#i wish i had a way to animate these that was like . automatic instead of manual bc it truly is tedious but. well. i say silly :3

[xumoonhao]

everyone! important button question:

which of these texts looks better:

please ignore the border moving. i do not know What happened but i will fix it </3 i just want to know about the letters and which movement you think is better!!!

[leiascully]

Fic: POANG (M, MSR)

4400 words; rated M for a lot of real and imaginary sex; the solve high hits Scully right in the libido and a trip to IKEA doesn't help. happy birthday, @laurencem (ao3)

There’s a novelty to working a case in a city. They’re usually in smaller towns, out on the edges of things where the fields blur into the woods and the monsters wear animal skins. Today’s monster is human, or something that resembles one. Scully doubts sometimes that it’s possible to be so brutal and retain humanity.

They’d been called in on this one on the suspicion of witchcraft. There had been a series of killings: bundles of herbs left at the scene, dead bees scattered about, cedar smoke lingering in the corners of the rooms, corpses ritually disfigured. The perpetrator turned out to be more ecofascist than druid. No caltrops for him, and no nice trip to the woods for her and Mulder. This killer has been cultivating poison plants, including the kind of mushrooms that reduced a person’s liver to a liquid. He raved as they put him in the car, something about the city being a hive and its denizens mere drones. Scully tuned it out.

Case closed by noon and they’re back at the hotel. It’s not a particularly nice one: no restaurant, no pool, no premium channels. They’re close to the airport, far from most of the amenities. The closest landmark is an IKEA looming blue and yellow by the highway. Scully regrets making them drop off the rental car early, but Skinner’s been making noises about expenses again. Frugality and a high solve rate are the better part of valor. There’s a free shuttle to the airport, but their flight isn’t until tomorrow morning.

“Where do you go to eat around here?” Mulder asks the college-age kid at the desk.

The kid shrugs. “IKEA.”

“To eat?” Mulder sounds skeptical. It’s music to Scully’s ears. She settles her hip against the wall and watches him.

“I mean it’s not where I would take a date, but they’ve got food,” the kid says, glancing between them.

Mulder turns to Scully. He lifts an eyebrow.

“IKEA it is,” she says.

It’s a short walk, at least. Scully’s used to the touristy part of DC, which this is decisively not. She’s used to walking next to Mulder in a suit and heels instead of jeans and flats. It feels different. She never feels small, walking next to Mulder. He makes space for her, even when they’re out on their own time, like this. She wonders if that makes it look like they're on a date, when they’re out of uniform.

She wonders, just a little, if they’re on a date.

The automatic door of the IKEA opens invitingly, a wide mouth to swallow them up. Mulder ushers her in, an ironic little twist to his lips that tells her he knows what she’s thinking. The maw of capitalism. An ecosystem where the consumer is the consumed. Clearcut forests shimmering with ancient insects.

Also, meatballs.

The end-of-case adrenaline is starting to hit her. All the emotion she locked down in the moment comes back, rerouted from fear to something more feral. She’s restless. She is, truth be told, a little horny. Some confluence of her cycle and the solve high has her wishing she’d stayed in the hotel room. The bathtub looked clean enough. She could have enjoyed herself. Instead she’s letting Mulder lead her through a labyrinth of simulated lives and enticingly arranged furniture. He stops to mosey into one of the staged spaces and beckons her over.

“Look at this, Scully.” He spreads his arms. He can almost touch both walls of the fake apartment. The grey t-shirt he’s wearing stretches in such an enticing way over his chest and shoulders. She gets a whiff of his deodorant and it makes her toes tingle. There’s something about the scent of artificial woods layered over just a hint of sweat that makes the feral part of her flex its claws. She’s always susceptible to the scent of Mulder, but this is something else. She could duck under his arm and sink her teeth into the bare skin of his bicep.

Some part of her is mortified to think of him in this way. Most days, that part gets the upper hand. Today, it’s been outvoted and overpowered. Want prowls back and forth in her belly. She steps closer.

“Can you imagine living here?” he asks. “Actually, you probably could. It’s about the size of a ship’s cabin.”

“Compact,” she says.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at her. “Just like you.”

I’d compact you, she wants to say, even though it makes no sense. She wonders if her pupils are dilated as she gazes up at him. She wants to push him up against the wall, but there’s a cabinet in the way. He’d hit his head, and he’s had enough cranial trauma. She’s his doctor. She knows better.

He’s still smiling at her and for a moment, her wild desire recoils, rebuffed by doubt. How would he react if she lunged for him? Does he even think of her that way? There have been hints over the years, but Mulder’s mouth writes checks the rest of him isn’t willing to cash. In his mind, are they just on a nice little outing, two work colleagues grabbing dinner? Was he planning on going back to his hotel room to watch whatever film features a leggy brunette wearing the fewest clothes?

“Kidding,” he says, and she realizes she’s staring at him. “Scully. I’m kidding.”

“Right.” She takes a step back as he lets his arms fall to his sides.

“Are you all right?” He ducks his head. “You look a little flushed.”

“I’m fine,” she says automatically.

“I guess it’s been an exciting day.” He meanders out of the fake apartment onto the floor of the store. They seem to be in the seating section. Scully doesn’t need a sofa, and she doesn’t need to look at sofas and imagine on them herself cuddled into Mulder’s side. None of these options are as sexy as his leather couch anyway. Oh god, when did she start thinking his couch was sexy?

Mulder stops by a chair with a light wood frame. “POANG,” he reads off the tag. It’s got white cushions and a sort of modern look. “Oh hey, it’s a rocking chair.” He tips it with one finger and it obligingly rocks. “Maybe you need one of these for your living room.”

Scully is possessed by a vivid image of the chair as it might look in her living room. Mulder is sitting in it, jeans yanked open and shirt rucked up, and she’s straddling his lap and riding him until the runners squeak under them. The motion of the chair accentuates the motion of her hips and her tits swing until he captures them in his big warm hands and and and…

“Maybe,” she says. “But Mulder, we have an IKEA closer to home.”

He drops onto one of the sofas and stretches out. He’s obnoxiously long. His shirt rides up, revealing a wedge of golden skin. “You’d probably rather have something vintage anyway. You’ve got champagne tastes, Scully. You like your creature comforts.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” She crosses her arms.

“No.” His lip twitches in amusement. “Although I have to say, if I had your bed, I’d never get out of it.”

Please, she thinks, fervent as a prayer. “Is that why it took you so long to stop sleeping on the couch? Your inherent slothfulness?”

“What can I say.” He brushes his hand over his stomach, smoothing his shirt down. She bites her lip and looks away. “I’m a man of many vices.” His voice is low, almost a purr.

It’s exactly this kind of fucking behavior that feeds the poor confused wild thing inside her. Does he know that? She knows him better than anyone else in her life and she has never been able to decide if it’s real, not even the time they almost kissed. Her need for him gobbles up every scrap of plausibly deniable flirtation, simultaneously satiated and starving.

She looks away from him. The next section is more innocuous - lots of cute little baskets and boxes. “I thought you were hungry.” She can’t imagine a magazine holder stoking her libido.

“Right,” he says, rolling off the couch. “Date night.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s lunchtime.”

“Who knows how long it’ll take us to get to the restaurant?” He shades his eyes with his hand, as if he’s peering over some dim horizon. “This place is engineered for maximum distraction. Think of all the lives we could live between here and there, Scully.”

She manages to haul him through the living room storage without too many detours, although she does have a wistful moment over another one of the staged living spaces, imagining the two of them sharing an apartment. She shoves the thought away. They spend so much time together she should be sick of him. She should fantasize about freedom, or solitude, or meeting a handsome stranger in a tiki bar on a tropical beach. But even when she loathes Mulder, she longs for him. Even the way he examines a Billy bookshelf gives her a rush of fond familiarity at the way he devotes his whole attention to it.

“Should we get you a desk?” he teases as they enter the next section.

Only if you’ll fuck me on it, she doesn’t say. Instead, she rolls her eyes and marches toward the shortcut, knowing he’s drifting in her wake. They skip the kitchen section, which is good; she doesn’t have to imagine herself with her hands braced on a countertop as Mulder presses against her from behind, one hand palming her tits and three fingers of the other inside her. They proceed through dining. In her head, she’s definitely not bent over this table as he takes her from behind, or sitting on that one as he has her for dinner, his lips moving eagerly over her thighs.

There’s something wrong with her. The heat deep in her belly keeps building. It’s Mulder’s damn grace and the way he smells and the fit of his jeans and the way the t-shirt strains when his arm flexes. It’s been too goddamn long since she had sex - years, and that was the once, and years before that - and something has awoken inside her, stirred out of sleep by the moon or the tides or who knows what the fuck. She’d go out on a limb for ancient prophecy at this point. That’s how primal her desire feels. It’s wild inside her, barely contained. And it’s so fucking stupid to feel all of this in the middle of an IKEA - a sanitized, flatpack world of sexless confused caricatures and beds that look too flimsy to fuck in.

Beds. So many beds. Acres of beds. And they do look flimsy, but she imagines fucking in them anyway. That one has a slatted headboard she could attach restraints too. That one has storage drawers for her collection of sex toys and Mulder’s collection of dirty magazines. She’d fuck him in a trundle bed at this point. Hell, she’d fuck him on the floor and let security drag them out and shove them into the cop car still coupled together, because there’s no way she’d let him go.

She somehow makes it through beds.

“You must be hungry,” he says at her shoulder. “Or else you took up competitive speedwalking.”

“That continental breakfast was a long time ago,” she says without looking back. She doesn’t need to look. She can sense him: his heat, his bulk. She could reach out for him and know exactly what she’d touch. That’s the problem with her fantasies. She knows him too intimately.

The wardrobe section doesn’t trouble her much, aside from a brief vision of dragging him into a small dark space and having her way with him. She doesn’t even flinch when they get to the children’s section, or at least not outwardly. Her eyes are on the prize and for once, it’s not Mulder’s ass. It’s the IKEA bistro at long last.

They dine. Mulder has meatballs. Scully has the salmon. The meatballs look suspiciously pale to her, but Mulder assures her they’re delicious. He holds out his fork for her, won’t take no for an answer. She relents and he feeds her a fragment of meatball dipped in the sharp sweetness of lingonberry jam. It’s better than she expected. She eats her salmon and wonders at her impulse toward the ascetic. Mulder is supposed to be the one who’s chosen a lonely, constrained life, but she’s the one denying herself mashed potatoes and a potential heaping helping of Mulder. If his flirting means anything, and that’s the if of her life at this point.

She sighs and puts her fork down on her plate. Mulder eats the last bite of her salmon, but only when it becomes clear she isn’t going to eat it. He smiles at her and her heart and her loins both throb. Fuck, she loves him so much.

They escape the IKEA without any further purchases. Fortunately, most of the rest of the store is small goods and packaged furniture, so the only thing to tempt her is the occasional surface that looks firm enough to support them both.

“Call me when you want dinner,” Mulder says when they get back to the hotel. She locks herself into her room and scans her notes on the case. She waits five minutes, fifteen, an hour. There’s no knock on her door. She starts to run a bath. Her whole body feels congested. She knows it’s not possible to die from metaphorical blue balls, unless it is and she’s about to be in the X-Files again. She wants him so much she feels like a teenager again. If they’d grown up together, he would have been her first kiss. She knows that. Four years would have made a difference until it didn’t. She would have waited for him to finally, finally see her.

She’s waiting for that now.

There’s a full length mirror near her door and she stands in front of it. There’s nothing wrong with her, surely. She’s not as buxom as some, not as curvy as others, but he’s dragged his eyes up and down her body a hundred thousand times. She’d know what that meant from anyone else. With Mulder, who knows? It could be sacred geometry. He could be comparing her to the women in the tapes he stashes under his tv. Maybe she’s just in his line of sight and he’s thinking about something else, sinusoidal curves or what inhabits the bleak depths of space, and it only looks like interest.

