#i would like for Stan to come back though. maybe he does fake his death and buries only the book

[blinday]

Ok but listen.

Stan dies shortly after. Because canon must follow, and Stanley Pines did die, but this time it's not forged. The journal is buried with him.

Only Ford shows up.

[callipraxia]

Memoriam

Summary: Stan, still posing as his brother Ford, goes back to Glass Shard Beach for the unveiling of Filbrick's headstone, and find out a few things he didn't know about the aftermath of his own fake death.

The forecast didn’t include rain, but the sky above the cemetery was still a flat, uniform grey, brooding and full of threatening winds. Stan took the opportunity to slip his already-gloved hands into the pockets of his overcoat, a gesture which – though it didn’t do any more to hide the fact he wasn’t Ford than the two stuffed fingers of the gloves did – relieved a little of the tension that always pulled his neck sideways whenever he had to visit Glass Shard Beach. After a long moment, his brother – who had glanced at him several times already as he’d stared blankly at a headstone with his own name on it – finally cleared his throat and said, “you really didn’t know?”

“No,” said Stan. “I didn’t.”

Shermie exhaled, a noise somewhere between amusement and exasperation and – just maybe – a trace of pity. “So much for the family genius,” he said. “Where did you think Ma and Pa were going to plant him?”

Stan shrugged. “Honestly? Never thought about it,” he admitted. It was one of the smaller problems with having faked his own murder. He hadn’t given much thought to the issue of ‘his’ remains, at least not once he’d finally felt certain that he’d pulled off the fake-up. He’d been too busy congratulating himself on a job well-done. “Definitely didn’t think they’d bother with a marker and everything, though.”

“Oh, yeah. Funeral, mourning, unveiling of the headstone, all of it. Ma’s crazy relatives came into town and were all over the house, I think Pa barricaded himself in the attic one time just to get away from them. The whole show.”

“Huh,” said Stan, trying to envision all this hullabaloo occurring over something as insignificant as his death. It…was hard to picture. He thought it would have been hard to picture even if he hadn’t been disowned. Even if he’d still been part of the family, though, there was still the question of - “why?” 

Shermie blinked. “I don’t follow.” 

“Why did they do that?” 

Shermie looked as though he was unsure whether he should be worried or angry. “Because…he was their son?” he said, though it sounded like a question. “And our brother? I…think Ma and Pa eventually forgave you for not coming to the funeral, by the way. They figured you were in shock or something, or that you couldn’t stand being back in the house.”

“Shock. Huh. Right. I…I guess I was?” He had mostly been annoyed by the fuss of faking his death, but when he thought about the first days after he had, in fact, lost his brother…’shock’ sounded like as good a word for it as anything. “And that I do not enjoy being back in the house.” He looked at the tips of his shoes. “I think that’s why I was - uh - such an ass at Dad’s shiva,” he confessed. “I hadn’t been back there in…” It occurred to him he could make a mistake. “A while,” he compromised. “Brought back a lot of memories.” He cleared his throat and added, “but memories don’t cost money. All this does.” He pointed at his headstone again. “Pa…even let Ma pay for all this?” he asked incredulously. 

“I think Pa did it,” said Shermie, at which point Stan looked at him as though he had grown a second head. “He was…well, you know how hard it always was to tell what Pa was thinking, but on top of him signing all the checks I saw…Ma…might or might not have made some comments about everything being his fault, when she first found out.”

“Ma always liked m - uh, Stanley more than Pa did.”

“Yeah. So maybe he was just keeping the peace, but…I think he might’ve felt guilty, to tell you the truth.”

Stan forced a chuckle. “Yeah. Or you went soft in the head when you had kids and started trying to see the best in everyone,” he teased his brother. “That or masochism are the only things that can explain you staying with the Wicked Witch of West Jersey this long, anyway.” 

“Ha, ha,” said Shermie flatly. “That’s really the best insult you can come up with for my wife? She gets a lot more creative when she talks about how much she hates you.” 

“Oh, you don’t want to know the most creative things I could come up with to call her,” Stan said darkly, scowling as he thought about his sister-in-law. He and Liz had initially rubbed each other the wrong way, but had maintained a stiff sort of politeness for Shermie’s sake…right up until the day when, suddenly, they hadn’t. Stan didn’t even know which of them was really responsible for the rapid collapse of diplomatic relations, but…here they were, now. “Anyway. I gotta go - I want to stop by the care home and tell Ma bye before I go to the airport.” 

“She’ll like that, I bet,” said Shermie, sounding more like he was talking about one of his kids than his own mother. “She’s been doing a lot better lately, you know, with the speech therapy and the physical therapy and stuff. We can…sort of figure out what’s on her mind? Might be harder for you, since you don’t see her as much - “ there was a definite reproach in that tone, but Stan ignored it - “but she can speak pretty clearly most days, and she mentions you, sometimes. She’ll be glad to see you.” 

“Sure,” said Stan, painfully uncomfortable. The car crash which had killed Filbrick had, in Stan’s mind, done worse to Caryn. Somehow, she’d lived long enough to get to the hospital, only to have a stroke while in emergency surgery…and then she still hadn’t died. It was nightmarish, seeing her like that; it was worse hearing other people talk about her like she was an infant. For all he knew, that might be fair enough, but…Maybe the two of them were just a pair of grifters without much to offer the world, but Stan thought he’d find it mortifyingly undignified if someone talked about him like that, and until ten minutes ago, he hadn’t known anyone in his family had thought he was worth the trouble of having a funeral for!  “Don’t be a stranger, Sherm.”

“You, too, Stanford.”

That had always been the plan, and still was the plan. Maybe even more the plan. In light of all this information, he had to try to figure out what Caryn knew and understood, try to assure her as best he could, and try to impress upon her that he needed her not to keep telling people he wasn’t Stanford. Instead of going straight back to his rental car, though, he stopped again at Filbrick’s grave, currently looking a lot shinier than his own due to the newly-unveiled headstone. 

“Guess I can say for sure that there’s no afterlife now,” he said, out loud but quietly, despite his lack of an audience. “If you’d’a heard Shermie talking, you’d have dug yourself back up just to set the record straight. Feeling guilty. Ha! You didn’t know the meaning of the word, did ya, Pops? Nah - you thought you were better off rid of me. Can’t blame ya, of course. Even now that I found something I’m good at, I’ve still got these electrical bills from Stanford’s machine, you wouldn’t believe ‘em, so I can’t even shove a stack of Benjamins down your stupid dead throat and tell you to choke on ‘em.” He tried to remark on that old fantasy in a joking tone, but even he could tell he just ended up sounding depressed. “Yeah, yeah, excuses, excuses. I know. But it won’t always be like this. I’m going to get him back. One way or another. Who’s not gonna be worth anything then, huh, old man? I might not be the goose that lays the golden eggs, but I can get the goose back from whoever stole it.”

And Filbrick would never know it. He couldn’t hear this little monologue now, this exercise in faint ego-building. That was also why Stan couldn’t know why, after all, the old man had coughed up for a funeral when he thought Stan was dead. It was too bad Ford’s journal didn’t include any instructions about summoning ghosts for a chat, he thought, because he thought it might have done them both good to get one last chance to shout it out at each other about all that, and what was to come. 

Instead, though, he finally went to his rental car and drove away, and left the dead, once more, to their own devices.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @legacieszine! When you find out Stan Lee created a character named Stripperella…this is what comes out of it XD You have no idea how much it pained me to keep Dick out of this fic. Double entendre intended 😉

…

…

…

…

Slack-jawed as he sat in a booth, there were two things Wally was certain of at this moment. The first was that this night would haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Wow, you really know how to pick them,” Kyle snidely said, smirking as he tugged on his collar. As usual, the guy was wearing a dress shirt, as though it would kill him to wear anything but a button-up. It was slightly open for once, revealing a black t-shirt underneath. He whistled low. “Perfect spot, really.”

And the second was that he was glad Dick wasn’t here. He might never live this mistake down, but at least he didn’t have to hear about it everyday now. Wally groaned as he leaned back into the vinyl seat. “Shut it.”

“I thought you said you frequented this place often?” Connor asked, his hands interlaced on his lap as he gazed around curiously. Wally half-wondered if this was his first time at a club—the man was as strait-laced as they came, despite who his father was. Or maybe it was because of.

As much as Bruce Wayne acted like a playboy in public, Oliver Queen lived the part. Sometimes Wally wondered just how Oliver ever caught Dinah’s attention, but there were some mysteries in life that couldn’t be explained. Even in a world of magic, gods, and the supernatural.

“I don’t!” Wally hissed, rubbing his forehead as he glanced around the so-called gentlemen’s club. The lighting gave the place a strange electric blue and pink tint, with the light at its brightest at the center stage. Women pole-danced, hooking their high heels around the metal pipe as they twirled. It was the same as any other strip club, save for one important difference: their outfits.

Of all the nights he could have picked, he had to pick the themed night. And the theme? Heroes and Villains.

At this rate, it was going to get carved on his tombstone. The only good thing was that they were sitting further back; if they got any closer, the strippers would swarm Connor. As it was, Wally could already feel dozens of eyes directed at his friend.

In more ways than one, he wasn’t sure if he could survive seeing Power Girl or Huntress flirting shamelessly with Connor.

“Methinks he doth protest too much,” Kyle teased, wetting his lips as he gazed around. Slouching in his seat, he gave a wicked smirk. “Does Linda know?”

“She doesn’t because there’s nothing to know,” Wally ground out, gripping the table tightly. Dick had once asked how they were friends and even now, he didn’t know the answer. Kyle was reliable, sure, but he was also an infuriating git.

As usual, Connor intervened before things got bloody. Curious, he thatched his fingers and rested his elbows on the table before leaning forward. “So, who brought you here?”

It was a question he didn’t want to answer. Not in front of Kyle. Wally dragged a hand through his hair, watching the green lantern from the corner of his eye. “Hal,” he admitted reluctantly. “After Barry…” He swallowed the lump in his throat, it still hurt to think of either of his uncles. Death was a common danger in his line of work, but that didn’t make it any easier.

They had once been with him and now they weren’t. Wally bit his cheek and forced himself to continue. “When I didn’t have to use a fake id anymore, Hal brought me here as a birthday treat. Carol and Irene were pissed after, but what’s new there?”

You’re legal now, kid, Hal had told him, his arm slung across his shoulder. There had been three beers on the table and without asking, Wally had known it was for Barry. Had Barry and Hal talked about this before? Was this something that had been planned? It was a question he had never gotten around to asking and now he’d never know the answer.

Wally should have known not to delay. He knew better than most about regrets. His shoes fit comfortably now, but he'd stepped into them quicker than he’d wanted.

“Hal?” Kyle flinched. His teeth bit his lip softly as he examined the club with new eyes. He chuckled mirthlessly. “It has his taste.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Wally wasn’t sure if that last part was an insult or not. Perhaps this was why they fought so much; Hal’s death was still a sore wound, regardless of how it happened. Part of him still thought of the man as family. It was hard sometimes to look at Kyle’s ring without wondering if it should be there.

Connor broke the silence first. He sat a little straighter, craning his neck as he watched someone walk over. “Our drinks are coming.”

“What?” Wally turned to see who Connor was looking at. “We didn’t order any….”

He trailed off as a bombshell blonde walked over. Her blue-black crop top and miniskirt left little to the imagination and a thin cloth mask covered her eyes. In her hands was a tray with three beer bottles and a bottle opener. She stopped in front of Connor and winked. “Three beers?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. He muttered under his breath, “Every time. I swear to god.”

Wally had met a few deities in his time and he wanted to question every single one of them. How Connor managed to charm women before he even opened his mouth was a mystery. At this point, it really had to be genetic.

And despite Connor’s awkwardness, he didn’t seem too flustered by the attention. He put one of the beer’s back onto the server’s tray. “I’ll just have a club soda.”

“Really?” their server pouted. “It’s ah lot more fun drinkin’, sugah.”

“Yes,” Connor replied firmly. It was one of the few things he was stubborn about.

“Boo.” The woman pouted once more, her plump lips pressed tight against each other. She spun on her heel, about to walk away, before glancing over her shoulder. “Reminds me, ah’m Stripperella today, but you can call me Exotica Jones.”

“Stripperella,” Wally repeated despite himself. The name was very on the nose.

“Yeah!” Encouraged, she spun around, as though to show off her outfit. “Wanted to come up with somethin’ original. Stand out ah little. Ah’ll go get you that drink, hun.”

The theme. Wally groaned again. “In my defense, every other time I’ve been here was normal. I didn’t even know they had themed nights.”

Kyle smirked like a cat that caught the canary. “Sure you didn’t.”

There was nowhere to look where there wasn’t a costume he recognized. How was Wally supposed to go to the JLA tomorrow after seeing Vixen on the pole or Supergirl in a cage? Hell, how was he supposed to look at Clark after that? At least the man didn’t have mind-reading in his powerset, or Wally would be really screwed.

Though, a small part of him was certain Bruce already knew about this visit and it was a good thing he was the most tight-lipped person on the planet.

“The costumes are surprisingly accurate,” Connor commented, his fingers lightly rapping on the table in unfamiliar patterns. Of course that was what he noticed.

Kyle rubbed his chin as he studied the place with a new eye. “Huh, you’re right. Didn’t think they’d put in that much effort. I wonder if that makes it worse?”

“Worse,” Wally stated flatly. “So much worse.”

This wasn’t the way he had planned for the night to go. When Dick and Kory announced their engagement, Wally saw his chance. For years, Donna had claimed the spot of Dick’s best friend. But Donna couldn’t host a stag party.

And that’s where Dick’s other best friend came in. Better yet, if Wally did this right, he might demote Donna in the pecking order and get bragging rights.

But only if he did it right.

A woman dressed as Donna Troy walked by and Wally shuddered. “Yeah, that’s it. We’re going. This isn’t it.”

“Oh, what’s this I hear?” Kyle dramatically cupped his ear. The ass. “You did something wrong? I thought professionals never get things wrong.”

“It’s not wrong if I didn’t know this would happen,” Wally snapped back, glowering at his so-called ‘friend’.

“I thought professionals are supposed to be prepared for everything?” Kyle needled. Like a dog, he refused to let go.

“Being professional is recognizing when you can and can’t be prepared,” Wally retorted, half-rising. “Unlike an amateur who’s never ready.”

Just as they were about to get up, Stripperella sashayed back, her hips swinging as she held a fancy glass filled with bubbling club soda. Wally and Kyle glanced at their beer bottles and then at the tables nearby before sitting down, deflated. No one else had anything like that. No one else had anything remotely like that.

“Some people got all the luck,” Kyle muttered.

“Good thing Ollie didn’t have any other kids,” Wally grumbled. Society would crumble otherwise.

Oblivious to their jealous eyes, Connor smiled as he accepted the glass. “Thanks.”

“Anything for you, sugah.” Stripperella batted her eyes at Connor before turning the other two. “Boys going anywhere?”

Wally flinched. “Uh. Well, something came up…and…”

She pouted. “Without finishing your drinks?”

There was something oddly intimidating about her, as though not drinking would be a big problem. Well, if her goal was to get Connor’s number, it probably was. Not only that, but Wally could feel a dozen glares in his direction and perhaps there were some fights not worth having. “After we’re done,” he agreed.

“Coward,” Kyle mumbled.

“I don’t see you getting up,” Wally hissed back.

“I don’t have a reason to,” Kyle replied smugly, but his hand shook lightly as he picked up his beer.

Liar. Wally grumpily drank his beer. Though, it made sense Kyle wasn’t as bothered. He was still newly minted, still learning the people behind the masks. Meanwhile, Wally had been deeply entrenched in the community since he was a teen.

And then there was the other newbie. Connor set down his glass. “They added a lime.”

“We’d make a fortune pimping you out.” Wally nursed his beer. They’d have to draw it out a bit, but maybe they could leave in ten minutes. Surely that was enough to appease their server or at least for her to strike out. “Alright, this place is a dud. We have just enough time to try another place before patrol.”

Kyle snickered. “You got another one lined up? What’s the theme this time? Nurses?”

“You should let it go—” Connor cut himself off and flinched.

Wally glanced up to see a Black Canary strut by. She tossed her blonde hair and smiled seductively at Connor. “Oh, that’s just…awkward…” he said.

“Yeah.” Troubled, Connor gulped his soda. “I’m not sure how to feel about that. Not good, I guess.”

Kyle stared as Wonder Woman danced with Catwoman. “Yeah, you know, I get it. I think this was hotter before I got the ring.”

“Everything is,” Wally agreed. He downed his beer in one go and slammed the bottle down. “Alright, drinks over. Let’s go.”

“Done already, sugah?” Stripperella appeared out of nowhere and Wally resisted the urge to bolt right then and there. “Don’t worry, ah’ve got round two!”

“You didn’t have to,” Wally said diplomatically, nudging Connor to squeeze out of the booth.

As though to pre-emptively block him, Stripperella side-stepped in front of Connor. “Part of my job, hun. Can’t let you cuties stay thirsty.”

“I’m sorry but we have to go,” Connor tried, half-standing, his hand resting on the table to keep his balance. He flashed a trademark smile, a fatal blow.

Or it would have been, if their server wasn’t so hell-bent on getting more. Stripperella smiled brightly and leaned forward. “Are you askin’ for a dance?”

Wally was a superhero with two other heroes. They’d fought gods and aliens and magic, had time traveled and saved the universe more times than he could count.

They also ended up drinking round two because there were some fights that couldn’t be won.

“I think they’re trying to get us drunk,” Wally quietly said.

Kyle snorted. In a low voice, he asked, “Us? Or just him?”

“My drinks are non-alcoholic,” Connor replied, shaking his head. The glass this time looked even fancier than the last. If they stayed any longer, he’d end up drinking out of a jewel-encrusted gold cup.

“Then they’re trying to get us drunk to isolate him,” Kyle continued, unphased.

“We’ll have to escape,” Wally stated. It was time to stop playing around and take the situation seriously. “Without using our powers.”

“Powers would be easier,” Kyle pointed out. “You could just drag us out.”

“Only if we want the papers to know,” Wally replied, dismissing the idea. Linda would find out. So would Donna and Dick and he didn’t know which was worse.

“Then what’s your plan?” Connor asked, still keeping an eye on their surroundings. “She’s already returning.”

Wally swallowed. It wasn’t an honourable plan but it was the best one he had. One day, he’d be forgiven. “Easy,” he leaned closer to Connor, “Do you trust me?”

Connor nodded, as unguarded as he got. “Yes.”

He waited a beat, until Stripperella was almost at the booth. “You shouldn’t.” Wally flashed a smile. “Sorry.”

And then, he sped up his hand just enough that Connor couldn’t react before Wally unbuttoned the top of Connor’s shirt and spilled his club soda on him. As his friend stared at his shirt, dumbfounded, Wally gasped dramatically. “Oh no!”

Stripperella couldn’t tear her eyes from Connor. “Oh honey, are you okay?”

Connor turned to Wally, betrayal etched on his face. “Wally—”

“He’s so clumsy,” Kyle interrupted, quick to catch on. He reached across with a napkin and each dab just exposed more of Connor’s chest. “It’s everywhere.”

The final step of the plan. Wally stared pleadingly at Stripperella. “Can you help him? He needs to change his shirt.”

His acting was terrible but she didn’t care. Her eyes were glued on the prize and she smiled. “Of course, sugah.”

“This isn’t over,” Connor growled, glaring at his turncoat friends as they slipped out of the booth and all but sprinted out of the establishment.

Wally threw a half-hearted Sorry over his shoulder before bursting out the door. And he was, really, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made. Besides, he could make up for it later. Probably. Besides, wasn’t it time their friend flirted with more than just a ghost? They’d failed at setting him during their cruise, but maybe this was just what Conner needed?

Kyle didn’t stop laughing as they sped through the parking lot. “You should be worried.”

Wally raised a brow, slowing down as they reached his car. “Why?”

“Well, you’re proposing to Linda soon, right?” Kyle gulped air as he leaned against the passenger door. He pushed back his sweat-slicked bangs and closed his eyes. “Your stag party’s next.”

“Sure…” Wally bit his cheek, not quite following. “But Dick’s organizing that.”

“Sure, butttt,” Kyle drawled, stretching his arms above him. “Who’s he going to ask for help?”

“You—” Wally blanched, realizing just how royally he’d screwed up. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Kyle snickered. “Shit.”

