutheran, and if you read martin luther's diaries from when he was an augustinian, this man just wanted a morally perfect Dom. libs and catholics don't like this because it makes god look bad. s/o my kenny post where i put grandpas ackerman and jaeger side by side with a bit of penal substitution, but it also makes me think of grisha (below)

and my favorite, recapitulation theory, which is simply the most literary way to read the gospels: christ's life, not just death, are a do-over of adam's. he succeeds where adam failed, perfectly inverting everything about the first man: he was born of a woman (the cause of adam's fall 🙄) but chaste himself (allegedly), he's tempted directly by the devil and resists, and in death the piercing of his side by a roman centurion echoes that eve was made from adam's rib. it's the root of the idea of jesus and mary as the "new" adam and eve that i dip into in the krista post—antisemitic supercessionism is a later addition. mary "recapitulates" eve by obeying god, not satan, etc.

i didn't do that comprehensive a skim, but grisha and zeke seem to be the only ones who use "salvation" language, while karina braun uses "atone" in snk 94. "atonement" has one of the silliest etymologies of all time: at + onement, unification, when two become one. so framing the crucifixion as "atonement," and referring to mysticism as self-effacement, jesus' death is supposed to reconcile man with god, like we were divorced. its more pedestrian, legal definition is for reparations and such, but i don't think the soteriological version can describe marley and eldia at all. it's not just penal, but penitential (sacramental) semantics on kodansha USA's part. i might go pester @tsuki-no-ura for a direct translation later. but the jesus-est and adam-est thing about zeke, to me, is physical at-onement when ymir fuses his body into the founder, or as zeke says to armin in snk 137, "did ymir eat you, too?" so the death of jesus' earthly body is a horror story if you aren't trinitarian: he is subsumed into god, made indistinct.

2. recapitulation

recapitulation is a useful idea for FOUR AoT characters: zeke, historia, eren, and mikasa. i really think the figures that do the most to "recapitulate" the eldian creation myth are mikasa and historia, though:

historia: have already said my bit! she's the anti-mary, snk 65 has the juiciest theological language of all. see my second favorite gospel luke. she disobeys where ymir's daughters didn't: she says hell no, she kills her dad. she's my hero.

mikasa: eren and armin's conversation about mikasa and ymir more casts ymir as a god with mysterious motivations, so i'd say "whatever mikasa did" gives us a more medieval "satisfaction" model of pacifying her rage

eren: the whole metaphor on humanity penned in like livestock, ymir's leaving the gate open for the pigs. eren's defence of historia, even from her own self-sacrifice in volunteering to inherit the beast, also makes him an anti-daughter of ymir.

zeke: has all of the prologue and expectation to make him seem like a savior. if he recapitulates any part of "from you, 20,000 years ago," he starts out as fritz by attempting to order ymir with his royal blood, but ends up just as bound as her. there's a screencap we've all seen overlaying the storybook illustration of "ymir" and "the devil of all earth" with eren, zeke, and ymir in the paths. i have feminist tbh satanist thoughts on the nature of knowledge and forbidden fruit that i slghtly get into in that krista/christa post

this is the point where it's important for me to say this is an atheist post and blog, and jesus of nazareth was one of like half a dozen messiah claimants knocking around judaea at the time, including his own cousin john the baptist. the first coming of the messiah was a nearly as absurd a prospect to jews in the late roman empire as the second coming of jesus is to us, so "claimant" doesn't even mean they said so themselves. some were preachers whose followers got a little too hype, or just actual con artists. but! zeke does have a lot more christian echoes going for him beyond the exact function of his death.

in the original question mae asked about zeke in either marian or christian terms, so i gotta say that jesus was also human and subordinated to god's will, in a similar position to mary, as was adam. adam's rib symbolism is so erotic and penetrative and all i think about when titans in AoT are constructed spinal cord first. to me everything about titan shifters is a feminist issue of bodily autonomy regardless of gender, and the power of the founder to "rewrite" eldian biology is the most god-like, terrifying, violating thing about it. this is where a lot of more progressive christian theologians struggle, too, with the question of how is god, in all his power and goodness, still permissive of suffering? or is it that god is not in fact powerful, simply all-knowing? and is that worth jack shit? which is the issue of the royal family keeping the founder after the walls went up.

and we leave this section with the jesussy, or more specifically "the holy lance" that made jesus' side wound. but i think levi went for, idk, his appendix? good enough.

3. geneaology

the gospels of luke and matthew start with lengthy and conflicting geneaologies in support of the claim that jesus of nazareth is of the davidic line through the tribe of judah, but matthew's is patrilineal from abraham through joseph, while luke's is surgically imprecise about jesus' father and thus is often argued to be jesus's geneaology through mary backwards to adam, supported by luke being the gospel to feature women the most prominently. not knowing those intricacies or how legal adoption worked in 1st century judaea, you can say that mary is royalty and joseph is just some guy, ben david or not, because he famously did not contribute sperm. looking at zeke, grisha is just some guy, and dina's blood is the whole justification for zeke's suffering. had she not married grisha, she still would be affiliated with the restorationists, and whatever other child she had would be sacrificed much the same. this supposes that jesus of nazareth was just some guy himself, a typical second temple jewish teacher whose followers were especially rowdy; whether god is real or incarnated himself as human is inconsequential when mary is directly descended from david.

but joseph Does matter from a purely pragmatic point of view of protecting and providing for mary and jesus, from keeping his troth with a pregnant teenager he'd probably never met before to the matthew account of fleeing with them to egypt to hide from herod, and in christian ethics through shit like the Feast of the Holy Family, which replaced the much cooler Feast of the Circumcision.

point is, jesus had two dads! joseph is generally understood as a dead during the time of jesus' three-year ministry, but any time jesus refers to his father he does not mean joseph. like ever. zeke nation knows better than i how often zeke discusses grisha, but in my recollection he calls him his full name or says "your father" if talking to eren. in my subtitles for the above panel re: the second paradis mission he says something like "as the former son of the terrorist grisha jaeger."

but to be clear joseph of nazareth is comparatively a non-person. it's reasonable to think he taught jesus his trade of carpentry, though, and two of the greatest songs of all time play with that, along with that tumblrina poem that goes around here frequently.

beyond daddy issues, protestants like this binary of "high" versus "low" christology to discuss jesus as god and jesus as man, though the exact meaning of either varies and frankly i question the historical accuracy of using either to describe ancient/antique christological debates. the way the liberal protestants at the seminary i dropped out of tended to use it is basically sorting jesus's qualities and behaviors in the gospels as divine or human. divine activities = miracles, prophecy, rising from the dead; human activities = flipping tables, being rude to his mom, getting hangry. now these mostly look like venial sins, to err is human et cetera, but the fig tree story is one of the silliest little humanizing details about him, to me tantamount to zeke having a cat's tongue. zeke's whole problem is he holds himself to an extrahuman (not divine, no, since he probably would go with demonic) standard while forgetting what makes him human. ironically, zeke rejects his inhumane father to claim his very human mentor as family, but ultimately half-lives his own life holding himself to or counter their visions of salvation.

the other bit of jesus' family worth connecting to zeke is his cousin john the baptist. but he more belongs to the next section.