She squeezes her breasts, thumbs her nipples. Her own hands aren’t what she wants, but they’re familiar. She slides her palms over her body as the water thunders into the bathtub. If she closes her eyes as she tugs off her t-shirt and unbuttons her jeans, she can imagine it’s him. Fire follows her fingertips as she draws a topographical map of her body with his phantom hands. She’s down to her bra and panties when someone raps on the door.

“Just a minute,” she calls, and turns off the water. She peers through the peephole, wrapping a towel around herself. It’s Mulder. Of fucking course, it’s Mulder, interrupting her at exactly the moment she would want him to, so that he can tell her about fairy rings or the exciting properties of silicon instead of fucking her through the hotel bed.

She lets him in, rolling her eyes at herself.

“I went back to the IKEA,” he says. “In the vein of the heroes of old. I conquered the extremely domestic wilds of the main floor and I may have ordered you a POANG chair to be delivered. Also, I brought cake.” He puts two plastic boxes on her dresser. “But I didn’t know if you’d want chocolate or strawberry.”

“Why?”

“Why? We solved the case, Scully. I think a little celebration is in order. Or why the chair? I thought it would look good in your living room. I don’t have the space for one.” He looks her up and down all too briefly. What a gentleman. “Are you busy? I can come back later.”

“I’m not busy,” she says, just to see if he’ll accept it. For two people so passionately devoted to the truth, they lie to each other all the time. Maybe it’s plausible that she frequently sits around her room en déshabillé and he’s just missed it every time.

“Chocolate or strawberry?” He produces two forks. “Although I guess we can share.”

“Mulder, does it look like I want cake right now?”

He does the slow pan up and down her body this time. Heat rushes up her body, a sudden blaze that stokes the furnace in her belly to a roaring flame. She can feel the flush in her cheeks and down her chest.

“I admit, you don’t seemed dressed to dine,” he says at last.

She opens her hand, a gesture that invites him to follow his thoughts to their logical conclusion and leave.

“The cake was a ruse,” he says abruptly, ignoring her hint. “I wanted to check on you. You seemed a little off earlier.”

“Off?” She sits on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe frustrated or angry.” He drags the standard-issue chair over, sits with his knees almost brushing hers. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. It was a weird case.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” she says.

He stares at her. There’s a long, long moment, during which she thinks about kissing him. She can’t stop looking at his mouth. As if he senses her gaze, he licks his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” she asks, still half-mesmerized.

He taps her knee with one finger. “You said you were fine. Okay. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.” He gets up.

“What?” she says, flummoxed by his sudden pivot. “Mulder, the cake.”

“You can have it,” he says. He tosses the forks on the dresser by the cake. “Eat it in good health. I’ll be back later.”

“Where are you going?” she asks.

He paces back and forth. “I don’t know. It kind of feels like you don’t want me here.”

She opens and closes her mouth. “First of all, I’m in a state of undress.”

“I don’t care about that, Scully.”

“You don’t care?” She stands up. “What if I care?”

He makes a dismissive gesture. “I’ve seen you undressed, you’ve seen me undressed, it doesn’t have to be weird.”

“It doesn’t.” Her voice is flat with disbelief. “It doesn’t have to be weird.”

He shrugs. “Not unless you want it to be weird.”

“Fine.” She’s fed the fuck up. It’s been a long, weird, fairly excruciating day. She drops the towel.

This time Mulder really looks at her. She can feel the way his eyes drag over her skin, stopping to caress each rounded nipple, dipping toward the elastic of her panties.

“Not weird at all,” he says, but his voice is hoarse. He shifts, which makes the bulge of his erection more noticeable. Fuck it, Scully thinks. You don’t get to the moon if you never fire the rockets. She feels drunk. Mulder’s full attention has always been 100 proof.

“I wanted to fuck you in the POANG chair,” she says conversationally.

“Yeah.” He shifts again. “I wanted that too. Maybe that’s why I bought you one.”

“The way it rocks,” she says, and shivers a little, which makes him shiver too.

“I wanted to play house in those little apartments,” he tells her. “You and me, falling asleep watching tv, but in the same place for once. You and me, sharing a bed.”

“Yeah,” she says.

“Is that why you seemed mad?”

She nods. “Also I was hungry.”

“Where else did you want to fuck me?” he asks, stepping closer. His eyes have gone dark green. His pupils are wide.

“Everywhere,” she tells him.

“Wanna start with this bed and see how far we get?” His hands settle on her hips, so lightly, as if he’s afraid she’ll pull away. Instead, she drags his head down, breathes against his lips for a moment, and then kisses him.

The universe implodes. That’s what it feels like, anyway. But even if it were the end of all things, she couldn’t stop herself. He smells like pine and musk and his neck tastes like salt and she’s kissing him everywhere, everywhere. He lifts her and she wraps her legs around his waist and he has one arm around her waist and one hand under her ass and his fingers are stroking the outside of her thigh and she thinks if he’s not inside her in the next minute, she’ll just die.

He laughs and she realizes she said that out loud.

“I think so too,” he says. But he’s still dressed, he’s still wearing all his goddamn clothes, and she tugs at his shirt until he takes the hint and drags it over his head. She lets go and works on the button of his jeans. His jeans and his boxers come off together when they shove at them, and then he’s less dressed than she is. He kicks off his shoes and the tangle of denim and silk and she undoes her bra because she trusts his competence, but also she doesn’t. Need has made them so, so foolish.

“I want to,” he says, and swallows the rest of his sentence, but he hooks his thumbs into her panties and she lies back and lifts her hips. He skims the fabric down her legs. There’s hunger in his eyes. She lets him look, dropping her knees wide. He swallows hard and crawls up the bed to lie next to her.

“I wanted this to last,” he tells her.

“Me too,” she says. “I thought it would be different.” The light in his eyes dims slightly. He starts to turn his face away and she presses her palm to his cheek and turns it back. “Mulder, no. I wouldn’t change anything about this.”

“You sure?”

For answer, she kisses him, throwing her leg over his hip. Maybe it’s not what she expected. But she’s had years of self-denial, and she’s finished with that. There will be opportunities later for endless foreplay (as if every interaction since their handshake in the basement hasn’t been foreplay) and romance and slow indulgence, but she doesn’t have the patience for that. She’s already reaching for him, already wrapping her hand around his hand around his cock so they work together to guide him in. It’s such a relief that she almost cries, even though she aches as she stretches to accommodate him. And then he’s moving in her and it’s the rhythm of the universe, the pulse of existence. They’re not being safe and she doesn’t fucking care. He’s inside her, he’s touching her, he’s kissing her, and she’s wrapped around him like she can fuse their bodies together.

Every texture of him is a revelation: the hot satiny skin of his cock, the sleekness of his belly, the light fur on his chest. She knows them all and yet. And yet. It’s so different now. She feels the slickness of his lips and the rough friction of his tongue in her mouth and on her skin. It’s everything. Finally, she’s filled up, satisfied, satiated, maybe for the first time in her life. She wants more, oh God, she wants more of him. She wants to live under his ribs like that conjoined twin. She wants her bones jumbled with his. She wants him to fill her every way he can think of. She wants to buy a whole new range of sex toys and treat him just right. But for now, this is enough.

“More,” she says, and he pushes her onto her back without sliding out of her. She spreads her legs wider. He pins her, lacing his fingers into hers and stretching their arms over her head. His hips jolt as he shoves into her, harder and deeper, and she arches up to meet him. Every cell of her body feels like it’s filled with sparks of pleasure; she could map her nerves for him if she still had the power of speech. But he understands her incoherent cries. He always understands her.

She’s whimpering under him, helpless in the throes of her pleasure. The tingling starts in her extremities and washes through her, a tide rising higher and higher. She can feel his muscles tensing. His stomach is trembling. He’s holding back, wanting her to come first. One day, she thinks, she’ll indulge him, urge him to think of himself, but not tonight. She squeezes around him, taunting him. He groans and looks at her. She smirks at him and he growls in his throat. Now it’s a challenge: he has to make her come first, not just wish for it. He doesn’t let go of her, but drags their joined hands down her body. He rubs their fingers against her clit, tight circles that have her gasping. And then she’s coming, her body bucking under his, and he makes her ride it out before he’ll let go.

“Please,” she says, and he thrusts into her shivering body and she wraps her legs around him and holds him so tight as he buries his face in her shoulder and yells. He tries to roll off her right away but she won’t let go. She wants his weight, all of it, and after a moment he surrenders and lets her take it.

“We’re definitely going to fuck in that chair,” she whispers in his ear after a while.

He laughs into the curve of her neck. “We’re definitely going to fuck a lot of places.”

She kisses his ear and he turns his face so that his lips meet hers. “Making up for lost time.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes sparkling. “We haven’t lost anything,” he says. “We’ll make our own time.”

For some reason, her eyes prickle with tears. She kisses him again, threads her hands through his hair. She believes him. Maybe they have a future full of flatpack furniture and charming antiques and lazy mornings in bed. Maybe they can celebrate all their cases like this.

“Let them eat cake,” she says, and he laughs again and holds her close.

[dr-spectre]

I wanna quickly discuss Nintendo Music because I got some thoughts on it and I wish to share them, both good!...

And bad....

Okay, as the fellow Splatoon resident, having only Splatoon 3's launch tracks and having NO songs from later updates, seasonal Splatfests, Side Order and Grand Fest is fucking psychotic to me.

You mean to tell me that they are gonna DRIP FEED SONGS IN PRE EXISTING ALBUMS?!?! WHY DOES ANIMAL CROSSING GET 400 TRACKS YET SPLATOON 3 DOESNT GET ALL OF ITS TRACKS?!?! What's next? Is Splatoon 2 not gonna have Octo Expansion music, and are they gonna update AT A LATER TIME??!!

Are they even gonna update Splatoon 3 at all!?!?!?! UGH! Are we gonna get the live/Grand Fest remixes of tracks too?!? Will Splatoon 1 even get added?! WILL I NEVER GET TO HEAR BOMB RUSH BLUSH BUT INSTEAD THE REMIX THAT MAKES ME FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE TO LISTEN TO?!?! sigh....

Okay enough about Splatoon. How's the music listening experience in general? I would say it's pretty good. Having Wii music in the background as I talk to friends on Discord or do other things is really, really relaxing, and the extension feature is a brilliant idea. However, there's no way to just automatically play extended versions of songs. You have to manually extend the songs, and I think that's kind of annoying.

Now, how's the selection? Gonna be real, shit. It's not good. Why does every console except the switch only have 2 ALBUMS?!?!?!? Metroid having both its versions doesnt count as 3 albums, its the same fucking game. WHERE ARE THE 3DS AND WII U?!?!?

Every console should have had 5 to 8 MINIMUM!!!! I don't care, Nintendo has a library that spans in the thousands for fuck sake, this is unacceptable at launch. But hey, it's Nintendo, that's what they do. NSO started off being god awful but now it's a solid deal for 20 bucks a year. Way more tolerable than what the HELL PS Plus costs.

My biggest concern with this service is when they are gonna drop new albums. Nintendo, for the love of fucking god, do NOT DROP 1 TO 3 ALBUMS PER MONTH!!!! DO NOT DO THAT!!!! This service WILL die if you do that. People will get restless and move on. I do not want a repeat of NSO retro games AGAIN!!!! Just drop a batch every week or two, maybe 3 to 6 albums per 2 weeks or something like that. Don't drop at a minimum 2 per month or two months. DONT! AND MAKE SURE TO HAVE EVERY SONG IN THE ALBUM!!!!

But it's probably not gonna happen.... I know deep down Nintendo is gonna do the classic drip feeding strategy because it just works for them unfortunately... man...

I do like the app but it has ISSUES!!!!! BIG BIG ISSUES AND WORRIES!!!!

(Oh yeah and by the way... CREDIT THE GOD DAMN COMPOSERS NINTENDO!!!!!!)

[thoughts-i-have-had-in-passing]

The Spock Universes Theory of Star Trek

Recently I made a very quick, late-night reply to a post in which I mentioned my ‘Spock Universes’ theory which to my surprise ended up being somewhat popular with the people, and so I have decided to give it its own post.

