#i really thought tms would fix my brain

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

so i have managed to get zero writing done, bc i'm out of my adhd meds. and cvs says they are on backorder so it could be a while before i get them. but i NEED them. and the store just expects you to personally call every other cvs nearby and ask them if they have what you need. you know, instead of just doing it themselves, like they should bc it's their goddamn job to see their clients receive their medication. and i cannot function without it. but i hate making phone calls, my social anxiety is so bad that i get super nervous and can barely make it through the conversation without crying. it's not fair. adhd meds like adderall have been hard to get for over a year. and my goddamn insurance won't pay for it anyway, so I'm gonna have to pay out of pocket.

[gotholdladywithadhd]

Unpopular opinion, probably.

So I've read many metas, and thought a lot about it and have come to my own personal conclusion about the final 15.

I'm taking it at face value.

Because it was the most human Crowley and Aziraphale have probably ever been and I think that is at least part of the point. Love makes people stupid and they are navigating a very human thing in very unhuman circumstances, and it's hard enough to do as a human in human circumstances!

I think Aziraphale believed the Metatron about Crowley bc he was expecting the worst when TM mentioned Crowley but instead got the one thing he wanted most (him and Crowley together and safe, not Crowley being an angel. ) Crowley was absolutely the carrot here. (and no I do not think Crowley would have been safe or happy, but that's besides the point.) I can't tell you how many times I've believed patently ridiculous things because I wanted to believe them so badly even though if I was looking at the same situation objectively from an outside POV I would see how ridiculous it was, so I totally get it. This isn't to say I think Azi had a real choice to go to Heaven or not and I think he did understand that as well, but I get the temptation the Metatron threw out to him, I really do.

As for Aziraphale literally saying all the wrong things to try and get Crowley to come with him? Um yeah been there done that too, the nerves take over, the brain shuts off, the mouth goes into autopilot pulling stuff out its ass, and "WITAF did I just say?" happens.

Crowley not taking any of it well and only hearing what he expected to hear (I'm not good enough for you bc I'm a demon and you only really want me if I can be an angel) *and* also being more able to see through heavens bullshit bc he has lived it, and can see it from the outside, *and* all whilst being the most honest and vulnerable he has ever been with Aziraphale in 6,000 plus years (or in fact possibly to anyone, ever. the closest before this admitting he was lonely to Azi during the Job minisode,) *then* hearing what he took to be the same Heaven will save us line from Azi was enough to trigger a massive bout of RSD and a broken heart. Everything was supposed to "vavoom and sorted! " and instead the stupid awning broke and everything went wrong. I think I've said it before that at this point Crowley can't hear anything over the sound of his heart breaking into a million pieces.

That's a whole lot to pack into the brief moments before Azi has to leave with the Metatron (who let's be honest was rushing him before he could change his mind) esp when neither of them are used to discussing their relationship openly. They didn't have time to think, to ask questions, to share information, (like hey guess what really happened to Gabriel?) Crowley tried to communicate as much as he could about his feelings with the kiss but Azi didn't have the time to properly process all that and said the wrong thing again and Crowley was rejected (he thought) again and it all just went so very wrong. You can't fix a 6,000 year relationship in 15 minutes, you just can't no matter what the story books say.

It's about two people wanting the same thing but not being able to get it (yet) because of circumstances and personalities. All of S2 was about them seeming to be closer than ever (and in many ways they were) but really they were opposed at almost every turn. (in RL not the minisodes, those actually showed them working together and coming out okay mostly, if you don't count wee Morag or Crowley getting dragged to hell) The way they both handled the Gabriel situation, how they both worked to solve the mystery, even how they tried to make Nina and Maggie fall in love were all either done alone, or in opposite ways. I've said it before and I'll say it again, as it was pointed out right in ep1, their exactlies aren't the same and until they are, they aren't going to be able to be together. The one time they did work together in the season, they produced a 25 lazuri miracle. That is the point of the final 15, and the whole season 2 in my opinion.

They'll get there in the end though!

[cabezadeperro]

Hello. (!!!!!!!) I am marathoning your Jango-long-works because I keep on turning the (stunning) way you write this man in my mind like a rotisserie chicken strapped to a wind turbine. I’m just, like. what is this guy’s deal?? Because I adore (adoreeeeeee), the way you write him as he’s like. Inescapable. (In the sense that im reading ‘ships in the night’ and I love how we’re getting a glimpse into his days pre-bounty hunter, pre-new-lungs, pre-‘my rage has simmered down’). Like, his line about: “Jango finished the job because that's why he’s being paid to do—and he has very little now, but his honor is one of those things.” I want to put it under a microscope because, why is he clinging to this job when surely he could have looked for allies? I feel like he feels such an overwhelming sense of. Guilt? Grief? Responsibility? For how Galidraan went, and he does use ‘selfish’ to refer to himself, could that mean he can’t relate or engage with that Mandalorian, even if their goals partially align, because that will be further defeat and he can’t take it. In short, (and thank you for your patience with my rambling! Feel free to reply or not, public or private is fine) the way he Will fulfill a contract but No he is not your mandalor (or he doesn’t even feel particularly patriotic) is such an odd thing that is deeply compelling and I admire (and it’s maddening) how the narrative (your writing style) is not out to Deus Ex Machina him to get himself fixed. I really love how you show the broken/competent/grim parts of him while also keeping him unapologetically himself (but maybe I am still firmly stuck in that harrowing scene he has with the Goran about Arla, that I’m realising now I’m unconsciously putting next to ‘ships in the night’ even if their timelines differ).

Anyway!! I realise I should close an ask with an actual ‘?’, so: did you have any goals when you set out to write ‘ships in the night’ and ‘Arla and Jango revenge road trip’, and if yes, is there any ‘director’s cut comment’ that you’d like to share?? 🤩🤩🤩

HIIII

i was going to answer privately, but when you do that the ask disappears into the ether forever, and i wanted to have some way to save this skdghkgh

thank you so much for reading and for reaching out!! it makes me very happy that you want to talk about those two fics specifically--i'm pretty proud about them and not that many people have read them dfdsfkj (understandable! they're very niche and no one owns me anything lol).

under the cut because this got Long lol

wecome to the "rotating jango fett like a rotisserie chicken" club. it's hard work but someone has to do it. he's my little meow meow and lives rent free in my brain etc etc. i think he's such an interesting character and has so much potential in the little we see him both in the movies and in other materials (like the comics or the videogame), and i don't want to judge other people's versions of the character but i feel like sometimes the fandom doesn't do him justice. he's just so Interesting, i want to study him like the bug. he's key for The Star War but at the same time he's kind of like illegible--kind of like a blank space but not. we know what he did, we know what happened to him, but we don't actually know any of his whys, and i find that fascinating.

his character as it first appears in the prequels is also very interesting. i love how still and quiet and bland and polite he is! he's just some guy (tm), nothing to see here.

iirc ships in the night was actually written as part of an event. it was a gift for a friend, and that meant that i knew i could get more personal with where i took the story. i thought that it would be interesting to explore his character when he was no longer jango fett, mand'alor, but he also wasn't jango fett, bounty hunter yet. your 20s are a Weird time, and i think that in his case they had to be even weirder. it may be because i personally just got "finished" with mine (i wrote those fics right before turning 30 lol), but i find that decade very interesting. there's a lot of change, a lot of shedding layers of dead skin and old personalities and trying out things and messing up and becoming one thing or another, and in jango's case (someone who's severely traumatised, who's lost and lost and lost, who hasn't actually had the time or the space to grieve properly) those years would be even more key for who he became afterwards. he's very raw. he's very scared and still grieving. but there's also this--coldness about him, this ability to intellectualise and dissect and actively ignore his sense of right and wrong until it scabs over and he can forget he ever had one. he's very young and very clever and completely ruthless, and he has nothing to lose anymore.

also, we don't actually know that much about what happened to him between escaping the spice freighter and doing that job for dooku. a decade goes by, and he becomes the Best Bounty Hunter In The Galaxy TM, and we just have no idea of what actually happens to him, or what he does.

that was also my thought process behind monsterkilling i believe? (sorry, it's been a while lol). i just wanted to write something about jango and arla, about arla finding out what happened to him and just deciding to find jango. i think i didn't quite do her justice, but i wanted to explore what would happen if the fact that she needs to take care of her little brother would make it through the trauma and the programming. they're both incredibly messed up and they don't really know each other anymore, and at the same time they're the only ones left. (also: arla's song in that fic is apple tree by marika hackman, and the last scene with the quince tree and the tombs is directly inspired by the song.)

so yeah. with both fics i think i wanted to explore ideas of growing up, change, vulnerability, grief and trauma. i wanted to write about connecting to people despite yourself, about hurting them and getting hurt in turn, and about taking in both the hurt you give and the hurt you receive and deciding what to do with all of it.

anyway! this is a lot! thank you for everything, for your comments as well ❤️❤️❤️ they made me very happy!!!!

[fox-guardian]

Can we hear more thoughts on Oliver Banks pls

I love him so much he is literally so funny and fascinating like we all talk about how wild his ep 121 statement was with the impersonating and sneaking onto a boat to take a fat nap and how that was hilarious, but see also this bit from his ep 11 statement:

"Even more surprising was that my forward motion brought me over the edge of Canary Wharf’s roof and I fell. I plummeted, I don’t know how far, until I hit the ground with a crack. I would have expected this to wake me but instead I simply lay there, spasmed by dream-pain, you know, the knowledge of pain without the white heat of nerves."

He went splat. He just. Fell and went splat in his dream. And just laid there for a while. That's so fucking funny to me, man.

Also the entire thing with ep 168 like literally what was up with that. Out of every domain Jon Looked At and gave a statement for, Oliver was the only one (that I recall) where someone Gave the statement to Jon. That was Oliver speaking to and through Jon, telepathically beaming his gay little coroner's report into his brain like Why Do We Not Talk About This Why Did Oliver Get To Do That. It is both fascinating and very funny because how exactly did that work. Was it

A) Oliver beaming the formatted report into Jon with his own weird mind powers he has for some reason

B) Jon finding a physically written report with his eye powers and reading off that

C) Oliver just sitting very still in his domain thinking really hard about his gay little report ever since Jon stepped foot into his domain to prepare for Jon's supernatural IBS

Also I just looked over a smidge of the 168 transcript and I just. I wish so badly he could've had a voice appearance. Like if you think about it there wasn't too much reason they couldn't have done it in terms of like. Episode structure, and not much would've changed. The way Oliver talks about his emotional state and state of being tells us he wouldn't have run away like Simon did should Martin be present to start threatening murder, and there's a chance he was also Physically Incapable Of Moving. Like. "I am a fixed point" How Much So, Mr Banks. Are you vibing in your gay little goth treehouse?? Are you tangled in death roots, binding you to a spot in your domain, unable to move?? Are you simply so sleepy and constantly fading in and out of consciousness in a fancy death bed?? Please tell me I would love to know.

And of course the idea of Martin actually meeting Oliver has so much potential to it obviously. Martin getting more jealous because Oliver is Hot(TM), Oliver being basically dead inside apart from being very into Martin once he sees him and Jon fucking with both of them as a result because it's funny, etc. Also I just miss his voice and wish he had more of it. I love him so much. I need more juxtaposition between his statement manner of speaking and his normal one. Give me all the Oliver stutters. I need to hear a yawn.

[john-bitchester]

Okay, 06×10 yet another episode that I needed TWO HOURS to ge through, bc man. All the thoughts.

Trigger warning for discussion of rape

I lowkey forgot about Samuel and the teenwolfification of this season and I really went 'ieuw' out loud

(Teenwolfification: 'look at this crazy wild unheard of creature that is done super badly! (The superior TM creature alphas)

I read a phonesex destiel fic recently and Crowley was a phone sex operator too, and honestly, I would call both those men (though it's sex-centered, to me it didn’t read like porn in the same way. But it was really really good)

They have excellent voices

Cas and Crowls that is

Tbh fresh post-hell Dean too

I think I am discovering things about myself here

(Deep grovely voices hello)

Spn is really making me realise things

Gunplay/gunkink, a thing for deep grovely voices, obsessed with all the dads (dad, daddy and papa (john, crowley and bobby)

Eyo wtf

The way I was too distracted by Crowleys voice that I didn't even notice at first

Is iridium real

Yes it is, Number 77

I just realised

Crowley is always the same guy (please stay the same actor, he is too good)

Does that mean he just never goes back to hell

A BABYPHONE?!