4. the paths as wilderness

the torah or pentateuch, the first five books of the hebrew bible, have 99 uses of "wilderness" in the NRSV, and it pops up about 150 more times throughout the prophetic books. of all AoT's hamhanded judaic imagery, i think the paths actually get at something theological as opposed to earthly/fixated on eldia as a persecuted people. the wilderness is a testing ground and a kind of punishment itself, especially in genesis and exodus, for prehistoric figures like hagar, moses, jacob, david, and of course the israelites once they left egypt, wandering for 40 years. they starve and god saves them with manna; left unattended for two seconds they turn to idolatry; and they of course conquer various tribal people of canaan, including the philistines (root of palestine). after that, "wilderness" is much more metaphorical, referring poetically to estrangement between god and his people, the israelites exiled in the babylonian captivity, the destructon of solomon's temple, etc.

but there's one literal wilderness in the gospels. jesus' cousin john the baptist is introduced by a quotation:

In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said, "The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.'" (Mt 3:1-3)

john the baptist is jesus' maternal cousin who he likely only meets once in adulthood, and i am too pedantic not to explain that baptism, or ritual bathing, is not a christian invention. he hung out around the river jordan wearing a hair shirt and preaching and dunking people in a kind of open-air mikveh. jesus visits him to get dunked as he starts his three-year ministry that ends with his death, but before they meet there are already whispers that john the baptist is the messiah. herod antipas, a roman tetrarch, had john beheaded shortly after this at the request of his stepdaughter, so when herod hears stories of jesus' ministry and miracles he dreads that he's john the baptist returned to life.

one could say the fateful meeting of john and jesus is the turning point for the birth of christianity, like the jaeger brothers in shiganshina, in part because the gospels have john insist up and down he himself is not the messiah, he's just preparing the way for him. this kind of makes him look like a bigger loser than he was; contemporary jewish historians of the time say he had a following to rival or even larger than his cousin's.

but right after his baptism, jesus fasts in the wilderness for 40 days, where the devil tempts him. it's the most detailed in luke 4 and matthew 4. jesus resists like a champ, but returning to "low" christology and questioning what actually makes "perfection:" after three years of preaching in galilee, jesus' resolve wavers, and the "willingness" of his sacrifice is 2,000-year-old point of debate. two moments in the gospels that show he fears his death are praying between the last supper but before his arrest, and just as he dies on the cross. gethsemane, or the mount of olives:

And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want." (Mt 26:39)

And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, "Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want." (Mk 14:35-36)

Then he withdrew from [the disciples] about a stone’s throw, knelt down, and prayed, "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done." (Lk 22:41-42)

and as he dies in matthew and mark, he quotes psalm 22, "eli, eli, lema sebachthani?" or "my god, my god, why have you forsaken me?" he shows resolve and despair, i think so very like zeke. his line in snk 114 of "are you watching, mr. ksaver?" makes me think jesus' relationship to god was similarly distant, and three years of ministry have to have changed jesus as much as oh, 13 years of being a human weapon changed zeke. ymir "tests" both jaeger brothers in the paths, so i bet there's some heresy out there that jesus "stole" john the baptist's role and followers from him.

one thing i'm fascinated by that i haven't seen laid out is that grisha and the restorationists deify ymir, even calling themselves "the chosen children of god" (woof), while ksaver the scientist asks the more materialist question of "what was that 'something'" that ymir encountered if not "the devil of all earth"? but zeke has to split the difference between these two. or, the power of the founder and the paths are simply too "god-like" (kenny's words uwu) for anyone to remain rational.

when zeke first describes the paths after he blows himself up, the first thing i thought of was biblical wilderness. in snk 137, he tells armin he's spent "an astounding amount of time" in the paths trying to understand ymir; i'm cursed to fill in that blank with 40-something, years or centuries or millennia. zeke using the sand all around them as an example of lifeless objects that don't seek to multiply reminds me of two things in genesis:

god's covenant with abraham in genesis 15, reiterated in 22 after a ram(!!!) shows up to take isaac's place: "Because you have done this, and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will indeed bless you, and I will make your offspring as numerous as the stars of heaven and as the sand that is on the seashore" (Gn 22:16-17). of course ymir building titans from sand recalls genesis 2, that god molded adam from dust, but before god formalizes this covenant with abram/abraham, he also says "I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth; so that if one can count the dust of the earth, your offspring also can be counted" (Gn 13:16)

the memento mori verse that makes up the blessing for ash wednesday is "remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return" (Gn 3:19) as he casts adam and eve from eden.

as a metaphor, i suppose wilderness in the bible evokes a time before creation, the void of possibility, and whether you find that beautiful or bleak, whether dust to dust makes you hope or dread, makes you closer to armin or zeke. my other atheist bestie from seminary was optimistic about the death of the human race because non-human life goes on, and that's okay and probably better; the earth can bounce back from the damage we dealt it, which is what trees growing in the colossals' footprints in the epilogue makes me think of. this makes me sound pro-apocalypse and well! i think this all solidifies that armin is the perfect counterweight, not just for the leaf and baseball; armin has always been curious about the planet, is a true scout, while zeke has been beyond the walls all his life, and has seen too much to be grateful. it's very mercury versus jupiter, details versus big picture.