The theory is simple. Every time Spock is played by someone different on screen you are watching a different universe’s timeline.

Why does this work? First off it is canon that there are different universes. For one, the Animated Series was disavowed by Gene Roddenberry as not canon, which by extension means it had to have taken place in another universe, but we also have the mirror universe  which continues to exist even when we occasionally wish it didn’t. So Star Trek was doing a multiverse from almost the very beginning. So what is the easiest way to tell them apart?

Spock.

Spock is the key to the whole multiverse. Behold:

TOS: Nimoy Spock, Prime universe

TAS: Voiced by Nimoy but disavowed by Roddenberry, ‘Animated Prime’ universe in which everything that happened in Prime Universe also happened here, but everything that happened here did not automatically happen in Prime.

Star Trek Movies I through VI: Nimoy Spock, Prime universe

TNG: Nimoy Spock appeared in Unification Parts 1 and 2, therefore TNG is in Prime universe

Star Trek: Generations: No Spock. NOT PRIME UNIVERSE.

The evidence: In the TNG episode Relics the crew discover Scotty, played by James Doohan, trapped in a transporter buffer on an infinite loop. This is considered god-tier engineering by Geordie, who did not believe it was possible despite 70 years of advancements in the engineering space (more on that in the SNW section).

Scotty makes a comment that he thought Kirk got the original Enterprise out of mothballs to come looking for him, and was saddened to find out this was not the case. In Generations, Scotty is present when Kirk get pulled into the Nexus and everyone think he is dead. In Prime universe Scotty was not there or he would not have made this assumption, however there is one person who has to be there in order to determine if the universe is Prime: Nimoy Spock.

Who was originally supposed to be there according to the original script? Nimoy Spock.

Who forced a change to the universe by not showing up? Nimoy Spock.

In Prime universe Spock was there instead of Scotty, who had not delayed his retirement to see off the Enterprise B and instead was already on his way to the Norpin colony when Kirk was ‘killed’ the news reached the colony but not the ship, which because it never made it meant Scotty never knew Kirk was gone.

It is important to note that everything else happened the exact same way, except Lursa and B’Etor got hold of a much better ship solely because I said so.

DS9: In the episode Trials and Tribble-ations, the crew was thrown back in time to the days of the original Enterprise, in which Nimoy Spock appeared, even without the various TNG crossovers it’s still Prime universe

Voyager: No Spock, but pilot episode crossed over with DS9, and the character of Barkley crossed over from TNG on more than one occasion. In addition, in the episode Flashback there was an appearance by Captain Sulu, played by George Takei, who was last seen playing his character opposite Nimoy’s Spock. Most likely Prime universe

Enterprise: Predates the Spock schism and therefore theoretically belongs to all universes. It has been referenced in several of the newer series in various ways, however there is a continuity issue in regards to the Klingons, which may mean that the event which lead to Spock being played by someone other than Nimoy happen even further back in the timeline, with the majority of changes being negligible by the time of Enterprise other than the Klingon ridge thing, which Discovery and SNW do not follow

‘Kelvin’ movies: Two Spocks. Nimoy Spock is specifically stated to come from the future Prime universe and the events featuring Quinto Spock are now a new, branched timeline. Further proof for the theory.

Discovery: Peck Spock, new timeline. Other notable changes include the style and advancement of technology and the fact that the Klingons appear to have solved their forehead ridge-flattening troubles, plus added extra for good luck.*

SNW: Peck Spock, crossover with Discovery. Peck universe. This also means that major continuity changes like the Gorn being both known and evil monsters are due to the different universe. In addition, Dr. M’Benga hides his daughter in a transporter buffer to slow down her illness. As previously mentioned, this was god-tier engineering when Prime Scotty did it in 2294, however in this universe technology is more advanced as no one bats an eye at the doctor’s technical prowess when they find out what he did.

Prodigy: Nimoy Spock facsimile which uses Nimoy voice recordings, Prime universe

Picard: No Spock, pick your poison. Basically because there is no Spock this could be Prime or it could be the same universe as Generations. Clearly there are a lot of similarities between Prime and Generations universe, but as the ending shown in All Good Things is not the one we see in Picard, it’s possible, likely even, that we have crossed universes again. I blame Q.

Lower Decks: Somehow exists in a universe where all shows are simultaneously canon, including TAS, probably due to some weird phenomena  

*Challenges to the theory and how it has adapted.

It was pointed out to me that Michael Burnham watches a recording of old Spock once she goes to the future, and that this recording was of Nimoy Spock, and so I have had to alter my theory slightly.

The Spock Checkpoint can only be done when Spock is a young man. This is because once Spock approaches old age, regardless of who has been playing him, he begin to morph into Nimoy Spock. As Mr. Nimoy himself claimed in his second autobiography: I am Spock.

Dude wasn’t kidding.

Personally I find that this theory helps me deal with the more extreme continuity issues that NuTrek has brought to the show. It's easy to pretend that Turnabout Intruder's claim that women can't be captains never actually happened, harder to believe that everyone met the Gorn except Kirk, and that somehow they demonsterfied in about five to ten years, or that a doctor could rig a transporter as well as a master engineer with technology forty years more advanced. Spock theory has calmed my mind and soothed my soul so I can better enjoy Trek. I hope if you felt the same way then it can do the same for you.

Thank you for reading my waffle.

[topguncortez]

Truth Hurts || Whumptober Day 1 - J. Seresin

whumtpober masterlist || whumptober taglist form

synopsis: You never imagined sharing your deepest darkest secrets in front of two monsters and your best friend. Loosely based on the book “Still Beating” by Jennifer Hartmann.

@ailesswhumptober whump prompt: drugging @ailesswhumptober

word count: 4.5k

warnings: kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse, physical abuse, mentions of miscarriage, murder, character death, truth serum, drugging, forced proximity.

You liked to think that when you were to die, it would happen quickly. 

A car accident, a gunshot wound, a failed ejection, ingesting too many sleeping pills. 

You wanted it fast. You didn’t want to suffer. You didn’t want your death to be one that would be talked about twenty years from now and people’s eyes would automatically fill with tears when it was spoken about. You didn’t want to meet the same fate as your husband, Bradley, had met nearly a year ago. 

It’s funny how things don’t seem to work in your favor. 

Six days. Six long, excruciating days of pain, starvation, and abuse. That’s how long you had been locked in this dungeon of horrors, alongside your best friend, Jake. You always thought that these sorts of things only happen in the movies. You didn’t think that you would be dumb enough to fall for a woman on the side of the road who claimed her baby was choking. You didn’t think that you would be dumb enough to make Jake stop the car so you could run out and go help her. You also didn’t think Jake was dumb enough to get out of the car and try to rescue you from the man dressed head to toe in black who held your passive body. 

But, here you were. Chained like animals in some psycho couple’s basement, waiting for them to come down and do whatever horrible things they had on the dockette for the day. 

“They’re probably sending out a search party,” Jake said, from across the room in his own cage. Whoever had taken you had done this before. They had a whole set-up down here with chains and cages that resembled jail cells. You looked over at Jake, giving him the same glare you had been giving him every day since day one. He, somehow, was hanging onto his optimism, while yours had left almost instantly. 

That’s how Jake has always been. He’s always been this bright light in your life, and you should appreciate it. You really wish that you could appreciate it, but something had died inside you a year ago when you had buried Bradley. You weren’t the same happy-go-lucky girl who grew up with an amazing family and got to do the coolest job in the world alongside her husband and her childhood best friend. Instead, you were just the shell of the person you once were. 

“I-I know they are. I know they would have the best-” 

“Jake,” You sighed, closing your eyes. He knew better than to continue on. He had never been on the receiving end of your anger before being trapped down here. You could be volatile, and spit venom when you needed to. You had already apologized profusely for the words that you had said to Jake after what was now probably the worst day of your life, but Jake forgave you. 

The silence between you stretched on for a moment, the only sound being the steady tapping of dripping water from the leaky faucet in the corner of the basement. You had never been so envious of concrete before. 

“Do you miss him?” Jake asked quietly. You turned your head over to him, raising your eyebrows in a silent way to tell him to elaborate, “Bradley.” 

Your eyes went from Jake’s forrest green ones, down to your dirty feet. 

Of course, you missed Bradley. 

You missed everything about him. 

You missed his laugh. His horrible dad jokes. His honey-brown eyes. His loud, off-key singing. His sunkissed, warm skin. His awful dancing. His soft and sweet kisses. Hell, you even missed yelling at him about leaving the toilet seat up. 

But most of all, you missed his strong, comforting hugs that could make a grown man cry. Bradley Bradshaw had always felt like home to you, and you missed your home. 

“Every single day,” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke. 

Every single day, you wished that you could turn back the clock. That you could’ve been the one who was at home that night. The detective told you that it was a “home invasion gone wrong”. A horrible case of wrong place, wrong time. But you always believed that there was more to it. That the detective with the large belly and graying hair just wanted to move on to a bigger, worse case than this. You had pushed and pushed them to look at the case just a little bit more. 

“Sweetheart, no one would want to kill one of America’s finest. The case is closed. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

But he wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time. You found his body in the kitchen of your shared home. Those words bounced around in your head on the darkest nights, as you sat on the ground in the room that was supposed to be a nursery. Bradley had been so excited about starting a family with you. The way his eyes lit up every single time he’d see a baby on the street or would look at baby clothes at Target. All you had wanted was to be able to give him the child he longed for. 

“I was going to tell him,” You said, leaning your head back against the cold cement wall. Jake looked up at you. Your face was dirty, and the grime of being without a shower for nearly a week starting to show. Your eyes, the ones Jake used to think resembled the earth, were dark. Your hair was limp and greasy around your shoulders, “I was going to tell him that I. . . That I was pregnant, that night.” 

Jake sucked in a breath and looked down at the ground. He had been with you, cramped in a small bathroom at the post exchange on base as you took the pregnancy test. You had been so happy, he swore he had never seen a brighter smile on your face before. Jake held you tightly as you cried tears of joy, and immediately called your mom to tell her. 

Jake had also been by your side, picking you up off the ground as blood ran down your thighs, just a mere days after Bradley’s death. He never wanted to hear the sounds of pure anguish again. The sound of your wails as you stood in the kitchen, haunted Jake at night. The sight of all the blood made him sick, and the scent of copper was forever engrained into his mind. 

“He would’ve been so excited,” Jake said, looking up at you. 

“I imagine it was a girl. He was always meant to be a girl dad.” 

Bradley had a small pocketbook that he would keep with him, jotting down names that would come to him throughout the day that he liked. They ranged from names of famous rockstars to biblical names. 

‘What do you mean Jebbidiah isn’t a good name?’ 

‘Jeb Bush. . .’ 

‘You got a point.” 

You chuckled at the memory, shaking your head lightly. You and Bradley had narrowed his list of nearly a hundred names down to at least two, one for a boy and one for a girl. 

“Lennon,” You smiled, “Lennon Dhani Bradshaw. Dhani, spelled like how George named his son. You know how much I love-” 

“The Beatles, I know,” Jake nodded. 

You gave him a quick glance and then went back to your little glimpse of happiness, “My favorite song was-” 

“Here Comes the Sun and In My Life, I know,” Jake said again. 

The silence stretched back over the two of you. You used to mind the silence between you and Jake. Before, it was that comforting silence that signified the strong bond between the two of you. You used to be able to sit in the same room, on opposite ends of the couch, reading books or scrolling through your phones, neither one feeling the need to fill the air with conversation. 

Now, you feared the silence. 

You let out a sigh, before going to speak, “Jake, I-”

The sound of the large door at the top of the stairs cut you off. The sick feeling of dread filled your body, as thudding footsteps made their way down the crikey wooden stairs. Your body started to tremble as your kidnappers came down for their daily routine. 