[lemonhemlock]

I was on Twitter and Will Bowers posted that he hoped the Aegon scene was a fakeout. Given that we know now that Dyana will be returning next season it does beg certain questions.

Twitter seems to think she may be out for revenge and team up with Mysaria for 🩸and 🧀, perhaps being in league with Talya the whole time who makes fake moontea. Which idk why that would be righteous thing, team black utterly baffles me at times.

Yet given the honest confusion on Aegon’s face when confronted with the accusation by Alicent do you think such a scenario is possible.

Would be bold of hotd to have a woman make a false rape accusation and I really don’t know how that would go down but part of me really wants it to be the case. I’m sick to death of debating with team black stans that Aegon not only has a claim to the Iron Throne but in fact a stronger one than Rhaenyra, only to be called a rapist defender.

Which is not at all my argument but these comments slowly push me toward just outright claiming Egg2 would be a better king out of spite.

The show runners claimed they wanted to make Aegon gray and yet make TGC a rapist in his first appearance. Nothing gray about that my friend. So if it all turns out to be a lie what do you think the fall out will be ?

Love the blog 💚

Anonymous asked: did you know that Dyana from episode 8 is coming back and will be in 4 more episodes??? apparently actor's own agency confirmed it. I'm speechless...... what role can she possibly have that requires so many episodes? are they trying to bury the greens for good in the eyes of the audience? every leak is a disaster, and worse than the previous one

hi, guys, i already talked about this topic in the dyanna tag and i have an entire other tag where i make my stance on leaks speculation. likewise, i spoke many times about how i don't like and don't agree with this writing choice of straight-up turning aegon into westerosi satan from the get-go. but what's done is done, there's no point in denying what was shown on screen. he's written as a rapist and the scenes are made to be interpreted as rape, not as some smear campaign that'll later turn into a gotcha moment. IF we ever get out hands on the scripts, it would be very interesting to compare what the original plan looked like and what they changed on the fly / if they changed anything at all / if aegon was always meant to be this awful from the very beginning etc

as much as i would like them to retcon that in some way, idek if it's worth it at this point, bc portraying women lying on screen about rape is much more damaging than losing fictional civil wars involving flying lizards. we need more nuanced media surrounding sexual assault and women's issues and perhaps hotd is not the appropriate medium for this as the writers seem incapable in many ways of handling a delicate subject like that. yes, i think it was a mistake that compromises the quality of the narrative and, no, i don't think hotd is necessarily going to offer us groundbreaking feminist commentary, but dyanna the fake rape victim is really bottom of the barrel stuff - like, even they could & should do much better than that.

also, to be honest, i don't think the writers are particularly interested in making aegon a complex character, unfortunately. maybe they'll compensate with this characterization in some other ways, though; i am not excluding the possibility of redress. we'll live and see.

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don’t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

[supercorp-hosie]

My thoughts for Legacies 316: (here we go again😂)

(I’m combining after thoughts with live thoughts)

1) The soundtracks for this episode are amazing, they fit very well even for Finsie that I heard that a lot of people were complaining on Reddit.

2) I finally get my team Sowanby! I just feel so much from them! They kind of make a great team, but please, do not go on another heist again. You both sucks at that! The holes are, the museum don’t have a fucking alarm for Leonardo DaVinci’s work? Are you kidding me? And Landon beating the shit out of the guard but not putting him out first is so dumb. The worst is Cleo calling Landon’s name so loud, I can’t😂😂😂😂😂😂 you don’t want people to be on your back when you have the Malivore threat going on guys! And ha! You guys are on the headline! That’s why I really feel like these supernaturals are so outdated and solidified from modern technology, even in 2030! Are you going to tell me everything technology will still be the same like now?? Come on, there’ll be cameras watching everywhere. Like they can see Cleo using magic! I need my Trimini (or bridge) coven and Hope starting to integrate the supernatural world with the modern world. About Trimini and Hope future career, click here.

3) the line about “many who shaped it are never acknowledged” I stand! After that, about the key card my random thoughts were about Landon being the one that stole the key card😂 just out of the blue and I’m proven wrong though.

4) Landon bonding with Cleo!!!! They thought the same way, and “I can promise that anyone that have to get to you, they have to get to me” is so strong! But the scene after, is the moment I started really doubting Landon, the look is too alarming. But there are still Sowanby scenes😭😭😭 and the melted heart mud... I mean I genuinely believed that the spell didn’t work because Landon is also mud himself. But in hindsight it is horrific, like the serial killer is just standing next to you but and the signs are right in front of you.

5) Malivore mud being artistically friendly! I can’t haha! Oh and when Holarke walked on Sowanby inspiring moment🤣🤣🤣I can’t, they act like both of them are cheating on one another it’s hilarious. Thank you for acknowledging each other Holarke and Sowanby🤣. By now, I should have known that’s MaliLandon. It’s humiliating because Holarke and Sowanby got me so happy that I didn’t see the clues lmao! Because there’s this line: “Following the footstep of the Renaissance greatest man? ” but this thing, Cleo only did it with Leonardo, with whom she slept with......

6) And damn, after that, I felt like a FOOL, CLOWN, WHATEVER after that! All I have for team Sowanby is fake 🙃🙃🙃🤡🤡🤡 Anyway we still have to admit that the promise still stand true right, cuz it’s literal.🤣🤣🤣 MaliLandon fulfills his promise by eating Cleo. TYPICAL.

7) Holarke! Clarke is still handsome as ever😍. We can see his presence is clearly affecting Josie and making Hope giving him information. Can we talk about how cute is he sleeping soundly here?

8) Lizzie being the only unaffected queen here. AND IT’S FINALLY LIZZIE’S TURN FOR “AD SONNUM” I can totally see her pleasantness in doing that to somebody after being on the receiving end🤣🤣🤣 Josie and Hope had done it before so now we actually see her doing it. I somehow feel completed.

9) The look Hope and Josie shared. Hosie!

10) Josie is going to be the death of me! I like her look. And how the camera moving upward gosh! And I’m totally digressing here, what is a razzleberry? And what is a slush? I have no idea what they are, I just feel like tasting what she tasting now. Lizzie’s line, crashing and splashing😂 Am I colour blind? Cuz I really can’t tell whether Hope is wearing dark blue or dark green 😅 if it’s green, then the traffic lights colour are back again lol. If blue, then Hosie matching clothes! Did Finsie ever have matching colours? I’m just wondering.

11) Hosie scene! They talked about how seeing Clarke traumatised Josie~~ damn and Josie says traumatised is her permanent resting state. I mean even on her birthday she was buried alive lmao. And Hope wants to help Josie stop the traumas by sacrificing herself to defeat Malivore, like by literally dying. Which she didn’t want because she didn’t want to live forever.

12) Holarke scene again! I love all those banters and their dynamics😂😂 how Hope is the only one that trusts Clarke now. The mimic spell! It’s their thing😍😍. Oh it totally surprised me that Clarke isn’t mud man anymore. I’m really happy for him, because he finally break himself out of the abuse! It seems like triad is totally gone?? But I still kind of think that there may be something more? And Clarke’s reaction to Hope opening the artefact! 🤣🤣🤣 and the way that Clarke sensed the familiarity with Cleo! Yea boy, she’s the inspiration to the creation of you.

13) Clarke keeps calling Hope and Landon kids🤣 how’s the feeling of getting kid!Hope kicking your ass and saving you😂😂😂 oh she’s totally your equal. Frenemies at best! YES! I love Holarke bonding. And the fact that Clarke being Hope inspiration to believe in friendship and her family now can help her to defeat Malivore, I Stan! Don’t lose sight of the corner! Josie! Lizzie! Clarke! Yes you have them! I’m glad that Clarke didn’t die, I’ll be so mad because the writer would be bringing him back for nothing. Oh the incendia is painful, affecting me more than the fake looking MaliLandon eating Cleo. The height difference again🤣 with Holarke this time.

14) I love Maleb clothes, not really shipping them just short form for their bromance😂 but I do enjoy if there suggests shipping cuz it’s fun! Love that them being supportive of each other, superheroing, and the hero name🤣🤣they’re clueless too. Poor Kaleb and Cleo. I really need his backstory 😫

15) about hero names, I’m still having playback of “blursome and essential” in my mind. MG is looking at the mask longer than Kaleb, I feel like he’s missing Ethan, like a lot. Another thing is, since we see the effect of someone else being compelled so clearly, but we never seen Ethan’s compelling effects. Or it’s a budget matter? They must be kidding right? So maybe Ethan is really faking it? So that leads us to Lethan....

16) if my suspicion is true, then damn, Ethan is using Lizzie to get into SBS? I’m worried for Lizzie’s wellbeing. Also the look on Josie when Ethan drives near tight after she said like some eligible will fall out of the sky🤣🤣🤣 the timing is impeccable lmao. For real, Lizzie wanting Ethan to be Hope’s rebound after her kiss with him in the trio imagination, is ....so the trio is now sharing guys now? Jandon is still there in the history! It’ll be like a very messing love multi-triangle😌😌😌

17) the way Lizzie talked about how Hope is perfect the whole way and judging by the day when they arrived at SBS? That’s very long! Lmao, Lizzie are you sure you’re not in love with Hope? Hizzie rights! (I don’t even know when I started to ship Hizzie, it’s a mystery🤣) I think I can only talk like that about my love. Why don’t you make you and your sister Hope’s rebound? I’ll be happy with what I get🤣

18) The decision to bring Ethan on a tour, is so bad. What if ethan ended up enrolling SBS and Alaric can’t deny the application? Did she ever think of that?? And Josie and Mg is going to face the consequences in the near future🤣 dreadful! From there I already felt the cliche sweetness that when you’re trying to be a wingwoman and ended up “selling” yourself out🤣🤣 fuck CW for cutting the scenes of Lizzie’s epic facial expression when she was slapped with her own words😂😂😂anyway, it’s no way she can refuse the ask out after 315 where Lizzie still thinks that she can’t be the chosen one when Hope is there, but someone actually chooses her even after all the Hope is perfect speech. As much as I mourn for Methan and Mizzie, I’m happy that she got someone to tell her that. But I think they’re destined to backfire😅

19) so does the Mizzie “will they won’t they?” officially end here? I’m confused. Btw it’s really a way to mention Sebastian’s death being relocated permanently 🤣 oh wait...she knew that that prison world is destroyed forever right????? Someone save me.

20) okay I have to go back before Ethan picked the twins up: while Lizzie is actually worrying about themselves being stranded, Josie is just more concerned about Hope? Hosie! Poor Josie, she never sees that she is Hope soft spot and can totally make Hope happy too. Look at your dumb joke at 103, Hope’s laugh is magnificent too. It’s because of you. And yes I’m with Josie, I just ship Hope with herself and her axe right now, don’t put her with anyone for at least 5 more episode please.

21) The one that doesn’t dissolve into goo! Now is Clarke! And the both of you my dear twins. Btw, the dna thing, where Clarke confirms that dna is still toxic... so it applies to Landon too right? And it’s now just more overwhelmingly apparent that handon sex is without protection. Yea so much for epic love. And this is about the possibility where (hopefully) it’s not MaliLandon when the sex scene happened.

22) Finsie time! I got to say, it’s really improving. Their scene is beautiful, finally. That feeling that they’re nice together is now going on continuous for me. I’m happy for them! They are now stepping up on Hosie, not derogatory, I’m just seeing some parallels from hosie here. The disclose of Ethan broken arm, where Hosie has done, before that there’s Clarke’s traumatising Josie thing with Hosie. Next, the focus on the hand holding, I’m thinking of 207 and others. The “me being here with you”, with hosie 308 “then I’ll be here with you”. The whole thing is very comforting for Josie. The hug is good too. We can see that they finally have some nice scene and the bgm is good for them.

23) I have no idea what is magical agronomy, so I look it up. Again, that shows how Josie love plants, like someone in Reddit said they observed that Josie’s side of room has several plants. And in 307, the herbs, that she remembers. I think it can help a lot if Hope is starting a magical technology company. Josie’s interest in that can come in handy. They’ll make a great team. About TRIMINI INDUSTRIES tap here.

24) we are still missing Jed here. Justice for Jed. We need Jed real first name. Did anyone notice when the super squad faces MaliLandon there’s no werewolf present? They’re really downplaying that huh? But maybe I can be satisfied that they are not making Finch being there but not Jed.

25) We need to address this thing about Handon. It’s like one and a half time that Hope couldn’t recognise that Landon is not Landon right? We still have to give credits to her memories shared with Cleo actually make Cleo kind of recognise the difference? So half a time. I agree with Josie’s words that Landon makes Hope happy. I mean, yes, most of the time they failed in working but there’s still sweet scenes between them. So that’s actually what makes Handon tolerable. They are what makes me only do facepalm rather than skipping them. So yes of course Hope has happy moments with Landon. Just that it doesn’t mean that they’re good together.

26) it’s always Landon’s bros that first find out Landon wasn’t Landon😂 this time is Clarke. It’s Clarke that tell Hope, “Landon will never leave you”. That’s the inconsistency of the writers, not counting MaliLandon’s time, it’s still two times. And there’s time that some will argue that Landon’s feet literally walk away from Hope. So...that’s not true, do not stuff that in our throat anymore. “I always thought you two are destined to be together” is this the writer way of saying they’re not doing Handon anymore or otherwise? Cuz “thought” is past tense and “are” is present tense. I’m tired. It’s normal that Hope still wants Landon to be happy and still love him. But after the breakup, when she still doesn’t know that it’s MaliLandon, the “still dying to get Landon again” is obsession. Girl, it’s derogatory to your self-esteem. “If a mud man like me can beat his fate, maybe you kids can too” yea that’s Handon going on.

27) we shouldn’t need to be told that Handon is epic love multiple times. We should be able to feel them, see them ourselves. Why did I start approving Finsie now, because instead of them being only all talking and no showing, now we see them working well (until now). I have been widely accepting to any other legacies ships and why I never ship Handon? So really these multiple telling us that how good is Landon to Hope, is not working. I’ve never been so frustrated.

28) Let’s appreciate the Handon parallel with 101. It’s interesting that how Landon is inside the cage and Hope is outside the cage again. The meaning of the cage has deep meaning here. Handon first kiss is in the cage, that kind of mean that their love is trapped there. Like how their relationship being so troublesome and bound by these fateful encounters. The lights are quite similar, handon always has this blue lighting for them, which sometimes it’s kind of weird. The first time it is Hope decorating the ceiling with stars for Landon. It’s sweet, but also implying that what Handon has is the false beauty of them and not keeping the cage symbolism in mind. In other way of interpreting it, this is the writer foreshadowing their endgame. Cuz they’re trapped there, no way in no way out.

29) I think I’m not the only one bothered by the mostly lack of real Landon appearance in s3. As we can see how MaliLandon words sits so right about, Landon not belonging to SBS if it weren’t Hope. Then he leaves with Cleo, that’s a thing for Sowanby too, they still don’t have roots with the school, and it’s a great bonding between them, friendship or not. It’s the bond between them that matter. In 314 315, we always see that the students were totally fine without Landon. Like the three trios paralleling? It’s sad that Landon is like bouncing here and there in SBS but never really belong. And now the writers kind of ripped his personal development. So now he has neither his pheonix powers nor fighting skills, great? And even Hope’s growth too. We are seeing her moving to a good direction and the writers have to drag her back in the hell hole. Hope needs to not always looking at Landon for her happiness, it’s not good for the both of them. Like MG said, be your own person.

30) THEORIES regarding Landon: a) It’s MaliLandon all the way? I hope not, it’s reminding me of Lost Girl that one of the characters slept with the father personating the person she loves, and got pregnant. Tell you what was more alarming? When the episode ended, I was recommended to move on to Lost Girl on CW seed. It’s disgusting! Why do you want to help make me hate Handon? I don’t even hate them initially! I’m like struggling to be logical and lean on the positive side here. Why I can’t move on from this possibility: first, I’ve always headcannon that Malivore has partial control over Landon. Like how Landon actually wasn’t lying in 102 103? That’s Malivore. And Handon, as genius as always, doesn’t talk about it. Second, the way that Landon dissolved, he was human back then, but he turns into goo? how does it even work? If he is human, toxic to dna will make him die, not become goo, right? Even if that wasn’t a problem, it can also be MaliLandon trying his luck. Third, Malivore purpose is to make the perfect legacy, he will totally give it a try to make tribrid-Malivore babies. Fourth, during the inspiration from Cleo, MaliLandon has Landon’s memories, enhancing the theories that Malivore has partial control over Landon, so even if it wasn’t MaliLandon, it’s still partial-MaliLandon. Fifth, after the inspiration, MaliLandon said that he doesn’t need Hope to tackle his problem or for his purposes, which means he initially wanted Hope, thinking getting to Hope can help with his purposes. It’s really not a far-fetched.

31) THEORIES regarding Landon: b) it’s real Landon during sex, but Malivore got him in the prison world. While having Landon’s personal growth ripped and Handon still dragging out are not pleasant at all, this is still a more pleasant theory for me. At least Landon did start fighting for himself after sometime, and while the sex is still partial-MaliLandon, at least it’s not MaliLandon. (I’m always using at least for Handon 🙃) maybe we can still have Landon fighting skills? Cuz I was happy for him about this though. But I just don’t think so. The evidence for this theory is, my feeling about Landon in 306 is that it kind of fits Landon personality, but he did start his violence there. Another thing is the letter. There’s care in “to whom it may concern”. However, that can be just me being simp. And there’s also possibilities that the partial control from Malivore is cultivating Landon’s behaviour starting there and slowly taking control. Because making a deal with the devil always has its consequences. It’s either that or Landon was taken after the letter.

32) regarding the picture above, i just want to point out about another interesting point about the structure of the scene, if you scroll back and see sowanby picture with the door and another bonding talk, you can se that there’s always pillar and frames that’s framing or trapping them together. Like Handon. I mean that’s totally MaliLandon, so this pointing out is not mean to be romantic. It’s just a thought about how devastating that Cleo is stuck in something her whole life, especially the picture structure that implies that she’s stuck with MaliLandon again.

33) overall I’m thinking this is a good and disgusting episode. With all the unexpected twist, it’s really good, there’s actually layers in showing us that Landon is not Landon every time. Then those bonding. The soundtrack, the scenes. Disgusting, is about the theory, and how we are all tangled back to Handon again after we finally have some fresh air. Not to mention the always surprisingly convenient that Landon always has an excuse when we see Landon did something bad to Hope. Like he can never be making big mistake while only having little questionable doings that can’t possible tarnish him being the perfect person in the show. The first time he lies, Malivore controlled him. During the pageant competition, he is justified to walk away when he totally chose the wrong timing to ask that question, leaving Hope alone breaking in front of such important event. 207, monsters are coming for him, he’s protecting people by leaving. Musical episode, he needs to cross boundaries because it’s bound to be, without further reasoning it with Hope, when Hope specifically was very respectful of him in 111 about his songs. And now, this. That’s not him, we can’t blame him. He will never be blame for something big because the writers is biased. Very biased in making that Landon is better than anyone else in the show, so he’s the perfect guy for Hope. Like no one can compare with him. He’s almost perfect. Perfect than Hope.

34) Reflect on what Hope did in 308, MG is kind of right, she shouldn’t have touched it without fully prepared. Because it totally let Malivore running out free instead of him being an originally contained problem. It’s for the good view in whole. Heroes make hard decisions. There’s still the hair thing cut from Hope and Golem!Landon.

These pictures is my work, while it’s easy to get it yourself, and not that I’m professional in doing this. But I still did screenshot them one by one and did some editing. So please like or label the sources when you save or use it. ♥️

[queen-boudicca]

First up in the nuwho rewatch, Rose!

It's ya girl! 

I love how RTD sets look like actual places people live. Like that looks like an living room

Love the music so much omg

MICKEY i love you and your dorky dancing

This music is an absolute bop

Wait did she forget to bring down the till or did she hope nobody would notice before she left and didn't have to do it

Why is the ceo's office in the basement? And she knows him on a first name basis? Oh wait i bet that means chief electrical officer or something (judging by how there's the lightning sign on his door idk)

IT'S YA BOI

Don't like this music as much

Oh okay so it did stand for that

Rip Wilson

"I'm gonna go up there and blow it up! Which might well kill me in the process, but don't worry about me; go on home and have your beans on toast"

God i missed nine so much omg he's so sassy 

JACKIE!!! ILY

Mickey!!

Lol their cute bickering it's amazing

"You need something stronger let's to go the pub"

"There's a match on isn't there?"