5. biblical fiction

if you want to read the gospels as a total newb, start with mark because it's shortest, then i recommend matthew, then you can do luke and the acts of the apostles. but for juicy fiction that really digs into jesus as a human who struggles with the weight of expectation, you gotta get into:

the last temptation of christ (1988, dir. martin scorsese): i haven't read the book and only could stand the movie twice, yes even feat. david bowie as pontius pilate, but this was my first reaction to the the endng of AoT and the eremika cabin: jesus on the cross is tempted one last time by satan with a vision of running away and living as an ordinary man with mary magdalene. unfortunately zeke does not get a cabin vision but torment, and frankly his time in the paths is more like the three days jesus spent in hell before easter.

the liars' gospel by naomi alderman: is so crazy good, i love this writer deeply. it's more like four novellas stuck together of jesus' life and ministry and death narrated by his mother, judas iscariot, one of the sanhedrin that "tried" him prior to pilate, and barrabas, the criminal or revolutionary that pilate released to mark passover—all jewish, historical judean perspectives. to mary, jesus is kind of a deadbeat, awful eldest son (two of the gospels give him siblings; she did not die a virgin) who really should be working as a carpenter; to judas, he's an unworthy leader; etc. i think it's an excellent model for a novel-length, canon-compatible zeke fanfic.

if any sources are vague it's almost certainly out of the jewish annotated new testament (ed. levine/zvi brettler, 2017)

also tagging @pisspope 💜

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! I wanted to ask your opinion on a fanart character design I'm working on 👉👈 It's for a book called Incarceron, & like a lot of stuff by white ppl, none of the characters have canon ethnicities so I'm having to work that in myself.

There's one character I'm struggling with, but the context of my issue is Incredibly convoluted (since its a fantasy book) so forgive me for how long this question is 😭 if it's too complicated or you don't feel like answering it, no pressure at all! I will figure something out<3

So the setting is this apocalyptic world divided into a massive sentient prison (Incarceron) and Outside. There is only 1 person who ever Escaped named Sapphique, and he is this elevated, almost Jesus figure who people look up to and pray to. He only appears on page in visions to people, but he is THE embodiment of hope. I have chosen for my Sapphique design to be Black bc I think it adds a lot of meaning to him as a person and embodiment of Freedom.

He's not my question though (unless you have notes on my choice for him), where I run into problems is with another character named Jared. Jared is Outside & a wisdom-keeper working to liberate Incarceron. Jared is repeatedly described as looking similar to Sapphique (or his statues at least), and in my first designs, I had wanted Jared to be SWANA.

However at the end of the 2nd book Incarceron creates a body in Sapphique's image to try and Escape itself. Sapphique appears in a vision to Jared telling him to stop Incarceron from using his face, so to thwart the Prison, Jared does magic to essentially take the body for himself and steps into the role of Sapphique to return to the Prison and liberate and free the people. It’s a bittersweet ending treated like an ascension to godhood almost.

So LONG story short I'm no longer sure abt Jared being SWANA since he does physically take Sapphique's visage. Would it still be uncomfortable if I made him Afro-SWANA? Should he just be Black?

I do have other Black and SWANA characters in my design lineup, but Jared is a fan-favorite and his symbolic becoming of Sapphique is a really cool scene, so I want to be particularly cognizant with him.

TYSM for reading all of this 🙏again so sorry for the length. I really appreciate you and your work so much and I hope you're having a good day!

I would immediately see someone named Sapphique as Black lmao now that's just me but like. Come on now. I'm also pronouncing it like "Saafiq", which, tying into your question, would definitely be Afro-SWANA to me 🤷🏾‍♀️ you can very much be Black and from that area.

Otherwise, I don't really know how to answer this. If in the story he gives Jared permission to take his visage, it might not be such a big deal. But also, if they look that similar already, then when the change happens there could be slightly different details so that you know when it's Jared. Like, if he wears his hair slightly differently or wears different colors. Different symbols so that we are aware that while we are gazing upon Sapphique, we are gazing upon a new reincarnation of him. God comes in any and all forms 🤷🏾‍♀️ but that's how I'd take it. Idk if that helps.

[stardewrotsession]

Note: Midterms came and life got in the way, but now I’m back and hopefully for good! Yes, I still also have finals, but I’m slowly getting back into my Stardew phase so hopefully I stay. Anyways, enjoy!

How the Bachelors are when you’re sick:

Sam

- God he would not know what to do

- The first time you get sick, I feel like he’d internally panic and get everything from Pierre’s store to help you feel better

- After awhile he’ll understand what exactly to get you when you’re sick.

- Medicine, your favorite snacks, favorite movies, all of them

- He’d put it in a little basket too, sweet boy

- Bonus, he would not care at all about hugging and kissing while you’re sick. In fact he’d probably whine if you don’t kiss him

- In the end he would get more sick than you were

Sebastian

- he’d have a little more direction than Sam would

- He’d try to give you some medicine to help you recover, and he’d definitely get you some movies you two could watch together to pass the time

- He’d be more hesitant to cuddle though

- Physical touch has never been his strong suit in the first place

- Either way he’ll still show how much he cares, asking occasionally if you need anything or if you want him to get anything for you

Harvey

- he’s a doctor, he’s gonna immediately take care of you

- I feel like he gets a little too overprotective when it comes to your health

- I mean he’s already worried sick whenever you go on your adventures in the mines. But going sick? Not on his watch

- Unfortunately he would not even let you get out of the bed, let alone do any chores on the farm

- But its doctor’s orders right?

- Sometimes he’ll get overly technical with you about your meds, but he always means well

- If you were really sick he’d make sure to call off of work or have Maru take over for the day while he’s caring for you

Alex

- So at first he’d ask advice from his grandma.

- As much as he’d love to help, sometimes he doesn’t really know what to do to make you feel better besides medicine.

- Even with medicine he’d sometimes mix it up and get confused

- Once his grandma’s over, he’d suddenly switch from clueless to being his grandma’s helper for you

- If she’s baking you cookies? He’s getting all the ingredients and helping her mix

- Whenever she’s not over and she calls you to make sure you’re okay, Alex would be there to immediately

- Alex would also definitely help out on the farm. Moving things around, making sure the crops are watered and the animals are fed

- He doesn’t know much, but he knows you shouldn’t be doing any farm work

- And helping around the farm and carrying heavy stuff? That he knows he can do.

- Sometimes whenever he comes in from a long day out on the farm, you can see a small satisfied smile on his face

- When he feels like he’s done something to help you out, he can’t help but smile

Shane

- “Have a beer.”

- He backs off after you glare at him

- “Okay okay! Not funny, here I have some anti nausea meds if you need some.”

- He’d (begrudgingly) cuddle and hold you throughout the days that you’re sick

- He’d also run out and get some things for you if you asked, but I’m not sure if he’d go out of his way to get everything

- If you had a specific favorite or comfort food, he would pick it up though

Elliot

- Okay, imagine him reading you stories and books while you’re resting in bed.

- He’d go out of his way to get all of your favorite books and basically put on a whole play for you while reading them

- So cute

- I think he’s also be into herbal medicines from the beach or the ocean.