Bonnie and Earl, are two odd, sick ducks that somehow, some way met each other and fell in love. Bonnie had gone on and on the first night, while Earl acted out his vile assaults on you, about their “love” story. Apparently, it was love at first sight, and the two got married within a month of knowing each other. They also kidnapped their first couple within that same month. 

“Rise and shine!” Bonnie’s chipper voice sounded out like nails on a chalkboard. Your throat felt tight as Earl’s eyes locked directly on you. Bonnie walked over to you, grabbing your chin with her cold, dainty hand, “Are you ready, Bunny?” 

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked in her cold blue irises. After the first night, you had hoped to maybe reach out to Bonnie, to break through to her and get her to let you go. What sane woman would be okay with the monstrosities her husband acted out on women? Apparently, Bonnie. 

“Too bad,” Bonnie chuckled, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you up to stand. Earl replaced Bonnie by standing in front of you, his hand already down his pants, jerking himself off. At this point in time, the routine was basically burned into the back of your eyelids. 

Earl takes Bonnie’s spot. Bonnie undoes Jake’s cuffs. Bonnie sits Jake down in a chair across from you and Earl. Jake hurls insults and threats at the two of them. Earl commits his heinous crimes. Earl and Bonnie leave the two of you alone in complete silence. 

You were starting to wonder if it would ever end. 

— — — 

“You know hanging is the worst way to go?” Jake said, cutting through the silence. 

It was day twenty-one, and you had officially lost hope of ever making it out alive. Bonnie and Earl had been feeding you less and less, only a sandwich every two days instead of every day. You made sure that when you brushed your teeth, you took extra gulps of water, savoring the taste of it down your throat. 

“You don’t die instantly,” Jake continued, “You struggle, your lungs aching for air, you know what’s going on until the moment your neck snaps.” 

You looked over at him, seeing the dull look in his eyes as he stared off into space. You knew Jake started to come to terms with your current state. It made your heart ache to hear and see the optimism slip from his body. You weren’t sure when it happened, probably after day fourteen. 

Day Fourteen. 

The second worst day of your life. 

First, was losing Bradley.

Second, was watching as your friend stood defenseless and was forced to commit an act he’d rather take a bullet for. 

You had hardly ever seen Jake cry, but as he stood in front of you, emptying himself in you, he had broken down, whispering apologies into your dirty skin. His light green eyes had grown dark and dull as he was dragged away from you, leaving you cold and broken. Jake had refused to even look at you, turning his body to face away. You had told him several times throughout the night that you weren’t upset or mad, that you understood what he had to do. 

“I’m not mad at you. I understand it, I do. You did it to survive, Jake. I forgive you.”

You thought for sure that you were going to lose Jake after that. He didn’t speak for a whole day. After twenty-four hours in silence, the only sound was the occasional creak of the floorboards and the drips from the leaky pipe. You thought for sure that you would wake up and see Jake’s lifeless body on the floor. But instead, you woke up to his gentle, soft voice, singing. 

‘In My Life… I Love You More…’ 

“I’d say being stabbed to death is worse,” You said softly, “Yes, hanging is awful, but it only lasts a matter of seconds. Being stabbed? Can last for hours. Painful, agonizing hours, where you lie alone in your own blood, and can’t do anything but wait for someone to either find you or for the reaper to take you.” 

Jake felt a sudden rush of nausea run through his body at your words. His body felt hot as he looked over at you, sitting on the ground, absent-mindedly moving your foot back and forth over a crack in the cement. You always used to be the one who got sick at even the thought of blood. Now, to hear you talk so frankly about death, made goosebumps arise on Jake’s skin. 

“You think he struggled?” Jake whispered. 

“He fought back,” You sniffled, “The detective said he defense wounds on his arms. He always said he’d find a way to come home to me.” 

Jake could remember sitting in the stale, white-walled room with you as the detective handed you the manila folder that held the official autopsy report. Why you wanted to read it and see the photos of Bradley’s mutilated body, was beyond Jake. It was bad enough that he had to see the blood trail and stained red hands. But you stared at the pictures for hours. The pictures of the man you loved and the house that was now an active crime scene. 

The morning faded into day, as the shadows of the sun coming through the basement windows began to move. On day three, Jake taught you how to estimate the time by the position of the shadows on the cement wall. He guessed that the house faced towards the west, and every night as the sun began to set, your hair would have a certain warm glow to it. The two of you were playing your usual game of twenty-one questions, trying to pass the time until the inevitable happened. 

You were trying not to think of whatever horror could unfold today. It seemed that on every seventh day, something worse seemed to happen. Day Seven was the first day you were assaulted. Day fourteen was the day Jake was forced to hurt you. And now, you were waiting to see what day twenty-one had in store. 

Every time the sound of the basement door would open, a cold shiver would go down your spine, and you pulled your knees up to protect yourself. It was a futile chance at hopefully keeping Earl and Bonnie away from you, but it never worked. There seemed to be some charged energy between the two of them as Bonnie happily skipped down the stairs and stood outside of your cell as if you were an animal at the zoo. 

“Today is gonna be great!” She cheered, a sick smile on her face, “I want the girl first, baby. I know she’s got secrets to confess.” 

“Anything for you, honey bunny,” Earl cooed at his wife and placed a kiss on her lips. He then turned, digging the keys to your cell out of his pocket, “You must be waiting for today, bunny,” Earl said to you, a sickening smirk on his face. He undid your cuffs like he always did, and led you over to the open space between yours and Jake’s cages. Instead of chaining you up to the post in the middle like he usually would, he sat you down in a chair. He chained your cuffs behind the back of your chair and chained down your ankles. 

Earl took a step back, admiring you like you were some type of animal he had just hunted down. You felt bile rising in your throat as he stepped towards you, his disgusting scent invading your senses. He smelled of sweat and blood, and his hands were dirty as he grabbed your chin in his hand, “You’re so beautiful, you know that, bunny?” 

You clenched your jaw tightly, keeping your eyes down at the floor, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of looking at him, “I bet that’s why that boy of yours loved you so much.” 

You snapped your head up, “What?” 

Earl roared with laughter as he let go of your face and took a step back, “That’s what got your attention! Whew, and I was here thinking you were an idiot.” He wiped a tear from his face, stepping back to you and running a finger down your face, “That boy, what was his name? Bradley, was it? Handsome young man, so sad what you did to him.” 

“You know nothing,” You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Everyone will know all, very, very soon, bunny. . . hold still.” 

“Wha-Fuck!” You cursed as you felt the pinch of a needle being injected into your neck. Your heart began to race as you looked in terror at Earl and now Bonnie who stood in front of you, “What did you do? What was that!?” 

Bonnie giggled and held up a vial in her hand, “Truth Serum. Made it myself!” Earl put his arm proudly around Bonnie, her face resembling a kid who just had sugar for the first time. 

“Is that going to kill her?” Jake yelled at Bonnie, who simply shrugged, “Hey! Y/N, look at me!” Jake rattled the chainlink that had been keeping you apart, “What the fuck did you do?!” 

It felt like you were being suffocated as you looked over at Jake. Your head began to swim, and your limbs felt like you could hardly hold yourself up anymore. Your body began to feel warm and tingly as a thin layer of sweat started to cover your body. The only thoughts in your head were that this was it. This was the moment in which you were going to die. In this dirty, dingy basement with your kidnappers watching and your best friend trying to fight his way towards you. 

Then, everything seemed to change. Every muscle started to contract, making you shiver violently. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been lit on fire, and a small scream left your body at the pain. You were scared your heart was going to explode from the sheer force of it beating in your chest. 

“It hurts!” You cried, pulling on your cuffs, “Help! It hurts!” 

“It’s working,” Bonnie clapped her hands in excitement, “Ask the question!” 

Earl chuckled, holding his wife against his front, “Not yet, sweets. We gotta start off slow. First question, bunny, have you fucked anyone else since your husband?” 

The words felt like hot lava trying to escape you, but you fought against them, pushing them down in your body, “No.” 

Earl’s eyes narrowed at you, “It’ll feel better if you let the serum do its thing. Keep fighting, and it’ll kill you.” 

“I’d rather die,” You grit your teeth, your nails digging into your palms. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I can make that happen,” Earl said, “Now answer the question, have you fucked anyone else since your husband?” 

You shook your head, scared that if you were to open your mouth, the truth would come spilling out. You never knew that the words “truth hurts” could be real until you found yourself in utter agony trying to hide the truth. Bonnie had her jaw clenched tightly as she watched you fight off her experiment. You wondered how many other people had been in your position. How many other people tried to fight and ended up dead? Or worse, ended up dead before they even got the chance to fight. 

“I love him,” You choked out, “I would never hurt him.” 

Jake shook his head, a scoff falling from his lips. Earl looked over his shoulder at him, a smirk forming on his lips, “You know something.” Jake instantly went quiet, not daring to look at you, but his body language was enough of a giveaway. You looked up at Jake, tears in your eyes as you begged him not to say anything. But Bonnie always prided herself on being a problem-solver, and a gasp fell from her lips. She waltzed her way over to Earl and whispered in his ear.

Earl stood up tall as he looked at you with a menacing smile on his face, “You cheated on him, didn’t you,”  You groaned in agony, tears streaming down your face as you tried to fight off the effects of the serum. Earl huffed as he pulled the gun out of the waistband of his pants, and pointed it at Jake’s head, “Answer the question you fucking bitch! Or, I’ll blow his brains all over the wall!” 

“Y/N. . .” Jake called out softly as you let out a scream. 

“I cheated on him!” You admitted. The feeling of sweet relief filled your body, as the words came tumbling out, “It was a mistake! A total and complete, stupid mistake!” You cried, tears and snot running down your face as you looked at Jake, “I-I. . . it was stupid! And I told him, I know we promised no one would know, but I couldn’t lie to him. I felt awful. It was killing me!”

“And he forgave you?” Bonnie asked, letting out a guffaw, “What an idiot!” 

“He loved me!” You snapped, pulling on your chains, “He forgave me, and it made us stronger.” 

“So you don’t love, puppy over there?” Earl asked, turning to glance at Jake like he was fresh meat. 

You clenched your jaw, feeling the painful truth rising up in your chest, but you fought it. Your nails dug into your palms as you shook your head, and you willed your voice to stay calm as you spoke. 

“I don’t love him.” 

Earl chuckled, walking up to you, and undoing your chains. You fell into a heap in his arms as he helped walk you back to your cell. You felt utter disgust as he ran his hand over your filthy hair, whispering how good you did in your ear, but your eyes never left Jake. His jaw was clenched tightly as Bonnie grabbed him and pulled him over to the same chair you were just chained up to. His green eyes bore into yours as Bonnie injected the same truth serum into his neck. 

The serum felt hot as it made its way through Jake’s body, making his nerves tingle. It was a dull ache that he felt and did his best to remain upright on his own two feet. He wondered to himself if you wouldn’t have fought so hard to hide the truth it wouldn’t have caused you so much pain. He could feel his heartbeat start to rise in his chest, and sweat pool on his brow. Taking a deep breath, Jake looked over to Earl and Bonnie; 

“Do your worst,” He sneered. 

Bonnie shrieked in excitement, “Finally!” 

Earl shushed her with a grin on his face, “Since the bitch won’t tell the truth, I guess the puppy will. . . You fucked her, didn’t you?” 

“Several times,” Jake’s face was stoic as he answered truthfully. The guilt in your body seemed to weigh you down like cement stones. You hated what you did to Bradley, and the lies that you kept from him, but you couldn’t help your attraction to Jake, “And she loved every moment of it. Even begged me for more.” 

“Whew! So she is a slut after all!” Earl looked over at you with that disgusting hunger in his eyes you’ve seen before, “I knew it. So tell me puppy. . . did you feel bad about it? What was it that she said? Oh, did you think it was a mistake?” 

Jake clenched his jaw and looked over at you, “Never.” 

“And why’s that?” Bonnie asked. 

“Cause he was screwing someone else,” Jake admitted. 