Oh my god Crowley truly actually is a daddy

This is our second proof

NO

IM ATTACHED

HOW DARE YOU

YOU SHAPESHIFTER SCUM

FUCK YOU

I DESERVE MORE CROWLEY

NO

Im sorry Dean what do you mean 'now I need a daily rape shower'

Dean what does that mean

You need a dialy shower to deal with the trauma of being raped in hell??

Or what???

Okay no im fully going with this

In the last episode we discover (or I at least theorised) dean got raped in hell

If someone touches you without consent, it feels nasty, makes your skin crawl, you want to wash it off

So what if the extend and extremes to whicj they are hunting now are just triggering dean over and over again to hell, making him need a shower to process his trauma and 'feel clean again' after what was done to him, and the memories their daily Alpha encounter/demon encounter unearths

Help I can never look at Deans 1911 normal again

The gunplay fics have officially taken root in my brain

Okay nope

Its official

Look at his face

The fear in his voice

[Okay, officially over the foreplay, satisfy me or I please myself]

[Something funny, Sam? - Yeah - Cuz from where I'm sitting-]

Dean winchester is ‐scared-

He got raped in hell no question

I am unwell and not in the funny way

[You gonna untie us? - please, don't pretend you don't enjoy it.]

I genuinely needed a sec after this

The dead look in deans eyes holy fuck

Great acting

But shit it breaks my heart

[If you don't help us, I will hunt you down and kill you. - Will you, boy?]

I am unwell in the funny way again

Cass feels so wrong

I hate it

Like I know he used the excuse of 'I got de-emotioned again and I acted the way I did bc I was rebelling'

But you can't tell me they can just. De-emotion the angels

Bc then they would do that with all the rebels

I dont get it

I'd say 'wouldnt it be cool if cass was also soulless, but idk if angels have souls

My friend bunbun texts: It's also a widely accepted headcanon that Sam got raped in the cage

Oh ny god hello

OH MY GOD

YOU CANT JUST DROP SOMRTHING LIKE THAT ON A GAL

Okay but where does this come from

I literally straight up keep forgetting Ruby betrayed Sam

What happens to Jimmy when Cas is upstairs

Like does he need the body in heaven also

I do like how Sam says 'Raphael' it's like. 'Rafaël'

Jesus Ill never get thru this episode. Im 11 minutes in and have been watching it for 45 minutes

You have to be SHITTING me

How can I have so many thoughts on 10 minutes of food

On the whole "Theres something wrong with cass' thing

He helped Dean figure out what was wrong with sam. Cared enough to do that

But he isnt helping with fixing it? The literal angel who build a guy up again atom per atom???

So what if this is another angel game? What if Cass doesnt want Sam to regain his soul, for some big angel plan TM

Bc after all, the heavens can't win if Mickey is locked down

Mary???

Does daddy have her locked up in hell or smt?

Istg if Mary gets brought back I will riot

STOP BEING COWARDS

KILL EM

KILL EM ALL

LET THEM REMAIN DEAD FOREVER AND EVER

[Crowley's gonna bring mom back? - You tell me you don't want her back.]

THATS EXACTLY WHAT IM TELLIN YA

Dean you are so sexy when you are righteously angry

Could pin me to a wall with that stare

I just know my girl Mary wouldn't forgive Samuel for bringing her back from the dead instead of getting her sons soul back

Okay this is a two parter. Pt two up soon

[astralartefact]

Making sense of the "Abortion is bad"-Scene in Kamierabi because it doesn't leave my brain and I really don't want Yoko Taro to be an Anti-Abortionist

Why am I still trying to give the ugly show nobody but me watched the benefit of the doubt?

I don't know either. It has to be wishful thinking.

Okay, I know exactly why, it's the scene after all of the Lall BS where Ryo fcking 'kills' Ono and tells him that that's her wish and he doesn't get to grant it, that shit slapped and it singlehandedly keeps my hope alive that that whole previous scene was supposed to be bad so it can be 'debunked' in the next season.

Because if they actually thought Lall's monologue was it and they were spilling some hard truths about abortion being murder, women just shouldn't cheat and how society has gotten selfish bc evil evil smartphones then not only is whoever wrote that shit either downright evil or missing the forest for the trees - they're also a horrible writer.

Like Lall's whole thing is her tearfully boasting about how nobody there listened to other's wishes, how everybody else is just selfishly trying to become god for their own goals and that's why Ono Goro is so good and smart and different and deserves to become god.

But like - that's wrong. And it's wrong to an almost comical degree. Almost none of them are in this for themselves.

From what we've seen almost everybody wants to make the world a better place by becoming God - and sure we don't necesarily really know what they wished for, but from their actions and characters none of them really fight for themselves.

Sawa wants parents like hers to die because they literally killed her brother - she fights for her brother and not for herself. Akitsu literally let himself die so Goro could win and fix the world. The only thing we really know about Ama is that he is too good for this world. Chika fights for Ryo who fights for Kyo. Iyo is literally another guy who let his favorite Idol overwrite his entire existence.

Like typing this out I'm almost feeling stupid for even entertaining the thought that they could actually mean what Lall is saying - especially since Yoko Taros recent themes (that are also in kamierabi) just fly in the face of any conclusion like this - but to me the episode framed it just sympathetically enough that I'm just not all that sure.

this is literally that one crossroads meme but it's between "Kamierabi is criticizing the white savior complex" and "Kamierabi is an alpha podcast that thinks Abortion is murder, women should just stop being sluts and single mothers are ruining society by raising bad men" and it's going to take months until they finally reveal which one it is

(and i think part of my problem is that turning this into 'ono goro is just a white guy(tm) (yeah i know he's asian but you know what i mean, in his social sphere he's a white guy) who thinks only he can solve all of society's problems because he listened to a woman once' would make this a killer story. like that would make so much sense. they could bring the whole thing with him being the one good iyo stan back so we finally have an anime talking about how all oshi-ism is bad q_q but like. what if it isn't. what if these people just fully drank the alpha podcast cool-aid???)

[zekeram]

I see the problem. Incoming wall of text to aid with starting down the tumultuous road of Sonic games:

A) Sonic 1 is generally mid on the whole, this is because they didn't really know how to Sonic yet and the game ended up being largely experimental. Anything that worked they shoved into Green Hill to ensure the best possible first impression, but Spring Yard (Z3) and Star Light (Z5) are pretty good too. Worst levels in the game are Marble and Labyrinth (Z4). Scrap Brain (Z6) also sucks but it's intentional there. I recommend you at the very least experience the suffering of Labyrinth to some degree to understand Sonic's fear of water. If you really wanna play S1 though, the best way to do it is through the fan-remake Sonic 1 Forever, but it does take some setting up. To be fair though, most Sonic games do at this point to undo weird accumulated jank.

Speaking of...

B) If you chose Sonic Adventure 1 over 2, I've got bad news: the steam version is literally the worst version of the game. That game has experienced so much degradation and decay over its bajillions of ports that it makes zombies look well-preserved. While most of the issues are graphical one of the things it borks is how characters move (something about analog directions or whatever I don't remember). I recommend grabbing PkR's Mod Installer as modders have already fixed all of these issues allowing you to experience the game how it was meant to be played back in 1998/1999 (it is hard for me to believe at times that this game was a contemporary of OoT)

So where to start? Well...

Some good "classic" titles to start with would be Sonic 2 or 3 (via Origins is fine but if you don't mind setting a buncha shit up and also care about mods the fan-remakes Sonic 2 Absolute and Sonic 3 A.I.R are better), as well as the more recent Sonic Mania. Sonic 1 is pretty much completely irrelevant outside of the first zone in the wider franchise and CD is a bit divisive (though it does introduce Amy and Metal Sonic), and there's also Superstars which had a shockingly mixed reception (though I personally thought it was really good). Generations is also pretty good and is one of the best usages of the "Boost Formula" while still including some classic gameplay.

Other good ones would be SA2 which is pretty great on the whole, Unleashed although it's very inaccessible unless you have an Xbox laying around, Sonic Rush and Rush Adventure, and Frontiers is pretty good but it definitely loses a lot of its staying power if you didn't suffer through this franchise shooting itself in the foot for the last decade because the writing is 80% dedicated to damage control. Shadow Generations is genuinely peak I dunno how they managed to cook that hard, they're not usually that competent, the only reason it isn't in the starter list is because while the game gets you up to speed it's much better to get acquainted with the Shadow Lore(tm) yourself first. You totally can if you want to fling yourself at peak though

Official stuff only gets you so far though, there's fangames and lots of em. Sonic Robo Blast 2 was made in the Doom engine and has been worked on since before SA1 came out and is very very peam, I hear pretty good things about Sonic and the Fallen Star, Project 06 undertakes the monumental task of making Sonic 06 not suck balls to play, and there's probably a bajillion others out there I don't even know about.

Some more divisive titles include Sonic Heroes which is either the best or worst game in the series depending on who you ask, Shadow the Hedgehog 2005 which to my limited understanding is pretty rough and makes you play it 10 times for the true ending but is regarded much more warmly now, and Sonic Colors was praised universally on initial release but now people dog on it for its crummy writing and also the remake was pretty shitty

Games you should stay the fuck away from include Lost World, Forces, the original Sonic '06, and Sonic 4 Episode 1 (Episode 2 is just kinda mid and is also best enjoyed with a friend)

Anything else I didn't mention is either something I don't have enough tangible experience with or is just okay at best and kinda lame at worst

Welcome aboard, we've crashed at least 3 times and I have no clue how they're still allowed to drive this thing

I want to play the sonic games, but the controls really disagree with me for some reason

[decepti-thots]

You once asked your followers what did we think Mtmte sale numbers were during publication, and I don't know if I missed a follow-up to that, but what were the actual numbers? How well was Mtmte selling?

AH, thank you for reminding me!! I absolutely meant to post my thoughts and just. Blanked on doing it. brain good tm

So the reason I had asked that is that there's a whole thing about how a lot of folks in this fandom are not like, Comic People TM generally, and perceptions of how comics sell outside the industry/fanbase versus how they actually sell is a big thing. And I had a sneaking suspicion that a) a lot of people in MTMTE/LL fandom think the comic was much more successful than it actually was relative to other comics, and b) that comics period are much bigger sellers than they actually are. (Comics here meaning monthly Western releases.)

And I was right! People gave BONKERS numbers. People said they thought it sold at least 100,000 issues a month on a regular basis. Some people said literally millions. Someone said it 'wasn't that successful' so probably 'only' sold around 75,000.

To give some perspective on those figures, 100,000 is a lot for the best selling comic issue in the entire world that month to sell. If Batman or whatever hits 100k that month, it's probably a big hyped issue or something! One of the things that always astonishes people is that the MCU being the biggest film franchise in the world for like a fucking decade now has in no way changed this. X-Men movies make hundreds of millions. This does not translate into the comics selling significantly more than they used to. (If you want to know more, I highly HIGHLY recommend these two essays by Colin Spacetwinks that go over the historical causes in astonishing detail.)

All that out of the way, let's talk what MTMTE did do numbers wise. In a word: not great, dropping to Very Not Great by the end of LL. Let's cut this, it's gonna get long I think.

MTMTE settled down after its launch at like, around 11-15k shifting per issue month to month. This is... well, for a non big two comic publisher (so, not DC or Marvel), this is kind of average? Not in the sense that this is middling performance, because that's really not great numbers, but in the sense that most comics are not financially succesful period. At DC or Marvel that would be cancellation numbers for a lot of titles. At IDW, it was... well. Average! (Contrary to popular belief, their TF titles were not their biggest seller/license. That was, at that time, MLP by a factor of 2:1. The FiM boom was real.)