- Idk like seaweed soup? Something like that

- But if you didn’t like that, he would still do his best to cheer you up.

- He took on piano for a reason right? Might as well give you a small show, and from the comfort of your bed!

[fandxmslxt69]

Cute Library Boys

Steven Grant x f!Reader

Warnings: Steven being too goddamn cute and fluff!! Some swearing, absolutely tooth rotting dorky-ness.

A/N: Oh my god this has been sitting in drafts for so long but I finally finished editing ahahah. Idk how I feel about it ngl, its cute and has me giggling but !!!! idk. Anyway this IS inspired by a prompt: "Going for the same book at the library" taken from @creativepromptsforwriting (Mona sent me a prompt list literally like 2 months ago thank you @whatthefishh you are too cute for this world.) ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY this is a peace offering before I pour my heart out into the most gut wrenching angst and coochie killing smut <3

-Clem

Synopsis: All you wanted was to have a quiet day browsing books in the library. Who knew you'd manage to find the cutest man to spend your day with right there in the history aisle?

Word count: 3541 (omg.)

Walking through the library, you gently ran your finger over the spines of the book, feeling worn out paper and leather on your fingertips. It was always relaxing, being surrounded by so many stories, real or not, lives and adventures. You skimmed through a history section, looking for a book that might be of interest, and your eyes landed on one just up ahead, with a pretty spine and a title written in gold. Your fingers jumped to it, but bumped with another hand outstretched to grab it.  “Oh sorry, love! Didn’t see you there,”  “Oh no it’s alright!” You grinned up to the cute man with the cute British accent. “You can have the book, I don’t mind,” “Oh no,” He shook his head.  “Really, you can take it,”  “No it’s fine, really, I can just order another from the system,” He grabbed the book off the shelf, handing it to you. “Love, please. I’ve already read it anyway. It’s all yours,” He smiled, a bright breathtaking smile that lit up his whole face.  You hesitated but took the book from his hand, adding it to the (very heavy) bag you carried. “Memorised and all?” He chuckled. “I wish,”  You grinned at him, and an awkward silence fell as you scanned the rest of the shelf. “Uh,” You cleared your throat. “Anyway. Thank you, a lot, for-” “The book,” He finished. “Yes! The book. Thank you,”  He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing.  “Alright well uh…I’ll, go, thank you, again,” You rushed to say before quickly dashing off, trying not to think about how pretty he was, or how soft his eyes looked, or his beautiful curls, his soft yet clear features…

No. 

You weren’t sure what the hell urged you to turn right back around and down the aisle again, but your feet carried you there anyway, and you found yourself standing right in front of the gorgeous stranger again. “Um. Hi.” You mumbled. Maybe he didn’t hear, maybe you could run be- “Hi! You’re back,” He grinned and you could feel the sunshine radiating off of him.  “Yeah. Um..I don’t know I just…yknow…You seem to know your books,” You gestured to the growing pile by his feet. “So I was just..wondering if you had any recommendations? I’m in a bit of a slump, so I wanted to try something new. I mean only if you’re cool with it, if I’m bothering you I’ll just go-”  He laughed, a quiet small chuckle that put a huge ass sappy smile on your face. It was contagious, his bubbly energy and cute laughs and smiles. “No it’s alright love, I’d be more than happy to give you a few suggestions, though it might just turn out to be a big ramble,” You shrugged. “Nothing beats a good book ramble,” “Wholeheartedly agree. Now,” He turned to the shelves, his soft eyes scanning the spines of the dozens of books, and he just started rambling- exactly like he said he would. On and on and on, grabbing a few books at a time and talking about them all at once, he looked over the moon to share all this knowledge with someone, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you could barely keep up with him. You just stood there watching him, probably grinning like an idiot, adding every book he put down to the growing pile in your bag. Whether the book was actually interesting or not, you didn’t care. When a cute man excitedly tells you about his favourite books in an aisle in the library, you grab every damn one of those books and you take them home. 

By the time he finished going through at least a dozen books, he paused, biting his lower lip to hide a shy smile. “Sorry. Got carried away there,” 

Ah shit.

“No no! It’s okay, no apology needed at all. You- it’s cute. You’re cute. When…you do the ramble thing. Cute. Yeah.” You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up.  There was a beat of silence, before he blurted out, “Steven.” “Sorry?”  “Steven…my name. Is Steven. Grant. Steven Grant. It kind of just hit me that I didn’t introduce myself,”  “Oh. Oh! Oh right. Oh my god.” You fumbled with your bag, trying to get yourself back in control. “This is embarrassing. I’m so sorry. I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you Steven,” He laughed again. “It’s very nice to meet you too,”  You nodded. How many times are you going to nod. Quit it.  “So…um,” you cleared your throat, wondering if it was too late to ask for a hole to open up and swallow you whole. “Yknow..there’s um…this cafe, right down the street, and it’s really nice and they’ve got pretty decent coffee and food. I was wondering if…you know, if you’re free anyway, and not too busy or if you have something better to do I totally get it-” “I’d very much like to go to the cafe down the street with you,” Steven interrupted, and you stared at him, jaw hanging open slightly as you took in his shy smile and the light rose of his cheeks.  “I mean, if that’s what you’re asking-” He rambled quickly to add. “Yes! Ah, uh, yes, that is what I’m asking,” You grinned widely, cheeks starting to hurt from how damn much you were smiling at this cute stranger in the history aisle of your local library.  “Great! Wonderful, amazing. I- uh…I’ll…go check out my books? Get settled while you do yours and…” “...we can meet by the front doors?” You finished for him. He nodded quickly, his hair bouncing with each bob of his head. You nodded too, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “Okay. Okay cool. I’ll…go do my thing. And I’ll see you soon?” “Yes, absolutely, 100% yeah,”  You chuckled, a few butterflies taking flight through your stomach with all his nervous blabbering.

He’s cute. Real cute, with the nicest warm eyes and a precious crooked smile, and the cutest mop of curls on his head that you desperately wanted to play with. Not to mention his adorable outfit..the cute earth brown pants and the soft sweater that definitely hugged his body in a comfy yet pleasing way. 

Screwed. Absolutely, royally screwed. 

After awkwardly staring (analysing) him for a solid minute as he grabbed the rest of his books, you turned and dashed to the check out desks, fumbling and mumbling about stupid cute library boys the entire way through the checkout process. 