You gasped, holding your hand to your mouth, “That’s not true.” Bradley would never hurt you the way that you hurt him. He loved you too much to do that and it killed you to know how much you had hurt him. 

“It is! I saw him, Y/N!” Jake yelled, “I saw him with that girl at the bar. Do you remember the one he told you was some annoying junior pilot with a crush? He was screwing her,” Jake spat. You shook your head, eyes wide, refusing to believe the words that Jake had just spoken. 

“That’s a lie. He would nev-” 

“It’s the truth, Y/N. They were doing it everywhere. At work, at the Hard Deck. . . at the house. Remember when he went to Virginia for a week? He went home with her to meet her family.” 

“No!” You screamed, “He wouldn’t do that to me!” 

“So what did you do?” Bonnie asked. Jake’s eyes bore into yours as he took deep breaths. Bonnie looked between the two of you, before yelling, “Say it!” 

“I killed him,” Jake whispered. 

“What? What was that?” She instigated, leaning into Jake and holding her hand to her ear. 

“I killed him.” 

“Louder! I can’t hear-” 

“I killed him!” Jake yelled, his eyes never leaving yours, “I. . . I just wanted to scare him, to let him know that I knew what he was doing, and to get him to either come clean to you or stop. I-I don’t know what happened. But he. . . he started fighting back and I just. . . I lost control.” 

“It felt great didn’t it?” Bonnie asked, walking over to Jake, putting her hands on his shoulders, and running them down his chest, “You felt that release. That sweet, sweet release,” You wanted to kill her as she placed kisses up and down Jake’s neck. He couldn’t help but flutter his eyes closed at the gentle feel on his skin, “You let out all that pent-up need that someone was depriving you of. It felt like the best orgasm ever, didn’t it?” 

Jake looked away from you, guilt swimming in his eyes. You let out an anguishing cry as you collapsed to the ground, sobs racking your body as you dry-heaved. All Jake could do was sit in the chair and watch you. Earl walked over to you and picked up your body as if you weighed nothing. You thrashed in his arms as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at Jake. 

“You’d do it again, wouldn’t you?” Earl asked. Jake was silent as he looked down at the ground. “Answer me!” Jake looked at him, still keeping his mouth quiet. But you knew. By the look on his face, you knew what he was fighting. 

“Answer him, Jake,” You said quietly, “You’d kill Bradley again, wouldn’t you?” 

Jake couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face as he looked at you, “I would kill anyone who hurt you, sweetheart.”

taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @seitmai @cassiemitchell @topgun-imagines @xoxabs88xox @sarahsmi13s @els-marvelvsp @ohtobeleah

[mirpuzzle]

I've been really curious about this, who are your top ten Yu-Gi-Oh characters?

Hello! 🌷 Usually, I only have a few favorites. So, aside from the first three, the rest is constantly changing. I'll try to put them in order (all under the cut).

♡. 10 ── Carly Nagisa (5Ds)

What's not to love about her? She's funny, pretty, and a complete mess of a person. She gets in all sorts of trouble, all because she's trying to make a living. I like it when she gets screen time.

♡. 9 ── Noa Kaiba (DM)

He was my favorite as a kid, so I still have a special place in my heart for him. His story made me cry. He did not deserve that. He only wanted others to understand him. You're valid, Noa.

♡. 8 ── Yusei Fudo (5Ds)

It's rare for me to favor a protagonist. That's how you know he's good. This man is a blessing to Yugioh. He has a natural charisma that's impossible to ignore. He's perfect.

♡. 7 ── Bandit Keith (DM)

...I think. I have mixed feelings toward him. I don't even know why he's on this list. I keep going to him in games where Kotsuzuka is not there. So, that must mean I like him, right? I'm confused.

Cross Duel showed me he can be really nice to you if you help him win. I appreciate how he helps other duelists fortify their decks, using the themes they originally had instead of giving them a completely new deck. He cares.

While there's no excuse for what he did to Kotsuzuka and the boys, the fact that, behind that 'bad guy' front, there's a sad, broken man makes me feel bad for him. He deserves to heal.

♡. 6 ── Ryou Bakura (DM)

The anime doesn't do him justice. The more I learn about him through other fans and Duel Links, the more I like him. He's a precious cream puff who likes spooky stuff and is treated terribly by almost everyone. He deserves better (friends).

♡. 5 ── Divine (5Ds)

This man is terrible in every way, and that's the point. I hate that his character was designed to be hated. He gets no backstory, no redemption arc, no nothing. He's just there to be blamed for every bad thing that's ever happened. I pity him. He's the worst. I love this guy.

♡. 4 ── Thief King Bakura (DM)

PLEASE give this guy a break. He has gone through enough. The way he pulled himself back up after all that tragedy is impressive. Imagine how one skillful Thief became a Pharaoh's major threat. A Thief who brings up important moral questions that society seems to ignore (deliberately). He deserves to be heard.

♡. 3 ── Kiyoshi Takaido & Satake (DM)

They share third place because I can't have one without the other. I automatically started loving them because they're close friends with Kotsuzuka. I like that they care about him. These guys have so much potential to explore, and it's a shame we see so little of them.

They're not 'Keith's lackeys'. They're duelists in their own right. They have ambitions and aspirations. They just didn't get to be in the spotlight.

♡. 2 ── Yami Bakura (DM)

Sometimes switches places with Takaido and Satake but usually stays in second place. He's wickedly perfect. From his gorgeous design to how he pretends everything is part of his plan, even though he's literally dissipating into nothingness. He has the nerve to make empty threats that he never carries out. And I love him for that. No one can deny that he looks cool when he shows how evil™️ he is.

There's something beautiful about this ancient evil spirit dedicating his existence to fulfill his objective - all while showing us that he can enjoy normal human activities, like playing games. The complexity of his character captivates me. You can study him for hours, and it will still take you a while to figure him out due to his confusing lore. I like reading what other fans have to say about him.

The way he makes others suffer causes me to have mixed feelings. Sure, I love angst. I just wish there were some feelings involved.

Seeing him make enemies with almost everyone he crosses paths with makes me think he wants to keep everyone away, and that's sad. I want him to care about someone other than himself. I want someone to care about him.

♡. 1 ── Ghost Kotsuzuka (DM)

Yes, that one guy who's known for using Zombie-Type monsters. That short, spooky 15-year-old who walks around hunched over pretending to be a ghost, not realizing he's too cute to be scary. That naive boy who trusted the wrong person and then was unlucky enough to cross paths with the main antagonist. He's my favorite.

I love him. The way his eyes light up when he talks about the things he likes is adorable. I could listen to him gush about ghosts for hours.

His character tends to be frustratingly misinterpreted and overlooked. It's sad that some people think of him as nothing more than collateral damage to Yami Bakura's 'mischief'. He deserves better than that.

When you see past his 'side antagonist' role, you realize he's a precious little guy who's trying his best. Behind that ghostly, mischievous smile, there's a lost youth looking for guidance from a 'big bro' figure he can look up to, whether he realizes this or not.

Despite the differences in his characterization between the manga, anime, and games, one thing remains consistent. He grows into someone who wants to prove he can duel by himself.

But what does he get? Nothing but pain. Betrayed, deceived, ending up dead or lost in the darkness, condemned in almost every canon, with only his sentient Duel Links data to remember him by.

He only wanted to duel.

---------------------ꕥ

I'll stop here. Otherwise, I'll be talking about Kotsuzuka for hours. Thank you so much for the ask! ♡ Sorry that it took a while. I was struggling to organize what I wanted to say for some of the characters, and I wanted to add some art :3

Keep in mind that I've only seen Duel Monsters and the first half of 5Ds, so there are many characters I don't know yet.

[ladytauria]

**KNOCKS THE DOOR DOWN**

27!!!! For the WIP game thingy

hehehe

(jaytim) empty promises p. 2

a sequel to this prompt! (inspired by you, lmao; the sad animal pics won me over xD)

which, to summarize, tim & jason have a big fight… and before it’s resolved, jason gets called to do a job with roy. it’s going to be a sort of 3+1 fic, focusing on 3 phone calls they share before jason comes home. the first two calls are written and now i’m stumped lmao

there’s… a lot i’d like to share; i’m pretty proud of what i’ve got but, um… have a snippet from phone call #2

Tim tries to ignore the way his heart softens. “How’s progress?” he asks instead. The words are sour in his mouth. Work is… easier. He wishes it wasn’t. But he doesn’t know how to talk to Jason with this thing between them—and he doesn’t want to talk about it like this. Over the phone, with hundreds of miles separating them.

Jason hums. “In a minute,” he says. “Have you eaten yet today?”

“Not recently,” Tim says. He had a granola bar like, an hour ago. And he’s been munching on trail mix while he plays. So, not entirely the truth, but he wants to know where Jason is going with this.

“I was thinking, ah. Maybe we could eat together?” Jason offers, hesitantly. “I was just about to dive into some leftovers, and I thought… maybe…” He trails off, and then laughs, self-deprecatingly. “S’kinda stupid, I guess.”

“No,” Tim says, immediately. “No, it’s— That sounds nice, actually. Do… Did you want to switch to video?” He has some leftover takeout he didn’t finish last night. He’d ordered their usual on automatic, and, well. He could eat a lot, but not quite that much.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Tim warms up his food before settling at the dinner table. Through the tinny phone speaker, he can hear Jason doing the same, and it warms him, despite himself. When Jason is ready, they hang up. Tim props his phone up, accepting the video call request from Jason.

The screen is heavily pixelated at first, but soon, the graininess clears away to show Jason. Tim can’t make out any details about the room he’s in; not on such a tiny screen. But he can see the man himself—looking tired, a little worn, but… He’s smiling, too. There’s a nervous edge to it, but. It’s sincere.

He finds himself smiling back, wondering if he looks as tired and lonely as he feels. “Hey,” he says, more softly than he means.

“Hey,” Jason repeats, his tone the same.

For a minute they just sit there and look at each other.

Then Jason swallows, and says, “You—uh. You asked about the job?”

He almost takes it back—asks Jason how he’s been sleeping, instead; if he reaches for Tim in his sleep the same way Tim has been reaching for Jason. He almost tells him to forget the job, forget the argument. Just come home.

Almost.

“Yeah,” he says. “I did.”

[ wip ask game ]

[kyufessions]

down the drain

synopsis: it’s been one year since you discovered them

pairings: ex-boyfriend! hyunjae x g.n. reader

genre: angst

requested: ✔️

word count: 1.3k

warnings: mentions of cheating, hyunjae is an asshole in this

a/n: oof this hurt but i hope y’all enjoy !

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois @haechansbbg

tbz taglist: @ilovechanhee

one year. it’s been exactly one year today since you broke up with your ex. after six years together, he decided to throw everything down the drain that left you no choice but to break things off. to say you still weren’t hurting would be a lie, because every so often you do sob about it in your bed above a small pint of ice cream or a bag of sour cream and onion chips. but to go back to him would do more harm than good; if anything, you had wished things would go back to the way things were before he ruined everything.

although still early into the night, the sky was pitch black and the only source of light that came through was through the night lamps illuminating the streets outside your apartment complex and the light of the television screen in front of you that played Mean Girls. your friends knew of the significance that today held so you had been out all day with them- you had breakfast together, did some retail therapy, even had lunch and dinner. even though it helped a bit, there was still a part of you that ached. why you? why did this all have to happen to you?

your phone buzzed on your nightstand consistently, signaling it was a phone call. assuming it’s one of your friends, you kept your eye on your favorite scene in the movie and answered the phone call without checking who was actually disturbing your mini movie marathon.

“hello?” you asked, eyes still glued to the screen as you held your phone in one hand and the other held your favorite stuffed animal close to your stomach for comfort.

there were a few moments of silence before the other voice decided to speak up. “y/n?”

you automatically recognized the voice as your ex’s, your eyes widening and freezing in place. you take a few moments to calm yourself down before deciding to respond. “whyre you calling me hyunjae?”

his voice is soft as he responds to you, soft and careful. “i missed your voice-“

“don’t do this again. it’s been a year.”

silence for a few moments. several sniffles can be heard from the other end, making you roll your eyes. you feel your throat closing up but you fight back the tears, masking it with frustration.