This is around on par with exRiD as well, by the way. TF comics just... sold around that much. Steadily, without any great drop off in sales over time once settled, but never really getting more. And the thing IDW spent its whole damn time with the TF license doing was trying and failing to fix this. Every soft reboot, the 2019 reboot, all of it was related to them trying to find a way to bring on and keep new readers to bring the numbers up. And it never, ever worked.

Which sounds surprising, right? MTMTE did bring on new readers. Lots of them. Why didn't the sales figures go up? Well, I have a theory. Which is that the people it brought on were not people who were into other comics and gave TF a go, but instead people for whom TF was not just a first Transformers experience, but their first time with Western comics too. Which matters because comics are sold in a way that is fucking insane that means a lot of the ways people read comics Just Don't Count. And that was especially true back in 2012, when the digital comics industry was much less developed than today.

The reason being: only preorders of individual issues are 'counted' by comics publishers traditionally when tallying up how a comic is performing, really. If you walk into a comic book shop a week after it came out and buy it off the shelf? Does very little for the comic. If you buy it in trades? Nowadays this isn't quite so true as graphic novels have become a much larger part of the market, but traditionally, that really did not help a comic series avoid ongoing cancellation at all. You had to pre-order from a comics retailer, because that dictated how many issues they would pre-order in for future issues, and that was used to judge what series were doing well. Nobody explains this to the average consumer who just wants to read a neat comic. IDW did no work explaining this to new readers. You only know this if you are a Comics Person TM. And a bunch of teen and early 20s new-to-comics people who found and loved MTMTE through word of mouth did not know this, I think! WHY WOULD YOU. THIS IS A TERRIBLE BUSINESS MODEL. (again, there are historical reasons for it; the essays linked explain it.)

This is why Lost Light and Optimus Prime and Til All Are One got the relaunches. An old comics industry standby is to try (and fail) to artificially pump up numbers by relaunching as a new #1 issue and pretend it's a new series to try and attract new readers. That was all editorial fiddling to make the numbers go up. And it failed. Miserably. LL's sales figures infamously fucking tanked compared to MTMTE's early days. It ended at more like 5k a month, which is insta-cancellation levels even for smaller publishers tbqh. I mean that's dire. There were a lot of factors that were at play there. A full analysis is beyond me tbh!

When people say it 'made no sense' to reboot in 2019 and 'cancel their most succesful TF comic(s)' about MTMTE/LL etc, it's just important to know that numbers wise, that is not what happened. Every single IDW TF comic got to cancellation sales numbers and that's what the hard reboot of IDW2 basically was. LL especially was performing atrociously by the standards of its industry (and yes, the comics industry has ludicrous business practices and it's basically impossible to perform well under any circumstances, but that's not the main point here). The cancellation wasn't out of the blue and it wasn't IDW killing off a high performing comic arbitrarily. It cancelled every TF comic performing badly at once; that just happened to be. Like. Every TF comic at the time. And I assume they turned it into a hard reboot because that was like, the one thing they hadn't tried yet.

This got really long, oooops jskhdkjg but. Yeah. Basically, the perception in fandom is often VERY skewed versus what actually happened.

[sunder-soul]

For a request would love to have tom’s pov of the holidays such as the missed kiss and when charlie asked about his feelings and when he found out they actually weren’t dating

Sequel Snippet Spree: Seven Devils

A/N: [I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT MY 2K EVENT FROM 100 YEARS AGO, I JUST FOUND THIS SITTING IN MY WIPS FOLDER AND WAS LIKE OMG I SHOULD SIMPLY POST THIS] Also I'm already writing Tom's pov of Charlie's 'confrontation,' and the Christmas night by the fireplace as well bc the angst is simply SO FUN TO WRITE MY GOD THIS MAN I love making him this fucking dramatic, I just really wanted to post this now bc I like it :) [GIF CREDIT!]

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

ℙ𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 (there are serious issues with the tagging system atm and idk how to fix it sorry, I tried for like half an hour 😭)

𝔸 - 𝕄 @abhorredlara​ @anakinishotdoe​ @anevrismes​ @arana-alpha​ @bedheadgirl @books-butterbeer @catastrophicalllyy @crazytwentythrees​ @dear-fifi​ @dropssofjupitter​ @dravenwitchmusings​ @emeraldphoenixblackthorn​ @empath-bunny​ @evertiel​ @expectoscamander​ @fish-eg​ @ginasellsbooks​ @grimdevil​ @herfantasyworldd​ @hueanhdang​ @hypnohawke​ @itsjustfics @itzjennieofficial @iwastoowildinthe70s @justhurtnocomfort @kennafild @lemirabitur @like-phantasma @lovelyysiriuss @lucys-brain @mentally-in-northern-italy @mikariell95 @michaels-gardenaesthetic @moatsnow

ℕ - ℤ @niallwrld @nothinghcppens @obliviouspotter @oui-magnifique @pearlstiare @pink-kixxes @qblaughter @rainyroads @raven-riddle @rededfoxy @rinsdesires @saintsha @seriouslyginnychase @shunamai @silverdelirium @sokkasdimples @suicide-sweetheart636 @sunles @sweetpsycho46 @tallyovie @theyoungestchild0w0 @tm-mrvl-rddl @toasterking @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @until-the-last-falling-star @valentinecarnage @vampireveela @pure-egotism @vallastempermental @voidmalfoy @weirdowithnobeardo @whentheskyispinkandabitblue @whoevenfrickenknows @whoreforgeorgeandfred @wizardcherryblossom @wymindog @yepitslainie @yourgirl-niah

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

He slept badly, of course. He always slept badly. The storm woke him before dawn with the first gust of heavy-handed rain on the windows and he knew the second his eyes had opened that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. Rain like this always made his stomach sink. At Wool’s it had always meant cold, damp nights followed by cold, grey days, too much noise trapped inside with too many people. Waking warm and comfortable with such a storm outside was still surreal.

Very suddenly Tom remembered the previous night and instantly all remaining hope that he might rest a little longer disintegrated. He didn’t know what it was about the darkness that had made it so easy to say things he’d never say in a well-lit room, telling her about the fear he’d felt seeing Marina at Voldemort’s mercy in the Manor, admitting how much he still thought about it, asking her about her own night terrors –

Tom’s eyes fell shut in embarrassment and he took a long, regretful breath. He shouldn’t have asked her that. Not so indelicately, not without some indication that she even wanted to tell him.

He pushed himself up and swung his legs off the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and then let his hands fall limp off his knees. He didn’t like how they looked, the hands of a stranger suspended on the ends of his forearms. Fatigue clouded dully behind his open eyes and with it, the bitter desire that for once he might wake feeling like he’d ever slept at all.

He looked at her.

The nascent grey dawn painted him a faint picture but he could still very easily make her out, her gold hair across the pillow, the thick quilt half-covering her sleeping face. She was completely still. He couldn’t even hear her breath. Tom grit his teeth and looked away, his stony gaze falling back on his fingers. He’d been extraordinarily stupid to think he could do this seamlessly. He’d been extraordinarily stupid in a number of ways when it came to Marina, actually, stupid in ways he could hardly bear to think about. Thinking things were different to the way they were. Thinking she might be coming to feel things for him that she clearly didn’t.

Misinterpreting things.

He would happily call it ‘humiliating,’ were his pride wounded more than his hopes – but he wasn’t so lucky. ‘Disappointing’ was far more apt, though it fell stratospherically short of describing the feelings that had taken hold of him seeing Charlie lean down and kiss her, and realising exactly how extraordinarily stupid Tom had really been. He stood in silence and turned for the kitchen, leaving Marina sleeping quietly behind him without allowing himself to look at her again.

He should have known better. Marina had met him at his worst, she’d known the depth of his true ugliness right from the very beginning, the selfish, ignorant, ridiculous child he’d been seven years prior. It had been monstrously vain, deluded of him to think that she might come to see him as something… else.

He should never have entertained the notion in the first place, that she might be looking at him the same way he’d found himself looking at her, or that she might feel as he felt when he touched her. The bitter embarrassment overtook him again, the thought that he’d misinterpreted his own feelings as something palpable between them, some corporeal presence or understandingthat she sensed too. It was so shamefully naïve.

Tom angrily yanked the cupboard open and seized a mug, and only just caught himself from slamming it onto the counter in the last second lest he wake her. He placed it down carefully and then stared at it in deep resentment.

He knew he was being ridiculous.

The knowledge did very little to sooth the acidic disappointment seeping out of some fissure that had opened up deep in his chest. He couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie’s arm around her on the couch, her leaning against his chest, their natural playfulness and the seamlessness of how she touched him. It had been an unforgiving reminder that Marina wasn’t like him, she didn’t hoard herself away like he did, and it seemed so painfully obvious to him now that she should be with someone like Charlie, someone like her, who laughed loudly and smiled openly and moved easily.

God, he should have known. That’s what made it even more unbearable. He’d seen the way Charlie had said goodbye to her before they’d left for Azkaban, the fierce concern, the tight hug, the familiar touch. He’d wondered at the time, she and Charlie had been at the Burrow together for months by that point after all, but he’d been so staunchly confident that the feeling prickling across his skin had been surprise, or simply embarrassment at witnessing a moment of someone else’s intimacy, or even (as he had really managed to convince himself one night as he’d laid awake thinking about it) that it was simply surreal to see Marina in someone’s arms just because he’d known her for so long.

Ridiculous, the things he’d tried to tell himself.

It was envy. He knew it now of course, and really he’d known it then, too, in some reserved and much ignored part of his mind. Why else had he offered her his hand like that to Apparate? Just to see what she’d do, how she’d react, if she’d be so at ease with him, too – and he’d turned her reaction over in his mind like a puzzle for too many a night afterwards, the way she’d stared at him in something a little more pink-cheeked than just surprise, how she’d tried to play it off but how she’d not quite met his eyes when she took his hand. That had been his downfall, he thought, that he’d really managed to delude himself into thinking that perhaps it was a lack of ease, not the presence of it, that betrayed Marina’s feelings.

And God, Greece.

Tom exhaled grimly and waved his wand at the silver coffee pot, dispassionately watching his mug fill.

He couldn’t even count all the things he’d misinterpreted in Greece.

Not fully paying attention, Tom spooned too much sugar into his cup and stirred, the crisp little sounds of the silver against the ceramic seeming very far away. Yesterday morning Marina had told him she’d forgotten about Lovegood like she was confessing a long life of stomach-turning sin, like she’d expected him to be disgusted, or at least furious. He’d seen the weariness of it all on her face before she’d rested her head on his shoulder, just like the night after they’d gotten back and she’d fallen asleep against him and he’d not been able to bear moving and waking her –

Shame swallowed him fetid and hot, and Tom’s head hung, his fingers gripping the counter hard. Yesterday Marina had been frighteningly listless, visibly guilt-ridden and exhausted beyond recognition, falling against him like the magnitude of telling him those things had cost her the very last of her energy – and he’d still not been able to stop himself from thinking of how good she’d felt leaning against his shoulder, from wondering if it meant she might feel something for him, from misinterpreting it through his own selfish lens and the thought of it now made him sick.

“Idiot,” he muttered in disgust, before remembering she was only around the corner. His lips pressed together hard.

Just for that he deserved it all, having to watch her and Charlie be together when he…

When he what, exactly?

Tom laced his fingers around his mug, not caring that it was still far too hot and his skin prickled uncomfortably at the heat.

He didn’t care to answer that question.

Things were bad enough already.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

[zombvibes]

Oo oo teammate swap: given any thoughts abt dark world outfits and magic nstuff?