*                                           *                                          *

As you both left the library, a light silence falling between you, he couldn’t help but take a few glances at you, his heart picking up pace, a giddy laugh building up in his throat- this was new. All of it was so new yet welcomed. He’d be damned if he let it go to waste, whether it be a chance to make a friend, or maybe a little more. 

By the time you had reached the shop, his shoulder ached from carrying his bag of books, and you looked ready to drop dead on your feet. 

“I can carry your bag if it’s getting you tired,” Steven suggested softly as you entered the cafe. You frowned, hugging your bag tightly to you. “What, no. It’s okay, I like carrying my bag. Makes me feel close to my books,” You pointed to a table by the window. “Here?” He laughed, then nodded. “Yeah this works,” He took a seat, lifting his bag off of him and placing down beside him. “What do you like to read anyway?” “Oooh,” You slid into the seat, you could feel the ache in your lower back start to build. Who even had back problems at this age. “I like a good fantasy novel, and I am guilty of reading way too much romance. I also like poetry. Not a very big person in non fiction though.” “Romance huh?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips. “Scandalous romance?” You laughed, shrugging. “What, a woman has her needs, and those needs happen to be pretty men with cute accents,”  “Ah right,” He nodded again, then paused. “Wait. I have an accent,” You chuckled, smiling widely. “Yes you do. A cute one too. And you’re cute. Pretty, dare I say,” His eyes widened, a blush creeping up his neck and his ears started turning red too as he looked away, averting his eyes and biting at his lower lip. Your heart did a little flip at how cute he looked when he was flustered.  “What kinda books do you like, Mr. Grant?”  “Hmm,” He flipped aimlessly through the menu, his eyes scanning the millions of different ways they make frappuccinos and espressos. He didn’t even drink coffee that much, he was more of a tea guy. “I like history, big fan of mythologies and stuff,”  You sat up, grinning widely. “I love mythology. I was a huge sucker for them in middle school. Still kinda am, honestly,” His heart did a little thing. “Really? What kind of mythology?” You shrugged. “I was really into the Greeks, they were pretty fun and it was a good time. I like the Romans a bit too, but they’re a little boring, yknow? The Norse are wack too, which makes it funny,” You grinned. “I was just a bit obsessed. I had an Egypt phase too for quite a bit,”  You could see the way his face lit up, how his eyes widened and a big smile started spreading across his face. “Egypt huh? That’s cool.” He nodded, deciding not to make a further comment lest it come off as too strong. You raised an eyebrow. “Cool? Oh come on, you totally had an Egypt phase,” “Did not!” “You so did. C’mon, tell me. I promise I won’t judge! I never could, I had attachments to those guys. You definitely know a thing or two,” He waved you off. “No..I mean, a little maybe. I’ve studied their mythologies and tales, aspects of culture and society, that’s sorta stuff, it’s not interesting really,” “Not interesting?” You scoffed. “Well I find them interesting. C’monnnn,” You nudged his leg under the table. “Who’s your favourite god?” He shook his head, a playful smile on his face. “I’m fond of Taweret. Hippo goddess, resides in the underworld and stuff. She’s nice,”  “Yeah? Know her personally?” “Oh yeah, obviously. We have chat over tea all the time,”  No way he was this funny. “Really? Wait, hang on,” You leaned in, “if she resides in the underworld, does that mean you’ve died before, Steven Grant?”

He liked it, he decided. The way you said his name, how it rolled off your tongue and out of your mouth so easily, and not the sarcastic way everyone else said it. Heaven, at least you remembered his name, not when half the staff at the old museum couldn’t even get Steven right.  He scrunched up his face, thinking deeply. “Hmm. Let’s see. I think I might have, yeah. A few times now actually,” There it was again, the laugh that filled the entire cafe, as your shoulders shook and you threw your head back in joy. “No way, you did not,” You finally said.  “I absolutely did! It’s not a good experience obviously, but yknow, an adventure,”  “So you’ve like- met Osiris and stuff?” He shrugged. “Maybe,” “Oh come on. Tell me! I’ve always liked him. Given, I always like every death god, so it’s no different,” “He’s alright. Very stiff though, no personality at all, he’s all business serious,” “Well duh, he’s a king,” Steven rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean he’s got to be so boring,”  You chuckled again, shaking your head in disbelief as you went back to the menu. “Any other gods you’ve met?” “Hmm.” He tapped his chin a few times, and brushed a curl of hair out of his eye. “I’ve met some night gods. They look like big ugly birds, with a big temper and zero compassion or kindness. Dress in old rags and stuff,”  “You’re lying, I swear you’re lying,” “I am not! It’s true. I see one quite often actually, he’s a pain in the ass, right psycho.”  “Yeah? He your best friend?” He snorted. “Absolutely not.”  You tsked. “Aw, that’s so sad,” “No it’s not. I told you, he’s not right in his mind,”  “Yeah but isn’t that all gods?” Steven sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Okay, you make an excellent point, but I’m telling you, this one is bloody psycho. Murderous and whatnot.” He smiled, a big goofy smile that showed his cute dimples.  You shook your head again, trying to fight back a stupid sappy grin. “You’re too funny,” “Too funny? Is that bad?” He frowned. “No! No, absolutely not. It’s nice, your jokes are actual..well, yknow, jokes. And it’s kind of nerdy.” “Oi!” He leaned in, pointing a finger at you with an air of amusement. “You just said nerdy was cute,” “It is!! It’s very cute!”  “Bloody right. ‘Cause if you came for sports jokes, I’m not your guy,” You laughed. “Nope, no sports jokes for me. I just like an extra side of nerdiness,”  He narrowed his eyes, fighting back a smile. “You are horrible,”  “Horribly cute, yeah, definitely,” He exploded with laughter, his face all happy smile lines and precious dimples. You smiled widely, your heart doing a little skip with how gorgeous he looks, so full of laughter. 

Thankfully though, before he caught you grinning like an idiot at him and trying to memorise his face, a waiter came to your table, and you managed to order your drinks without acting crazy or too dorky. 

*                                                         *                                                                *

“What about Bastet? You know her?” 

Okay so maybe you were still a little dorky. 