“quit crying, you’re the one who hurt me. if anything, i should be the one crying.” which is true, and you have a bit. not as often as you used to, but still a little bit more than you’d like to admit.

hyunjae takes another sniffle and coughs on the other end, clearing his throat before responding to you. “it’s been a year since you broke up what we had-“

“because you cheated on me. at our engagement party nonetheless. and i had to find out through her. not you yourself, but the woman you cheated on me with.”

nothing but the distant sound of sobbing on the other end came from him, making you pull your phone a little ways from your ear since it was getting louder. you just allowed him to get it all out of his system for a few minutes as you continued watching Mean Girls, eventually speaking up.

“i’m gonna hang up now since all you keep doing is crying-“

“no, dont!” his voice cracks as he attempts to shout, but only sounding barely above a whisper. “i regret everything so much, y/n. everything we were, those were the best six years of my life. i’m sorry, how many times do i have to say it?”

you don’t even respond. you’re the type of person who hates repeating themselves, and you’ve already said all these things more than once to get it through hyunjae’s thick skull. so instead of exhausting yourself, you decide to just allow him to repeat himself instead.

upon not hearing a response from you, he just continues on. “i fucked up. but it was only one time! ever since then i haven’t even spoken to or thought about her. i’m sorry, and if i could take it all back i would in a heartbeat. let’s go back to the way things were baby, please-“

“don’t call me that.” you spat, taking in a deep breath before replying to him again. “you lost that privilege the second you even thought about cheating on me with her. now, i'm sick of all these lies so-“

“they’re not lies!” he cries out, sniffles in between his words.

“you don’t cheat on people you love, dumbass!” you screamed, a single tear rolling down your cheek. you quickly contain yourself again and respond as calmly as you can to the inconsolable man-child. “seriously, let me go. i’m sick of this. goodbye.”

swiftly, you hung up and blocked his number yet again. six years wasted, all because he wanted to get his dick wet by your best friend’s friend. laying back on your mattress, you put your focus back on the movie and your bucket of popcorn in an attempt to focus on something else other than what just happened. but it didn’t work as the memories of that night flooded back to you.

while the party had been happening in the downstairs of hyunjae’s apartment, you made your way upstairs to your shared bedroom to change from one dress to another since you had spilled some white wine on your current one. since the music was loud and booming from wall to wall, you couldn’t hear the noises coming from the other end of the bedroom and was quite surprised to see hyunjae pounding into sumin, your best friend’s friend, from behind. they both just stared up at you, hyunjae in shock and sumin with a devious smirk.

without saying anything, you slammed the door shut and ran downstairs. you grabbed your car keys and didn’t speak a single word to anyone who asked you where you were going, you just got in your car and drove off to nowhere in particular. it wasn’t until you found a random motel6 on the freeway that you finally relaxed for the night, getting a room for two nights and plopping down on the crummy bed as soon as you laid your eyes on it.

once you turned your phone back on, you had over one hundred missed calls from hyunjae alone and several from almost everyone at the party. you didn’t even bother to read the 500+ messages notifications until the next morning when you were woken up by someone knocking on your door. when you opened it, there stood your best friend, juyeon, with apologetic eyes and a worried expression.

“what the hell y/n?” he said with worry laced in his words. “i was worried sick until i remembered i had your location.”

after explaining everything, juyeon stayed with you the entire day and then overnight as well until you had to check out the next morning. to this day, juyeon is still the one you go to for everything and vice versa. your ex might have wasted six years of your life, but he did bring you closer to your best friend in ways you didn’t think were even possible.

when Mean Girls wasn’t working as a distraction, you texted juyeon right away with a long text explaining everything that just occurred thirty minutes ago. you hadn’t even felt the hot tears streaming down your face until some of them fell on your phone screen, making you wipe them away quickly. an hour later, juyeon showed up with snacks and some face masks to do together; something that always cheered you up.

it might be one year since one of the worst days of your life, but at least you had your best friend by your side.

[ny000mdraws]

GUESS WHO JUST FINISHED WATCHING EARTHSPARK???

I will contain my thoughts with a bulleted list.

- AAAAAAAAA

- i love the decepticons getting redemption/ doing good/ getting understood instead of being beaten up

- MEGATRON

- DID YOU GUYS NOTICE TWITCH USING MEGATRON’S MOVE IN THE AIR WITH THE BLASTER SHOT-

- nightshade was the mvp. they deserve some science-y gadgets after this

- when jon said “rescue bots to the rescue” I GASPED

- STARSCREAM!!! SLAY QUEEN GIRL BOSS 💅✨✨✨

- AAAAAAAAA

- my god, mandroid was ugly after that transformation

- good riddance karen is gone but JFC THE WAY SHE DIED???

- i love how all the terrans are getting adopted 😭

- that one scene where soundwave and swindle are getting a ride from hardtop. they’re friends now

- BREAKDOWN AND BEE ARE DATING. YOU LITERALLY CAN NOT CHANGE MY MIND.

- HE FCKING WINKED-

- ALSO BREAKDOWN BEING ALIVE WAS THE BIGGEST RELIEF OF MY LIFE

- starscream growing a liking for hashtag (and the other terrans) is not what i expected but i need it to stay that way 🥺

- i also like this version of star A LOT

- like yea, he is still cowardly, but there’s a lot more to his character if you watch

- like he automatically assumes nova and sky would leave him :( maybe it’s a defense mechanism for him so that he won’t feel guilt for trying to survive

- him protecting twitch and hashtag- *cries*

- the one time i got mad at megatron was when he hurt starscream. but when hashtag told him to back off? yes girl, tell him what’s up!

- also im glad megatron let him go, which shows his character. he knows him as dangerous yet when he saw star protecting the kids, he knew he had the capacity to be good

- fck mandroid and karen

- we stan dot, alex, and jon

- also fck that guy who called in ghost when the terrans subdued shockwave?? like they literally took him down in front of you?? YOU BUFFOON!!

- idk why but im so into grimlock’s voice

- i wish tarantulas showed up :(

- AAAAAAAAAAAAA

- since the energon depletion ray/ healing ray was worldwide, this is enough reason for me to believe tracks exists in this universe

- yes, i am delusional. shut up

- some other characters i hope will show up are prowl, jazz, blaster, perceptor, and thundercracker

- really any old character that never get used in animated media would be awesome like inferno or hound

Okay, I think I’m done.

[icedthoma]

the presence of shadows

pairing: thoma x shuumatsuban!reader

summary: this was just supposed to be a simple, one time food delivery mission. alternatively, in which you catch feelings for the kamisato clan's chief retainer (and hope he at least gets a raise, after all ayato puts him through).

notes: LMAO IM BACK did anyone miss me /hj this was literally supposed to be an ayato fic whups. i wish we got more shuumatsuban lore :(

anyways like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed ^^

"i have a very important mission for you, y/n."

"yes, my lord." you appear on one knee in front of ayato seemingly out of nowhere. "fatui? vagrants? treasure hoarders? say the word, my lord, and i'll eliminate the threat in an instant."

he chuckles quietly. "i admire your enthusiasm. perhaps this is why you are one of my most capable members of the shuumatsuban, and why i am entrusting you with this operation." your gaze is glued to the floor, but you hear a slight rustling of what seems to be some kind of cloth as ayato's well polished shoes turn to face your direction.

chancing a glance up, you're met with that trademark grin that means whatever your boss is planning, it can't be good. beckoning for you to stand, ayato holds out a bag in front of you. "deliver this to thoma, please," he says, the smile never leaving his face. "he should be at the komore teahouse around now. that is all."

you blink rapidly for several seconds, automatically taking the bag into your arms. it's warm. swallowing any questions you have, you bow slightly in acknowledgement. "yes, sir."

you're gone before ayato could say anything more, exiting his office as silently as you had entered.

domestic missions are your least favorite, and this was the first one you’ve had in a while. you love a good challenge, experiencing the thrill of a fight against those that would threaten inazuma's safety being one of the best parts of your job. a task as monotonous as delivering food...definitely couldn't compare.

you huff a sigh as you walk past the large tree in the forefront of the city where many street animals often gather, clutching the bag of food tighter in your hand while you prepare to climb the final obstacle of the many stairs leading to the teahouse. it always feels odd, strolling around in normal clothes instead of your uniform in broad daylight. your discomfort is a constant reminder that your life never was and never would be "normal" ever since the previous kamisato clan head took you in.

children are gathered around the many buildings clustered around the city's rural area, laughing and falling over themselves while they play card games and chase each other around. you can't resist the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth at the sight of them.

the work you and your comrades do is forever shadowed in darkness, your identities and history confidential even in death. none of these people relaxing in ignorant bliss will ever know of the work you do, and perhaps that's a good thing.

you finally arrive at the teahouse and greet taroumaru with a respectful nod as you make your way in. despite you being in civilian clothes, he recognizes you as one of the shuumatsuban immediately. maybe it's the kunai knife hidden in your sleeve.

none of the rooms have the blond haired retainer who's practically famous throughout the yashiro commission. you've never had the chance (or need) to meet him personally, but from what you've heard, he seems to be quite the character. all you know is his rocky history as an outlander getting settled in inazuma as well as him being allowed some level of authority over the shuumatsuban. that was certainly a surprise to you. anyone who earned the trust of ayato to that extent must be truly special.

you enter the only room that appears to have been recently in use, electing to leave the food on the table before using ninjutsu techniques to conceal yourself in a dark corner and make sure the mission is carried out to completion. a few seconds later, the door slides open and thoma walks in with a yawn, stretching his arms over his head as he sits in front of the table. 

“ooh, finally, some food! i’m starving,” he says, cheerfully making to untie the bag. “how did this get in here, anyway?”

from your position blending with the shadows against the wall, your brow furrows in scrutiny as you watch thoma hum to himself about how much he looked forward to lunch today, green eyes sparkling despite the dim ambience of the room.

how come none of the accounts you’d heard mentioned him being such an absolute ray of sunshine? unacceptable. 

the humming abruptly stops, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts as thoma stares down at the food you’d brought him, his mouth hanging slightly open in...disbelief? horror? he looks like he’s going through the five stages of grief all at once. 

stretching up to get a closer look at the table, your eyes widen and you’re barely able to suppress a gag at what you just had the misfortune of seeing. the bag had apparently contained some kind of rice cake soup, but whatever that suspicious dish sitting in front of thoma was definitely did not deserve the title of being associated with rice cake soup. 

thoma finally picks up his chopsticks and pokes at the bowl, coming up with what looks like chunks of sea ganoderma mixed with the fish that’s definitely been overcooked to a crisp. 

ayato may be your boss, but you can’t defend him where his cooking skills are concerned. the scent from the open bowl wafts over to your corner, and there’s no stopping the choking cough that escapes you at the suffocating aroma. you don’t even think you can call this food. 

thoma’s gaze whips over to where you’re hidden, and he blinks in surprise. “...hello?’ he calls. “anyone there?” his eyes glance over what appears to be a bare wall of the teahouse. after a moment, he shrugs and his attention returns to whatever poison you’d just delivered to him. then, for reasons beyond your comprehension, he scoops up a spoonful and brings it up to his mouth.

you may have only just met the man, but you’re pretty sure having “kamisato ayato’s cooking” written on his gravestone as cause of death is a fate too cruel for anyone. “wait--” you cry out, disguise dissipating as you seemingly spring up out of thin air. halfway through lunging towards the table you realize what exactly you’ve just done, but it’s too late now. 

upon your sudden appearance, thoma jerks backward in surprise, the soup in his spoon splashing onto his lap. the two of you lock gazes, eyes wide in shock (thoma) and horror (you). 

great. years of training under the shuumatsuban, and you’re rendered helpless by an awkward situation with the yashiro commission’s best housekeeper.

“i--who--” thoma starts, snapping you out of your stupor. you sprint out of the room before he can get another word out. 