I have!! I’m currently redesigning/tweaking their outfits and weapons though (or at least…I’m trying to. My brain likes to procrastinate ☹️)

I’ll show them off anyways even if they’re old/a wip :

( content warning /j : older art ahead yuckyyyy)

Susie’s magic is fire magic (i mean…yeah) which come from her hand accessory, a braclet! (like noelle’s ring)

Though, her outfit could be tweaked a little, but it pretty much looks like this! I tried to make a nice balance between og!susie’s and og!noelle’s dark world forms and I think I did a good enough job of that? Unlike Noelle and Berdly’s designs, she’s pretty much done! I would only be changing it slightly with barely any differences— Which I may have to do so it would be easier to make it into pixels later

And also because of her fire magic she can breathe fire/smoke and can do stuff like this :

Ok next is Noelle! tms!Noelle’s and og!Noelle’s magic is pretty much the same (ice magic). However, tms!Noelle’s weapon is a spear! Since og!Berdly’s weapon a halberd (a weapon with a long shaft and pointed tip), I was like “Hey…you know what other kind of weapon looks like that?” and chose a spear! Also I thought about icicles too since they’re long and pointy (like…a spear). Past me tried to make it in the shape of an icicle (the spear head at least) but I don’t think I pulled it off well.

However, I was thinking about making it an ice staff since I’ve recently tried to make her an ice mage of some kind but I still like the idea of a spear that looks like an icicle (decisions, decisions 🤔)

OK now to her design uhhh I was recently tried redesigning tms!Noelle’s dark world outfit and um. Was not going that well. This is pretty much the closest for what I’m trying to go for. It was based off of the white mage from final fantasy! Though I never really played FF aside from the chocobo spinoff on the ds (which is gooooood), I always liked the designs of the white/black mages! I also was trying to go for a little red riding hood look? Just wanted a cute and innocent design to clash with her not cute and innocent personality. (Which I did NOT do here. Will fix that soon hopefully.) Somehow I wanted to add some sort of element from Berdly’s design (just like I did with tms!susie’s and tms!berdly’s) but I have NO clue how to do that. Eh, I’ll figure it I always to eventually. (If you can’t tell, I’m having a hard time designing tms!noelle’s dark world form aldjjsjfklaskdjak I’ve always had a difficult time with her designs in general tbh.)

Saving the worst for last (/pos) BERDLY!! Berdly’s weapon is a claymore! (which I may change into a broadsword or another two handed weapon. or at least change the design of the weapon). It was based of off the Knight’s Claymore from Breath of the Wild. Tbh I DESPISE the design I gave his weapon. Hate it a lot. It doesn’t really fit him nor his design at all. So definitely changing that when I get the chance. Anyways, I wanted to give him a two handed weapon that you can swing over you shoulder (like susie’s axe though susie just using her left hand and not both because she’s strong and handsome) and to look like Berdly’s weapon (that’s why it’s a bright pink. og!berdly’s weapon is brigh green). I don’t think it’s “berdly-like” enough though. It doesn’t really feel like a Berdly weapon. (if that makes sense aldjajfhkalfls) So again, changing that when I get the chance!

OH AND HIS MAGIC!! You know how og!Berdly can summon tornados? Yeah tms!Berdly can summon thunder/lightning clouds, smoke, and fog/smog! (and probably tornadoes too lmao) Though I didn’t really think about this too much— (aside from the fog/smog part) Still felt like it was worth mentioning though

OK DESIGN TIME. Berdly’s design (like susie’s) could be tweaked a little bit but this is pretty much it! I tried going for an “Evil King/Prince” (hence the crown) with a mixture of an edgy “Original Character Do Not Steal” look (hence the color palette and “beak fang”). I just think that fits tms!berdly to a tee! I don’t think I pulled off the “original character do not steal” thing but I think I DID pull off the evil king/prince. (I think…). And like with the others, I tried to make his design a mix of Susie’s and Berdly’s outfits which uh, I think I did ok on that? I could do better of course—

Sorry for sounding like a NERD and rambling a lot here ahahahaha 😀💦 Really thought about their weapons and designs and junk—

Tbh all them should be more simplified (for sprite edit stuff) which again again, will work on when I get the chance (or when my brain gives me the chance)

[redbullgivesyouwingedkuriboh]

SPOILERS BELOW FOR GX SEASON 2 AND BEYOND

Everyone who follows my blog for more than two minutes knows that Zane is my smol bean, but this take is SO VALID.

Zane is what Kaiba could have been— made cruel by a cruel world, taking it out on the one light that still exists in his life. In some ways, that makes Kaiba better than Zane but I’ll have another essay on that shit later. Moving on—

What follows is the rambling of someone who took one sociology class and got really into how people’s brains function and how their thought processes happen.

Something must have happened tm for Zane to act like that, right? Obviously even with that possibility it doesn’t excuse what an asshole he was to Sy, but I’m thinking, what happened? What shaped his worldview that he would treat Syrus that way?

I wholeheartedly believe, especially considering Syrus’s arc in season four, that Zane saw Syrus as a fucking threat.

(Which makes Zane’s behavior even MORE fucked up, imo.)

Think about it: Syrus can wield the dark deck without causing damage to himself. Zane was weak, too weak to wield such great power. I think Zane knew that, and that’s why he did his goddamn best to make Syrus feel like he wasn’t worthy.

Zane is only every truly friends (in season 1-2 and pre the show, anyway) with anyone that a. He knows for sure 100% cannot beat him in a duel and b. people he can manipulate into thinking they can’t beat him in a duel.

Alexis, Atticus, Fujiwara, the Obelisk cronies, Shroud: all people he chooses to spend time with. He knows none of them will ever surpass him AND/OR (cough atticus cough) he has manipulated them into not even thinking of challenging him.

Aster, Jaden, Syrus, Jaden, Syrus, Aster: ALL PEOPLE THAT CANONICALLY SURPASSED HIM, WHETHER THEY BEAT HIM OR NOT. He is downright mean and abusive to all three.

He has his little hero moment with Camula, which is when I think he initially realizes, “oh I fucked up. I fucked up big time” cause Syrus thinks he could only benefit the battle against the shadow riders by straight up dying but at that point Zane’s in too deep in his opinion and just. keeps digging. cue season 2.

He gets better in season 3, since he starts realizing what he really wants and how he’s been acting, which does not excuse his previous behavior, obvi, and starts to make amends, which. helps. a little. (I did ugly cry when he said he was proud of Syrus. I will take accountability for that. Love watching deathbed fuckup family resolutions, esp since they probably got to talk about it when zane got back)

The one thing I do Really Really like about Zane’s arc is how it takes him facing his own death to realize, “oh I really fucked up and now I need to fix it”, and then he works on it when he gets back.

(can we talk about how goddamn sweet syrus is for still caring for that half dead piece of crap, like syrus. drop his ass. but I commend you.)

Regardless, it’s one hell of a lesson about how short life is and how we only have so much time to be with the people we love. I learned a lot about myself from Zane’s arc (there’s a goddamn theme here, isn’t there *side eyes my kaiba ramblings*).

okie goodnight, I love nuanced characters and analyzing the fuck out of them is clearly my new hyperfixation so if y’all want more please lemme know

You know come to think of it, if anyone should've been giving Zane the business for how he was treating Syrus in the early show which literally everyone should've been but I digress it should've been Alexis.

She knew they were siblings the whole time, she was friends with Zane pre episode 1 probably through Atticus before he disappeared, and she knew better than anybody what their relationship was like, and even if she didn't know everything she at least knew something about the whole thing. She even tried to dissuade Jaden from confronting Zane about it to try and figure out what the issue was and what happened between them. Granted she was worried about Jaden making things worse, but even so she could have and should have just told Jaden what was going on at that point. It would've been very helpful for everyone ultimately if she just spilled the beans quite frankly.

Also she should have played the Atticus card on Zane at some point. Like a whole "My brother is gone and I don't know if I'll ever see him again and I miss him so much and you were his best friend, and you're supposed to be my friend too. You know I'd do anything to have my brother back and here you are treating yours like actual shit and abusing him and wishing he wasn't around and for what? How dare you." Kind of way. Because if anyone could talk to Zane that way and not get their asses kicked it would be her. He wouldn't dare be mean to her, especially when she's right.

But then there's another thought I have often. How dare Zane be friends with Alexis and be so nice to her and encourage her to keep searching for Atticus and then turn around and continue his abusive behavior towards Syrus and say literally anything bad about him around her. How dare he.

Also in my mind it stands to reason that all 4 of them knew each other or at least knew of each other pre episode 1. Because since Atticus and Zane were friends before you know Atty was constantly talking about Alexis because the guy adores his sister, and I feel like at some point it would've just naturally come up in conversation that Zane had a brother and that he and Alexis were the same age. And somehow that info would make its way to Lex and Sy, probably letters or calls home or over breaks and that stuff would just naturally come up at some point. And clearly she and Zane at the very least had met pre episode 1 because they're already friends at that point so she clearly then knows who Syrus is anyway, and based on conversations she had with both Zane and Jaden in episode 7 she clearly knew at least in part what the issue with Zane and Syrus was and was just sitting on it.

I could keep talking and rambling out of my ass here but I guess ultimately my point is Alexis of all people should've been getting on Zane's bitch ass for how badly he'd been treating Syrus for fucking years and still was and is, and Zane just sucks and is a shitty shitty guy. And how dare he be friends with her and practocally treat her like she's his own sister and turn around and abuse his own brother. Especially when he knows better than anybody that she would do anything to see her own again and yet he's treating his like he doesn't matter to him.

[positivityjediprince]

Modern au where r2d2 is a tortoise who's missing limbs and so instead he's on a little cart and Anikin is the one who makes artoos cart and then when anikin disappears artoo is released into the world (he's just chilling and riding around crashing into things) and then later Luke finds him and is just like a tortoise that goes zoom

Ben kenobi sees a tortoise on a motorized cart and has flashbacks of this same creature trying to take out his ankles and sighs and goes "hello artoo please refrain from biting my ankle I will put you in a box"

And Luke is like ????

I don't know it's just important to me that in modern aus it's the same artoo seeing the skywalker chaos and that he be able to cause Obi-Wan stress

Artoo as a tortoise is genius! And Artoo being a tortoise in a cart that zooms - inspired!! They bite AND make weird noises. It's Perfect. Thank you for sharing it! I LOVE it!

Here are some little bits and HC that come to mind from your idea, hope you enjoy!

When Anakin disapears Obi-Wan searches for Artoo but can't find him, despite a tortoise in a motorised cart being something people would definitely notice and remember. He's not upset. He's not. He just gets upset when something hurts his ankle and it's not a snapping tortoise who wants a cabbage.

Luke is over the moon when he finds Artoo. Poor boy lives in the desert, there is nothing exciting around him. Ever. But then he sees a tortoise in a cart who's gotten stuck in some sand. He takes him home and fixes the cart, and a beautiful new friendship is born.

Well, between Luke, Beru and Artoo anyway....Owen is ready to punt the fucker at a moments notice.

And yes! you bet the moment he sees Artoo again all his 'oh what I wouldn't do to have him bite me again' goes out the window and he is constantly threatening him with The Box TM

I can just imagine how baffled Luke would be that the random violent zoom tortoise knows the random hermit????? And they both knew his dad???? The tortoise has been in battle??? Hidden government secrets???? Is his tortoise a wanted criminal??????

Oh and later on, the rivalry between Din 'Hey this blonde is cute' Djarin and Artoo 'I will zoom at everyone and eat their feet' Skywalker, is the stuff of legends and nightmares. He is the ring barer....Din has to chase him around the venue to get the damn rings you wheeled snappy bastard! Come back here!

I really love that having him as a tortoise means he gets to live throughout the Skywalker disaster liniage! Despite being a tortoise, Artoo knows ALL the drama and gossip. He's very happy to watch the Skywalker nonsense unfold, bully everyone, and eat tomatoes.

Ahhhajnsndmrm so many brain thoughts!!! You're a genius!!!!

[mellometal]

Is it time to tear ANOTHER Dhar Mann video to shreds? YOU BET.

I've been sitting on this one for a bit because I wanted to make sure I talk about this tactfully. The subject of parents abandoning their disabled children is a very touchy one.