"Well I've got no idea what you're talking about how dare you even insinuate—"

Wakes up, goes back to bed

"I know she is Greek but that's not the point" amazing

"Well anything could happen" "no" the doctor is ace af and we stan 

Love the implication that nine hasn't seen his reflection, when later we get a whole series of audio dramas that took place after he regenerated and before he met rose so he hasn't looked in a mirror or anything in all that time

Jackie blow-drying her already dry hair for... reasons?

God he's such a bitch i love him

NINE'S THEME (which yes is basically the same as tens theme shut up his is softer and just has the vocals)

Rose googles "doctor" expecting anything other than a list of doctors and then goes to an internet stranger's house and would've gone alone if Micky hadn't insisted on coming

Also how the fuck is that picture supposed to look anything like nine

Also why was the doctor at the Kennedy assassination? 

Oh look another photo that looks nothing like him at all

At least the drawing does, though that's mostly bc of the outfit

'His constant companion is death' dude didn't you just say that he visited a family who then decided not to go on the titanic and thus survived? 

Oh i love these effects

Not gonna blame Rose for not realizing Mickey was sus bc nobody would think someone they know would be kidnapped and replaced by an evil plastic replica

IT'S YA GIRL (TARDIS)

lol love rose running right out even though fake Mickey is chasing them

NINE'S THEME AGAIN

She's so beautiful

And nines purposefully avoiding caring about Mickey bc he's jaded and doesn't want to be distracted and wants to think that sacrifices are justified bc that's how he copes

And rose is rightly like hey wtf how can you forget about him

God I love how a character calls out the doctor on his flaws (which are justified and understandable and make even more sense the more we learn about him) and it's actually true and not immediately criticized by the narrative certain showrunners could never

Nine in the middle of the London eye I'm gonna cry

I love how the doctor always cites the specific article or whatever from the shadow proclamation. Like even when alien species are governed by it do they really know every article and shit? I could cite maybe like five articles of my country's founding documents there's way everyone knows what part of whatever law he's citing

Hc that they just name random numbers and shit and nobody knows enough about it to contradict him

The grief in his voice holy fuck and how he's choked up and stuff

God Eccleston deserves an Oscar for this

People say he should get one for dalek and they're right but this is fucking incredible too

Aww Clive no

Jackie you are not doing a good job of running away

Rose i love you taking time to monologue before you save the day king shit

No i can't even lie i actually love her little speech you go queen

Mickey my beloved are you all right

Rose maybe tell your mom you're okay before you hang up lol

Rose maybe consider that Mickey didn't have any time to adjust or anything and he was just kidnapped and didn't really get to talk to the doctor at all

Aww nine is so sad :-(

Anyway the other possibility is that this was right after he regenerated but then he left w the tardis and had all the audio adventures before coming back and telling rose that it also travels in time

Now I'm filled with an overwhelming desire to read some nine fanfic (if only I fucking had any someone please rec some to me)

[organic-guacamole]

episode 210 here we go

awww seb doing the intro

congratulations to milky white and her baby chocolate milk😌

seb is so funny

but seriously, clean up that milk fast or else it will smell so bad in there....

was that Lauryn just randomly doing cartwheels? idk any theatre kids irl but that seems like it's a common thing...

is it just me or has ms Jenn been getting more harsh to Ricky and Seb mainly-

like what did they do to her

no because I actually snorted with laughter at the "you came back" WHAT IS THAT VOICE-

AND THE MASK OMG

yeah so my throat hurts now

I'm dying over here

KOURTNEY'S FACE

SAME GIRL SAME

Ricky's fake death got the whole place in tears /s

he looks like an asthmatic walrus

Seb's on piano, I love

we all know if he was the beast we'd all actually be crying✋

ok but I listen to Julia's version of home on Spotify when I want to cry-

right so gimme a second

is Ricky scratching his face.....while he's dying?

"belle i-" *flop*

round of applause to Ashlyn for trying to make Ricky's earthworm seizure look less.... yknow

Kourtney's just dying there

WAIT IS THAT NATALIE

did she really just disappear for 9 episodes just to come back and stare dramatically into the camera

WAIT SCRATCH THAT SHES HERE TO MURDER ASHLYN AND RICKY

oh so Ricky's wearing a gay shirt now too

so that's the real reason why Rini broke up, see y'all next season when Gini and caswen become canon /j

wait that was a long intro scene-

what was that look Carlos-

TALK TO MY BOY OR ELSE

carlos' run is so funny to me

therapist Ashlyn to the rescue

"that is...super" son you good?

ms Jenn call Benjamin, he would willingly put his loved ones on a rocket and blast them into Venus for you....

maybe

"I don't want you kids to be disappointed" girl you do realise you're the one that's most invested in this?

"a smooth opening night" wasn't there just 1 show though-

like their opening night was closing night too

"I think I was Troy at one point" PLEASE THATS THE MOST ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF THE SEASON 1 FINALE

me Jenn looks like a serial killer during that clap and I'm lowkey scared for zacky

"I have notes"

oo if you're taking suggestions, lemme get my list

"mother is freaking out" uhhhhhh

right....'mother"

"is everyone sitting down?"

*looks around awkwardly*

*big red slowly sits*

"no..."

please seb was the only one sitting-

does that mean Carlos looked at Seb as soon as he walked in and assumed that everyone else was sitting too or am I a seblos clown🤡

"is this about the transformation"

WOW MAYBE OT IS RICKY

WOW HES A DETECTIVE FOR FIGURING THAT OUT SO QUICK🤩

YO WHY IS NATALIE HERE-

she just shows up when it's convenient? is she gonna be at the sleepover too?

Seb's heavy swallow after Carlos shouts at him makes me so sad

"I never learned how to lie but I figure if I keep my mouth closed, I can't tell the truth" *nods and smiles at Nini when she asks*

why are they casually standing up all over the pizza shop, just sit at a big table and talk instead of blocking passageways and blocking off at least 6 tables-

"how about I invite myself" WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS FEEL THE NEED TO INVITE THEMSELVES TO ASHLYN'S HOUSE-

YOU CAN ASK BUT JUST FORCE YOUR WAY IN?

so Cash Caswell has a bigger house than... Dennis Caswell.... who would've thought

ah yes there's the good old EJ 1.0

Nini: "boys vs girls"

Gina: *looks devastated and glances longingly at EJ*

way to be inconspicuous

"but north high should be" *cracks her knuckles in the most uncomfortable way*

good for Ashlyn for getting more confident though

oo bossy big red

"i get bossy around the power tools"

is that why Ashlyn was holding up the drill in episode 8 orrrr 🤠

oh

Lily, leave him alone please

she's literally not blinking, is that what makes her creepy?

the diss at big red and his face afterwards is priceless

isn't that similar to what Gina's mom said to her in season 1? hmmmm

but seriously please don't try to redeem lily, let us have a character to hate, or to love because they're evil.

not everyone's a good guy.

"im not liked here and I don't know what to do"

let antoine finish his salad and it'll fix everything

"hug emoji" *gags*

y'all realize Lily's literally 14?

why is she calling a 16/17 year old from another school for personal advice-

"he gets weird around tools"

I shouldn't be laughing so hard

"deja vu maybe?" awkward silence

I'm dying here I love EJ so so so so much

"where's seb"

*cuts to seb being held hostage hoping that they'd notice he's missing and go look for him*

"don't ask"

"oh ok"

"100% real faux fur" as you should queen

sponsored by target

Kourtney is singlehandedly saving the entire show.

Seb making finger guns make me happier than it should

why is this kinda making me want to have a co-ed sleepover with my non-existent theatre friends

YES YOU DO NEED TO TALK/SING TO SEB CARLOS THANK YOU FOR KNOWING THAT

wait what-

you haven't talked to him all WEEK-

Carlos are you stupid /hj

Benjamin is so adorable I can't

he turned around to come back for her instead of going home. you're "what do you want Jenn🙄X act isn't fooling anyone Benjamin 🙃

10101

1+4+16= 21st?

they placed 21st?

or do I just not remember how to convert to base ten

GIRL DON'T BE RUDE TO HIM, HE'S GONNA SAVE YALL

no ms Jenn, the kids are not eccentric 35 year olds.

aww sebby

is he thinking that Carlos is only with him cuz he's the only other openly gay guy at school-

son you are a perfect little bean don't put yourself down

yes they all ship portwell as they should.

they'll be throwing risotto at the wedding.

not the chocolates. stop there are no chocolates. please stop I'm dying.

Gina you don't have to explain yourself to her

it was a misunderstanding and it's in the past

why is Ashlyn still laughing-

exactly it wasn't a big deal please just move on Nini

Kourtney really be out here saving everything

WHY IS ASHLYN STILL LAUGHING

why do I feel like when Gina finally told Ash about it, she didn't think it was that funny but wanted to feel included in the inside joke so now she brings it up randomly to show that she's in on it....I totally don't do that...

"idk, the farmer type" oh son...

Ashlyn and big red are just spilling the secrets back and forth huh?

OOO EJ AND GINA SITTING IN A TREE K-I-S-S-I-

cmon guys don't look at me like that-

"she is the best" and "we're buddies" don't sound right together

"pretty boy" "sweet boy" best ways to describe EJ

I love him.

and aw he's scared of rejection so he'll hold back just to keep her happy and not awkward how sweet

is Ricky wondering if letting her go(literally his song from last episode) was the best thing he did for Nini because he doesn't feel like it now? hmmm this is getting good

why is everyone so invested in Kourtney and Howie's relationship

PACK UP THE LAZY RICKY THING

oh yes Benji, that's exactly what she's doing

she couldn't follow her dream or whatever so now she's using the kids to gain some of the success she craves. why else would she have that massive hsm poster with her name on it in huge letters in her office.

just casually grab his hand with both your hands and stare at him creepily 🥰

ship jennzzara y'all

the first bump was a missed opportunity to do the baymax "falalala" as a reference to the fact that they watched big hero six while committing arson✋

wait so big red and EJ just left Ricky in the basement and now Ricky invited Carlos when they're supposed to be at the stage?

help no Ricky looks like he's about to tell Carlos he likes him (I know it's about writing the song for seb but still, look at his body language and tell me it doesn't look like that)

Ricky is so mature about this, he really just wants Nini to be happy even though he's hurting-

baby you deserve love, maybe Nini isn't the one for you but don't say you don't deserve it

why does he keep adding bro to the end like he doesn't know how to address Carlos

PLEASE CARLOS HAVING TO ADDRESS THE BRO THING

"let's write a song when we have like 45 minutes to get to the place and help our friends possibly win $50000 at the show in 2 weeks"

"can you hit a high C?"

"that's like the bottom of my range"

why am I laughing

this is so cool to see friendship interactions that we don't normally get to see

Nini why are you being like this-

Gina did nothing wrong??

I saw that, EJ and Gina being the only ones going in the same direction👀

right so obviously Kourtney's waiting until after the menkies to get back with Howie just in case he really is just using her as a way in to east high... obviously... right?

CARLOS

OK ITS COMING GET READY YALL

Why is portwell so awkward all of a sudden

OMG EJ

OMG GINA SAY YES or not, do what you want.

the way she doubts that EJ would genuinely ask so she has to make sure it's not Ashlyn behind it

OH

THE "NOT THAT I KNOW OF"

LIKE WHAT GINA SAID TO JACK ABOUT EJ BEING HER BOYFRIEND

GUYS THEY'RE SOULMATES

I want risotto now please

THEY'RE SO SWEET AND ADORABLY AWKWARD ITS LIKEEK LITTLE KIDS

OOOOOOO what is this place that seblos is in, looks fancy....and secluded

oh wait no Ricky's just standing there

wait is it the bomb shelter

it looks so good what

HSKAGSJAGAJAGWISGSKAUASBWKSVAIWBAISBQKSHIQBWOABWOABDOQBZIQBAIAQBSIWBQISVQKSIANSGOQBSAISBKASBKWBAIABQOSBBSJAHAJAVAJSBAJHSKAHSJAHAJAJAAJAHHHHHHHH

@youranxiousnerd ARE YOU OK?

CUZ IM NOT OK

LOOK AT SEBBY'S FACE

LOOK AT HOW ADORABLE IT IS

THE LYRICS ARE KILLING ME

SEBLOS IS KILLING ME

I AM DEAD

PLEASE SEND HELP

I like to imagine that Frankie and Joe practiced this in their apartment and just had a blast with it.

or maybe that Frankie practiced in secret like what Joe did for the climb

OH THE SUITS

THATS WHERE THAT CLIP IN THE PROMO WAS FROM

AWWW SEBBY'S SO CUTE

HE'S A LITTLE MARSHMALLOW

they're still so awkward with the dance I cant

let's appreciate Frankie's voice though

this episode really was made just for the seblos and portwell stans and you gotta love it

BIG RED GET OUT

WHY DOES HE ALWAYS DO THIS

Seb's little "yeah" IS ADORABLE

you can't tell me that wouldn't have been the best time for them to say I love you....IF FREAKIN BIG RED WASN'T THERE

ok but wait Ricky needs more hugs like that, look at his face

the boy needs love

"bro" please don't let Ricky and Carlos go back to not talking because their friendship is amazing

EJ laughing at Ricky sounding like a cat coughing up a furball is so funny to me

RICKY'S FLOP GETS ME EVERYTIME

I knew it was too good to be true

ok so Ricky's dead, next in line please

this episode was so short but I love it so much. this is what I signed up for for season 2✋

[msgrumpygills]

Social Media Anon Here!

Firstly, never change Grumpy ;) you are probably the only person on Tumblr to LISTEN to another view and let it change a prejudice.

Secondly, the Padagram/Social Media change bus continues. Don't be fooled people will be looking at positive and negative reactions to that change on social media.

So here goes!

1. They are starting to market season 2 of Walker in Hiatus. That really doesn't happen. That means they know they need to target new viewers. They are acknowledging they have a problem. The main problem is Jared either didn't learn enough about production quality on SPN (Jensen/Misha were both more interested in behind the camera's) or that he thought he could stick a Stetson on and we all had such sh1t for brains we'd watch anything. So they need a viewer boost DESPARATELY and are going all out to (a) persuade Walkers remaining viewer(s) that it's worth sticking around and (b) get back old viewers or convert 1m+ viewers to season 2. So now we see all the cast (and Keegan has more followers than Jared and Lindsay has a VERY engaged following) trying to persuade their followers how fabulous Walker is. Expect this scrabbling to continue if they want their COVID paychecks.

2. Connected to 1, Jared has started trying to break out of the fandom bubble. I don't think he's trying for power couple (the clue in a power couple is that two FAMOUS people get together and create a super brand, here we have one niche C famous guy and a hanger on wife), I think we are in Jared profile raising and trying to raise his recognition score, which is probably a little low having half assed it in the last year and a half. He's doing it by scatter-gunning so I'm not sure it's going to stick.

3. Connected to 2,

(i) if I run my algorithm clean laptop with a "Jared Padalecki" news search, I get (a) a daily mail article on Jared "clarifying the rift" (b) a "hello" magazine saying he's been "inundated with support after death of "family member"" (c) the new york times article on Walker and Supernatural. It then goes into a variety of articles about Jared raising money for Holly's family (fucking atrocious in my view to use her death for publicity) and a series of derivative articles on his mantrum and later explanation. ONLY THE NEW YORK TIMES ARTICLE MENTIONS WALKER other than as a throw away, all of the others link to Supernatural only. Walker isn't on the main radar of anyone as a show. It's not mainstream enough to mention. it has ZERO buzz.

(ii) if I run the same search on my compromised tablet, I get a SEA of fluff articles "jared padalecki goes to venice", "jared padalecki's wife wishes him a happy birthday" "jared padalecki goes to watch soccer" "jared padalecki goes to the wrestling". I'm expecting "Jared Padalecki defecates regularly" tomorrow.

At the end of that I get the same articles as in (i) but the majority of his publicity is still going through the fandom and the, not very viewed, endless zine type websites that update on every episode of every geek show every day.

So we are seeing, and I expect it to continue, a break out Padalecki, (who knows he and his forehead may wish to have a final crack at films), and a fluff Padalecki, trying to stay relevant a year after SPN relevance ended, because he hasn't got the same push for season 2 of Walker as he had for season 1 and Walker has zero presence. No one, not even the fans are talking about Walker.

Will it work? I don't think so. Keegan has 7m followers on Insta and that's because he's a photographer and writer and it's interesting. I would follow his account (I don't), but certainly it isn't a Walker instagram.

Jared is a clever guy, but he's boring on social media. He has a limited appeal. He does family snaps, hunk snaps, flogs orange pee and flogs his show. He says "family" and "mantra" a lot but that's really it. The clue is, if you didn't know who he was and came across his instagram you wouldn't follow him. Why would you? For a video of a guy running up steps? A smug picture of two middle aged men trying to flog you something?... (oh and lots of "brother" comments on Keegan's social media, which is irritating. It's like he thinks that is his repeatable formula and it isn't).

His media approach won't work because advertising and exposure pushes a product. In TV's case, it's not a one off product and there is a lot of competition. Product Jared needs to be more interesting (his mantrum's are the only exciting thing about him - and that is tragic) and his TV show just needs to be BETTER, well, a LOT BETTER.

Soooo, expect the Padapush to continue, but it's not about a couple, it's about individual marketing and for Jared breaking out of SPN bubble. For Gen, it's her tag along profile that she'll never break out of. She'll have to be satisfied with her superpower of being able to persuade people to buy toothbrush's and dog food (if she can).

Expect though the couple's bit to die off a little. Jared is getting over exposed. His engagement rating is plummeting (nearly 3% is a plummet) because of the repetitive photo content. He'll have to back off or people will switch off (I have already). What makes me laugh is.... from the dawn of time when cavemen took their wives 2 miles away for a new cave weekend.... NO ONE HAS EVER BEEN INTERESTED IN SOMEONE ELSE'S HOLIDAY SNAPS.... Gen and Jared apparently need to learn that lesson...

I might stop these posts now because, well, it's gotta be a bit boring for you and I write LONG. :)

Stay safe and wear your masks ;) xxx

I don’t want you to ever ever change, lovely! Also, I’m NEVER bored by your messages! You put so much effort into the research you do and the messages you send and it’s appreciated! <3 

I started following Lindsey on IG because she seems pretty genuine, and her cat is way too cute! Plus, I like her attitude. I haven’t followed her for the whole Walker season, but even she doesn’t post a lot about it. She posts interviews and then posts about that night’s episode, but other than that, nothing.  Can’t speak for Keegan, but how are fans and non-fans supposed to be excited about a show when the people STARRING in the show can’t be bothered? Maybe they’re all aware of how shitty it is or maybe they’re lazy, but it doesn’t make sense. 

I’m always interested to see the difference in an “algorithm-free” setting and one that has an algorithm. I always figured Google was the same for everyone, but seeing the difference in articles you’ve outlined is insane. It really just goes to show that Jared isn’t the star that his stans think he is. He’s not as important as they think he is, he’s just an actor.  It’s even more jarring to see just how little Walker is talked about at all. All of my devices probably have been “contaminated” when it comes to algorithm so I can’t really speak personally about the public and fans talking about Walker or not talking about it. I can say that on the posts about Walker from the Supernatural Facebook page, a good chunk of the comments are people saying they stopped watching, never got into it, or thought it was trash. There are only a handful of comments talking about how they enjoy the show. 

I think it was disgusting for him to use a fan’s passing for publicity. And no, I don’t think it was anything other than a PR stunt. Her family had a GFM going that was promoted by plenty of the case INCLUDING GEN, so you know he knew about it. But for him to make his own special one and then have articles posted everywhere about how charitable he is? That’s gross PR bullshit and I hope it backfires. 

I still follow a few Supernatural fans, Jared fans, Jensen fans, etc. on Tumblr and even they aren’t mentioning it. I think maybe the hardcore Jared stans post gifsets or whatever, but I don’t see much praise for the show itself, just Jared’s looks. Even the fans aren’t biting and that would make me reevaluate everything if I was Jared. 

I'm expecting "Jared Padalecki defecates regularly" tomorrow. This made me laugh way too hard!

who knows he and his forehead may wish to have a final crack at films You are on a ROLL!  Maybe I’ve become biased, but I can’t see Jared doing films. I mean, I could see him doing like a side character role or something small, but I can’t see him having a big part of a movie. Like I said, maybe that’s me being biased but I see him staying in TV. I could be proven wrong, but I don’t know. 