“The cat lady? I mean you see her everywhere don’t you? In all the nice cat ladies by your flat or in the market!” “Okay fine Mr. Poetic, I’m asking about the goddess,” 

He grinned, fiddling with the strap of his bag as you both made your way to a bus stop. “I haven’t met her, no. But I know of her,” 

“Right, of course,” You weren’t sure why you humoured this idea; the possibility of divinity walking amongst man. But the ease of pretending, of imagining with him, with Steven, was something you came to realise you enjoyed too much to give up.  “What about Zeus?” He frowned. “Wrong civilization,”  “Oh come on, so you’re telling me you can believe the idea of gods with bird heads from the times of pyramids, but you can’t humour me with the idea of wackoo’s living on top of a mountain?”  “I just don’t like them. Too chaotic,”  “That’s exactly why everyone likes them,”  “Okay fine, I just stay in my territory,” You shook your head, shrugging your bag back into place on your shoulder. “Okay, that’s fair, they probably don’t like each other anyway,”  “Nope, definitely don’t,” 

You both fell into a silence after, continuing your walk to the bus stop. “You don’t have to go all the way with me to the bus stop yknow-” You started but he just shook his head.  “I don’t mind, love. Really, it’s a nice day out for a walk,”  You nodded. “Okay.”

Silence fell again, and you couldn’t help but look up a little to look at him. Him with his pretty eyes and flushed cheeks. Him with his easy going smile on those nice lips. Him with the nice jawline and cheekbones that are just the right amount of sharp you just want to run your finger over it. 

By the time the both of you had made it to the bus station, you had made up your mind; You were going to ask him for his number. 

Only problem is…how do you ask a cute guy for his number?

You could feel the nerves start to set in as the minutes tick by, and more people pile around the bus stop. It was going to be here soon, and you’ll hop on, and probably never get his number and-

Okay calm down. You fiddled with your bag as the minutes passed, occasional small glances and nervous chuckles with Steven as he waited too, and it felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders just to ask for a series of stupid numerals.  When you glanced back up at Steven for what had to be the millionth time so far, you noticed in the far distance that the bus was heading this way. Steven turns the other way then too, noticing you staring and he sighed softly. “Ah, there’s your bus,”  “Yup,” He looked back at you, a soft smile on his lips. He picked at his nails, a feeling of anxiety bubbling inside of him. “So…” “So…” You continued for him, and you both laughed awkwardly.  “Can I-” “Can-” You stopped, chuckling awkwardly as Steven shook his head.  “Sorry love- didn’t mean to speak over you-” “No no it’s okay! My bad,” You reassured him. “Go ahead,”  “No really-” He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. “You start,” “Steven-” You started to protest (why were you even doing that) but he set you with a firm look and you sighed. “Okay. I was…yknow…going to ask. If-” You trailed off. “Yknow…” “If…? Unfortunately love, I’m very bad at guessing games. You’ll have to specify,” You sighed, rubbing a hand down my face. You took a deep breath and right as the bus stopped at your station, you blurted quickly, “Can I have your number?!” It came out in one breath, a quick sentence and Steven’s browns furrowed. You panicked, thinking maybe you had read this wrong? What if he doesn’t want to give you his number? 

But then his face exploded in a wide smile, and his eyes lit up adorably and his cheeks filled with a soft blush. “Oh. My number!” He laughed, soft and clearly full of anxiety. “Yes- right yes, of course you can. Sorry it took a minute there-” He muttered, quickly digging through his bag and pulling out his phone. “Right then, quick quick before you miss your bus-” 

“It’s okay,” You mumbled quickly, steering him away from the growing bus line so you could plug in his number. You did it painfully slowly, double checking each number and going over the series at least 5 times. By the time you finished exaggerating and actually putting the number into your contacts, Steven was tapping his foot anxiously on the ground as he watched the last person board the bus.  “You have to hurry it’s going to close, love,” You looked up and glanced at the bus. “Oh crap-” You quickly fumbled to put your phone away and return his, but by the time you took a step towards the bus, it dinged and the door closed as it slowly started back up to drive away.  "Shit,” Steven tugged at his curls. “Oh god love, I’m really sorry- maybe if we run we could catch its next stop?” Didn’t people always say make the best out of a bad situation? The bus is gone, another won’t be coming for probably another half hour, and you were not running. 

But maybe…maybe this was a good thing? 

You shrugged, trying to sound as upset as you could possibly gather, but even to your own ears it sounded fake. “Oh no….the bus is gone. This is horrible. What do I do now?”  Steven started to say something, but then stopped, frowning a little, before his eyes widened and a smile grew across his face. “Hang on-” He stepped closer to you, his eyes glittered with humour. “You planned that, didn't you?” You gasped. “What? Me? Why would I ever want to miss my bus?”  “Hmm….” He tapped a finger to his chin, thinking loudly. He leaned down then his face barely inches away from your face. “Maybe because you wanted to spend more time with me?” He has no right being cute and nervous one second and then sexy  and all mischief the next.  Your eyes widened, you felt your skin heat and your cheeks flush pink with how close he was. His eyes looked even prettier up close, and his lips looked so kissable.  “Really?” You managed to breathe out. “You think I’m that captivated by you?” He shrugged. “Maybe.” He paused, biting his lower lip. 

Fuck. 

“Are you? Captivated by me?” He asked.  “Hmm. Let’s see…I think your nerdiness and awkward attitude and shy personality has definitely captivated me, Mr. Grant,”  His face explodes into a bright and beautiful smile. “Really? So if I asked to go on a walk right now, you’d say yes?” I hum, pretending to think it over. “I think…yes, I would absolutely say yes,” The look on his face made it seem as if he just experienced heaven. Your heart fluttered, and you knew then that you’d never ever get tired of seeing him this happy. “Brilliant. Great, alright then um..” He stood up straight again, looking around. “Let’s go?” 

You smiled, gesturing to the roads bustling with people. “Lead the way,” 

[lemotmo]

That anon talking about Tommy trying to seem cool has me wondering if thats what Tommy is supposed to read as, or if its LFJ's approach to the character and acting. I read an interview with him yesterday (an older interview) and it was so focused on how cool he thinks Tommy is and constantly talking about him from the first person (I'm so cool flying into that hurricane). He was also talking about the queer community and calling us "the lgbtq+ spectrum" which felt so weird to me?

So now the scene just feels like LFJ trying to act like he's really cool for being both very man's man masculine (and everything in that interview reads like LFJ thinking thats the ideal/awesome) AND doing this "exciting new thing that hasnt been done before" (I'm paraphrasing) which just... makes me feel gross. (He also made the entire thing be about Tommy/himself, acting like people talk abt 7x04 because Tommy is a gay masculine man and not because Buck is 100x the man Tommy is).

And idk. In a way i feel like he was cast perfectly if they were going for "uninteresting and emotionally stunted and self obsessed asshole" but also 🤢🤮

Hey! Yeah, I don't know. Is he 'acting' to be dismissive and annoying because it was required of him? Or is that just the way he is and how he acts in real life? I truly don't know.