Parents abandoning their disabled children simply for being disabled is way too common. Like, I understand that not everyone has the resources to care for a disabled child (which is why you reach out for help, and why people like me, who work with disabled people, exist), but it doesn't mean you just walk out of their life. There are exceptions, like if you truly didn't want children or something like that, but just flat-out walking out of your kid's life BECAUSE they're disabled is fucked up.

I know someone personally whose biological mother abandoned her when she was born. Why? Because she's disabled. Physically, and mentally, to a point. I work with this woman on a daily basis. I don't really know WHY exactly her biological mother abandoned her, but I do know that her being disabled was part of it. It's sad. It doesn't affect her, thankfully. I'm happy that she's got her biological dad, her brother, and another maternal figure in her life, at least.

ANYWAYS. Before we get to the topic at hand, I need to put an obligatory trigger warning, like I do with EVERY Dhar Mann post:

This post will be talking about parents abandoning their disabled children simply for being disabled, treating disabilities like they're tragedies (in this case, we're talking about autism...again), divorce, and some SPICY ableist bullshit from an allistic (nonautistic) PIECE OF SHIT.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable in any way, you don't have to read this post. This isn't worth putting yourself in a bad state mentally. I would never ask for any of you to put yourselves in that position all for a post. Put your mental health and well-being first. Consume media that sparks joy for you.

As far as my response goes, it's definitely more calm than normal. Funny....since this video is about autism spectrum disorder again. (Third time's the charm, huh, Dhar Mann? NOT.)

LET'S FUCKING GET IT.

The video starts off with these two parents (Gwen and Allen) in a psychologist's office. The psychologist tells the parents that their son (Chance) is autistic, and she tries to explain what autism is to the parents, but Allen cuts her off. Why? Because he teaches at a prestigious university, so he AUTOMATICALLY knows what autism is from that fact alone.

Um, excuse me? Just because you're a teacher at a prestigious university, it doesn't mean you're an expert in everything. It doesn't make you an expert in ASD or anything like that. Unless you SPECIALIZE in that area. Even then, shut the fuck up. The people who know about being autistic are AUTISTIC PEOPLE THEMSELVES! SHOCKER.

Hey, Dhar Mann! QUIT WITH THE VIDEOS ABOUT AUTISTIC LITTLE WHITE BOYS AND YOUNG WHITE AUTISTIC CISHET MEN! I'M SICK AND TIRED OF IT. It's annoying, ignorant, and it feels like you're doing this on purpose at this point to piss people off. If you're so uninformed about autism in women and girls, FUCKING ASK AUTISTIC WOMEN AND GIRLS! DO BETTER RESEARCH THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE AUTISM SPEAKS. The Autism Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) and the Autistic Women and Nonbinary People Network (AWN) are great organizations to go to for any kind of research on ASD in women and girls. STOP GOING OFF OF THE BRAINS OF AUTISTIC WHITE BOYS AND AUTISTIC WHITE MEN.

I don't feel I need to go too deep into the fact that autistic women, autistic girls, autistic nonbinary people, autistic BIPOC, autistic AAPI, autistic LGBT people, autistic teenagers, and autistic adults exist. Y'all already know.

Gwen asks the psychologist if that means Chance isn't healthy. (I understand not knowing about autism, but don't treat it like it's a terminal illness. Please.) The psychologist tells her that Chance is fine, but he just learns differently and might need more support compared to his peers.

Yeah, autism can affect how you learn about certain things (limited and repetitive patterns), but there are other disabilities that can affect learning as well. Like how dyslexia can affect your ability to read, dyspraxia can affect your ability to do math, and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) can affect your ability to focus or on impulse control. Autism affects how your brain is developed, it affects you socially, behaviorally, and how you communicate.

Allen is upset, says that he can't have a son "with a learning disability" (ASD is a neurological disability, not necessarily a learning disability), and treats Chance like he's stupid for being autistic. Gwen tells her husband that autism doesn't make you any less intelligent, WHICH IS SO FUCKING TRUE. ABSOLUTE FACTS. I was totally with her until she began that little monologue with "Just because a person HAS autism". SAY "JUST BECAUSE A PERSON'S AUTISTIC" INSTEAD! IT'S NOT HARD. PERSON FIRST LANGUAGE ISN'T WHAT EVERY DISABLED PERSON PREFERS. Allen says that "they could have another kid" and "put Chance up for adoption". Gwen obviously wasn't down with that. Allen gives his wife an ultimatum that it's either HIM or their son Chance. Gwen says that she can't choose between the two, but she will stand by her autistic son. Allen gets up and leaves the office, saying he wants a divorce.

Years pass by, Gwen is single and taking care of her autistic son Chance, and Allen has a new life with a ✨perfect son✨ (Samuel). He never mentions the son HE abandoned (Chance). He's completely forgotten about Gwen and Chance. (YOU OWE SO MUCH CHILD SUPPORT, ALLEN.)

Hey, Allen, how much do you wanna bet that your ✨perfect son✨ Samuel is autistic too?

There's the SATs, they're announcing a winner, and guess who it is? IT'S OBVIOUSLY CHANCE, OF COURSE. He's got the highest score in the country, with Samuel in second place. Allen is PISSED.

Chance gives a speech about how his mom really helped him, he struggled with autism, how Allen LITERALLY ABANDONED HIM, and THE CROWD GOES FUCKING WILD. Samuel, instead of being a sore loser, APPLAUDS FOR CHANCE. Stay humble, Sam.

My thoughts on the video? If you cannot tell by my tone throughout this post, IT WAS DOG SHIT. This video was insensitive to the true reality of parents abandoning their disabled children just because they're disabled. What do I expect from Dhar Mann at this point?

Here's my response to his video below. Don't worry, I will fully type out my response soon for anyone who cannot read the screenshots easily. It's a lot easier for me to do that on the desktop site than it is for me to do it on my phone.

For anyone who can’t read my response, I’m typing it out for you. Like I said, it’s easier for me to type it out on the desktop site than it is for me to type it out on my phone. It’s a real royal pain in the ass. But because I’m trying to make my posts easier to read for people, I’m doing this anyway. /lighthearted

First, second, and third screenshots (broken up into paragraphs):

Hey, listen, I appreciate the message you’re trying to go for, but can you please stop putting autistic people into a box? Can you stop treating being autistic like it’s a tragedy? Not every single autistic person is a little white boy in elementary school who’s considered “wild and unruly” or “super quiet and makes no friends”, nor are they a young white cishet man who’s a super genius or is how Chris Chan was before she came out as trans. (For anyone who doesn’t know about Chris Chan, there are many documentaries people have made on YouTube, and I highly recommend Geno Samuel’s docuseries, if you’re really interested in learning about Chris Chan.)

Autistic women, girls, nonbinary people, BIPOC, APPI, LGBT people, teenagers, and adults all exist too. 

It’s very apparent now that you get your resources from Autism $peaks, a hate group that spends the vast majority of their money on funding eugenics instead of helping autistic people like they claim, claims that only little white boys and young white cishet men are autistic and ignores all other autistic people who don’t fit that description, have no autistic people on their leader board or on any board for that matter, have members who have actually fantasized about k1lling their autistic children, treat autism like it’s a tragedy or a disease someone can catch (completely false), act like autism should be cured (there is no cure, and ABA therapy is a total shit show in itself), and treats autistic people like they’re broken and need to be fixed. Also, not every autistic person is a Super Genius(tm). That’s so demeaning to autistic people who aren’t seen as intelligent in any way. I’m autistic and seen as smart; however, there are subjects I’m stronger in than others.

If you can’t handle the possibility of having autistic children, or just disabled children in general, DON’T HAVE CHILDREN. If you can’t handle working with or alongside disabled people, including autistic people, maybe find a different profession. Even if you do that, you’ll never get away from disabled people. Disabled people aren’t a disease. We’re human beings just like neurotypical and able-bodied people.

Fourth and fifth screenshots (broken up into paragraphs): 

I would highly suggest getting resources from reputable organizations for ASD, such as the Autism Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) and the Autistic Women and Nonbinary People Network (AWN). Talk to any autistic person who isn’t a little white boy or a young white cishet man. 

Instead of using the puzzle piece, which is a symbol that many autistic people, myself included, are offended by (because of Autism $peaks and other organizations before them using it, plus it symbolizes that only autistic children exist and that we’re “missing a piece” like we’re broken), use the rainbow infinity sign (for all neurodivergent people) or the red and gold infinity sign (just for autistic people). Instead of “lighting it up blue”, light it up red or gold. Do both if you want. 

I’m actually really sick and tired of seeing just autistic little white boys and young autistic white cishet men being represented in the media, and y’all manage to fuck that up too. 

Before anyone mentions Sia’s movie “Music”, that’s also very poor representation of autistic girls. Besides, the actress who played the autistic girl isn’t even autistic. She MOCKED autistic people. I know she’s a kid, but that’s still super fucked up. I hope she’s able to turn that around. 

If anyone would like to discuss this topic with me or ask any questions, feel free to. I’ll answer as best as I can. Thank you and have a good night.

Before I get attacked for mentioning Chris Chan in my response, I bring up Chris Chan because allistic people think that every autistic person is like her (especially before she came out as trans). That person is part of why I wasn't open about being autistic or talking about my diagnosis until this year. I didn't want to be grouped up with Chris Chan because I do have very similar interests to her, I've been seen as cringey for having said interests, and just the way Chris treated autistic people who were formerly diagnosed with A$p3rg3r$ $yndr0m3 (like I was) really made me feel even more alienated.

Also, S1a supports A$ (Autism $p3aks). She's not a very good person to support. Some of her music is good, but her as a person....no. Her movie "Music" was gross, from what I've read about it and seen pictures of.

If you've read this far, thank you so much!

[lloydskywalkers]

let me just start out by saying i love ever single one of your stories!!! i’m pretty new to the show and your works just add so much more feeling to everything and it’s sooo good!!! i don’t know if you ever do requests or not, so don’t bother with this if you’re busy!! but if you ever get a chance could you write smthg abt Jay and Kai? their friendship is so underrated but so good and i live for the moments in the show when Kai’s big brother instinct(tm) kicks in for him as well as Nya and Lloyd

aH thank you so much!! i’m so glad to hear that :D and this isn’t...exactly what you asked for, but Kai and Jay have this fun of dynamic that reminds me a lot of me and my brother, and i’ve been tossing around little bits of interaction between them for a while now, so i tried to make something coherent out of those :’D

Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at the whole compartmentalizing thing, for the most part. Mainly because he actually knows what it means, and it is not, for instance, locking your team up in a literal compartment while rushing off to fight the other compartment that is your resurrected homicidal father into submission.

“That was one time,” Lloyd will grumble, as if he’s only almost-died once. And then Jay will flinch, because that’s where his compartments come into play.

(Nadakhan gets one, Unagami gets another, the whole fun-times adoption reveal another, and everything else can get stuffed into the metaphorical attic since they won’t pay rent.)

Unfortunately, the attic is where the bad stuff lives.

Metaphorically.

If Jay had a nickel for every time he almost lost all of his friends, he’d have two nickels, plus another nickel for Cole falling into the fog, and another for Lloyd getting crushed by a roof, and another for Zane blowing up, and another for Nya in that awful dress with paling skin as her breathing stutters and the light in her eyes draining and —

And Jay is way, way too familiar with how it looks when his family dies, and all the nickels in the world won’t help that.

So while Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at compartmentalizing, he also thinks he’s got a valid excuse for the way he reacts when Lloyd goes down in the fight that afternoon. Sure, some vague part of his mind remembers that they’ve got a plan they’re running, and Lloyd should easily be able to handle a tiny little stumble — but Jay’s mind is stuck in glaring oranges and health bars, the unsteady gasping noise Lloyd had made before he went down, dissolving into digitized cubes just like everyone else, and Jay—

Jay can’t handle that, compartments or not, so he clears the space between them in a heartbeat just in time to take the bullet that comes hurtling Lloyd’s way.

It’d probably be a very noble and touching scene, if one) Jay didn’t make a hideous squeaking noise when it hit because bullets hurt, and two) the bullet would have missed Lloyd by a good two feet anyways.