"napkins!” you yell, launching yourself over the counter on your way to the supply room. taroumaru lets out several amused barks at your predicament, much to your annoyance. so much for professionalism...

upon your return, thoma has already taken off the red cloth around his waist that had received the brunt of the soup’s impact. you hand him the napkins silently, face burning. 

there’s no malice in his expression as he takes them from you and wipes down his clothes. “you’re one of the shuumatsuban, aren’t you?”

well, there’s no point hiding it now. “how could you tell?”

“not many people can appear like that out of thin air,” thoma points out matter-of-factly. “i’m somewhat familiar with their ninjutsu techniques myself--or at least, as much as sayu lets slip to me.” he laughs, shaking his head as he gives up on the pungent stain on his garment and setting it to the side. “either way, it’s nice to meet another one of you. i’m thoma, by the way. i’m assuming lord kamisato sent...”

“yeah. he sent the soup, and by extension myself, i guess.” you shoot a narrowed glance at where that gross dish was still sitting on the table, blissfully undisturbed this entire time. “listen, i’m sorry about your clothes. i didn’t mean to reveal myself like that without a warning. i just--uh--didn’t want you to die of food poisoning. or something.”

“oh, don’t worry. this is a...regular occurence. i’m used to it.” with that, he sits back down and goes for another spoonful.

“hold on, didn’t I just say—”

thoma swallows hard, setting the spoon to the side and looking like he’s about to throw up any second. “oh wow. this is. delicious.”

you stare dumbfounded at him. “are you insane?”

“it’s my job,” he says with a pained smile.

throwing your hands up in the air, you storm out of the teahouse is frustration. “I cant watch this anymore.”

unfortunately, luck is not on your side as ayato somehow manages to catch you despite your desperate attempts to evade him, throwing a new bag of poison in your arms and sending you off to deliver it to wherever thoma is at the moment. 

today, you catch him on the outskirts of the city surrounded by what seems to be half the stray dog and cat population in inazuma. humming cheerfully, thoma distributes food among the animals, bending down to rub their soft fur as they feast. 

“hello again!” he says as you approach from behind, purposefully letting your footsteps be heard. “nice day today, isn’t it?” 

you sigh and hand him ayato’s latest concoction. “sorry. it’s about to get worse for the both of us.” it’s admirable how his upbeat expression doesn’t falter in the slightest as he readily takes the bag of food from you and ushers you to a spot of grass that’s not filled by any dogs or cats. 

“i love coming here, you know. isn’t it nice looking at all the animals’ happy faces when i bring them some treats? ahh, i wish i could just take them all home. but i know lord kamisato would never allow it.” thoma sits down cross-legged and takes out a pair of chopsticks from the bag. “thank you for the meal!” 

you watch curiously as he opens up the box inside to reveal the driest looking crystal shrimp you’ve ever seen arranged in a bed of lettuce. you’re no food connoisseur by any means, but just imagining yourself taking a bite out of one already has your mouth parched. 

“lord kamisato’s cooking really sucks...” you mutter under your breath, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by the man at your side. 

one cursed shrimp is already caught between his chopsticks. “i never thought i’d hear one of the shuumatsuban criticizing lord kamisato so openly!” 

“i’ll only be in trouble if you snitch,” you shoot back lightheartedly, resting your chin in your hand. “you know, he didn’t order me to make sure you eat it, just to deliver it to you. why do you insist on subjecting yourself to this...this...”

“this...?” 

“this absolute insult to liyue cuisine!” 

thoma’s laughter is contagious, and despite your attempts to resist you find yourself laughing along at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “oh man,” thoma says, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “i am so glad you’re the one bringing me all these.” 

you choose to ignore how your heart skipped a beat at his last sentence. “i’m surprised you can still tolerate me after the stunt i pulled when we first met, not to mention how every time we’ve crossed paths has always been accompanied by ayato’s suspicious dishes,” you say instead, fishing out a second pair of chopsticks from the bag. “tell you what. if you’re so dead set on eating this stuff, i’ll eat one too. it’s only fair.”

thoma’s eyes widen as he quickly pulls the box towards him. “h-hold on,” he chuckles, “that’s not necessary—”

“too late,” you say with a grin, leaning back with one piece already between your chopsticks he hadn’t seen you steal. at his surprised expression, your growing smile becomes harder to suppress. “come on. you can’t beat a member of the shuumatsuban when it comes to theft.”

thoma leans forward to rest his chin on his palm. “…okay, you win. you shuumatsuban are really impressive, huh!”

it wasn’t often you got to hear someone other than your coworkers or ayato compliment your skills. after all, the whole point of the shuumatsuban was to remain hidden in the shadows, out of sight for the greater protection of inazuma’s citizens. whenever you completed a job, you were usually out of the scene before anyone could realize what had happened.

but as thoma stares at you with a look that could only be described as awe, you think that being acknowledged every so often maybe isn’t so bad after all.

clearing your throat, you tear your gaze away from his blinding smile and take a bite of the shrimp. “well. bottoms up!” across from you, thoma does the same.

after a solid minute of fighting for your life just to swallow one mouthful, you turn to thoma who’s face looks rather green.

“water—” you cough, rummaging around in the bag, but unfortunately it was devoid of any drinks.

thoma clears his throat several times and the color begins to return to his face. he stands up and offers a hand to you, which you gladly take as you shakily get to your feet.

“that was…”

“interesting,” you finish, attempting to subtly muffle your coughs with your fist. “archons…I think we need to unionize into a Victims of Kamisato Ayato’s Cooking organization or something.”

the two of you head to the komore teahouse, and taroumaru eyes the two of you knowingly upon your entry as he greets you with a teasing bark. “oh, be quiet,” you manage to whisper, before downing several glasses of water like you’ve been stranded in the sumeru desert.

“shall i order us some food?” thoma asks, reaching one hand over to pat taroumaru’s head affectionately. “you certainly deserve to eat a proper meal.”

ignoring how your stomach growls, it takes all your willpower to deny his offer. “thanks, thoma. but i still have a lot of work to do today that i better finish or else lord kamisato will have my head.”

“ah…” he says, the disappointment showing on his face for only a second before his signature smile is back. “i understand. would you be willing to grab dinner with me some other time? it doesn’t have to be today.”

“with you? i mean, of course i wouldn’t mind, if we both aren’t too busy…”

“then it’s a date,” thoma says it so matter of factly you found yourself nodding along before you realize what he just said.

hoping to celestia the heat in your cheeks isn’t visible, you pause on your way out the door and slowly turn back. “what did you say?”

“i, uh. said it’s a date,” he repeats with a nervous laugh. “should i not have said that? i’m sorry—”

“no! no, you’re fine,” you hurriedly interrupt, glaring daggers at where taroumaru has somehow acquired a box of popcorn and is watching this scene play out with glee. “it’s fine. i’d love that, actually..”

“then i look forward to seeing you then,” thoma calls as you exit the teahouse.

for someone who practically lived and worked in the shadows their entire life, perhaps “normalcy” wasn’t so unattainable after all.

you can almost forgive ayato for his terrible cooking. almost.

[thewickedbohemian]

Dream Animated Movie Musical Tournament Semifinal Round Match 1

And so we're at the semifinals with four musicals remaining, poetically two more dramatic ones going up against a comedy each and I wish I could say I was surprised that three out of four are the kind of alt that would make Hot Topic jump at the chance to merch the heck out of them (it just depends on if they've changed their art-thieving ways if the teens/young adults take the bait)

Beetlejuice

Why this deserves to be an animated movie musical: its musical deserves a movie (even if that means you'd have to rewrite half of "The Whole Being Dead Thing" for fourth-wall-breaking to a movie audience instead of a stage audience but that just helps it be distinct) and animation would help distinguish it from the existing movies as well as just be able to really amp things up visually from what you can depict on stage (imho movie adaptations of fantasy or sci-fi musicals should always be animated unless you're using a majority of practical effects instead of so much CGI a live-action movie of them might as well be animated)

Ideal animation style (at least imho): Laika Studios's style but I'm not just saying that because of Coraline, I just feel like that visual style would kinda "match its freak" if you get what I mean and we haven't really seen that style with a musical yet

Additional notes: as I said last round I do have a partial dream-voice-cast but I'm completely freaking stuck on who should voice Beetlejuice as I feel like Alex Brightman isn't a big enough name outside certain circles for him returning to be worth it unless everyone else was a big enough name to sell tickets and a lot of the more-mainstream actors I think would work are almost-there-but-not-quite (e.g. while I may love dream-voice-casting NPH as trickster figures I feel like he doesn't have enough edge to pull off Beetlejuice)

Jekyll & Hyde

Why this deserves to be an animated movie musical: it'd be a lot easier on the actor playing the title dual role if they only had to play it vocally and not physically and also the gothic vibes and the setting could translate really cool. Also this is a classic story that tends to get overshadowed a lot by its other spooky contemporaries

Ideal animation style (at least imho): something with the darkness of Batman: The Animated Series (both figuratively and literally though idk how you'd make that translate to 3D I do think the BTAS style of drawn-on-black-backgrounds would suit the tone) and the visual richness of Disney (I don't know what studio should actually do this but imagine how certain numbers would look animated in a Disney-esque style (even their 3D style despite how I wish they'd go back to doing some 2D movies sometimes))

Additional notes: this would have to be carefully marketed because this is definitely not an animated movie musical you take your kid to but the fact that people have to warn that Hazbin Hotel isn't kid-friendly indicates there's still some parents who see animated and think that automatically means they should show their kids

[otakween]

Digimon Tamers: Battle of Adventurers

Eh...gotta be honest, I found this pretty underwhelming. It had its moments, don't get me wrong, but the plot felt pretty generic and the ending was rushed. Still had fun, but the emotional investment was lacking.

Notes:

Reddit told me to watch this after episode 18, so I got the timing a little off, but I felt like it'd be good to watch prior to the digiworld episodes. The only timeline wonkiness is that this takes place before Culumon's kidnapping, which I've already seen, but that's fine.

In another moment of ~fate~ the movie begins with Guilmon dying of heat (not literally lol) and it was "feels like 101" where I am today so...can relate.

I was a pretty sheltered kid, so IDK how I would react to my parents making me travel by myself at 10...not that I'm against that, I just know 10 year old me woulda been a big crybaby about it.

Kinda weird that they gave us 2 title screens for this, one of which was just ripped from the TV show. The whole vibe was kind of a mixed bag in this, sometimes the animation felt pretty much the same quality as the show and sometimes it felt like they were stepping it up, not super consistent.

"Battle of Adventurers" is a pretty uninspired title. I feel like they could have either put something about Okinawa or the v-pet virus in the title instead so it would stand out a bit more...

Speaking of the V-Pet, I thought it was super charming with its crappy CGI lol. I totally would have fell for it in 2001. Kinda hard to believe that literally everyone downloaded it though (doctors, pilots, etc.) Or was it more like that one U2 album that was automatically distributed to everyone?

Guilmon begging to get out of the suitcase was stressful! How did he not suffocate? D: (do digimon even need to breathe?)

They really did the movie-only character (Minami) dirty this time. She had to be re-traumatized about her dead dog so many times! Just felt cruel...

All of the Okinawa cultural stuff was fun, especially the Okinawa-inspired digimon. If Digimon Go was a thing, you know they'd be region specific.

When Ruki's mom was like "oh, it's so comfortable flying on the plane!" I was like "okay, rich." That's the only explanation because flying economy is always a bad time.

Although a lot of the character animation was kinda meh, the battle animation is where this movie really shined. It was like little pockets of hype and there was a really good variety of enemy digimon. I was especially excited to see Anomalocarimon cuz it's been a minute and there was a lot of attention to detail with his bit.

Siesamon's design was really pretty, but I don't like his resting angry face. I wish they would have made his face more emotive because it kind of diminished some emotional moments...

There was one scene where it showed some buildings blowing up (because of the virus) and one of them suspiciously looked like a power plant...hopefully I'm wrong cuz oof...