I suspect it might be a combination of both. The man obviously likes to talk about himself and he's very 'present'. It also feels like he genuinly doesn't have a clue what he is talking about and how important some of these subjects (discovering your sexuality and coming out of the closet at a later age, LGBTQ+ topics, representation...) are for the people watching the show.

All this could have been avoided if he had done some basic research on the topic. I realise this was all decided and taped last minute, but it doesn't take all that long to open a few websites or videos to read and watch some statements of people who came out later in life. What was it like for them? How did they feel? Were they afraid of their family/friends finding out? Did they feel uncomfortable the first time they went on a date with someone of the same sex? How did their partners feel? How important is rep for them on television or in books?

He obviously didn't do any of that, because otherwise his answers in these interviews would have been very different.

For him? 911 and the bisexual Buck storyline is just a 'great' thing HE HIMSELF got to do. He's beating himself on the chest, saying 'Look at me! Look at how cool I am! I wrote history!' He makes it about himself, while this isn't about Tommy at all. It's about Buck and his journey of coming out. Tommy is just the guy who happened to be there and acted as a catalyst.

But you know, many people in Hollywood are like that, so whatever. It is what it is. It has always been this way. He isn't the first person to act like that and he won't be the last one.

I do suspect that the script said to amp up some character traits, such as his dismissiveness towards Buck and the way he always uses bad humour and sex jokes to deflect a serious conversation. Pair that with the fact that he was asked to always call Buck 'Evan'? It all adds up.

It all boils down to the fact that the writers didn't write Tommy to be a 'forever kind of guy' for Buck. They wrote him to be the person to get Buck out of the closet. Then they slowly started revealing his less than admirable character traits to slowly show the audience that this guy wasn't a good match for Buck at all. It's all right there, for everyone to see, when you look at season 7b. You just have to open your eyes and be willing to see the truth.

[stickofcha0s]

‘Walk in’ Doug Remer x Reader

Doug Remer x afab reader

A/N: I don’t ever post stuff like this so idk if it’s even good. I wrote this over a few days and didn’t really do a read through so it might be messy If u want a more explicit pt2 lmk bc I have ideas.

word count: 2209

warnings: slight smut?? Reader Slapping Doug. Slight Perv Remer. I think that’s it. I’m not too sure how to tag these things yet so sorry if I’m missing something.