Ah well, he thinks, as everything devolves into panicked yelling. It’s the thought that counts.

Except thoughts do not count when Kai is involved, apparently. Or any of the rest of the team, for that matter.

“What is wrong with you?” Kai hisses right in his face, eyes wild and sparking. “I was covering Lloyd, what were you doing?”

“Filling in for you, obviously,” Jay retorts. He has an excellent followup to that, real snappy and all, except that’s the moment Kai’s hand clamps down on the bullet wound in his arm to stop the bleeding, and Jay ends up stifling a shriek instead.

Great, he thinks, fighting back stinging tears of pain as he tries not to take Kai’s apparent wrath too personally. At least Cole looks worried, along the the rest of the team, who are dutifully concerned for his wellbeing like proper teammates should be.

“He’s going to need the hospital,” Zane informs them, his voice a lot steadier and calmer than his words make Jay feel. Zane’s eyebrows furrow as he studies his arm. “Stitches, probably.”

Jay swallows, trying not to curse. There’s a sharp scream as Nya finishes taking out another attacker just beyond them, and Jay figures that’s good enough.

“Okay,” Lloyd says, squeezing Jay’s wrist briefly. Either in comfort about the stitches or thanks for trying to cover him, Jay’s not sure. It’s a nice gesture, nonetheless. “Kai, Cole, can you get him there while we finish up? Sooner the better.”

Cole gives a sharp nod, and offers to take Jay from where Kai’s got him in a death grip. Kai shakes his head, and Jay’s stomach sinks. Sure enough, as soon as they’re clear of the scene, Kai starts going off.

“What did you mean, ‘filling in for me’,” he grinds through his teeth, clearly not about to let this go.

Jay bristles in response at his tone. “I meant,” he bites out, through a hot flare of pain in his arm. Kai’s always merciless with the bandages, even when he’s not in a mood. “That you weren’t there. So I covered.”

He should leave it at that, but Jay’s in a foul enough mood to finish with a condescending, “You’re welcome.”

Kai’s expression grows thunderous. “You didn’t need to. I was right there, you shouldn’t have — you weren’t needed, you should’ve held back.”

Jay feels his chest go tight. His head is clouding with anger, and the pain in his arm isn’t helping, but — ‘you weren’t needed’? Kai really didn’t skimp on the jerk juice this morning, did he.

“Oh, like you could’ve done so much better,” Jay glares. “Lloyd would’ve been toast by the time you got to him.”

“I could’ve made it!”

“Yeah right—”

“I would have, and I wouldn’t have gotten hit!” Kai snarls back. Something in Jay snaps. Or maybe it’s just the steadily increasing blood loss, but of all the nerve—

“Well you didn’t, ‘cause you weren’t there!” he snaps back. “You were too slow, which is real funny since your brain is too!”

It’s not his best comeback, he’ll admit, but Kai looks as if he’s about to light him on fire, if he weren’t stuck carrying Jay like the cover of some awful romance novel, blood getting all over his uniform as they both scream at each other. Maybe Jay will get lucky, and Kai will combust, and they’ll both go up in flames before they can remember that Cole is right there watching them.

“Cut it out, now!”

Oops, too late. For all the incensed authority in Cole’s voice, there’s still a traitorous falter that lets them both know they’ve screwed up. They fall silent, the atmosphere heavy with the lingering tension and new sense of guilt.

And the disgusting sound of Jay’s blood leaking through the makeshift bandage and hitting the ground, truly revolting, he hates blood.

“Just…no more. Please, shut up until we’re at the hospital.” Cole marches forward, snatches Jay from Kai’s arms, and proceeds to beat the fastest route to the hospital at a militant pace.

Jay still looks like some helpless romance cover heroine, dangling from Cole’s arms like he is. It occurs to him that he doesn’t even need to be carried — it’s his arm that’s hurt, he can still walk—

But any protests die rapidly at the look on Cole’s face. And at least this way, Jay thinks sullenly, he can fixedly ignore Kai.

Then again, Kai’s got a killer glare, and Jay’s always been garbage at ignoring people when his feelings are hurt.

* * * * * * * *

Despite the fuss everyone makes, Jay’s arm really isn’t that bad. They hook him up with some pretty sweet meds so he remembers zero of the actual arm-fixing, and he wakes up just in time to complain about being held in the hospital for ‘observation’ or whatever.

“It’s to make sure there’s no infection, or that you don’t rip your stitches out,” Nya tells him pointedly. Jay cringes under the look she gives him at that last part. Geez. You get kicked in the stitches one time after sneaking out early and suddenly no one’s got any faith in you. Typical.

“Why couldn’t we have just gone to medbay,” Jay grumbles. “Pixal gives way better stitches than this, anyways.”

“Gun wounds get hospitals,” Nya reminds him. “And it’s not fair to put that kind of pressure on Pix when we can avoid it.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Nya glares at him. “It most certainly was that bad.”

“Oh, so when you get your arm crushed by a car, it’s fine,” Jay glares back. “But when I get a tiny little bullet nick, it’s that bad.”

Nya rolls her eyes, ignoring him. “Just think of it this way,” she says. “Now you have a little more time before Lloyd starts weeping apologies all over you.”

“Aw, no,” Jay groans, leaning back in the hospital bed. “Tell me he’s not blaming himself, Nya.”

“I think we had a promise about not lying to each other, or something,” Nya says, sympathetically. She winces. “Pretty sure he made the connection, too.”

Jay frowns. “What connection?”

Nya shifts, her eyes darting from side to side. “The, uh, the whole…Prime Empire, thing.”

Jay stares at her for a beat, trying to reconcile his blatant shock with the roiling nausea at the mention in his stomach. Nya looking at him all kind and sympathetically isn’t helping, either, because she might have made it down to the final two, but she was never all alone, and the reminder that she’d have been fine if Jay hadn’t gotten her killed twice is—

Bad. Real bad, not good, zero out of ten stars. Maybe he can take a bullet for Nya, next, and that’ll — that’ll help things, maybe. Equivalent exchange? Restitution? Some kind of fancy word that means Jay swears he’s gonna make it up.

In the meantime, he smothers the rising sickness in his throat and sinks lower into the bed, sulking. “It’s too easy to recognize trauma in this team.”

“I hear you,” Nya sighs, wearily. She nudges his shoulder, rising from her seat near the bed. “Speaking of. Someone’s got something they want to say to you.”

It takes Jay a second, but his eyes widen as Nya heads for the door. “Wait, wait wait wait, don’t you dare—”

“Love you,” Nya says cheekily, before taking her merry leave of the room. There’s a brief scuffle from outside, and the sound of Kai yelping, before Nya shoves him through the door, slamming it shut behind him with a damning click.

For a second, Jay’s tempted to hit the ‘call nurse’ button as hard as he can, in some desperate attempt to escape. Then he gets a good look at Kai, who’s turned a pale, queasy color that frankly looks awful on him, which is saying a lot ‘cause there isn’t much that doesn’t look good on Kai, but the expression he has on now—

Aw, man, now Jay’s feeling guilty and it isn’t even his fault. Stupid moral conscience center, he curses himself.

“So, uh…” he begins, because far be it from him to let this kind of awkward silence stretch on any longer. “Nice, ah, weather we’re having?”

Kai doesn’t respond, staring fixedly at the floor, and Jay sizes up the ‘call nurse’ button again. Just for the both of their sakes, of course.

But then Kai takes a deep breath, blows it out, and rocks back on his heels, fiddling with his hands. “I, um. I’m sorry.”

Jay’s jaw drops open. Which is probably an overdramatic move, all things considered, but unless he’s suddenly lost the ability to understand words, Kai just apologized to him.

Kai apologized. To him.

It’s not that Kai apologizing is some great big deal — Kai might have his pride, but he’s also an intuitive and good-hearted person who knows when he’s messed up. But to him?

Jay knows how he and Kai work. Kai knows how he and Jay work, and he’s breaking the rules. Because Kai and Jay don’t apologize to each other. Unless it’s some awkward expression of sympathy, they’ve never needed to. They fight dirty, aim for each other’s kneecaps, swear eternal vengeance and hatred at each other before storming off, then an hour later Jay’s bounding into Kai’s room to show him dumb meme videos and neither of them even remember what they were fighting about.

Acknowledging said fight with something as gushy as apologizing is not only useless since they both forget what they’re apologizing for anyways, but also useless because it’ll take too much time, and counterproductive on top, because it’ll most likely end in another fight about who apologized better. So for Kai to walk in and say sorry—

“Oh no, who did you kill?” Jay says, paling.

Kai spears him with a look, but it’s so pathetically watered-down and miserable that Jay forgets to glare back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jay mutters. “I just—”

“No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Kai interrupts. He hesitates, then sighs. “But that’s fair. I — I was unfair. To you, back there. Like, really unfair, in a bad way, ‘cause you were shot and I know you meant well, but you—”

Kai gestures wildly with his hands, his stream of words cutting off. Jay is left to stare open-mouthed at him again. Babbling like this is Jay’s thing. Kai is breaking all the rules today, huh.

“I just…” Kai trails off, ducking his head. “I don’t like watching you guys get hurt. I don’t — I don’t like watching you get hurt. And I get scared, but it comes out angry, and then I make a mess of things so I’m — sorry. Really sorry, for biting your head off.”

He exhales, a little shaky, fingers balled up in tight fists as his head hangs low, refusing to meet Jay’s eyes. Something softens in Jay’s chest, like gooey melting butter or something else equally pathetic. But it’s rare that Kai vocalizes this stuff, despite the fact that Jay knows he cares, and it’s nice to hear it, so he figures he’s entitled to all the butter he wants.

Jay’s own gaze falters, and the something starts to twist. He bites his lip, tugging half-heartedly at the bandages around his arm.

“Well,” he pauses, thinking of the way his brain had shifted to autopilot when he’d watched Lloyd falter, the razor-sharp shard of terror that always splinters through him when any of their teammates come too close to the awful images of death left in his head. He swallows. “I guess I don’t really have any room to talk,” he murmurs. “Be pretty dumb if I blamed you for that.”

He’s preparing to sink back into his own well of self-pity and loathing, resigned to spending the next few hours until they check him out of the hospital replaying bad memories in his head, when Kai’s next to him all of the sudden, shoving him over on the hospital bed.

“Hey, hey, what’s the big idea—”

“Move, c’mon. You don’t need that much room, you’re a stick,” Kai grumbles, before grinning brightly in success as Jay makes him space. The contrast in expression is enough to startle Jay into silence, and Kai takes advantage. “I know that look. But you already got shot, so you gotta cheer up now.”

“So you’re forcing me into cheerfulness by stealing my hospital bed,” Jay scowls, but the sting is lost in the sudden surge of affection as Kai elbows his way on the bed with him, a steady warmth by his side.

“I’m gifting you my presence, you should be celebrating,” Kai huffs, as he pulls his phone out. “Now stop looking so sad and watch this video I got of a bunch’a geese chasing Zane at the park the other day.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Jay says, but he’s already snickering as he leans his head against Kai’s shoulder to get a better look.

He’s forgotten to tell Kai he forgives him, but like most things between them — Jay doesn’t really need to say it out loud.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Your Move (Chibs x fem!Reader)

A/N: Unsuprisingly, I’m writing for SoA. It was just a matter of time until this new obsession caught up with me. This is my first attempt to write an accent phonetically, so I apologize in advance for the mess.

I also wanna thank @toomanystoriessolittletime​ and @penwieldingdreamer​ for beta’ing this for me and @ly--canthrope​ @wishuhadstayed​ and @chibsytelford​ for welcoming me to the SoA fam and encouraging me to write for it.

Summary: When you returned to Charming after your father passed away, you planned to only stay long enough to settle his affairs, but memories of the past and the prospect of a certain Scot in your future made you stay longer than planned.

Wordcount: 4,5K

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and inebriation and that’s it.

You knew the Sons of course.