I agree about Jared being boring on SM. I used to get some giggles from his Twitter posts and even some of his early IG posts because they were goofy, clever, and candid. It showed his humor and was more personable. Now it’s just all fake and comes off as someone whose only motivation to engage with fans is money and that’s a big turn off. 

For me personally, I think that if instead of the “couple goals” bullshit that they try to push for their lavish trips, if they just posted cool pictures they took of different locations, activities, food or whatever, that would be more palatable than all the “Look at my hubster and I! We’re in Italy! Look at how in love we are!” But maybe that’s because I’ve become a bit of a photography nerd? 

I guess time will tell whether or not Jared will make positive changes and if Walker can be saved, but I’m not really optimistic about it. 

I AM optimistic about your takes on things so keep them coming! Long posts or not, I love them! <3

[noladyme]

My Only Sunshine - Chapter 3

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

CHAPTER 2

A little while later, I was wearing a magenta dress of some kind of expensive label. Pam had taken one look at me when I returned to the suite in my chosen outfit – a pair of tight-fitting pants and a low-cut top – and thrown the garment in my face, along with a pair of boots that went up over my knees. I’d forgotten how terrible I was at walking in high heels – having always danced barefoot – and nearly twisted my ankle walking back into the living-area from the vampire’s bathroom.

I’d put on the new outfit, trying to ignore the red-stained towels in the hamper. “Just lipstick… just lipstick”, I muttered to myself, as I regained my footing. “It’s blood”, Pam said. “Thanks…”, I sneered.

Eric slammed open the door to his room, and came out wearing a black well-fitting suit, over a tank top – and I was having trouble controlling my heartrate from how good he looked. His facial expression didn’t exactly give off any desire to dance the night away at a party; but then he looked at me, and his eyes diverted for a second towards my chest. He’d heart my heart beat faster, and his lips drew up into a light smile. “I see you’ve been playing dress-up with Pam”, he said. “You seem strangely comfortable in that outfit, actually”. I took a step forwards, and almost stumbled again. “Or not…”, Eric muttered. He held out his arm, for me to hook my own through; and we left the room. “Have him home by 4 am.”, Pam called after us.

When we entered the elevator, a female vampire was snacking on a young man. She looked up at Eric. “Sheriff Northman”, she said. “Sheriff Beauchamp”, Eric replied. The other vampire went back to her meal. My breath hitched, and I parted my lips. Eric gave me a look letting me know to keep my mouth shut.

We got off on the top floor, and entered a large room, that seemed like the purple version of Fangtasia; though at least four times larger. I followed Eric around the room, as he nodded and greeted other vampires; without having a choice, really, as I could hardly stand around alone. This party was more like a buffet of willing humans; offering themselves up to the vampires around. I never saw anything wrong with anyone doing what they want with their bodies, and was perfectly fine with anyone wanting to offer themselves to a vampire – I’d done it myself just days before, though Eric had changed his mind at the last possible moment. My issue was more in the manner of the feeding going on. The humans were moaning almost pornographically, and that was the part that made me uncomfortable.

A few dancers were grinding to the music on top of podiums, and Erics eyes scanned their moves. “Browsing for new employees?”, I asked. Eric seemed to ignore my words. “Do you dance, Liv?”, he asked. I drew in a short breath. “Why do you ask?”, I said. “Well, if you need another job once we get back to Louisiana; maybe I’ll have one for you”, he sniggered.

We went up to the bar, and Eric raised his brows at the tender; who quickly got to mixing up something. “You want me shaking my ass in Fangtasia? In front of everyone and anyone?”, I asked. Eric looked down at me. “I’ll be happy with a private show…”. A shiver ran down my spine. “I’m working, Mr. Northman. I shouldn’t be flirting with my boss”, I said. “You’re not. I’m flirting with you…”, he smiled, and handed me the drink the bartender had set on the counter. I took a large gulp of the delicious drink, not really knowing how to respond. “You should be working too, right?”, I croaked. Erics expression turned serious. “Right now, my job is to mingle and… schmooze”, he said. “Both things I am very good at, and simultaneously hate".

Eric seemed to suddenly realize that he was sharing more of himself than he was comfortable with; and relieved when another vampire came to greet us – well him. I was arm-candy. Literally. The black-haired flamboyant vampire in front of us had his own snack in tow – a young man in a tight t-shirt, with fang-marks on the inside of his elbow. “Eric…”, the vampire said, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s been a decade”. “At least”, Eric smiled. The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How are things in Area 12, Carl?”. “Boring, as usual”, the other vampire responded. “With my term ending; I’m considering not running for another”. “Going back to Vermont?”, Eric asked. “I like the winters there better”, Carl said.

Carl let his eyes run over my body. “Have we met?”, he asked. Eric gave me a short look, and nodded slightly. You can speak. “I don’t believe so”, I said. “Are you sure? Have you ever been to Area 12?”. Eric smiled nonchalantly. “My human isn’t caught up with the area numbers yet, Carl”, he said. “Area 12 covers Los Angeles and all the way down to the Mexican border”. “My current dwelling is San Diego”, Carl said. “I was actually the host of the sheriffs conference last year”. I forced myself to smile. “Oh…”, I said. “Well then, maybe. I came to Louisiana from San Diego”. Eric tugged at my arm. Enough talk. “Liv is new to the vampire world”, he said. “She won’t have been at the conference”. “How would you know? You weren’t there either…”, Carl retorted. “Godric seemed to miss you”. Eric looked down, and for a second, I thought I saw regret on his face.

Carl looked at the bartender. “Vodka Cranberry for Javier; and another of whatever she’s having for my fellow sheriff’s human”, he said, before turning to Eric again. “Javi’s on a cranberry diet; makes the blood extra tangy. I’ll trade you for a taste…”. His eyes travelled to my neck. “Liv’s had almonds…”, Eric said. “I know how you feel about marzipan”. Carl winced. “Yuck”, he said. “Well, never mind. Maybe New York is up for a trade”.

I took my fresh drink from the bartender, and Eric and Carl nodded at each other, as if getting ready to say goodbye. Carl gave me a final look. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before”, he said. “Wait a second… Sugar and Spice… Barefoot-girl!”. My face dropped. “I knew it! Northman, you have a twister and grinder here! Well, see you later…”. The vampire and his companion walked away. Eric turned his head slightly to look down at me. He raised his brow in amusement. “Sugar and Spice”, he said. “Now this I have to hear…”. “Not now…”, I said. Eric grinned at me. “Miss Sunday…”. “I said not now!”, I hissed.

Within seconds, I found myself pushed against a wall at the far end of the room. Eric had my wrists pinned down on each side, and placed his knee between my legs. His face was twisted in rage. “Don’t speak to me like that!”, he growled. “Or what? You’ll kill me?”, I croaked. Erics eyes flickered, and he let me go; taking a step back. “Disrespecting me in the open will give away the fact that you are not mine”, he whispered. “Every vampire in this room will attack you the second they think you are on your own”.

I scanned the room quickly, and saw that we were being watched by quite a few vampires; and some humans. Eric was right; if I wasn’t under his protection, I was signing my own death sentence. “You have to be more careful…”, Eric began. “Bite me”, I said. His eyes hardened. “I’m trying to keep you alive…”. I looked seriously at him. “Bite me!”. Eric finally understood what I was trying to say, and nodded. I tilted my head, and closed my eyes; and Eric pushed my hair out the way, before baring his fangs. “I’ll be gentle…”, he whispered; and I felt his lips brush against my skin.

“Northman!”, a deep voice called out. “Förbannade rövål!”, Eric hissed under his breath. I didn’t know what he was saying, but I was pretty sure I concurred. “Stan! I thought this was a private party. Who invited you?”, the Viking said, faking another smile. “Fuck you. Dallas is hosting… Hope I didn’t interrupt your feeding”, Stan said. He was once again wearing a hat inside, and had the facial expression Jane Bodehouse usually had, when we decided to cut her off at Merlotte’s.

“I didn’t know vampires could get drunk…”, I whispered. “Look at his human”, Eric responded. The young woman draped on Stans arm looked wasted out of her mind; and probably had taken some kind of drug on top of that. “Oh…”, I said.

Stan deposited his companion on a leather couch, and walked towards us. “Looks like I came just in time for dessert”, he said, and smirked at me. “I’m not trading tonight, Stan”, Eric said. “And it seems your own meal is a little worse for wear… wouldn’t be fair”. Stan looked back at the almost sleeping woman on the couch. “Your loss. Layla is… sweet as peach-pie”. Eric turned back towards me. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my own meal”, he said.

“We never finished our conversation, earlier”, Stan said. Eric looked ready to commit murder. “This isn’t the time”, he said. “Oh, but it is”, Stan said. “It’s easier to have a real conversation, when Godric isn’t there to supervise”. “You know I will never go behind his back”, Eric retorted. “He is not…”, Stan began. “He is your sheriff!”, Eric roared, baring his fangs in a snarl. Stan smirked. “Are you trying to start a fight in my area, Northman?”, he asked.

“This is a party, gentlemen”. Isabel stepped out of the crowd. “Behave”. Stan growled. “This isn’t the time for a power-struggle, Stan. Sheriff Northman has centuries on you, and his maker has millennia”. Stan picked up his human, and threw her over his shoulder. “Godric will step down, and when he does, Area 9 will finally have a real leader”, he said, and walked towards the elevators; the crowds parting for him. “By the way, Eric… Your human really does smell delicious. I will have a taste at some point”. A terrifying sense of inevitability went through my body, and Eric reached behind him; grabbing my hand and squeezing it. He seemed to catch himself in the action, and let go quickly.

“Thank you for not ripping his head off in public”, Isabel said. “But Stan has already caused too much of a scene. We’ll have to glamour every human in the room, to avoid information about unrest in our ranks from spreading to those not present”. “Which areas aren’t here?”, Eric asked, retracting his fangs. “15 through 21… 7… 13”, Isabel said. “Well, no one wants to party with 13 anyway. Rose is a stick in the mud”, Carl said, joining our little group. Javier was behind him, looking pale, but happy. “Someone say something about glamouring?”. “Yes… I trust you can both handle your own humans?”, Isabel said. “Now, Isabel; there’s no reason to break with custom”, Carl said. “I’ll take care of little miss dancer-girl, here”. He gave me a once over, and smiled. Eric gave me a stern look, letting me know it was time for defying gravity, and whipping out my acting skills. “Liv; let sheriff Rockford glamour you”, he said. I nodded, and faced the approaching vampire.

Carl put his hand on my cheek, and looked into my eyes. “Liv… Sweet Liv”, Carl said, his voice soft and soothing. “You didn’t see any fighting here tonight, did you?”. I let my eyes go blank; which was difficult, considering the fast that I had a strange vampire standing only inches from me. Every second, he might pounce on me. “No…”, I said. “Just a second ago, you were just dancing, weren’t you?”, Carl continued. “I was dancing”, I croaked, focusing on keeping my eyes on his, while not letting any life shine through. “In fact, you were just about to take off those boots, and give me one of your special dances”. Carl smiled broadly at me. “Yes”, I whispered.

“That’s enough”, Eric said. He grabbed my shoulder, and turned me to face him. “Liv, it’s time to leave”. “But I was just about to get myself a private dance! Stan is right, she smells…”, Carl grinned. “She is mine!”, Eric growled. Carl looked at me again. “Tell me, are you truly his?”. I didn’t know how to answer the question; I couldn’t say yes, and let Eric think I’d changed my mind. I drew in a short breath, and began stammering. “I-I’m…”. “Give it a rest, Carl”, Isabel said. “You brought your own human, let Eric have his… It’s like dealing with children”.

Eric took a firm hold of my arm. “I think it’s time for us to turn in”, he said. “But it’s only 2 am!”, Isabel said. “Thank you for your kind invitation”, Eric said. “I will see you at the ceremony”. He put his arm around my waist, and more or less carried me to the elevators; to get us away as soon as possible.

Once the doors closed on the elevator, Eric grabbed my shoulders, and looked hard into my eyes. “Did he glamour you?”, he demanded. “No… no he didn’t”, I said. “What happened just now?”, he asked. “What did you witness?”. “I don’t know what you want me to say…”. Eric clenched his jaw. “I saw Stan act like a dick. He wants Godric to step down… How much detail do you want?”. Eric let go of me, and nodded. “Good… Now, don’t repeat that to anyone save me or Pam. It never happened”.

---

I followed Eric to the suite, where Pam was having a party of her own, with another young woman. “You already fed once, Pam”, Eric said chidingly. “She was on the house!”, Pam said. She looked up from the woman’s wrist, and rolled her eyes. “Fine. Go”. The woman left the room quietly.

Eric waited until the door was closed to speak again. “You’re switching rooms with Liv”, he said. My jaw dropped. “Why?”, Pam asked indignantly. “Yeah, why?”, I agreed. “Because I don’t want her alone down the hall. It’s not safe”. Pam looked like a disgruntled teenager. “But I already unpacked”, she said. “Let her have your room”. Eric raised a brow at her. “You want to share a suite with a human?”, he asked. Pam froze for a moment. “Fine”, she said; and suddenly disappeared from view.

“Is anyone gonna ask me…”, I began. “No”, Eric said, cutting me off. “This is for your own good”. I sat down on the couch, and crossed my arms in annoyance. “Pam’s room doesn’t have a tub”, I muttered. “Mine does”, Eric said. “Feel free to use it”. A smile ghosted his face, and I wanted to simultaneously punch him, and throw myself at him. Pam reappeared. “I moved your shit”, she said. “Didn’t use the bed yet. You’re welcome”. “Thank you, Pam”, Eric said. “Now leave us”. He gave his progeny a look. “And leave some humans for everyone else”. She rolled her eyes again, and left the room.

I got up from the couch, and went towards the door of my new room; finding my suitcase on the bed. This room was slightly smaller; which I guessed was due to the fact that it was in a suite. At least the view was nicer, I realized; as I went to stand by the window. “Feel free to the mini-bar”, Eric said, having appeared behind me in the doorway. For the first time, I didn’t jump at his sudden presence “Why am I here?”, I said. “You’re safer in this suite with me”, he said. “Bullshit”, I said. “You’ll be out cold by 5 am. I might as well be on my own then… Why am I here?”.

Eric went over to my suitcase, and opened it; taking out my new clothes, and looking them over. He pulled out a red knee-length dress, and ripped the stitches on the side, so it would have a slit up the thigh. “Wear this for the ceremony tomorrow night. The color will look good on you”. “Eric!”, I roared. “Answer my goddamn question!”. He put the dress down, and walked towards me. “With you in here, it will seem more likely that you do in fact belong to me”, he said. “Which makes you off limits… But this would all be so much easier, if you’d just say yes to being mine”. I pulled at the hem of the dress I was wearing, feeling it suddenly much too short for the conversation. “Stop fidgeting. I told you…”. “Stop telling me what to do!”, I exclaimed.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled off the ridiculous boots Pam had forced upon me. Once they were off, I stomped past the tall vampire, and in to the living room. I grabbed a coke from the mini-fridge, and searched for an opener; coming up short. Eric came up behind me, and took the bottle; taking off the lid with his bare hand, and handing me the drink. “Thank you”, I muttered, and took a sip, before setting down the bottle on the counter. I wasn’t really thirsty, but I needed to do something to keep myself busy.

“I am trying to keep you alive”, Eric said, taking my hand; and merging his fingers with mine. I pulled myself free, and shook my head. “I’m doing my best to pretend…”, I tried. “Pretending isn’t enough!”, Eric roared. “I want you…”. I took a deep breath, and made a decision. “Then have me”, I said.

Erics jaw dropped; and a warm smile spread across his face. “You’re saying yes…”, he breathed, and leaned in, as if to kiss me. “No… I’m not saying I’m yours”, I said. He instantly pulled back, and looked at me confusedly. “But you said I could have you…”. “I want to be with you… But I have to be my own. Not someone else’s”. I didn’t know how else to put it. He let go of my hand, and stepped back. “So, you want to have sex with me”, he said, raising a brow. “This must be what it feels like, to be a piece of meat… Interesting”.

“I shouldn’t have said anything”, I whispered, feeling embarrassed for being so blunt. “I’m sorry”. “Don’t apologize for being up front”, Eric said. “You’ve had my blood, it’s natural that you’d feel attraction towards me”. “My attraction towards you haven’t changed since I met you. I always found you…”. I halted myself, once again feeling like I’d over spoke. I walked towards the nearest door, wanting nothing more than to hide under the bed in there, and pretend that this conversation never happened. “If you don’t need me anymore tonight, I’m gonna turn in. Goodnight”.

Eric followed me. “Liv…”, he said. “Eric please. Can we just forget it?”, I asked, and tried to close the door behind me. Eric held it open. “Liv, this is my room you just walked in to”. I looked behind me, and saw that I had indeed stepped in to the wrong room. “Oh… Sorry”, I muttered, and went to walk back towards my own room. “You can stay in here… with me”, Eric said. “If you want to… It’s your choice”.

His expression was earnest; warm, even. “I do…”, I said. He smiled softly. “Do you really not feel any blood connection with me?”, he asked. I shook my head. “No…”, I said. “But you want me…?”. “Yes”. There was a pregnant moment, before I suddenly found myself in Erics arms; one of his hands on the back of my head. His eyes searched mine for a final confirmation, and I gave it; by getting on my toes, and leaning towards him. “Sunshine”, Eric said, and grasped my lips in a kiss.

It wasn’t tentative. Our tongues immediately met – not battling each other for dominance; but dancing perfectly together. Erics lips were soft against mine, and though he was cool to the touch, his temperature was perfect for the warm evening – and I was hot enough myself to stay warm; adrenalin and my quickly beating heart keeping me that way. I put one hand on the back of Erics neck, and my other arm snaked around his torso; so that I could hold him closer to me. Eric shrugged of his jacket, and took a hold of my thigh; lifting me up to straddle him. I tried to reach the zipper of the dress I was wearing, when I felt it getting ripped open on my back. Eric had been a bit too eager in getting me undressed, as he walked us towards the bed. “Pam is gonna kill you”, I chuckled. Eric simply grunted, and began kissing my neck. “I’ll buy her a new one”, he breathed, and set me down on the floor; ripping the rest of the dress all the way down in the back, and tugging it off me.

I was now stood in front of him in lace panties and my bra. “Well, what do you know… You are wearing underwear”, he said with a wicked smile. “Though, a mismatched set… Interesting choice”. There was a hint of an accent to his voice now; one I hadn’t heard before – as his eyes scanned my body. He was right. I hadn’t chosen a matching set of underwear; as always, I wore what I liked. Usually, I even had trouble wearing matching socks. “You’re starring”, I said. “I’m admiring”, he replied. “You’re so… real". I looked down at myself, and saw all the bumps, spots and stretchmarks that I was used to seeing; suddenly very aware of every imperfection. Before I had a chance to cover myself with my arms, Eric pulled them away. “No, don’t… It’s just how it’s supposed to be”. “Lumpy and underwhelming?”, I said. Eric ran his fingertips down my arm, making me feel small sparks of electricity along every inch he touched. “Human…”, he breathed.

Stepping forwards, I tugged at the hem of his tank top. Eric discarded it, and stood bare-chested in front of me; in no way self-conscious as I had been. I supposed having 1000 years to get used to your own body, made walking around half-naked easy; but on the other hand, Eric had nothing to be ashamed about. He was built like a Viking should be; strong, broad and proud.

“Feel free to touch”, he smirked, when he saw my expression. “You’re so smug!”, I said. Eric took my hands and placed them on his chest. “You like that I am”, he said, and leaned down to kiss my neck again, running his teeth along my earlobe. “I do?”, I croaked. With an arm around my back so I wouldn’t fall, Eric led me to lie back on the large bed. “Yes you do”, he smiled, now moving his lips to mine, while bracing himself, so he didn’t put his full weight on me. “It’s part of my… charisma. And part of what makes you want to throw your legs around my neck”.

I frowned in confusion, before remembering my conversation with Sookie and Bill the week before. “You were listening in!”, I said. “You are such a creep!”. Eric laughed softly, and slid his index finger under the fabric of my bra. “I was curious about you”, he said, and found my nipple erect to his touch. With a pleased smile, he pulled down the cup to free my breast; and dove to suckle at the nub. “You’re nothing like I’ve ever met before”. “Fuck!”, I gasped, when he tugged slightly at it with his teeth. “I intend to”, Eric replied; and his hand moved down my belly, sliding under the top of my panties.