summary: Doug Remer walks in on you changing after a long day at work

~~~~~~~~~~

You had been roommates with Doug Remer and Joe Cooper for a while now. They were the only two idiot stupid enough to offer you the lowest rent in the city. With a price of course.

You had been hanging out with the boys after a game sitting on the porch out back drinking beer and talking about how you had just been unfairly evicted.

~~FLASHBACK~~

“I’ll let you stay for only 400 a month.” Remer had offered kicking his legs up in the Adirondack chair.

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious!?” You asked sitting up, clutching the neck of your beer tightly in your hand. 

He snorted taking a sip of his beer. “Yeah on one condition- if you let me and Coop see your tits” he smirked from behind the bottle.

You scowled at him. Remer had been trying to get you to flash them for a while now. He had some weird thing for boobs. He was a creep- not in a weird way though. You had basically grown up with him so you guys bickered about this stuff back and forth. And I mean, No one else was gonna offer you a deal like this, and it’s not like they’d be the only guys who’d have seen them.

You sighed standing up.

Coop looked up at you “he- what are you doing?” He asked leaning forward in his chair. 

“Getting my $400 a month for rent you shrugged. 

Remers mouth dropped open as you started to lift your shirt. 

“No fucking- ahw my god.” He groaned sinking back into his chair, his eyes fixated on you as you flashed them.

“Take a good look, this is the last time you’re gonna see them” you stated coldly.

Remer sat back in his chair sucking his teeth, his hazel eyes burning holes into your chest. 

You dropped your shirt. “Happy?” You asked annoyed.

Coop sat wide eyed looking between you and remer unable to speak. 

“Mi casa es su casa” Remer chuckled softly outstretching his arms. 

~~END FLASHBACK A YEAR LATER~|

You had just gotten home from work. You hated the long hours you were scheduled, you felt like you weren’t getting paid enough. 

The job caused your whole body to ache. Your body was tense and you had a bunch of anger pent up from dealing with stupid customers all day. 

You stripped yourself out of the faded black jeans replacing them with comfortable fleece shorts. You reached for your top pulling it over your head searching your drawers for some over sized t-shirt.

“Hey (y/n) I don’t see any pizza bites left in the-“ 

The door swung open as Remer entered the room not bothering to knock. 

“Doug!” You cried going to cover your torso with a sheet. You had a bra on but you still felt uncomfortable with him seeing you exposed like this. 

His eyes widened and he put his hands up in defense. “Woah woah calm down. I’ve seen chicks boobs before, no biggie” 

He stood there, door wide open behind him like this was normal. You rolled your eyes at him. “Doug, get out” you pointed towards the door. 

“Hey I’m just sayin’” he let his eyes wander down your body, drinking in the sight before him. You took a book from the night stand throwing it at him. He dodged it, a shit eating grin making its way on his face. 

“Fine whatever I’ll leave” he said with attitude. “I was just gonna ask if you bought pizza bites while at the store” 

You scoffed. “Remer it wasn’t my turn to go to the store today” 

Remer shut the door behind him mumbling something about what he was supposed to eat if no one went to the store. You sighed pulling a shirt over your head.

You headed for the kitchen a little while later deciding you would see if you could find anything to satisfy the pains in your stomach. Doug was on the couch watching tv. You were surprised he didn’t have cable porn pulled up, beating himself in the middle of the living room. 

You dug through the panty finding pasta and sauce. You put a pot on the stove to boil. 

“Can I have it?” A voice asked from behind you. 

Your turned around to see Doug leaning against the counter.

“Have what?” You asked annoyed stirring the water as an encouragement to boil faster. 

“You know.” He shrugged.

“No Doug. I don’t know actually” you turned away from him. You heard his feet against the tile as he moved closer.

He leaned against the counter next to you, stupid gap toothed smile plastered across his face.

“Your bra” he grinned. 

“Doug, shut up” you said giving him the shoulder. 

“Is that a no?” He asked. You turned from the pot, your mouth open. 

“Are you fucking serious?”  

“Well you’re wearing one of my teams jerseys it’s only fair I have something of yours” He protested.

You didn’t say anything turning away again. 

He leaned down whispering in your ear. “Please?”

You had no idea what he wanted it for but it was probably for some perverted personal fantasy of his. 

“It doesn’t have to be the one your wearing” he tried to compromise. 

“Remer, I’m gonna hit you if you don’t back up” you warned not making eye contact. 

You could feel the smirk playing on his lips without him uttering a word. 

“Cmon, I know you’ve got a ton of them that drawer” he purred 

“Doug.” You warned. 

“what about that green one…or the lacy black one that has the matching panti-“ 

Before you could think your hand had swept across his face slapping him.

“Son of a bitch- did you go through my drawer?!” You yelled demanding an answer. You felt bad but from after the long day you’d had you were bound to have had snapped at some point. 

He was holding his jaw looking offended.  “Ouch” he mumbled rubbing his jaw. “Y’know you should join the team, you’ve got quite the arm.” 

You were infuriated with him. Of course he would go through your drawers like that. Him and Coop had quite the reputation or stealing panties from house parties they went to, keeping them like trophies. Almost never were they actually taken from off the girls themselves. Why would you an an exception.

“Fuck you, fucking freak” you murmured from under your breath. 

“Look, I’m sorry” Remer came up behind you, his chest grazing against your shoulders and back. 

“The drawer was halfway open and I just couldn’t help myself” he mumbled. 

The pot was boiling as you added the noodles to the mix not saying anything to the curly haired boy.

He hugged you from behind leaning down to whisper in your ear. “ ‘m really sorry. I promise it was a one time thing” he mumbled into your ear. 

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“Want some spaghetti?” You asked him disregarding his apologies. 

“Please..” he mumbled again hands tightening around your waist.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his touch. You were used to Remer being touchy like this, the occasional hug, kiss on the forehead, or cuddling on the couch to watch a movie. And that accidental drunk hookup a few years ago..

“You smell good..” he said into your shoulder. 

You scoffed. “I smell like work”

He stayed there with his head forced into the crook of your neck. 

“I’m sorry for asking that, I just let my imagination get the best of me..” 

You hummed in response still a little annoyed but you felt bad for hitting him, you had reacted without thinking 

“Lemme make it up to you” he said muffled by your skin. “Stop the stove and I’ll give you a massage, I can feel how tense you are.” 

You sighed. Maybe he was right. You didn’t want to be a dick to coop when he came home too. Plus with his huge hands, he gave the best massages. You turned the dial, moving the pot off the stove. 

“Go lay on my bed, you can take your shirt off, I’ll wait” he told you.

You obeyed his orders going to his room and pressing your bare chest to the sheets. While you waited you looked around. His room was messy. It was always cluttered. Knickknacks covered the shelves and there was dirty laundry on the floor. 

Remer came in a few moments later with a bottle of lotion.

“MmKay just relax” he said squirting some into his hands.

You pressed your face into the mattress as his hands got to work. It felt so good. Remer was so good at finding all the tense knots and working them out. 

“Mmm” you hummed into the mattress.

“Feel good?” He asked his hands gliding over your skin.

You nodded and he chuckled in response.

You let out a soft moan as he worked out a knot in your upper shoulder.

“Doug, how’re you so good at this” you sighed into the sheets. 

You could feel his hot breath on your ear as he leaned down. “I’m just good with my hands” you could sense his grin even though you couldn’t see his face. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm, but you wanna know what I’m even better with?” He asked his hot breath in your ear.

“What’s that” you turned your head to the side to look at him. There was that gapped tooth grin. 

“My mouth” 

You grinned a little shaking your head. 

“Wanna see?” 

Your body stiffened a little as your heart started to pick up its pace. Last time something intimate happened like this between you two you were both shit faced drunk. Without alcohol in your system your heart beat rapidly against your rib cage like it was trying to break out.

He lowered his lips to your shoulder and started leaving hot open mouthed kisses on your skin. 

“Doug” you started to protest.

He ghosted his lips against your shoulder until he reached your neck, kissing at the sensitive skin. 

You shivered at the feeling, nipples starting to harden.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” He hummed against your skin. 

You didn’t respond, trying to focus on something other than his mouth exploring your body.

He took that as an invitation to keep going. Open mouthed kisses soon turned into sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin.  You lifted your neck and in the process causing your sensitive buds to rub against the rough sheets. 

You let out a soft whine trying to muffle it with the mattress.

He tsked “don’t be embarrassed now” 

His attacks against your neck became harsher and before you knew it you were turning around to face him.

He looked down at your bare chest “well hello there” he smirked. 

“Doug..” you weren’t sure if it was a rebuff or a plead for more.

He gave you a goofy grin before wrapping his arms around your lower back pulling you closer as he attacked your neck again.

You tilted your head back giving him more room to work with. He trailed hot kisses down your collar bones, occasionally lingering to suck deep purple marks into your skin, until he reached your chest. When he got to your breasts he took a nipple in his mouth sucking softly. 

Your hand shot up to tangle itself in his mess of curls as he started to roll the bud between his tongue.

“Doug..” your breath hitched as you tugged softly. 

He hummed against the skin, the feeling going straight to your core. 

You used your hand in his hair to guide his mouth around your breast. The coolness of his glasses pressing into your chest as you pushed his face further in. 

“God..” you breathed out softly. 

He let his teeth graze over or causing you to whine. 

He lifted his head coming up to meet your eyes.

“I told you I’m good with my mouth” he said leaning in closer.

“Y-you’re not bad” you responded trying to blow the situation off. 

“I could show you more if you want, that was just the beginning.” he offered a smirk on his face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm” he nodded his curls bouncing as he glanced down at your lips. 

You leaned forward going to meet his. 

“You couldn’t begin to fathom the kind of pleasure my mouth brings” You could feel his hot Breath on your face as he spoke, his eyes half lidded.

“Who’s making pasta?” A voice called from the other room.

You jumped back from Remer, and rushed to grab your shirt. 

“Shit Coops home” you stood up shrugging your shirt on, completely forgetting about your bra lying on Remers messy floor. 

“Awe c’monnnn” Remer groaned throwing his head back. 

“Remer I’m not letting Joe catch us, the last thing I wanna do is make him uncomfortable.” you said heading for the door.

“God well leaving me like this is uncomfortable..Fucking cockblock” he muttered under his breath. 

He watched you leave the room as he cursed to himself tucking himself in his waistband going out to join you and Coop. 

He took a mental note to flush the toilet the next time Joe was taking a shower. 

——————

Pt. 2 here