There was no way to live in Charming your entire life and not know about them or at least some of them. You went to school with Jax and Opie and you remembered having such a crush on them, like most girls your age. They were the cool guys with their air of danger and the prospect leather cuts they wore every single day.

Your father warned you to stay away from them, as most parents would. The thing about the Sons was that they were a necessary evil to your small town, but it didn’t make them any less dangerous. Your father made sure to steer clear of them unless he absolutely needed it. You watched him seek out Clay Morrow once in a while if there was a problem in the diner, but it always pained him so much to do so.

You could see in his eyes, the exhaustion and barely contained shame whenever he had to have a sit down with the President of the MC. Always at the diner because he refused to go anywhere near the Teller-Morrow Garage.

He invested every cent he had to make sure you had a good education and could leave Charming for good. Do something he could never do in his own life and you appreciated that with all your heart but once he passed away and you had to come back to settle his affairs, sell the diner and the house and everything else, you found yourself caught up in the memories and the charms of the small town.

Everyone seemed to know you. Sometimes by name, most times as Allan’s kid. They paid their respects at the funeral, even the MC. You saw Gemma and Jax at the back and when your eyes caught the bright blue of the man Jackson had become, his lips tilting into a small, sympathetic smile in your direction, you didn’t feel the same butterflies as you used to when you were a teen.

He and his mother came closer after everyone else was gone. He still had that same sad smile placed in his face as Gemma pulled you into a hug that you didn’t really feel comfortable with, but didn’t know how to refuse.

“Allan was such a good man,” she said, pressing a kiss to your cheek and you could feel the lipstick imprint Gemma left behind. “Anything you need, sweetheart, just give us a call.” She handed you a Teller-Morrow business card, her number scribbled on the back.

“Thank you.” You nodded as they stepped away letting you go back to your grieving.

The diner was quick to sell. Your father, once he got sick, already found a buyer on call, you just needed to finalize the deal. The house was harder to do so. Not because you didn’t have people interested in it but because you couldn’t bring yourself to put it on the market. Not when there were so many childhood memories in it. This was the house you grew up in, where your father raised you to be the woman you were now. It was hard to let go of that, so you found yourself searching for reasons to delay your departure.

Separating possessions that would stay, be donated, sold, or thrown away. You started doing small repairs around the house, just like your father taught you because he wanted you to be as independent as possible. Taking off old, worn-out carpets and wallpapers, fixing the yard and clogged pipes, and closing off holes in the plaster walls.

Before long, a month had passed and you were still in Charming, only making weekend trips back to your apartment to bring more of the essentials with you. Even your cat had found residence in your father’s house, taking long naps in the porch bench, apparently much more comfortable with the small-town life than you expected.

Still, you had a hard time admitting that you didn’t intend to leave any time soon. Being in the house was a constant reminder that your father never wanted this life for you but at the same time, after spending the last 10 and something years in a big city, you had never felt more at home than when you got back here.

You were even painting again, something you haven’t done since you settled for a career as an art teacher. You were even more surprised when you opened up the yard sale and a couple of people ventured into the garage while you were distracted and asked about your paintings.

“They’re not really for sale,” you replied to a woman around your age, her dark hair falling over her shoulders in waves and she was so familiar, but you couldn’t place her in your memory.

“You should really think about selling them. Maybe even opening a gallery? They’re gorgeous.”

Her words stayed with you after the sale was done because it had always been your dream but in a big city, renting space was expensive and there were tons of small art galleries other there. It was hard to compete. In a town like Charming? It would be a place one of a kind.

The next morning, you found a small store for rent in the main street as you walked through the wide-open space, the morning bright light filtering through the half-closed blinds from the window, you could already see your works hanging around, the small counter with the cash register to the left and the backspace for your studio so you could work during slow days.

“I’ll take it.” The words were out before you could even think it through but once they passed your lips, you knew they were the right thing to do. You just needed officially move back to your hometown after so long away.

You took a week to go back to the city, pack up your belongings, and put in the moving truck. A few boxes of more personal stuff you loaded in your own battered old Chevy to bring with you on the drive back.

The car gave out in the middle of the night, still on the highway, miles away from Charming. The engine coughing and spluttering but refusing to start, no matter how many times you spun the key in the ignition. You had to settle for your fate and call a toll truck.

It was almost like destiny that when you pull out your phone from your pocket, the TM card fell out too and you didn’t even realize it had been there all this time. Gemma’s number in pen was washed out but the printed one for the garage was still visible so you dialed it. It wasn’t like you had another garage’s number on speed dial.

You waited at the side of the road for about 50 minutes until the headlights of the toll truck lightened up the night before pulling by your car and you couldn’t help the nervous flips of your stomach as the man stepped out of the car, in tight jeans and leather cut. His longish dark hair combed back, peppered with grey strands at his forehead and the goatee gave him such a distinguished look that you had a hard time not staring. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this attracted to someone at first sight.

“Ye called for a toll, lass?” he asked in a smooth drawl and thick accent that made shivers run down your spine, and for a second you couldn’t find your words.

“Uh… yeah, yes. I did,” you finally managed, glancing back to your car. Seemed to be the safest thing to do. “The old piece of junk died on me. Sorry for the hour.”

“No problem,” he waved off your apology, setting up to get your car secured in the back of the truck, before opening the door for you. “Come on, I give ye a lift.”

He helped you into the truck’s cabin, taking your hand in his gloved one like a perfect gentleman and closing the door behind you before he got behind the wheel and started the engine.

“Thank you so much, mister…”

“Nah, lassie. No mister required,” he offered you a soft smile and from this close, you could see the pale line of the scar in his cheek. “Chibs is fine.”

“Alright. thank you, Chibs,” you replied smiling too as he pulled into the road and turned the radio into a classic rock station.

You remained in silence for most of the ride, sneaking glances at the man next to you. Had he been in Charming all those years ago? Before you left? Why didn’t you remember him? How many times had you seen the Sons riding through the main street in their Harleys and leather cuts? You would probably have seen him before. Then again, back then your eyes tended to seek out Jax’s slender form due to your stupid teen crush. Maybe that was why you missed him.

“Mind if I smoke?” Chibs asked, startling you out of your thoughts.

You shook your head, feeling the heat of embarrassment burning your face as you tried to ignore the way his lips closed around the cigarette and how his long fingers operated the lighter.

The flame lit up his face for a brief second, reflected in his deep, dark eyes and you had to look away, clearing your throat. You never felt this awkward and uncertain in the presence of man, so you raked your brain for something to break the tense silence.

“Why Chibs?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself and he chuckled, the sound low and husky and it went straight to your center, making you press your legs together as discreetly as you could.

“It a Scottish slang,” he started, glancing your way as he took a deep drag of his cigarette. “For knife.”

“Oh,” you replied dumbly, mulling over his words. “Because of…?” Unconsciously, you reached for your cheek and froze in shock at your own insensitive action. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean…”

“It’s alright, love,” he chuckled again as he slowed down the truck and you didn’t even notice he was dropping you off at home until you recognized the construction in front of you. “I dinna mind. And yes, that’s why. Bu’ Filip works too.”

“Thank you, Filip,” you spoke softly, meeting his eyes and he smiled around his smoke and nodded. “I’ll drop by TM tomorrow morning to settle everything?”

“Aye. I’ll let Gem know.”

You hesitated to step out of the truck, and you didn’t even know why. You just didn’t want to leave. Not yet, but there was no reason to stay. So you resigned with doing what needed to be done and watching as he drove away before finally getting inside the house.

Next morning, you took your dad’s old Jeep – and how lucky it was that you hadn’t sold it just yet – and headed to TM to settle payment for the toll and get the cost for the work.

While Gemma was ruffling through some papers trying to find your invoice, you let your gaze wander through the open side door towards the garage, noticing the men in overalls talking and joking while working.

“He’s not here,” Gemma said, startling you to turn back and meet her narrowed eyes. You wondered how she could possibly know. “Jax.”

“Oh!” Relief washed over you and you managed a timid smile. “I wasn’t…”

“And he’s back with Tara.”

There was a clear warning in her tone, almost as if saying you shouldn’t dare to try and intervene between the couple, not that you would want to. She finally handed you the paper so you could sign it, authorizing the service.

“How soon can I expect the car?”

“Maybe a week? Might be more,” Gemma replied, pulling the paper back and giving you a long look. “There were some boxes in the truck… You’re uh, staying in Charming, then?”

“Yeah…” it was the first time you said it out loud and it felt almost like a confession. “I am. The moving truck should be arriving soon so can I drop by later to pick them up?”

“I’ll get one of the prospects to bring them to you,” the older woman declared after an assessing look. Like she was measuring you up, making sure if you were worthy of her town.

You just offered a quick thanks and headed off, resisting the urge to glance behind your shoulder at the men working on the cars or the side building that housed the club. Even if you could feel the baby hairs in your nape prickling due to an intense gaze at your back. If it was Gemma or someone else, you didn’t find out.

The entire thing slipped from your mind by the time you got home and found the moving truck already waiting for you. The rest of your day was spent moving boxes and furniture to their designated spaces, making sure the movers didn’t break anything with their careless demeanors.

It was late afternoon when they finally brought everything in and took off, leaving you to sort out the mess. Just the sight of scattered boxes all through the wooden floor of the two-store house was enough to make you regret your decision. It would take you days to get everything in order and that on top of making sure your gallery was up and running too.

“Better get to it,” you whispered to yourself, tuning in the radio and letting the melodic beats of Pat Benatar set the tone for your work. And if you sang along and danced around the house through it all, well there wasn’t anyone around to see it, even if no curtains were covering the windows just yet.

The knock on the door made you jump midway through setting the cutlery in place and you lowered the radio before making your way through the maze of boxes, your lips tugging into a surprised smile when you found Chibs standing outside, cigarette in his mouth, sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Hia, lass. Gem asked me to deliver some boxes?” he explained, and you smirked, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest as you examined the biker in front of you.

“Gemma asked you?” you repeated, brow arched. “Sounds more like a prospect job…”

“Might ‘ave volunteered,” Chibs admitted, his smirk matching yours. “Memory’s a little fuzzy on the details.”

With a chuckle, you stepped aside to let him in offering quick instructions of where to put the boxes while you watch him move around. This time, there was no leather jacket below his cut, only a sleeveless shirt, and you could appreciate the flexing of his muscles and the ink adorning his skin as Chibs worked.

“That’s the last one,” he said, setting the box down by the door and meeting your gaze.

“Thank you. I really appreciate the help.”

He waved off your gratitude and silence fell over the two of you, thick and heavy like a blanket of all the things unsaid. In your brightly lid living room, you could properly see Chibs’ face and his dark eyes watching you as if waiting for something, a sign maybe, but you didn’t know what to do. Had you always been so bad at this? Or was just his presence that seemed to strip you from all functional reasoning?

“I, uh…” you looked around, searching for what to say or do. “Wanna drink?”

“Sure.”

Chibs followed you into the kitchen and you were very aware of his presence behind you like a shadow as you stopped by the fridge, pulling out two beers and offering him one. You drank in silence, watching one another and you wished you could explain why this felt so strange. You wished you could make the tension and awkwardness fade away, but you didn’t really know how and Chibs didn’t seem inclined to help.

Then again, he did take the first step, coming all the way here with your boxes to see you and he wasn’t even trying to hide or deny it. It was your move but just his mere presence made you freeze and you didn’t know what to do, how to show him you were glad he came and wanted him to stay a little longer.

All you could do was watch him, the way his lips fit around the tan glass of the bottle as he took a gulp of the drink, his throat working as he swallowed. You wondered if Chibs knew how effortlessly sexy he was. How just having him leaning against the counter watching you with that heavy-lidded gaze was enough to make your knees weak and your breath speed up.

“I should head off,” he finally broke the silence, setting his empty bottle on the counter and you felt your heart sink. “Get out of yer hair…”

“Right…” you followed him to the door, hands in your pockets. “Thanks again.”

“No problem, love.” Chibs paused outside, his eyes lingering on you. “Ye know, the clubhouse has a bar. Ye could stop by some time.”