His fingers played with my curls for a moment, before moving further down, and finding my wet folds. “You’re warm…”, he said against my collarbone, and let one finger enter me. “You say that like you’re surprised”, I breathed, and pulled his head up to kiss him. “Am I different than what you’re used to?”. “Yes. And no”, he said, and added another finger inside me. “I want to taste…”. I nodded, and tilted my head. “No. Not yet”. “Then, what?”, I asked confusedly. Eric smiled wickedly at me, and kissed his way down my torso; every peck and nibble a foreshadowing of what I had in wait. Eric withdrew his fingers from me, and discarded of my panties in much the same way as he had the dress. “Now you are buying me new underwear”, I chuckled; before gasping when he – without warning – put his open mouth to my folds.

Just as when we’d first kissed, there was no tentativeness to Erics treatment of my lower lips. He was immediately feasting on me; massaging me with his tongue, and sucking hard at my clit – all while forcing my thighs apart with his hands. I put my hands on his head, and held on to his hair; pulling at it as the first signs of my forthcoming climax showed. My walls where already clenching; and Eric must have felt my muscles tensing up in my legs, because he started growling almost animalistically. He grabbed the outside of my thighs, and put them around his neck – letting go of me from his mouth for a second, to look up at me and grin. See? Told you, his eyes were saying; as his fangs bared. He was enjoying himself immensely. Eric locked my legs there, by putting his arms around them, and joining his hands.

My body was beginning to shake under him, and I was glad Eric was holding me down, as I was quite sure that if he hadn’t, I would fall off the bed. I struggled to keep my moans quiet, but Eric was having none of it.

“You like this?”, he asked. I nodded fervently. “I want to hear you say it…”. “Yes... please down stop…”, I croaked. Erics tongue lathed into me, before sliding up and flicking over my clit repeatedly. “Louder… Let go", he breathed in to me. I grabbed on to the duvet under me, and reminded myself to breathe – beginning to feel lightheaded. At an especially deep suckle of my clit, my climax took me over – jolts going through my body. Eric never let me go, just kept massaging my labia with his tongue. “Eric!”, I yelped, and dug my nails into his arms; which only made him growl in response, and intensify his attack. My back arched as I exploded into the peak of my orgasm; a sound like no other I’d ever made before, escaping my mouth – so loudly, I was sure we’d have noise-complaints.

Eric finally let me go from his mouth, and crawled up my body again; as I regained my breath. “You’re beautiful when you come undone”, Eric smiled; his words reminding me that I was in bed with someone from a completely different time. “You’ll have to make it happen again”, I breathed, and pulled him close for a kiss; tasting myself on his lips. “I plan to”, he said.

Before I knew what had happened, my bra was torn from my body, and I was finally completely bare under the vampire. Erics shoes, pants and underwear were gone within seconds; leaving him gloriously naked for me to admire. Erics cock was the right size for his build; proportionate to his body. If I was to describe it, I would say it went perfectly with the rest of him; long and well-built. Nothing in Mr. Northman’s un-life was mismatched. Eric didn’t change his facial expression or his body language once he was naked. He was always a smug bastard, dressed or undressed. If anything, his clothes were just a barrier he needed to get out of the way, to feel my skin on his; and I was quite sure he was perfectly comfortable walking around naked, if it hadn’t been for social standards.

He laid down on top of me, and grabbed on to my head – tangling his fingers into my hair – before attacking my mouth with another passionate kiss. I snaked my leg around his hips, and before I knew it, he was inside me; thrusting continuously within my warmth. I scratched my nails down his back in response; overwhelmed by the sensation of his hardness filling me. I pulled my head back to look into his eyes, and saw nothing but lust and want for me in them. He pushed one leg up next to me, giving him a different angle; and he smiled once he hit his goal – my g-spot. My eyes rolled back in my head, when I once again felt my walls begin to quiver.

We rocked back and forth together, almost making me feel like we were waves in the ocean. I whimpered, and buried my face in the crook of Erics neck; holding on to him tight, and feeling his taut muscles move under his skin. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me equally as close; when suddenly, he sat up – pulling me with him. Eric was kneeling on the bed; and with a hand on my butt, and the other on my shoulder, he helped me move on his lap. I swirled my hips, so I could feel friction against my clit; and moving his hand to my hip, Eric led my movements, making me reach the right rhythm for our joint enjoyment.

There was no sound in the room, save our moans and pants. Eric was loud in his groans, unabashed in his enjoyment of our love-making. He was clambering on to me – couldn’t get me close enough – and only let our torsos part to look down at our joined sexes as they came together. The sight made him growl, and he grabbed on to the back of my head; pressing his lips hard to mine. “Why do you feel so good around me?”, he rasped. “So warm and alive?”. “I don’t… oh, fuck!”, I whimpered, when he once again hit my g-spot.

With an unusually soft kiss at the side of my neck, Eric let me know to brace myself – and suddenly a sharp pain stung where he had kissed me, as he bit into me, and drew blood from the wound. I saw white, and instantly came around him, crying out in pleasure. Eric pulled back, and looked into my eyes in bewilderment. “You taste… so pure!”, he said, and latched on to me again. He moved his hips to thrust hard in to me as he suckled. I felt my blood pumping into his mouth, and it was as if our bodies melded together; as my walls clenched hard around his hardness. Pulling back from my neck, Eric cried out; and I felt him twitch inside me, as he joined me in orgasming.

My breathing was ragged, and Eric gently lowered me back onto the mattress; licking over the puncture wounds on my neck. “Are you alright, sunshine?”, he asked. I nodded slightly; a blissful smile on my lips. “Are you?”, I asked. He chuckled at my question. “I don’t think I’ve been asked that after sex before”, he said. “Yes, I am”. We kissed each other softly, and I sighed in contentment. Before he withdrew his fangs, Eric pricked a hole in his finger, and put the trickle of blood to the wounds on my neck; gently stroking over them. I felt a tickling sensation, and when I put my hand to my skin, the marks were gone. “I can heal you…”, he said. “That’s good to know”.

He slowly withdrew from my still throbbing core, and laid down next to me on his side. As I turned to face him, I found him almost caressing me with his eyes. For a long moment, we just laid there – not touching, simply looking at each other’s faces and bodies. I reached for his hand, and Eric brushed his lips over my knuckles. “Why do you call me sunshine?”, I asked. He smiled softly, and there was a glint in his eyes, as he responded. “I haven’t seen the sun in 1000 years… But when I look at you, it’s like I see it again”. I’d never blushed more in my life, than I did at that moment; until I remembered something. “Sunshine hurts you…”, I muttered. “So do you”, Eric said. I shook my head in confusion. “How?”, I asked. Eric shifted next to me, and suddenly looked very serious. “Every time I ask you to be mine, and you say no”.

I covered my face in my hands, but Eric pushed them away. “I want you to be mine!”. He got up to lay on top of me, and put both hands on either side of my face – burying his eyes in mine. “Please, be mine”. I put my hands on his chest, wanting to say yes, but knowing that I couldn’t. “I told you… The last time someone called me theirs… It didn’t end well”, I said; my voice shaking. “Tell me who he is”, Eric growled. “I will rip out his ribcage and force it down his throat!”. “He… No… You can’t”. Eric narrowed his eyes. “Do you love him?”, he asked. “No!”, I exclaimed. “Never… Eric, it’s complicated…”. “If you don’t belong to someone else, why won’t you give yourself to me?”. I sighed exasperatedly. “Why do I have to belong to you?”, I asked. “Why can’t we just… be?”.

Eric seemed to ponder my words, but came out looking bewildered, and laid back on his pillow. “I don’t know how to do that”, he said. “I have had sex with humans that aren’t mine, but never more than once or twice". “Why not?”. “Because, like I said, they bore me… You don’t. It’s why I want to keep you, as mine. So that I can have you whenever I want”, he said. I flinched at his question. “If I was… yours… you’d expect me to have sex with you whenever you wanted?”. “You ask a lot of questions”, Eric chuckled, and pulled at me, to make me lay in the crook of his arm. “I’m just trying to understand you…”, I said. “You make it sound like you’ve been forcing people to have sex with you”. “No, they usually want to. If they don’t… Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who said no to me, before you". I was momentarily stunned at his words. “So, you… glamour them?”, I asked. “No. I’m just that charming”, he said matter-of-factly.

I laid for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. Eric sighed deeply, and unnecessarily. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone who does not want it. But if you were mine, I wouldn’t have to share you with any other vampire… or, hopefully, man”. Darkness ghosted his face. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine”. “I-I get that… I think. But the whole ‘have you whenever I want’ part…?”, I said, imitating his tone; and making him smile bemusedly. “Well, if you said yes to me, it would be because you wanted to belong to me. That kind of relationship usually comes with frequent sex…”. “Belong…”, I said with distaste. “What’s to keep us from just having sex when we want, without me belonging to you?”. Eric lifted his head to look at me. It was as if I was speaking in some foreign language, he’d never heard before. “That’s an option…”, he said, making it hard for me to make out whether it was a question or a statement.

His meaning was made clear to me, when suddenly he flipped me around, and made me lay on my stomach. Getting on top of me, his blunt tip pushed at my entrance. “I’m going to fuck you again. I’m not going to be gentle, and I will bite you”, he said. “Tell me to stop, if I’m hurting you”. I swallowed hard, and nodded. Eric pushed into me – bottoming out – then grabbed both my wrists in one large hand; holding them together behind my back.

Pushing my thighs apart with his knee, he pushed my leg upwards next to me; so that he could reach deeper inside me. “Djup… varm… fuktig…”, he growled as he rutted in to me. “E-english…!”, I croaked. “Perfect”, he said, and pushed hard in to me again.

Suddenly, Eric sped up his movements; slamming his hips against my cheeks. The sounds of our lovemaking were becoming animalistic in their nature; and being held down – unable to move – forced me to feel every delicious ripple of his cock moving in and out of me. Wrapping his free hand around my throat, Eric leaned down over me, and tilted my head; so that he could kiss my neck. He moved his hand to hold on to my hair, pulling at it; and laughing softly at my squeaks of delight. “Please…”, I said. “What?”, he asked, sucking and kissing the skin on my neck. “Harder…”.

Eric let go of my wrists, and in stead took a hold of my hips. With a roar, he pounded in to me hard; and I instantly unfurled around him; crying out in extasy. A fire spread from my core, as he excavated me – and suddenly Eric bit in to my neck again; growling, as he sucked at the wound. I was seeing white as I came; and with a roar, Eric let go of my neck, and spilled himself inside me.

I felt small kisses on my shoulder-blades, and the sudden emptiness in my warmth, as Eric pulled out of me. He helped me turn around, so I could lay against his chest. He was warm now – warmer­, anyway. “Don’t you have to go to ground?”, I asked. “The sun will be out soon”. Eric turned to press a button on the bedside table. Blinders soon covered the large windows. “Why would I, when this bed is more comfortable than the travel coffin?”, he said. “And you are here…”.

I was already dozing off.

---

I woke up in complete confusion. Next to me – still as a rock – lay a large, blond and very naked man; with his arm draped over my torso. It took me a moment to remember where I was, and what had happened; when a dull pain from between my legs, reminded me of my nighttime adventure.

Managing to wrestle myself free from the grasp of the large Viking, I made my way to my own room; and in to the bathroom to clean up. In the mirror, I saw that the fang-marks from Erics last bite hadn’t healed. I told myself to yell at him for forgetting – right after I checked to see if he’d even acknowledge my presence. He had gotten what he wanted from me, after all. When I have sex with a human, I usually bore with them pretty quickly, he’d said. I managed to get back to the fact that I was in Dallas for work – a job that paid 10.000 in fact – but that just made me feel like a prostitute.

After putting on a button up dress, and a pair of flats; I went back up to the top floor – where a maid had told me I’d find the restaurant, so I could have lunch. It was too late for breakfast. The restaurant turned out to be the same room, that I’d been in with Eric the night before, at the party; but it looked completely different. The sun was high on the sky, lighting up the purple decorated room. I recognized a few humans from the party; among them, the woman who had been with Stan. She was more or less asleep over her coffee, and had several fang-marks all over her exposed skin.

Once I’d eaten my fill from the buffet, I went down to the reception, and asked for car-service; to take me to the artist Eric had patronized. His studio was in an old warehouse, and when he opened the door to greet me; I stumbled backwards in fear. “Thomas…”, I rasped, when I looked upon the face of the man who had beat me, and almost raped me; before Godric stopped him. “Guilty as charged”, Thomas smiled brightly. He ran a hand through his black hair; the same hand that had held me down by the neck, as he beat me with the other. “Can I help you, miss?”. There was no recognition in his voice.

My breath hitched, and I found it hard to speak. “You don’t… remember…?”, I asked. Thomas smiled apologetically, and shook his head. “I’m sorry… I see a lot of faces in my work”, he said. “Is that why you’re here?”. “I-I’m here for Eric Northman…”, I said, my voice shaking. His eyes widened. “Yeah, of course!”, he said. “Come in!”.

Thomas stepped aside, and I stepped in to a large combined studio and living space. The walls were covered in photographs; new and old. Thomas was a photographer, and a restorer of old photographs. He’d made his money for years, from taking pictures all over the states; mostly portraits, but also action shots from concerts and other live performances. That was how I had met him; as he was taking my picture while I danced at Sugar and Spice. What had started innocent, had ended terrifyingly.

Covertly, I reached in to my purse for my phone; ready to dial up Eric. The sun outside the large window reminded me he could do nothing for me, for at least another few hours. I was on my own. A young woman stepped out of a door from what I figured was a bathroom combined with a dark-room for Thomas’ work. She was wearing panties and a tank top; and when she saw me, she hurried over to the nearby bed, to put on a robe. “Sorry…”, she muttered. Thomas looked at her, and an expression I remembered all too well, ghosted his face. I noticed a purplish mark on the woman’s jaw, and as she tugged at the sleeves of the robe, I saw another around her wrist. I wanted to take her with me; save her somehow – and winced, when I saw her going through a drawer; finding a small glass vial, with red liquid inside. This woman was on V; and was probably looking for some pain relief.

Apparently, he didn’t find it necessary to introduce me to the woman, because Thomas headed straight over to a nearby table, and picked up a medium sized, flat package. “This took some serious restoration”, he said. “But I managed to recreate it as best I could”. He turned around to face me again, and I jumped a little at his swift movement. “I’m sure it’s wonderful. You’re very talented…”, I said; catching myself. “Or so I’ve been told”. “I do my best”, Thomas said, and walked over to hand me the package. I took it from him, and backed towards the door; not wanting to turn my back to him for anything in the world. “You know, I think I do know you from somewhere…”, he said. “Have you ever been in San Diego?”. “I have to go”, I said, and went for the door.

Suddenly, Thomas’ strong hand was on my shoulder – so strong, that I knew the V the woman had been going for, was probably from his stash. I froze in place, and readied myself for pain. Thomas’ eyes flickered in confusion. “Miss?”. I swallowed hard, tensing up; and trying to hold back tears. “Could you tell Mr. Northman that I’d be happy to come to Shreveport, if he ever needs any promo-pictures for his bar?”. “I will”, I said, almost inaudibly.

I forced myself to move away from his hold, and hurried out the door; almost running for the waiting car. Once safely inside it, I pushed the button to raise the blinder between me and the driver; and I could finally let my tears fall.

[anistarrose]

Summary: Winters running the Mystery Shack are difficult, but two unexpected guests improve Stan’s day.

Characters: Stan Pines, Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines, Ford Pines

Relationships: Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines

Happy Holidays, @halogalopaghost! I'm your Secret Santa, here to mash together a couple different prompts through the power of time travel (and Mabel)!

***

It doesn’t take Stan many years to learn that winter’s no good for the rural Oregon tourist business.

Granted, he can hardly blame the tourists — he has to drive on Gravity Falls roads himself, much to his disgust. Between the paved, plowed streets that always turn slick with ice where you least expect them, and the winding gravel roads that you might as well ignore when road and wilderness alike are under identical four-inch blankets of snow, he knows no gallery of fake haunted paintings or taxidermied coyote’s ass is worth the trip in these conditions.

He’s on his third winter in town, now — not counting the first, worst one he arrived at the tail end of — and if there’s a right way to run a business this time of year, he hasn’t found it yet. He always scrapes together just enough to pay his bills, thanks the occasional local who wanders over to purchase a seasonally appropriate if overpriced snow globe — but he’s lucky if he breaks even in December, and knows January through March are a lost cause before they begin. He’ll make it back within the next year, sometimes even before summer ends, but it stings to know he’s about to fail at his one goal for the next three to four months straight, and there’s nothing he can do to change it.

It might sting less if he had another way to spend these winters — if he had a good reason to formally close the Shack for a few months, like an experienced business owner making a grounded and responsible decision. But he can’t even search for Ford’s journals in this weather — he’s learned from his mistakes, his countless brushes with frostbite, throughout those cold, desperate months in the wake of the portal shutting down.

He’s useless right now, and worse, this season’s shaping up to be the bleakest yet. His usually-scammable neighbors have already lined their shelves with winter knicknacks from Mystery Shack visits past, and the bulk of Stan’s meager sales have come from shivering out-of-towners who’ve never tried to take a Pacific Northwest road trip in December before, and probably won’t be keen to try again.

What seasonal merchandise hasn’t he sold yet? Bumper stickers for miscellaneous holidays, maybe — but neither timely bumper stickers nor the usual selection of tchotchkes will convince people to visit the Shack in the first place, under these road conditions. He can’t even walk around selling merch door to door, for the same reason he can’t look for the other journals — he’d freeze to death, presuming he could make it through the snowdrifts to somewhere worth visiting in the first place. Even with snow chains on the Stanmobile’s tires and a bucket of salt in her trunk, grocery runs alone are perilous enough.

Damn it, Ford, he thinks, why couldn’t you have gone missing in Florida?

He could always do what he does best and lie, maybe — send out word that there’s free hot chocolate or something with every purchase at the Mystery Shack, and hope that people hand over their hard-earned cash before they pick up on the false advertising. He might draw in some local customers that way, and even if he loses their trust for the next few months, they always seem to forget about his cons eventually — as if he never scammed them, and they’ve never so much as heard the words caveat emptor.

He’s just about to dial the local paper’s number on the phone, hoping to flatter Toby into letting him run another ad for free, when he hears a telltale knock at the gift shop door. The bell atop that door doesn’t ring, which means that despite the hostile winds and snow they braved to get here, his visitors are still out loitering on the porch — or so Stan thinks for a moment, before it dawns on him that he doesn’t even remember unlocking the door this morning. He’d just been that pessimistic about even seeing a customer.

“Hello?” someone calls — a fairly young voice, probably approaching the tail end of puberty. “Are you there, uh…Mr. Mystery?”

“On my way!” Stan shouts, throwing on his fez and bolting for the door. His neighbors in Gravity Falls might forget and forgive a lot, but he doesn’t want to risk the wrath of a parent whose teenage kid froze to death on the local grifter’s doorstep, so he unlocks and flings open the door as fast as he can. “Welcome, travelers! Prepare to be baffled and bemused by our mind-boggling boreal mysteries, here at this last refuge at the edge of the Arctic we like to call the Cryptid Cabin!”

His visitor — no, his two visitors — both blink slowly, proving to at least be baffled, if nothing else. Both are bundled up in what Stan assumes to be several sheep worth of wool garments, lovingly knitted into sweaters, hats, and scarves.

“But you call this place the Mystery Shack,” the girl speaks up, and the boy nods.

“Yeah, and we’re nowhere near the Arctic! This is Oregon, not Alaska!”

Stan groans — the only customers he might see all week, and of course they’re teenagers. “Look, punks, business is slow these days! I’ve had a lot of time to think about a seasonal rebranding, and not a lot of chances to workshop it, alright?”

The teens’ expressions instantly soften, and the girl exclaims: “Well, you can workshop it with us!” She grabs the other kid — her brother? — by the hand, and pulls him into the gift shop.

Maybe Stan’s judged them too quickly — he’s still not thrilled to have strangers pitying him, of course, but he’ll take it over strangers mocking him any day of the week.

“Dang, you’re right,” the boy comments once inside, and face-to-face with shelves of untouched merchandise. “It really is empty in here in the winter.”

With little light coming in from the windows, and a flickering bulb overhead that will soon need replacing, the often-bustling room is now dim and eerie — aside from the junk food wrappers on the floor, which Stan hastily kicks under his desk.