Loved Mephismon's design, but with Gulfmon they did that thing that they did with VenomVamdemon where he has a second face by his crotch area...don't like that (although he is a centaur, so not technically his crotch)

There were some legit scary moments in this! The car crash scene was pretty violent and Minami screaming as she ran from the lasers also felt pretty intense for a kid's movie. (I haven't peeked at the dub yet, wondering if anything was cut)

I thought the final battle was weak as heck. Phase 1 took like 2 seconds and then phase 2 just felt kinda arbitrary like we were going through the motions. We did get a new attack though (trinity something or other). It felt kind of weird for them to just show that without any acknowledgement, but oh well. I'm sure it'll come back at some point. I was a little disappointed tbh because I thought they were doing some sort of 3-way jogress fusion

The shot with 3D MegaloGrowmon and 2D Rapidmon and Taomon was a glorious 2000s moment

IDK why but it gave me Power Rangers vibes

Yeah so this felt pretty disposable, they tried to kind of tie things to Digimon Adventure with Omegamon and Apocalymon, but the connection was pretty vague and forced. I rather Tamers just be separate without the callbacks

While I'm a big fan of short runtimes, I do wonder if this one could have benefitted from being a little longer, just to let things breath more

[phoenixtakaramono]

Sending another ask, because of lack of space: I loved the idea of the Fix-it because billy in it is pretty much steering HL away from his worst impulses, not because HL is automatically a better person when he's in love, but because their association has taught him how to think for himself, how to be more subtle, to not trust Vought uncritically and to gather information when possible before making a decision, and to think through how to present it to the public, instead of depending on PR only

Re: Fix-It AU Threadfic (🔗)

Initially I started this threadfic because I saw a tweet of someone saying how there were no Fix-Its in the 200+ Butchlander fics on AO3 (sorry, my mistake 🙏, someone has reminded me that there is at least one):

At the end of the day, I’m glad I was operating under an erroneous assumption because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have bothered writing this.

The way I’d envisioned it: we start with that Diabolical episode where Homelander had just had his hero debut (~18 y/o), and that’s our future husbands’ first official Meet Cute (/j). Billy, at this juncture, is a young CIA operative (~23 y/o) but he has not met Becca yet. It’s essentially a honeypot/ honeytrap operation—but without the seduction at least not from Billy’s POV; the readers voted for the yandere speedrun option with Homelander planting cameras in Billy’s flat at the Flatiron, haha, so obviously certain things will follow because of that chosen route. It also allows us an opportunity to play with HL’s past as a lab-rat (I’m playing with the possibilities), and have that affect the threadfic.

We then tie in the more important The Boys canon comic events and events from the TV version—and “fix” a couple of the more pivotal disastrous f*ck-ups such as the Cruz Chemical incident (animated show canon) and the crash of Transoceanic Flight 37 (TV canon), etc, with a couple original incidents if I’m feeling up to it.

I love what you wrote about how HL’s not automatically made a better person just because he’s in love. Billy can steer him from his worst impulses to an extent. But at the end of the day, the idea is that whilst it is a Fix-It, and we are rewarding him with Billy as a boyfriend for his “good behavior” (later, so he gets his crush fulfilled), John as The Homelander is still not a very good man. I very much enjoy reading about a psycho narcissistic HL who has an obsessive crush, and I think a lot of people like reading that too. We have Billy as the hot older European young and bright CIA operative whomst HL wishes desperately to impress (gotta give it to a guy who’s infatuated). He one-sidedly envisions William Butcher as his partner-in-crime. William, in the threadfic, represents the CIA, a secret government intelligence agency that has the legitimacy Vought desperately wants—and so far only Homelander’s been given this opportunity. It’s a resource that only he has access to—and it makes him feel ✨special✨ —> William is special —> thus, William can only be his. Homelander doesn’t like to share (in this AU).

The silver lining is this HL, while still objectively awful, haha, is encouraged at his younger age to not be so reliant on Vought—and that impact will carry into his 20s, 30s, and 40s. We are essentially weaning our brainwashed murderous baby from sucking the teat of corporate.

[redheadbigshoes]

Hey this is gonna be a long ask but I am In The Struggles

I've been questioning myself for a long time and sometimes feel like maybe I relate to the "you're not attracted to men, you just think they're attractive" phenom and as silly as it is, it makes me really upset to think abt losing the feeling of being appreciated and cared for and cherished that I'd have when thinking about fictional guys, which I know is stupid.

And I also feel upset about having to date girls but I feel like I have to because "well they're the only ones you feel real sexual attraction towards cuz your feelings for men are fake so you should stop avoiding it" but the idea of having a real girl around all the time just talking and being a whole person and dating instead of just being a sexy archetype who disappears when they're not needed makes me uncomfortable and want to cry

Even when I had a crush on a girl in highschool (she was the first girl I'd ever been friends with who didn't make me feel judged or less than or like I didn't belong), every time I was around her after I realised, I had a panic attack and couldn't breathe. I tried dating and I couldn't/didn't want to do it and told myself I should try to kiss her because that's what crushes do, but I didn't want to.

Sometimes I'll be out in public and see this or that attractive feature on a girl and get really flustered and I'll just feel miserable amd physically awful, like I'm an out of control animal being overwhelmed and like I'm not a person anymore and wishing I could go back to seeing women as just patterns in the wallpaper and get on with my day instead of.... this.

Or a girl will be really sweet and nice to me unexpectedly and I'll suddenly feel like I'm having a crush even if I don't think they're physically attractive

And it makes me miserable thinking that I'm never going to feel normal and just have regular, supportive female friendships because there's always going to be an attraction element in queer friendships ruining my interactions with women or feeling like I inherently dont belong in environments with het women

Thinking about ID'ing as lesbian and only ever being able to think about being with women ever again and suddenly having to think about and admire women when I never really cared before or fantasized about dating or kissing them and having to consume lesbian media makes me feel so trapped and limited so like

I don't know what to do

Hii. I am going to answer you in parts so I can make sure I will respond everything you said.

That feeling you talked about when it comes to fictional guys, don’t you have that when thinking about women (fictional or not)? If you end up realizing you’re actually not attracted to men you ain’t losing anything. Do you feel like you need to know if you’re into men or not? Because you don’t need to figure yourself out if you don’t want to, you could just keep living the way you are if that doesn’t bother you.

You don’t have to date anyone if you don’t want to. Regardless if you’re into girls you still don’t need to date one. From what you said you might be overthinking about dating and that is making you anxious when you try thinking about it. Dating isn’t supposed to be uncomfortable, it isn’t supposed to make you feel anxious.

How is it when you said sometimes a girl being nice to you makes you feel like you’re having a crush? Do you actually feel said crush or you just automatically think something like “what if I had a crush on that girl” and that thought becomes persistent?

Have you tried looking up ace/arospec labels? I would take a look if I were you, you could be in the aro or ace spectrum.

You don’t need to identify with any label if that’s making you feel this. If the lesbian label makes you feel restricted, makes you feel limited, perhaps it’s simply not the right label for you and that’s okay.

[leche-flandom]

It's been quite a week

Well, quite a summer. I just looked at my docs and saw that I haven't opened any of them since May 😭

My BIL, his girlfriend, and his 3 kids came for a visit from the Midwest. They were supposed to visit last year, but when our banyo repairs were delayed BIL decided to postpone the trip by a whole year to avoid staying with their dad. Grandpa Asshole is universally viewed as an unpleasant, racist, and sexist manchild. My husband would have gone no contact a long time ago except he wants to keep a relationship with his stepmom.

It was awesome seeing my kid have fun with her cousins, despite all the noise. She sometimes wishes she had siblings and I just tell her one day we'll get a cat 😹 And the new girlfriend is nice too. We spent a long time chatting about Agents of SHIELD, which she first watched 4 years ago and has watched about 7 times since. I'm afraid to get too attached to her though, because she keeps hinting very unsubtly that she wants to get married and my BIL is now a commitment-phobe. Although I disagree with her pressuring him to the altar, I do think that my BIL is the type of guy who needs a woman to keep him from falling apart. Really, his actual offspring should be enough motivation but eh...

Grandpa Asshole was annoyed/confused that his grandkids didn't respond well to his antics. We don't know why he thought he could have an automatic relationship with grandchildren he can't bother to visit because he prioritizes his golf and tennis schedules higher (he's not a pro or anything, just retired with lots of free time). He made my daughter cry because she wouldn't smile for a picture, and he picked her up and swung her to cajole her into a better mood. My kid absolutely hates being maneuvered against her will. I think it's because she's little like me, so lots of people think she's younger than she is and treat her like a baby to pick up all the time. So that was the first loud kerfuffle.

And then one of her cousins, who is on the autism spectrum, had a meltdown on a trip to a farm. BIL took the cousin away from the animals and to the parked car so he could calm him down, and Grandpa Asshole followed them to yell at the poor kid over BIL's shoulder, saying something like "If you don't stop crying nobody's gonna have fun!" I wasn't there, thank god (because I made up a doctor's appointment to avoid spending time with Grandpa Asshole) or I would have lost it. BIL is a dickhead in many ways, but I have to hand it to him for not reacting with his usual temper. Instead of yelling back at Grandpa Asshole, BIL just told him that he wasn't helping and told him to go away. I guess BIL is slowly but surely maturing. Later, Grandpa Asshole had the nerve to expect hugs from everyone. As the youngins would say: bruh.

Now that they're gone, all the stress-inducing obstacles are over with and we have a month left of just regular summer vacation. The husband has hinted that maybe I should organize a vacation for just the three of us before school starts, but I'm just too exhausted so I hope he forgets.

Now back to my regularly scheduled fanfic rereadings, lol.

[deepestuniversallove]

I have had a discussion with @dagdasgoddess and it's kind of an interesting thought.

Why is it that in humans, the natural order has been reversed like this? In nature, we all know that women are a precious resource, for only they can give birth to the next generation. That is why in almost all species, the males are the ones competing for a female - by being as pretty as possible, preening themselves, learning mating dances and elaborate rituals and sometimes even risking their very lives (Iike in mantises).

Yet in humans, there was a reversal at some point that doesn't seem to mesh with our animalistic, primal nature. Here, instead of the men competing for women by being as pretty as possible, suddenly it has become the women's task to be beautiful and be pretty and desirable. Entire multi-billion dollar enterprises profit off of this reversal, advertising all manner of beauty products and even operations to women, just so they can find an often sub-par man who could never match up to the woman's beauty. It has fostered an entitlement in men leading to incels thinking that even if they are basement dwellers, women are supposed to fall for them.

We even see that in some social engineering going on. Have you ever wondered why in most anime, the male protagonist looks like the most generic dude while all the women are flashy and pretty, with big boobs and colored hair in elaborate styles? If animals made anime, it would be the other way around - generic women with flashy, pretty men, just as nature intended.

This is why I hate this argument I have seen in countless fandoms - "the man is very pretty so HE MUST BE GAY". NO. Why are we linking pretty men with gayness so automatically? Why are fujoshis insisting that every pretty man wants to fuck other men just because he actually cares to cultivate his beauty? Why are fandoms hating on hetero ships/selfships so much or saying that women shouldn't lust over pretty fictional men? When this is, in fact, a return to nature in a way? Women are SUPPOSED to choose the prettiest man available, because it indicates good genetics.

I think that we as humans should return to nature - accept that men can look pretty for us, and that maybe they could use some beauty products as well without being automatically labeled as gay or unmanly. Maybe guys also want to get dolled up and go to a beauty salon for a spa day! Wanting to do that has nothing to do with their sexuality.

In conclusion: I wish Fandom police would accept that selfships with pretty men are NATURAL. If you are crushing on a pretty guy, don't be guilt-tripped by Fandom into believing you are doing something wrong or morally reprehensible. If you want your self-insert to be plain, just do it! I guarantee you your pretty men will still love you!! And don't let the internalized misogyny that some fujoshis project outwards affect you! Be free and be yourself!