“Yeah,” you hurried to say with a nervous smile. You almost thought he had given up on you but here he was, throwing you a line. “Sure.”

“Good,” he smiled too. “‘Night, love.”

You watched once again Chibs driving off from your place until he disappeared around the corner before you stepped back inside, leaning against the closed door. It was your move and knew. You just had to figure out a way to actually take that step.

A week passed since Chibs’ invitation and you had yet to find the courage to meet him at the clubhouse. At first, you told yourself it was because of the move. You were busy getting the house in shape and then your gallery but you knew you were lying to yourself.

You were just afraid. Torn between wanting to learn a little more about the mysterious Scot that didn’t seem to leave your mind and knowing that going there, getting mixed with the Sons was getting yourself involved with a crowd your father worked so hard to keep you away from. Those two sides seemed to be at war, and you didn’t know what do to.

You knew, however, that the longer you waited, the more you made it clear to Chibs that you might not be interested, even if you were definitely were. So you needed to make a decision. Soon.

When you finally worked up the nerve to go to the clubhouse, you spent hours deliberating on an outfit. You wanted to look good but not like you were trying too hard because you knew what you were going to find there.

Several of your high school friends had sneaked in at some point to check out the Sons’ official hangout and report back. You knew there would be the club members, of course, and other friends, but most importantly, there would be other women, croweaters.

The expression always made you grimace in distaste, the implications clear in the pejorative tone used and it made you stop and consider if you weren’t exactly like them, chasing away a biker you knew nothing about.

The thought was almost enough to make you give up, turn around and go back to your car but you were already there at the garage, might as well bite the bullet and do this. With a deep breath, you crossed the parking lot, the heel of your boots crunching the cement as you walked toward the clubhouse, hands in the pockets of your jacket, out of sight so no one could see them tremble with your apprehension.

When you walked into the smoky room, you were almost expecting to see all eyes on you, the outsider in their territory, but no one paid you any attention as you surveyed the space, searching for Chibs. He was nowhere in sight and the longer you stood there, awkward and afraid, the urge to flee grew in your chest. You shouldn’t even have come.

Turning around to walk out, you ran straight into the solid chest of the man you came here to find. Chibs held you steady with a hand on your elbow, watching you with curious eyes.

“Leavin’ so soon, lass?” he asked, his voice a smooth drawl and it set your body on edge, in a good way.

“Yeah, I, uh,” you glanced around at people dancing and drinking and making out in front of everyone, verging on indecent exposure. “Didn’t really seem like I belonged.”

“Give it a chance, love,” he said with a smirk and offering you a hand. “Ye might actually enjoy yerself. How ‘bout a drink?”

“Ok,” you accepted after a moment’s hesitation, taking Chibs’ hand and letting him lead you to the bar.

A drink turned into several and before you knew it, you were playing pool against a guy named Tig, barely being able to stay upright but still managing to be the better player of the two of you to Chibs’ great amusement and loud heckling.

“You’re sure he’s not just letting me win?” You asked Chibs as he brought you another shot of whiskey, chuckling as you winced and pulled a face after downing it the shot. You had just won yet another round against Tig and his annoyed, barely conscious face was very amusing.

“‘M surprised he managin’ to hold on to his cue,” he commented as he took your cue and handed it over to the first person around. “How ‘bout some air? Sober ye up a bit?”

Chibs led you into the cold night air of the yard and to the picnic tables outside. Out there, you two were completely alone except for the stars and the random passing car but it was late enough that the town was mostly silent, the only sounds coming from inside the clubhouse, the music leaking out muffled due to the soundproof walls.

There were just the two of you, sitting side by side as Chibs lid a cigarette, and before he could even take a drag, you snatched out of his lips, bringing it to your own, making him smirk. The alcohol had dissolved most of your reservations, leaving only you desire for the man next to you.

“Bigge’ men 'ave lost fingers stealin’ ma smoke, lass,” Chibs commented, turning his body towards you.

“Good thing, I’m just a little lass, then,” you teased, trying to mimic his Scottish drawl as you shifted your position until you were straddling the bench and facing him.

“Wee lassie,” he corrected, watching intently as you took a drag of his cigarette and puffed out the smoke.

You liked this, being alone with Chibs. Having his dark eyes focused on you and only you. Being close enough that you could smell the whiskey, leather, and the heady sweat of his skin. Feel the heat of his body. You reached over to trail the black Reaper etched on his biceps, daring to touch without asking permission first.

As Chibs allowed the touch, you grew bolder and moved closer, letting your fingers travel higher, over his shoulder and on his neck, until your thumb brushed his jaw and cheek, touching the rough stubble beginning to grow there.

His own palm had settled over your clothed thigh, large and hot, making you acutely aware of how close you two were and how it would barely take a move for your lips to find his. You wanted that more than anything. Chibs had to know that, right? He had to see it in your eyes.

“Ye should head home, lass,” he said instead, pulling away from you and you felt the loss of his heat. “'t’s gettin’ late.” Then you felt the burning shame as he refused to look at you.

“Yes,” you croaked, eyes darting around at anything other than him. “You’re right.”

You had put yourself out there for this man and he was shipping you off like unwanted cargo. You didn’t even know why.

“I’ll get one of the prospects to drive ye, just…”

“It’s fine,” you didn’t let Chibs finish, getting to your feet and stepping back. “I brought my Jeep. I can drive myself.”

You walked away before he could say anything else because you could feel the familiar lump in your throat and the burning behind your lids. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of him. You already made a fool out of yourself enough for one night.

You were almost at the car when you stumbled on your own feet. Fortunately, you never met the ground as a strong arm surrounded your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against his strong chest. You could feel his breath tickling your nape as both of you stood there, neither daring to move.

“If I ‘ere a good man, I’d let ye walk away,” Chibs sighed and you sagged against his warmth, letting him inhale your scent on your neck before you turned around to face him, hands resting against his chest.

“Maybe I don’t want you to be a good man,” you whispered, looking up at him. “Maybe I just want you to kiss me.”

His lips were softer than you expected, just a gentle press against yours the whiskers of his goatee tickling your skin. It was almost as if Chibs weren’t really sure if he should do this. Like he was giving you the chance to pull away and change your mind.

Your fisted his vest, pushing closer to him, pressing harder against his lips in search of more. Letting your own lips part in invitation and soon enough, his tongue was exploring your mouth, tangling with yours, bringing forth the taste of whiskey, nicotine, and something dark and addictive that you could have for the rest of your life.

One hand on your hip, the other on your nape, adjusting the angle of your head so he could better deepen the kiss, Chibs pressed you against the cool metal of your Jeep, his body crowding yours, one of his thighs between your legs as he devoured your mouth.

Everything seemed to fade away then but the taste of his lips and the touch of his hands on your skin, burning a bright fire within you as his calloused hand sneaked under your shirt, exploring your back, his rings catching lightly on your skin, making you shiver as he nipped at your bottom lip and allowed you a second for breath.

“Go home,” Chibs grumbled, his lids even heavier than usual as he peered at you with what you could only describe as bedroom eyes. “Before ye do somethin’ ye might regret at the light of day and without the haze of alcohol.”

You paused, considering his words, licking your lips as if to chase the aftertaste of his kiss.

“And if come tomorrow morning, stone-cold sober, I still want this?”

“Ye know where to find me.” Chibs let his lips brushed over yours one last time, just a small temptation of what he could offer before he took a step back and pulled the car door open for you. “‘Night, lass.”

“Good night, Filip.”

xxx

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/12/21

sometimes, one must retreat into a big pile of fictional settings. i didn’t do that this week but it’s the thought that counts

don’t want to keep up with the rest of my bullshit/want to be alerted specifically for tuesdayposts? follow @tuesday-again​ , where i will reblog each week’s post Once to archive it.

also i forgot to drop the 2021 tuesday again no problem playlist last week so here it is now if you want to follow along throughout the year

listening exoflash, by fever the ghost feat lealani. this is some dreamy-surreal alt electronica? alt electropop? i have significant hearing loss (TM) and so i think i am missing out on some of the melodies in the base bc i have lost that frequency range. like i can feel my headphones pulse but i can’t hear anything

do i know what the song is about? not a fuckin clue. do i like the mouthfeel of the lyrics? yes! rhyming intonation/incantation off each other charms me, bc i am a simple woman with simple tastes. there’s a very deliberate, enunciated delivery that i enjoy, again bc of the hearing loss. i do think some of the lyrics on genius are wrong (i hear “crown your enemies” in the first line instead of “prawn your enemies” for example) but i can’t really. back that up with anything

reading y2k is back babey- this popular mechanics article is a good quick read of why a common fix back in ye olde 1999 is failing again. everything is a teetering pile of precariously balanced quick fixes relying on legacy code. i myself worked in COBOL more times than i want to think about in my undergrad career, often alongside the octogenarian profs who had written it. pop mech’s oral history of y2k is also extremely good.

the thing i came here to talk about is this autostraddle article on making a go-bag. it is more of a personal essay than a list of practical tips, but it does not fearmonger. this is the point of mutual aid: it is important it is to make sure the people and community around you are more resilient. mutual aid is not just running a cool decentralized thrift store so you can declutter, although that can be very helpful in many communities. if you are all better prepared for various flavors of disasters, your neighborhood or community or circle will come out of it better.

i’ve lived in hurricane zones almost my entire life, and i’ve had a go bag my entire life. i can see mine right now from my bed, i think they’re important things to have, and i would be happy to answer questions privately via ask or dm. the infographic above from the city of seattle is pretty decent- yours will probably be region-specific. new year, new check on all your safety measures. make sure your smoke alarm batteries and carbon monoxide batteries and go-bag are all topped up. test your fire extinguisher while you’re at it.

watching i was going to watch the first few eps of the new arsene lupin show on netflix and write a charming little thing about my personal history with detective stories, and then i had a less than ideal weekend. so i am making less work for myself and linking a food crime. i hate layered pasta dishes with a burning passion but i want to taste this. just to see. their faces at the end are SO good. thank u ms el-waylly

playing one of the most exciting arcs of early january is my dear acquaintance @believerindaydreams becoming a fallout blog. now that i am relegated to an underpowered laptop while i wrangle getting my desktop fixed, i am back in new vegas bc it’s a ten-year-old game, it runs on fuckin anything. i had a truly bizarre configuration of mods on this thing we’ll see how well it plays with (checks notes) ignoring whatever the fuck i was doing in the main storyline and fucking around in Big MT.

making ending big things makes me anxious. and i am really nowhere near finishing this! i still have a lot of time left with it! at least an hour weaving in all the thread ends i didn’t bother with the first time around, some unknown dozens of hours backstitching various details and outlining the blue frame, and then the whole washing/pressing/framing rigamarole that (counting drying time) will take up a full day. i started this last summer, put it aside for weeks at a time, and it’s been with me in a very real way through a lot of bullshit.

part of the bad adhd brain is having difficulty forming and maintaining new routines- when i no longer have this to fall back on as part of my crafting routine i uhhhhh don’t really know what i’ll do. i don’t really have another Big Project lined up.

unlike knitting, where i find the act soothing and i knit as more of a process thing as opposed to an end-product thing, embroidery is very much a “i want the end product very badly” thing. and i can only have so much cross stitch displayed in my home. besides the smaller glitch version of this sampler, which is literally almost done and needs perhaps another hour of finishing before it gets washed/pressed/framed, i don’t have anything really on the docket. i want my own version of the “wretched hive” star wars sampler i made my sister, and i have a small pillow in the fun chromatic aberration font planned, but both of those have fewer complicated color changes and shifts and should stitch up fairly quickly.

i dunno. might go back to traditional embroidery for a bit- there’s an old project where i need to rip out a bunch of satin stitch and redo it in long-and-short BUT i also need to buy a whole bunch of new thread for that. might sew some more patches on my jacket for if i ever go outside again. i’m trying to get through the backlog of half-finished projects with shit i already have rather than ordering a bunch of shiny new things bc uhhh money.