“Look at all the lonely snowglobes in need of homes!” the girl pipes up, swiping a glass-encased antelabbit off the shelf and giving it a hearty shake. “Good thing I’m here to adopt this lucky little guy — how much is he?”

Stan takes a second to run the numbers — the maximum amount of money a teen would have on hand, versus what Stan needs to charge to make a profit — and replies: “Twenty-nine ninety-nine and nothing more. We don’t do sales tax here, ‘less you’re a cop.”

“Bet there’s a lot of other taxes you don’t do, either,” the boy snorts, rummaging through a shelf of hats until he unearths one with the old Murder Hut logo on it. “Aha! Now here’s a collector’s item!”

“Oh, did you come here before the rebrand and forget to grab a souvenir?” Stan asks. He doesn’t remember these two, but it’s been a couple years since he painted over the last Murder Hut sign — and they do seem pretty familiar with the building, not to mention Stan’s whole… business model.

“Oh, uh, that’s a funny story, actually! Real funny!” the boy stammers with a whole lot more trepidation than the topic should’ve warranted, and looks to his sister for help.

Sure enough, she steps in. “We lived here for a while — in Gravity Falls, I mean! Not here in the Shack, obviously — wouldn’t that be ridiculous, if we lived in your house for months without you knowing? Could you imagine —”

“That is to say, we still visit sometimes!” the boy supplies. His eyes are a whole lot more fixated on the snowglobes than with anything in Stan’s general direction. “You probably don’t remember us — we weren’t in town for very long, or anything…”

Stan sighs. They’re lying, obviously — but hey, there’s no cops in the Mystery Shack, and he doesn’t have a dog in whatever fight compelled the duo to spew this bullshit. He’ll keep an eye on the cash register, of course, but these kids are tolerable company when they’re not being suspicious as hell — so if they want to invent a bad cover story for a low-stakes tourist trap visit, more power to them.

“Well, the hat’s vintage, so that’ll be double price. Twenty bucks,” he announces matter-of-factly, and the boy groans — but there’s a smile behind it, like he’d expected this and now he’s just playing along. If there’s one thing Stan’s willing to believe, it’s that these kids have been to the Mystery Shack before.

“You’re a highway robber, old man, and I’m the coward who’s gonna let you get away with it,” the boy declares, and Stan can’t help but laugh. The kid reaches under several layers of sweaters to pull out a wallet, with a blue pine tree embroidered on, and miscellaneous charms of fantasy characters hanging off a chain on the side. Stan doesn’t recognize any of them, but they still tug at his heartstrings, because he can tell they’re the exact kind of nerdy references Ford would love.

He does take note of the pine tree design, though — it’s generic enough that slapping it on some shirts and hats wouldn’t quite be plagiarism, and in Stan’s eyes, those are always the best souvenir designs.

The kids put their money forward, hovering awkwardly as Stan rings up their items — the girl busies herself attacking a loose string on her brother’s scarf, nimble fingers tying it back in its approximate place, while the boy twiddles his thumbs and stares at the snowy, gray scene out the window. At the moment, only light flurries fill the air, but tomorrow night promises a blizzard… and Stan, grump with a soft side that he is, can’t help but hope that if these kids are really on vacation, then they aren’t planning to drive anywhere tonight.

With it being winter, and him running the business that he does, he doesn’t have much charity to give — but, if he’s going to play along with his customers’ little lie, then he should probably at least bring up the topic.

“You’re not hittin’ the road any time soon, are you?” He makes eye contact only with the green illustrated presidents in his hands, so not to come across as overly invested. “Weather forecast says tonight’s gonna be a doozy.”

“Aww, you’re worried about us?” the girl coos, because apparently both parties here are damn good at picking up on each other’s lies. “That’s so sweet — but you don’t have to be! Our great uncle’s waiting for us in town, and he’ll… well, let’s just say he’s planning to bring us back home before the blizzard hits.”

“He’s, uh — he lived here back in the seventies, so he knows what he’s doing,” the boy adds. “On the roads, that is. Mostly.”

“Well, you two take care,” Stan tells them, hastily adding on: “So you can come back when the weather isn’t terrible and buy more keychains, that is.”

“Oh, we will.” The boy grins, sharing a conspiratorial glance with his sister. “Maybe don’t count on it being next year — or the year after that, even — but you can count on it.”

“Well, uh…” Stan stops himself, resisting the impulse to divulge things he really shouldn’t. “You just shouldn’t count on me running this place forever. Be sure to get your novelty cryptid pins while they’re hot, y’know.”

He’s never really wondered what he’ll do with the Shack when he gets Ford back — and yes, he has to believe that statement deserves a when, not an if — but he figures the Shack’s fate will depend more on Ford’s own whims. If reality lands somewhere between the nightmares of Ford wanting him gone and the fantasies of finally sailing around the world, if Ford doesn’t hate him but still wants to spend more time with Important Science Experiments than with his brother, then Stan could see himself returning to a mediocre life in his moderately successful tourist trap… but with the search for the journals still coming up empty, Stan can only try not to think about the future, and accept that he’ll just cross — or burn — that bridge when he comes to it.

“Okay, Mr. Mystery,” the girl suddenly declares with a tone that frankly reminds Stan of his mother, “you look like you could use a pick-me-up!”

“What?” It’s starting to freak Stan out how well she can read him, and there’s no telling whether it’s just a sharp intuition, or something significantly more Gravity Falls-y. “If I look tired, kid, it’s because it’s December in Oregon, I haven’t seen the sun in a week, and I am tired. Only pick-me-up I need is for you to get out of my hair, and let me go back into hibernation like nature intended.”

“Okay, but counterpoint: you hear us out,” the boy insists. “We’ve got a little something up our sleeve to really light up your winter —” He winks at his sister. “Don’t we?”

“You bet we do!” She pulls a bag of marshmallows out of not her sleeve, but her backpack, and grins. “Prepare to be amazed and astounded by the natural wonders of this town, and also the miracle that is processed sugar and gelatin!”

“Are you imitating my sales pitches?” Stan asks, dumbfounded. “And do you carry those on you at all times?”

“In winter in Gravity Falls, I do!” the girl replies, already heading for the exit with her brother. “C’mon! If this doesn’t put a smile on your face, nothing will!”

“We all know you’ve got time to spare, Stan,” the boy adds, cracking open the door. “Get a move on!”

“Spare time doesn’t mean I’ve got spare limbs to lose to frostbite,” Stan grumbles, but follows them anyway. There’s something captivating about these little punks — not so much this mysterious phenomenon they’re trying to sell him on, as if they could really out-charlatan Mr. Mystery himself, but rather the way they’re not put off by his frigid facade. They see right through him, showering him in alternating kindness and acerbic wit.

Stan can’t help but wonder if their uncle’s kind of like him — tired, bitter, and pretending to be indifferent, but secretly soft on the inside, like a marshmallow that’s burnt on the surface but melted within. It would explain why they’re so good at calling him on his shit — but then again, Stan and this mystery guy can’t be too alike, because if Stan had a niece and nephew like these two, he’s sure he’d be living his life a whole lot differently.

He exits the Shack, and all his questions are immediately replaced with new ones when he sees the teens just hurling marshmallows towards the edge of the woods. The wind’s in their favor, so some of those sugary little fuckers fly far.

“Okay, so I’ve already got a couple concerns,” Stan tells them, shivering. “First off, what the hell?”

“It might take a couple minutes before one shows up,” the girl admits, as if it’s a totally reasonable stand-alone explanation for whatever the hell’s going on here. With about a third of the marshmallows now blending into the snow on Stan’s lawn, she and her brother stop with the throwing, though they still hold onto the bag. “Our grunkle theorized that they move slower in winter, to save energy — oh wait, never mind! Here comes one now!”

“Sorry, what? And where?” Stan squints out into the woods, terrified to lay his eyes upon a woodland monster these kids just lured to his doorstep — but all he sees, at first, are a few wisps of smoke dispersing in the wind above the trees. He’s not even convinced it’s smoke, really, because these aren’t the right conditions for a fire — but to his surprise, he glimpses an orange light within the woods, glowing steadily brighter until the trees and bushes around it are all casting faint shadows.

When it steps into the clearing, Stan realizes he has seen something like it before, albeit only from the overcautious distance he tries to keep from all anomalies. It’s an otherwise normal campfire perched on wooden, spiderlike legs, and it melts a path in the snow as it trots forwards, then lowers itself to the ground to absorb the first of a dozen marshmallows.

It lets out a satisfied little sound — a low, steady crackle that sounds almost like a purr — then scampers up to the next morsel of food to repeat the process.

“It’s called a Scampfire!” the girl explains, beaming. “There’s a bunch of them out in the woods, and they’ll always wander over if you leave out enough campfire food — especially sugary stuff! Isn’t that cute?”

“Our great uncle figured out this amazing trick when he used to live here, and he passed it down to us!” the boy adds, practically bouncing up and down in place. “If you leave them a trail of food, they’ll follow you around until you run out — which means they can clear your driveway, warm your hands, even save your car if you drive into a snowbank! Or help you make s’mores, of course.”

“Our grunkle says he even skipped paying his heating bill a couple winters,” the girl adds with a grin, “but I dunno if we can recommend that in good conscience.”

As the scampfire draws a closer, continuing to purr as it consumes more of the sugary trail, the boy slaps a handful of marshmallows into Stan’s palm. “Give it a try!”

Stan’s not thrilled about bringing a fire onto the wooden porch attached to his wooden house, even as cute as said fire is, so instead he tosses his ammunition at something much more disposable — the golf cart, since if this one croaks, he can always just steal another from the insufferable rich family up on the hill. His aim isn’t great — he blames his cold fingers — but exactly one marshmallow lands right in the cart’s driver seat.

The scampfire breaks course from its path towards the Shack, clearing a path through the snow before it crawls into the cart, absorbing the final morsel and curling up atop crossed legs. Nothing explodes, and in fact, a few of the icicles on the awning start to melt, dripping water into the patch of bare muddy ground surrounding the cart.

“Huh,” Stan mutters. Dozens of harebrained schemes flash before his eyes — if he could find a slingshot, or even better, some kind of cannon to mount on the cart’s front hood, then he’s sure that with practice, he could entice some scampfires to clear a path through any snowdrift…

But no matter his exact solution, it’s a way to get into town consistently. He can finally go door-to-door selling knickknacks, instead of sitting in the gift shop every day and hoping some poor soul would get bored enough to brave the roads and visit. He can actually work out a way to line his pockets even in the winter, instead of constantly waking up from nightmares about getting foreclosed on —

“See? They get food, and we don’t freeze — classic mutualistic symbiotic relationship!” the boy declares, and his sister gently socks him in the arm.

“Nerd!”

“Hey, you knew that too! We’re in the same biology class!”

It’s familiar, but the kind of familiarity that Stan doesn’t treasure anymore. It’s more like the kind that he hides in the basement or in boarded-up rooms whenever he can, and grins and bears with a heavy heart when he can’t, like every time he looks in the mirror or hears someone call him Stanford. He comes so close to asking these teens if they’re twins, because he figures the answer can’t be worse than wondering — but the question dies in his throat, and he tells himself it’s for the best.

“Is your uncle who invented this trick the same one who’s waiting in town for you?” he asks instead.

“Yep!” replies the girl. “He probably won’t get worried about us for like, ten or fifteen more minutes, though — I’m sure he’s got his nose buried deep in a book right now.”

“Do me a favor and let him know he’s a lifesaver,” Stan says. “Also tell him I’m glad he moved out, because he sounds a little too smart to fall for the fake monster wares that I peddle.”

The kids exchange a look that Stan can’t even hope to comprehend, though he’s damn sure it’s worth a thousand words to the two of them. Twins or not, he’s getting an “inseparable” kind of vibe from these two, that’s for sure.

“I’m not sure he’d like the Shack at first,” the brother muses, “but I’ve got a hunch it would grow on him.”

“He does like cryptids — sometimes even fake ones!” the sister chimes in. “Oh, shoot — we still need to grab a souvenir for him! I knew we were forgetting something!”

“Huh.” Stan throws a few more marshmallows in the direction of the woods, and the scampfire stumbles off the cart before trotting along on its merry way back to the forest. “I can get you something, no problem — I don’t call this place a gift shop for nothing, y’know. But for the love of Paul Bunyan, let’s talk about it inside.”

He’s not great at mental math, but he doesn’t have to be to know he owes a lot to these teens and the mysterious uncle he might never meet. Hell, even forgetting the business perspective — he can actually look for the journals in winter without risking frostbite, if he gets one of his fiery neighbors to tag along. Even if he finds nothing, even if he only winds up with more failures to contend with, he’d rather rule out locations than be useless to Ford for months at a time.

None of this weird family that he might never see again, these three benevolent strangers that he can only put two faces to, could possibly know how much they’ve just changed for him — and he can’t tell them, as much as his oversized heart promises he can trust these snarky kids who remind him so much of himself. But he does owe them, so when he reenters the gift shop, he goes straight for a seldom-opened and never-advertised box of knickknacks that he has no intention of charging them for. It’s got the dimensions of only about two side-by-side shoeboxes, so he lifts it onto the counter with hardly a grunt, and opens it up.

“Got lots of goodies in here — mostly stuff that I made or, ahem, acquired in bulk, so they never quite sold out by the time everyone and their mother in town had already bought their own. Take a gander.”

He knows that gander will reveal some Murder Hut-branded shirts with the words written on in marker, plastic six-sided dice with a different cryptids pictured on each side, cheap whistles purported to attract Bigfoot, cheap flashlights once advertised for attracting Mothman, exactly three cool rocks that Stan found in the woods… and the pièce de résistance, a little wooden Mystery Shack-shaped music box, which chirps out a pleasant tune when Stan flips up the roof. That last one’s a rare knickknack that Stan really put effort into personally crafting, back at the height of last winter’s monotony, through cannibalizing parts of premade music boxes and sticking them into brand-new shapes — but he couldn’t sell them for enough to be worth the cost of making more, and could never sell this last one at all.

“Oh, wow!” the girl gasps, clearly delighted. “How can I even choose between —”

“No, take it all. It’s on the house — but don’t you dare tell anyone about this, you hear me? I’ll know if you blab, ‘cause people will start asking me if they can get free crap, too, and I don’t wanna hear a word of that nonsense.”

“Free stuff at the Mystery Shack?” The boy narrows his eyes. “Are you feeling okay, old man?”

“Kid, stuff only goes in the Free Bullshit Box when I can’t sell it anyway.” Stan crosses his arms with a huff, even though he’s technically telling the truth. “The only catch is take it before I change my mind.”

A sudden spark of recognition in the brother’s eyes morphs into a grin on his face, and he nods. “Oh, we will. Don’t worry.”

“I think our grunkle will love this! Especially the dice,” the sister adds. “Hey, maybe we could give all this to him piece by piece for Hanukkah! There’s enough here for a new surprise every night!”

“Whoa, there is! Man, the look on his face the first time we bring out a Bigfoot whistle is gonna be great —” The boys eyes dart to the watch on his wrist, and he coughs into his hand. “But we should probably get a move on, huh? Don’t want to get caught in, y’know, the blizzard tonight.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Stan returns the lid and hands the box over. “You, uh, need a ride back to town? ‘Cause being a man of mystery and all, I know this neat trick to clear a whole road with just a bag full of marshmallows —”

The kids both start cackling, so hard that the box almost escapes the girl’s hands, and Stan laughs with them — not because he thought his joke was that funny, but because the kids’ laughter is absolutely priceless. The isolation’s definitely getting to his head and his heart, but he’ll take whatever reprieve he can get.

“I think we’ll manage on our own,” the boy finally wheezes out, “but thanks for the offer, Mr. Mystery. Thanks for everything, really.”

“See you later!” his sister adds as they leave. “Don’t let the feral gnomes bite!”

“You take care, too,” Stan replies, not nearly as loud — but he figures that the kids can read his lips. They can read so much about him, and know so much about the town, that he’s honestly a hair’s breadth away from assuming they’re two more anomalies from the woods themselves, just in more recognizable shapes than most…

Though if Stan’s honestly considering that theory, then more of Ford must’ve rubbed off on him than he likes to think about — which is to say, it’s a good a reason as any to stop thinking about it. What or whoever they were, the duo were actually pretty tolerable for teenagers, and Stan’s pretty sure they didn’t put a curse or whatever magic mumbo jumbo on him — because if they could manage that, they could definitely tell some less conspicuous lies, right?

He kinda likes the idea of one goddamn supernatural force in this town that’s actually benevolent, actually watching his back when his mood’s at its bleakest, and coming to his rescue with — no, he’s dropping that train of thought. No baseless hoping, just letting himself down easy before he gets up.

It does occur to him, several minutes after the gift shop door swings closed, that Hanukkah has already come and gone this year. Which probably just means the kids are prepared to hide that box for another twelve months… but maybe, when Stan finds the other journals, he’ll double-check for entries on helpful teenage cryptids who can’t lie. Just to be sure.

***

Mabel, Dipper, and Ford barrel into the living room so suddenly that Stan almost drops his mug of hot chocolate. They’re all covered in a ridiculous amount of snow, considering how briefly they were just outside, and Ford looks awfully delighted for someone whose glasses are someone whose glasses have just turned opaque with fog.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel shouts. The cardboard box in her arms has seen better days, but she’s cradling it like an infant. “You’ll never guess when we just were!”

Dipper points a gloved finger in the air. “You mean, when we just — oh wait, did you already —”

“Yeah, I beat you to it this time!” Mabel pumps her fist. “Anyways, Grunkle Stan — you’ll never guess who we just visited!”

[smallerinfinities]

Cake

a/n: when tipsy meets twitter, all bets are off

hello! I woke up three days ago like I’d been reborn in my love for this kid, so I wrote this filth 😅 i’ve posted a few times recently about this video but if you haven’t seen it, scroll my blog or search cake lol trust me it’s worth your time. 

(masterlist is linked in my description)

warnings: 3.9k of absolute filth

Movie night had ended hours ago, giving way to sleepy rideshares and drunken footsteps into the second bedroom. Brian was passed out and snoring in the giant armchair across from you. The Top Gun drinking game had gone wrong at around the eighth high five and completely derailed at the sixth “Iceman,” which became a salud of sorts in the room. Beer cans, mango White Claws, and the occasional tequila bottle littered the kitchen island.

“Psst, are you awake?” a toe poked your side from above. Shawn looked down at you with a cocked eyebrow from under his crooked elbow. You’d taken residence behind his legs, resting your head on his hip to watch the movie, bowing out of getting totally trashed. Your lips were still tingly enough to be dangerous.

“Yeah,” you croaked, clearing your throat and stretching, “I’m awake.”

“Are you suuure?” he slurred, tired and tipsy. The smirk was audible, “I thought I felt you drooling through my sweatpants.” His breath came out in a whoosh when you punched him in the abs with your outstretched arm.

“How’s that for awake, fucker?!” He chuckled and caught at your hand, unfisting your fingers and playing with them as he pulled out his phone. You let him. You even opened your hand fully so he could trace little patterns on your palm.

It had been like this for a few months, the flirting, the touching. A drunken night of 20-somethings playing spin the bottle had ended with multiple people clearing their throats with wide eyes as Shawn kissed you.

My God, he had kissed you. Fingers splayed against your neck, his lips gently interlocked with yours. It started out chaste, just two mouths touching, but as soon as he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, it was game over. The people, the voices, your friends, all melted away and it was just the two of you. His top lip between yours. Gentle sucking pressure. His body heat radiating onto your skin. It was everything you never knew you wanted. Until Connor clapped Shawn on the shoulder and ripped him away, turning the two of you into human embarrassed laughing emojis.

Since then, it had been like this. His hand on your lower back at the coffee shop, lazy naps together after midday movies, play fighting and fake indignation after one too many shots at the bar. Your friends all shared sideways looks and snide smirks every time you hung out but you hadn’t crossed any lines again and you definitely hadn’t talked about it. Whatever it was didn’t need conversation. It was fun. It was nothing. He was busy. He was a globally-famous popstar. You were normal. The last thing you wanted was one of those embarrassing tabloid articles, “15 Things You Need to Know About Shawn Mendes’s New Fling.” So, in the quiet moments, you let him trace patterns on your palm and send shivers down to your toes.

“Hey, come up here, I’m scrolling Twitter,” he swept his fingers down to your wrist and gave it a tug, a little giddiness in his tone. He made space for you in front of him on the couch, giving you his bicep as a pillow. You settled back against his hard chest and let your legs weave into his. He’s so goddamn warm. It was a mistake wearing jean shorts to his condo. There was a part of you that wondered if he turned the A/C down on purpose but you didn’t want to think about why.

Scrolling Twitter, where Shawn saw the most fan activity, was one of your favorite pastimes. Seeing the reactions to this dude you knew in real life was occasionally shocking, sometimes horrifying, but always amusing. He held the phone out in front of you and thumbed through his feed.

Most of his mentions were about missing him. He’d been on a break since the end of his last tour, taking some time to himself without a schedule for every minute of every day. For a guy who had been taking photos with fans pretty much everyday for the last seven years, you understood why they might be freaking out. He’d broken the pattern. Thank God for that.

You tried to keep your eyes from crossing at the repeated “I miss Shawn @shawnmendes” tweets and the feeling of his alcohol-warmed fingers against your hip. I shouldn’t want this.

“Wait!” you snapped a finger at his phone, “what was that?”

“Oh, that?” he scrolled back, “it’s just an old video.” His voice broke a couple octaves on the last bit. The tweet was accompanied by the wide-eyed blushing emoji. Curious. You raised an eyebrow and watched. He was eating a guitar-shaped cake...with his hands. Mouth wide open, his face buried over and over in thick pieces of chocolate cake with some kind of blue frosting on it. It was fucking filthy. You rubbed your thighs together absent-mindedly.

“What do the comments say?” You poked at his phone before he could move it away.

“Oh, nothing really,” his voice was still high, which meant he knew what the comments likely said. You huffed and grabbed at the phone. “Shawn, you know I have Twitter, I’ll see it whether you like it or not!” You rammed your hips backward, pausing for a second when you felt something you weren’t expecting, but not for too long. He sucked in a breath, coughing, and dropped his phone—right into your waiting hands.

“Hahaha!” You jumped up and ran to the other side of the big white couch, kicking your legs in victory, “I win!” He tripped over his own oversized limbs before he got to you, falling to the floor within reach of your feet. He reached out and pulled your legs toward him, framing his face between your thighs. Your giggles stopped short and your face flamed.

“Can you assholes get a room?!” Brian was awake and fussing at the thin fleece blanket he’d scrounged off the back of the couch. He rolled over mumbling something that sounded like just fucking fuck already but you were too busy thinking about Shawn’s head still between your legs to be bothered by it.

Shawn slowly lifted his finger to his lips in the universal sign to be quiet and untangled himself to stand. He reached out a hand and you didn’t hesitate to grab it, leading you to his bedroom down the hall. You held his phone in a death grip, unwilling to let go in case he caught you off guard.

The room was dark, save for his phone, the rectangle reflecting a solid white off the wall of glass facing the city. The CN Tower lights flickered in the late night sky, seemingly suspended in midair. His unmade  bed was the biggest and brightest thing in the room. A white comforter hung half on the floor at an odd angle off the corner of the mattress, his white sheets completely exposed. The pillows were all scrunched up at the headboard, like he’d been kicking and pushing all night long. Like he hadn’t slept soundly in weeks.

“Okay, so what you’re about to read…” he shut the door behind him, scrubbing at the back of his neck, “it’s gonna be weird, but like it’s fine I’m used to it. They’re...a little invasive.” Weird? Invasive? Curiouser and curiouser…

You walked over to his bed, picking up the comforter and tossing it haphazardly back onto the bed, and sat on the edge staring at the video and letting it play a few more times. Then you swiped down.

@canadianmendussy: ALEXA PLAY BIRTHDAY CAKE BY RIHANNAAAAA

@perfectlyru1n: oh my goD does he really go down like thAT?!

“Oh...my God,” you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, “you’ve seen this before?”

He bounced on the mattress facedown, mumbling something into the sheets.

“What was that?” you asked, with Southern sweet tea levels of sugar. You ruffled his hair, brushing through his curls. He turned his head, his face flushed with more than just alcohol.

“I said yes, I’ve seen it before…” he opened one eye and looked up at you, “I usually just ignore them.”

There were over 400 replies on this tweet, some people chiding the horny stans for posting something Shawn can see, others just piling on.

@illuminateruin: is that cake gluten-free?

@kidinlover: @illuminateruin idk but I know pussy is

@particularbenito: CAN HE EAT PUSSY LIKE THAT?!?!?!

“Can he eat pussy like that...” you read out loud under your breath, your mind conjuring up that image of his face between your thighs. Shawn’s head shot up, eyes wide.

“What???” His face was practically magenta at this point, “is that a serious question??”

“What? Uhh, no. Not serious. A reply actually,” you rushed, giving him a sideways look. I mean...maybe it was a serious question? The curiosity was going to kill you. Oh, no. No, no, no. Your lips tingled.

“Well, I mean….can you?” You could hear the glint in your eye.

Fuck it all.

“Can I….w-what?” he stuttered, the air crackling between the two of you. He looked like a cornered animal, like the wrong move would get him killed.

“Can you,” you pushed a loose curl out of his face and nodded toward his phone, “eat pussy like that?”

Oh, God, did I just…?

“I’ve never gotten any complaints,” your head popped up at his self-satisfied tone. Gone was the red-faced shy boy talking about embarrassing fans. The Shawn in front of you was...confident. Hungry. His fingers grazed your ankles resting beside him. It didn’t escape your notice. You shivered.

It wasn’t cold.

“M-maybe they were just too afraid to tell a big, famous rockstar that he sucked,” you were the one stuttering now, face heating by the second.

“Oh, sucking was definitely part of it,” his fingers traced the indent in your calf. You refused to pull away even though you should, even though part of you—a small, shrinking part—knew that if this went where it was definitely going, things were going to change. You snuck a finger under his chin to pull his gaze to yours.

“Is that a promise?”

“I don’t know,” he flashed a toothy smile, gravity and sheer force of will pulling his body toward yours, “is that an invitation?”

I’m probably gonna regret this in the morning.

Your lips crashed into his, giving him your answer. His mouth was hot, his breathing heavy. Tongues and teeth and lips wrestled together, refusing to part while he made his way above you, crawling on hands and knees between your legs as you settled against the pillows. He licked up into your mouth just before nibbling on your bottom lip, forcing a moan from deep inside you. This was primal, the need you felt with him. Like once you came together, nothing could break you apart.

His hands moved up your body, scratching gently at your exposed legs and slipping beneath your hoodie. He broke away from your lips to shuck off your top and expose all your delicate skin. His fingers slipped beneath your lace bralette and he played with the tiny clasp between your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he asked, a little out of breath, his thin t-shirt pressing against your skin.

You nodded so quickly you thought your neck might snap. He popped the clasp and spread his calloused hands across your chest. The friction was glorious. Your body chased his fingers involuntarily, bowing up off the high thread count sheets.

“Be still, baby,” he whispered, dipping his head and placing an open mouthed kiss just above your belly button. Your eyes rolled back at the pet name, another moan escaping your lips. Warmth rushed between your legs.

“Shawn,” you gasped, trying to control your breathing so he didn’t know just how fucked you were, “when I gave you an invitation, I didn’t expect you to be late to the party.” You rocked your hips up into his chest pointedly.

“Well, I can't just jump to the entrée, can I?” He fiddled with the button on your denim shorts, loosening it with a little pop. Teasing, he licked at a freckle just above your hip before sucking at it with enough force to leave a mark.

“Fuck!” Your hands shot down to his mop of curls, fingers buried in the thick locks. He pulled and nibbled at that spot over and over, all while grazing his fingers just beneath the waistband of your simple cotton cheeky panties.

When he pulled away, an angry red violet half-moon colored the skin. He took one last lick, smiling at your gasp in response.

“I love that sound,” he sat back on his heels between your legs, looking down at your heaving chest.

“I’ll make it again if you take that shirt off,” you reached for him with grabby hands, trying to Harry Potter that shit. He laughed and did the boy thing, grabbing his shirt at the back of his neck before tugging it forward off his body.

The gasp came again. Not even on purpose or because you’s promised him, but because he was so stupid gorgeous in the low light of the city you couldn’t help yourself. You’d seen him in hot tubs and at sweaty summer parties and in those fucking Calvin Klein pictures, but none of that compared to having him shirtless between your thighs just a few inches from your outstretched fingers.

His chest was flushed, some combination of adrenaline and alcohol. Little freckles dotted his lightly tanned skin all the way up his torso to the dusting of chest hair that colored his chest. His perfect pink nipples were hard against the cool air of the room, begging for you to touch or kiss or bite. Or all of the above. You reached out to trace his appendix scar where it peaked out of his low-slung sweatpants. His body danced away from you as he caught at your hand.

“Don’t,” he growled, weaving his fingers between yours and pressing his lips onto the back of your palm like a fucking Victorian gentleman. Like he wasn’t staring down at your hardening nipples thinking about how good they would feel pinched warm between his fingers. He tipped forward, bracing himself against the mattress, his mouth just a few centimeters from your skin. Dragging flesh against flesh, he left kisses at random in the valley between your breasts. Moving farther and farther down your body, he paused, sitting up on his heels.

“Are you sure?” He was breathing heavy, looking straight through you, both hands hovering around the edges of your shorts. You were nodding before he even finished his question.

He curled his fingers around all the fabric in his way, denim and cotton both, and dragged the offending pieces of clothing down your legs, lifting them off and tossing them against the wall across the room. You breathed steady, looking at him looking at you. His mouth hung open in speechless wonder.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered, settling back between your thighs, a mirror of his earlier pose on the couch. Another wave of heat rushed straight to your clit, silently screaming for him.

“I know,” you brushed through his curls, giving him a suggestive grin when he looked up at you, “I taste good too.”

That was all the permission he needed. A second later, he buried his face between your legs, nudging your knees over his shoulders. His tongue swirled in circles around your clit finishing in random flicks. He moaned into you, his lips closing around your swollen folds with gently sucking pressure.

“Shit, Shawn!” you shouted, praying to the gods that everyone still in the condo was too drunk and passed out to hear you. The white sheets bunched in your fists, arms spread wide. Your thighs clamped down against his ears.

He continued his licks and flicks, snaking his hands up your legs and gently prying your legs apart. You clenched hard as he pinned your thighs to the mattress, holding you open with his forearms. Filthy sounds echoed off the walls, wet sucking, moaning from both of you. He dipped his chin and circled your entrance with his tongue, lapping at you.

“Christ!” your hands shot into his damp curls. He was working hard down there, flexing and moaning and fighting your spasms. You looked down and saw his hips impatiently rutting into the mattress. It only made you wetter, gushing onto his waiting tongue. He drank everything you gave him.

“He’s not here,” he said in a low and gravelly voice, a little breathless. He pulled back, the bottom half of his face shining in the dark. His fingers toyed with your sensitive, wet lips, watching as you twitched and trembled, so close to the edge. A firm circle around your clit had your back bowing, contorting backward off the bed. A single tear rolled down your temple.

“I’m so close,” you panted, trapping his outstretched hand against your skin.

“Shawn, I need you.”

“Need me?” His fingers paused, “need me where?”

“Oh, God, don’t stop,” you choked out, a sob threatening. Your back arched up off the sheets again to find friction. “I need...I need you inside me.”

At some point between your words and the needy moan that followed, he’d removed his sweatpants and a black pair of Calvins. You heard him rustling his hand inside the bedside table followed by the metallic sound of foil and the sharp scent of latex. Thank fuck he’s prepared.

When he dropped down onto his forearms, hovering an inch from where you needed him, you were dripping onto the sheets, grinding down into the mattress waiting desperately for him. He ran his nose over your collarbone, peppering kisses along your neck. It was slow and deliberate. A fucking tease.

“Shawn,” you pulled his face up to yours, all squished between your hands, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I swear I will…”

He pressed inside to the hilt in one swift motion, cutting off your threat.

“What are you swearing to do, princess?” he asked, a smirk and a fire in his eyes. The moan that escaped you in response was embarrassingly loud. He stilled and closed his eyes, allowing you to adjust. You took even breaths, relaxing into his hips, holding on to his shoulders for dear life. His cock was perfect. He was perfect.

I am so fucked.

He moved, slowly at first, stroking all the right places. When his hips separated from yours, pulling almost all the way out, he rutted back inside. It was deep, long thrusts touching some place inside you weren’t sure you knew was there. Your head thrashed against the pillows. Your grip on his shoulders turned sharp, clawing long red-raw marks into his pale skin.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he hissed into your ear, “fuck, you’re so tight.” His abs scraped against your body like a washboard, the tension clear in his muscles. He was wound up, ready to shatter. He crashed into you, repeatedly slapping skin against skin. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles in contrast with the punishing rhythm of his hips. He lifted one of your legs over his hip to change the angle, to make you even tighter around him. A bead of salty-sweet sweat dropped from his chest into your mouth.

“Right...there,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back, “I’m gonna come!”

“That’s right, honey,” he grunted, flattening his fingers across your clit with intense pressure, “come for me.”

The room went white. The sound of your hips colliding was replaced with a high-pitched ring. Your world seemed to implode, your muscles moving independently. He wrapped his arms around your middle and held you as he fucked you through the waves, his weight the only thing keeping you from being swept away in the current.

“Stay here with me,” he cooed, sweet but taut in his throat. Your heart slammed against your ribs in rhythm with his hips. He grunted once, twice, three times with his final thrusts and came undone, pumping into the condom. Biting down on your shoulder to stifle his sounds, he sucked hard enough to leave an angry mark. You contracted around him, both inside and out, curling around his thighs and back and neck, letting the full weight of his completely spent body bring you back to full consciousness.

“Hey,” you fingered his frizzed and fucked curls, “Shawn?”

“Hmm?” he nuzzled into your hands and squeezed you a little tighter.

“You’re crushing me,” you exhaled, strained.

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry!”

He shifted to his side, accidentally pulling out too quickly, making both of you wince.

“Shit, shit, I’m so sorry,” he was so cute when he was scrambling. He got up and threw out the used condom, quickly returning from the adjoining bathroom with a damp cloth.

“Come here,” he held his arms out, making a perfect you-sized place in front of him. You slid into it easily and let him press the cloth between your legs, wincing again.

“Did I hurt you?” There was so much concern in his voice.

“No, no, I just…” you held onto his arm, glad to be facing away, “I haven’t been fucked like that in awhile.”

“Glad to be of service.” You didn’t have to be looking at him to see his smug smile. Reaching back, you slapped his thigh in retaliation. He caught your hand and kissed it like a Victorian gentleman again, like it made up for his cockiness. You tried to convince yourself that it didn’t, flushing even harder than your just-fucked body should have allowed. He wrapped his arm around your front and intertwined your legs, snuggling his face into the nape of your neck.

“So, uhhh, are we gonna do this again?” he asked, barely concealing the hope in his voice.

“Shhh,” you said, yawning for effect, “we’ll talk about it in the morning. Just sleep.”

He exhaled against your back, placing one last kiss on the mark you were sure he’d left in the midst of his orgasm. You stared out into the Toronto skyline as his breathing evened, his quiet snores barely audible against the screaming voices in your head. As the light crept into the room, as morning dawned on your sleepless night, you repeated his question over and over again.

Are we gonna do this again?

There was an easy answer: yes. Yes, yes, yes, my God, yes you were going to do this again. But there was another, harder question to answer beneath it. If we do this again, will we ever be able to stop?

***

taglist: @justanotherfangurl272  @siennarossi @trustfundshawn @alone-in-madness @harryandmolly @thatindiannerdygirl @fromthicctosticcc @softmendesss @sinplisticshawn @nedthegay @september-lace @itrocksmysocks @disaster-rose @mendesoft @luvluvxx @i-play-video-games @ihearthemcallingforyou @gentleshawn @kitykatnumber @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ijustreallylikeshawnokay @shhhawnmendes @shawnsblue @imaginashawnns @mendesficsxbombay @shawn-youth @kerwritesthings @starlightsivann @lavenderhoneymndes @begginyouformendes @fallinallincurls @shawn-youth​ @linanilssonfurberg​ @lostinshawnsmemory​ @bucky-ish​

(as always let me know if you want on/off the tag list...I realize I don’t post regularly and like half of these people could be out of the fandom lol)

[energyanon]

ITS TIME FOR:

THE SEBASTIAN STAN MEGAMIX:

Don’t you dare go through the rest of the reading without getting yourself hyped with the link first cause I spent OVER TWO HOURS ON THIS READING AND YOU WILL DO WHAT I ASK DAMMIT.

* https://youtu.be/nendMLrpI-s*

ALSO: no one kill me, there is a very unpopular opinion that unfolded. I just feel the energy, don’t avada kadavra the messenger. It’s not my fault if it doesn’t match your ideal, man.

I’ve put Seb down first - just on his own.

I know I’ve said he seems like a sad bitch, and this might be because it was his birthday like.. what yesterday? And maybe I’m in his current energy (I’ll check on a different timeline) but…

Fans are gonna say it’s fake - he’s happy.

He’s really content. He’s swaying a bit which is why I feel like there’s like a tiny bit of drunk-ness hence why I feel like I’m in his CURRENT energy, but there’s 0 fault. He is so peaceful and happy and content. There’s nothing else to it.

So I closed that off, switched him over to “2021 energy” just to see how he’s been going for the most part rather than right now. And there was an immediate change, specifically to the middle of my head, a sort of pressure there. Heavy eyes, not as happy and starting to get hot. Specifically in shoulders and arms and hands. Hands is usually anxiety, shoulders and arms… I don’t usually get. The happiness is there but the smiles are fleeting. Otherwise it’s not sad it’s just… floating through, getting by. Pressure in my head is getting worse though and now my back is itchy. With energy letting me know that, I can only assume there needs to be a placement of something behind him.

Ok, placement behind him whatever it is, is DRAGGING him down. Mood changed entirely. And he’s being pulled BACK to this thing almost like he wants to fall into it. He’s really focused on in front of him, not quite scared, but eyes wide. Panicked. He does NOT want to look behind him.

The feeling now is.. almost a depression; tired. And he’s looking on the ground now. That almost always means that he’s looking at someone who has died.

Guys? Any death around him recently??

YOOO OK THATS FUCKED AS SOON AS I WROTE THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING IN MY ROOM THAT MOVED ITSELF WITH A GIANT CLANK 👀 I AM NOT DOING A SEANCE TONIGHT FOLKS I AM OUTTIE.

CLOSING THAT ONE OFF REAL FUCKING FAST JOLY SHIT. Gimme a sec to get whatever the fuck that is outta here.

Ok no that’s a lie. Why does it feel like Grandparent Stan.

Guys, has one of the grandparent Stan’s died? It’s not a bad energy, but to him it feels like depression. I’m taking a moment just to speak to them cause they clearly wanted my attention. I tried to end it there cause I don’t fuck with spirits, but as soon as I tried to close my apps it said “no” really sweetly, so…

Ok so I just spent about half an hour doing a mini constellation for them. When it comes to grief and also the ~spirit~ letting itself be known I knew they were gonna stay around until I helped. It was pretty personal, but I got them through it. Felt a lot like a grandma from one of the sides I’m not sure who. Gave me some very cute images of her and little Seb playing in a park and cooking 🥺 Seb cried alot, but was also VERY happy to see her. They said their bits, he knows she’s a support. She’s agreed to be there for the rest of the reading however he needs her. They’re currently holding hands in letting him keep her there.

Let’s move on.

Didnt think I would cry in this one but here I am.

Ok I’ve got him in his previous position, Grandma?Stan is behind him, we’re moving on.

He feels A lot better now that the grief has been sorted through. Feels fresh.

Career/fans came up in that mini constellation so I will put that down next.

The only thing he brought up about the fans was he feels like they’re ripping him apart. He feels like everyone wants a piece of him and he can’t give them that.

I put career down. Career is in front of him facing him to his left. The fans, surprise surprise, wanted to be right on top of him. And he is CHOKING with that being the case. Throat clamping up, airways are BLOCKED. I’m moving them off.

Even then, the fans are too close, Seb has taken two steps back.

Even then they’re still too close. He’s moved to behind career, so career is blocking the view of him and the fans.

Here in this position he’s standing like a statue, he feels like he’s successfully hidden and it’s here he’s gonna stay.

Moving to career:

Career is super confused at where he went and also feels like fans are a bit close. also feels like it is better than the fans. Kind of giving them a look of disgust. Career seems to understand that the fans are gonna be stuck close to them but they think of them a bit like they’re looking at something a bit dirty.. like career doesn’t want to get their hands on them. Career wants to turn to Seb.

Career is bigger than Seb by quite a bit. Not as overbearing as Chris’s career was though, and seems to be on good terms with him. It doesn’t have any feelings of animosity towards Seb, it’s just looking at him like “you good?” And then looking back at the fans and being like “cause of THEM? Really? Lol ok”

But career feels fine to block him off from fans, that’s ok it doesn’t mind. Career doesn’t want Seb to take his eyes off it though. Eyes on career. Keep your eyes on career.

Don’t look anywhere else. Eyes on career.

Back to Seb:

Seb agrees, eyes on career. He’s very obedient to that.

There’s nothing else for me to do with these two so I went to see if he wanted to look past career at fans. He didn’t. Eyes on career.

(What have you guys done to him, i followed him back in CA:WS and he wasn’t like this at ALL. Damn guys.)

I went back to fans and they just kept making the same movement, they wanted to be on top of him. Close wasn’t close enough. I’m not moving them back there though cause then it will just go in circles and we want MOVEMENT.

I’m leaving fans there.

I am adding GF

Ale? Is that what people call her?

Ale has placed herself behind career. She is currently fully in the fans view, but she’s facing career and seb, career has back to her, seb is facing her way.

She seems to know that career is most important and she’s ok with that. She’s kind of expectantly trying to get his attention though. Like the feeling of waiting for someone to get off work and waiting for them at the door. She’s just waiting. She looks at fans like they’re beneath her though. Doesn’t like them. Not dislike, but they’re beneath her, she doesn’t need to interact.

No other movement from her besides the fact that she wants seb to move over to her so he can be by her side.

I went to the fans and they’re just all BORING their eyes into her. No need to even look at seb it’s ALE. No movement from them otherwise.

Moving back to seb:

Eyes on career. Eyes on career, except ale is more interesting now and he wants to shuffle over her way, but also career? But also ale.

He doesn’t want to go the obvious way, he kind of wants to sneak past career.

I’m gonna sneak him past career.

He’s doing it sheepishly and very slowly. Like a little boy shuffle.

Ok seb is now in front of ale, career is behind him, backs faced to each other.

Ale is taller to him. (Usually means he thinks highly of her OR that she’s in a more powerful position in the relationship but it doesn’t feel like that he’s acting like a simp)

So weird this is such simp behaviour, I moved ale back a little cause they were practically on top of each other but he was like “noooooo” and moved himself closer again.

Like dude you’re practically breathing in her organs. Chill.

It’s weird though Hes not feeling like He wants to cuddle her or be anything other than just close to her. He seems to be completely mesmerised by her. Short breaths though, he’s not relaxed. But he cannot take his eyes off her.

Moving to Ale:

She doesn’t really take her eyes off him either but she’s much more easily distracted.

She’s very fond of him though. She feels very content. She likes him, she’s happy there.

No more movement from either of them so let’s ask questions.

I asked both parties if they loved each other. Ale said yes, seb said I don’t know.

It’s also not “I don’t know” in a 😬 way it’s.. a curious and nice “I don’t know” kind of like.. “I’ve never felt like THIS before.. is THIS love?”

He does feel a bit blocked though, like he’s not admitting to himself 100% but it’s so bizzare his feelings and his words aren’t matching up cause I feel so fond of this woman so why is he saying I DONT KNOW?!

Ok I see the problem now. I just said one word:

Q:

Marriage? Ale said “yes please :)”

And sebs immediate reaction was 😳 😬

Ya boy. Has commitment issues. He’s making sense now. I swear to god if he has Gemini in his chart.. I swear.

Q: ale, why did you get with seb?

He seemed nice 😊 (also an image of a yacht on the water popped up?)

Q: do you have pure intentions towards him

She… didn’t know how to answer that, it was a very hesitant yes.

Q: are you with him for the money?

The answer was a pretty clear yes but she tried to cover her tracks with “it’s nice 😊”

Q: If Sebastian lost everything would you still love him?

No hesitation it was still yes.

So what I’m getting here is she does like the money, she does like him, money is a main factor but… she genuinely likes him I don’t know what to tell you guys.

Q: seb do you like ale?

Yes

Q: why did you start dating her?

She’s hot! (He laughed at that) and then said she’s funny, she’s cute, she’s sweet… great body

Q: do you think you’ll spend your life with her?

Same reaction as the marriage question it was a very hesitant “I’m not sureeeeee….”

The energy is drifting a bit now so I’m ending it here:

Q: is there anything else you want to say.

I wish they would leave her alone

Q: do you want them to leave you alone?

No, I can handle it. They can do what they want, I just want them to leave her alone.

That’s it!

That’s all I got.

I didn’t get any bad vibes from Ale at all.

She seems to like him. I don’t know why everyone is so mad?

Seb also seems to like her. I’d be surprised if he doesn’t have Gemini in the big three or Venus, cause that’s exactly like me, ive got Leo Venus, cancer sun that makes me all lovey physically but in my gemini moon and merc make my head like MMmmmMmmMmM BUT DO I ACTUALLY LIKE THEM THOUGH? Haha.

Someone look up his chart for me pls.

Edit: I did just realise I didn’t even ask if it was PR. Sorry, my bad. Assess the above how you will.

That also didn’t go how I thought it would at all. I know you guys thought he was super sad and making all the wrong decisions, but he really only seemed dragged down from something else entirely. That being said I didn’t add the agency you guys warned me about but it also didn’t pop up at all. Maybe in the next one. I did make a couple of mistakes here in terms of probably not asking the right things that will make the entire situation clearer. Sorry guys when I’m in it I’m only thinking of what pops up and going where the energy leads me. 😶

Peace ✌🏼

[faustonastring]

Hi! I really adore your last headcanon, so I was wondering if you can write about how the MC could comfort the main 6? in the situations that you prefer! :)

Hi! Thank you for requesting sorry again for the confusion! Hopefully this is what you had in mind!

Request R Open!!! :^)

Mc comforting the main six!

Tw(?):

Descriptions of mental breakdowns, anxiety/panick attacks, depression, anxiety, etc,,, (based off my own experience, so may not be too accurate just read at risk!)

Asra

I’ve said it before I’ll say it again, I’ll say it a million times, trauma doesn’t go away over night. Asra will always ponder about what he did that masquerade, what happened to you at the lazaret. No matter what happens in your relationship, it’s just a reoccurring thought that won’t go away, no matter how much he tries.

As much as he tries to forget, as much as he wants to forget, those nasty memories keep sneaking up on him, toying with his mind, forcing him to go into a downward spiral of hurt and regret that he can’t escape

He always tries to hide it from you. He tried to play it off like nothings wrong, that he’s just having a bad day, which can turn into weeks, which can turn into months....and it’s not like he likes keeping things from you, it’s just everytime he tries to tell you, he’s flashed with memories of you catonic, unresponsive in the shop,,,what if that happens again? He can’t risk it, even though it won’t, he doesn’t want to risk it. He won’t

When you finally do break him, he’s shattered glass. Crying and spilling out everything that’s been bothering him for the last- god knows how long,,,the only thing you can do is to be there with him. Take him in your arms. Hold him. Tight. Tell him you’re not going anywhere, that you’re here now, and that’s all that matters, that the past is in the past, and it’s already set in stone, that you both need to look forward for the future.

When he’s calmed down enough, carry him (and if your mc can’t carry him then drag him) to bed. Wrap him up in as many blankets as you can find. Tell Faust to go cuddle with him while you make him his faveroite calming tea blend. Then cuddle in bed and talk about the future, what it has in store for the both of you. Or reminisce on the past, the good things, what you can remember or can’t, and everytime he tells you a story of something that did happen? You can feel a tug on your heart. You don’t need reassurance. You both end up falling asleep in each others arms, Faust curled up in ball laying on top of each of you. And when you wake up? Everything seems perfect

Nadia

She’s been trying to fix vesuvia for months, maybe even years now (that depends on your time line!) trying to erase it of al, of Lucios past mistakes. Fixing the flooded district, fixing the judicial system, tearing down the coliseum, getting rid of all those tacky statues it’s a lot.

She often worries that she could of done more when lucio was in charge, but an end to things, fix things, be more than a stupid trophy wife, an accessory for him to have around his stupid gold arm, these thoughts will swarm and swarm in her head, making them her new priority, causing her to overwork and exhaust herself trying to fix ‘her’ late husbands’s past mistakes .

Her motto is fake it till you make it, pushing through her inner pain, holding her head high, walking with much more pristine posture than before, working on one project then the next, leaving them all slightly unfinished because she’s much too eager to work on the next one, to fix the next one

You walk into you’re shared bedroom one afternoon, only to see her sobbing at her desk, you could tell something was wrong for a while now, you just couldnt seem to put your finger on it till now. But now that you see her crying at her desk, unaware that you have even walked in, the sounds of her sobs drumming over your footsteps as you make to her desk, and engulf her in your arms, you know exactly what happened. She doesn’t even try to pull away, if anything she pulls you closer, burying her face in your neck, clingy on to you like her life depends on it, for once she isn’t alone

The second you calm her down enough, you drag her to the bed, and the two of you just lay there as she tells you everything. You run your fingers gently through her hair, over her face, her arms, letting her know she’s not alone, let her know that she doesn’t have to do this alone, that you’re there to help her, alongside almost all of vesuvia. After she’s calm and collected, she asks you to help her fix her makeup, and the two of you make a game plan on how you want to fix vesuvia. Together

Julian

They keep him awake at night. His past mistakes. They’re like little voices that swarm in his head. Espically at night. “You could of saved them” “you should of found a cure” “you could of found a cure, if you were working hard enough” “Mc died because of you.” “ you’re not working hard enough. “Because you weren’t there” “you’ve never worked hard enough” “you could of saved them” “you will never be enough”

They don’t come as often as they used to. But when they do come, they’re enough to turn his world upside down. He wants to beleive they’re not true, but it’s hard not to beleive what you’re head is telling you, even when your heart knows it’s wrong. This (like Nadia) cause him to work harder. He has to make up for those past mistakes. He has to make that voice. That voice that’s stuck in the back of his head like a catchy song. To stop. To go away. Once and for all.

He’s been coming home late from the office every day, and going in early, you can swear he doesn’t sleep at all, but how would you know, you haven’t seen him in the last 3 days. You swore one time in the middle of the night, when you awoke from the sound of something breaking, you saw Julian hunched over a desk, wiping coffee off himself, telling you to go back to sleep, if you were to ask him about it, he’d swear you were just dreaming. But it felt a little to real to be a dream.

You awake again one night, well early morning, to be exact. To early. To the sounds of Julian wailing at his desk, calling him self names, saying he should of done better, when you tap him on his shoulder to see if he’s okay, he accidentally slaps you in the face out of shock (he thought you were a intruder at first) he pulls you into his arms, sitting you in his lap, and starts to examine your face, the only source of light being a candle that’s almost out, but when you tell him you’re fine, that you’re much more worried about him, he breaks. You shouldn’t be worried about him. He doesn’t deserve to be worried about. Now go back to bed.

But you stay put, in his lap, and he by all means isn’t going to push you off of him. So you sit there and hold him. You let him cry it out. Telling him he is worthy, and his past mistakes don’t define who he is today, “besides Ilya everyone makes mistakes, even me” when he’s done, talk about your mistakes, and how they made you into the person you are today, how everything always worked out, you’ll laugh and cry it out together, and by late sunrise, the two of you are in the kitchen munching on some toast (or anything else that you prefer). And in a way, it’s kind of bitter sweet. If asra never were to leave, and if Julian never ignored you, both being leading causes to your death, you wouldn’t be catching the end of the sun rising with your beloved.

Portia

(Portia doesn’t have any underlying lore that we know about as of now, so this one isn’t going to be as good as the other three, not that I don’t love her because she’s one of my favorites trust me I just don’t have much to go off of! So that being said, I will be basing this off of assumptions of her character being that she doesn’t have some big tragic back story like the rest of the cast (again that we know of) Sorry, I hope you understand Portia stans)

What if she’s not good enough, she’s always working, it’s as if she’s trying to prove herself, but to who? Everyone in the palace knows her, they all appreciate her, the guards, the chefs, the other servants, Nadia, hell, even the consul, and lets not forget about you of course, so what’s pushing her so hard?

To be honest, it’s hard to live a normal life when your constantly getting compared to your brother, but not by other people of course! (*looks at camera like in the office*) by herself, constantly telling herself that she needs to be up to his standards, in her own little away. She wants to be more than Julians little sister.

This want- no not want this Need comes and goes, but when it comes, it lasts for a while, until she’s burnt out under a pile of pillows and blankets, sobbing into a bowl of ice cream, or until she does something she deems worthy, like the time you and her (*enter portias upright ending here*) she wants to do that again, why can’t she do something like that again so instead she works. She works until she can’t work anymore, and it breaks your heart.

You and Nadia converse a plan, and within minutes your dragging Portia out of the palace you can have a spa day at a natural hotspring, just the two of you, and as soon as your alone, she starts to tear up. She forgot how nice it felt to be like this, alone with you, with out the stress of work, without the little comparisons ringing in her head. It feels nice. This feels nice. No not nice. Right. This feels right. Then she remembers she can do one thing that Julian can’t do: relax

She ends up telling you everything in the form of an angry rant, and you listen and let her curse out her idiot brother as much as she needs, she deserves it. When she’s done, you remind her of all the wild things the two of you did together, (I’ll leave this for you to decide :) ) reminding her that Julian has never done anything as crazy as that, and then she smiles, a real genuine smile as she remembers that she is more than julians little sister.

Muriel

It’s always the same nightmares. No matter how long it’s been, how much he’s grown, how much he loves you, and understands that you love him ‘more’ (much to his surprise) he can’t change the past, or make his PTSD magically disappear (he’s tried) he still has blood on his hands that he can’t wash off, just a little bit under his nails. Between his fingers. But you can hardly notice it. And so can he.

Sometimes when he’s having a particular bad day, he can still hear them. The screams. From the crowd. From the victim. From lucio. He wants nothing more than to drown them out, so he’ll spend hours and hours listening to your voice, it’s much prettier anyways. But on the days your at the shop, or at the market with a friend, leaving him all alone....the screams get louder

He knows he can’t keep spending every second of every day with you, he knows how unhealthy that is. But sometimes he needs you, he wants you there with him, but is he alowed to want that? But they just keep getting louder. But he doesn’t want to bother you at the palace. You have important business to attend to he understands that. But they won’t stop. But you should be home soon, just three hours and forty minutes left he can wait it out ButThey’reTooLoud help

When you get back to the hut, after whatever errand you were running. Muriel is sitting in the far corner of the hut. His knees to his chest his hands over his ears, slowly rocking himself back and forth muttering something under his breath, you have to practically tell his name to get him to acknowledge, and when he finally lifts his head up, you’re meet with glassy green eyes, tears falling down his cheek no matter how hard he tries to stop them, and you run into his arms, holding him tighter than ever before, whispering that it’s going to be okay, telling him he’s not a murder. He didn’t even need to tell you. You just knew.

You knew. You knew something was wrong and you came back early for him. You’re here in his arms, crying with him, you came back to him, you’re telling him that he’s good, and he doesn’t understand why,but then he remembers that you love him for who he is now, not because of your past, it just took him a minute to remember (or to listen to you telling him it over and over) then instead of you wiping his tears away, he’s wiping yours away. Thanking you for coming back to him. And from now on, if he ever hears the screams, he comes with you, and then they seem to slowly go away.

Lucio

He’s changed a lot he really has, he’s starting to care about people! Wow I know shocker- but with caring for people comes a big responsibility. Guilt. He’s felt guilt before, he’s not a complete sociopath just in very small portions. Very. Small. Portions.

He’s starting to feel bad for what he did, he starting to feel bad for all the people He. Killed. Not on purpose of course....but they’re still dead....and them there’s you....oh god what has he done. Whathashedonewhathashedonewhathashwdonewhathashedone- he doesn’t want to think about it. He tries not to. I mean who would want to think of dead people amiright? But he still does. And everytime he does it hurts a little more. He hates it.

It’s starting to keep him up at night too. All he wants to do is cuddle with you and his babies (his dogs-of course) but he can’t even bring himself to do that so he just lays there. Staring at the ceiling. Or at the portrait of the two of you, a new replacement of his old one. It reminds him of when he had the plague. He hates it even more now

He hasn’t been acting like himself lately, and when you catch him dissociating in a random hallway, staring off into outer space, then you know something is wrong. The minute you snap him out of it. When you ask him if he’s okay. He breaks down crying. No matter where he is, or who’s in the hallway with him. So you just stand there and hold him. You tell him it’s okay and what he’s feeling is normal. But His chest hurts. He feels like he can’t breathe. Like when he had the plague. God he hates this feeling so much

You eventually calm him down enough to take him to his room, when you get there, there is already water, and a damp towel that you put on his forehead. He’s practicing his breathing, trying to calm down as you gently coach him through it, he’s holding on to you’re free hand tight. Grounding himself. Enjoying your presence. “This is normal right? Normal people feel this kind of stuff?” “Yes lucio, it’s called guilt. Or in your case a panick attack” “ oh. Well I hate it and I hope I never have to feel ~guilt~ or whatever it’s called again.” But he does. But with your presence next to his. Comforting him. It gets better. Slowly. But surely.

Hi! Thanks for reading! Hopefully that wasn’t to dark for anyone, I was just having a bad night so it was good to be able to put all my negativity out onto something!

Next headcanon: main six with a mc who’s eyes change according to the sky (5/11)

Request are open! :>)

[achubbydumpling]

Alright, I just finished Destroyer (2018) and a bottle of wine and I have some thoughts about this movie and lots of thots about Chris. Why am I writing this? Why not! I love reading other people's opinions, so here are mine.

Let's get into it!

(if you just want ~800 words of chubby kink brain rot skip to the +++ under the cut)

Thoughts and semi-serious movie review

(I don't know nothing about movies, so this is very subjective, but I'd love to hear your opinions, if you disagree with anything or just have something to add)

First, I went into this film completely blind. I had no idea what this film was about, I only knew that Seb was in it.

It starts off promising. Alcoholic detective who knows more than she lets on, an unidentified body and an old antagonist from our detectives past reappears. Plot is being set up, we get to know Erin, the story advances at a good pace and then 15 minutes in everything grinds to a halt.

The movie is very good at building tension, but has trouble reaching satisfying conclusions. Almost every scene just fizzles out into an anticlimactic or abrupt end. The characters seem static, with no real development apart from a few pieces sprinkles throughout, which makes emotional scenes feel unearned.

The movie drags on through it's 2h runtime. By the end I was honestly wishing for Erin to just die already, which probably wasn’t the intention with this character-driven film. We’re told that she is consumed by anger, but to me she just seemed bored most of the time. Like she was trudging from plot point to plot point.

Most of the characters in this movie felt like less than side characters, even Chris, who’s death is the inciting incident for Erin wanting to get revenge on Silas. Arturo was the only other character that stood out to me, but he only really got to shine in the Russian Roulette scene.

The flashback scene at the end was probably the best part of the movie. Not just because we finally got to see Chris for a bit longer, but because Erin finally has someone to play off of and even though she still seems quite stiff in her acting, this is in my opinion her best performance in the movie. 2/5 stars

"omg Sebastian Stan is so hot in this movie"-review

And now let's talk about Seb's look in this movie, because damn does he look good. Stuff I liked in no particular order:

the beard in the flash backs

the shaved head in the less far back flash backs

smoking. doing drugs! cocaine!!

rings

fake dating?? yes please (giving me ideas)

Seb's fucking silent movie acting, hmm jaw clenching and intense staring (his line delivery wasn't the best in this, but it might've been the phrasing)

"Nice ass." "It's all yours."

the grey sweater

rings

Chris' body language being all loose and open, going with where Erin pulls him, draped all over her back, arm around her waist

hnng Erin pulling down the big sweater and showing of his chest-shoulder-collarbone

+++ (weight gain, belly kink and more feedist nonsense from here on out) +++

that shirt is pretty big on him though, isn't it?

and his jeans are way too loose as well, "Nice ass"?, yeah, it'll be real nice with about fifty more pounds on him, when those jeans look painted on

he could maybe hide his double chin under the beard, but his love handles would be peeking out under the hem of that grey sweater, his belly creasing his waist band where it hangs over it, his lower belly hanging out as soon as he moves his arms and he constantly has to pull his shirt down, otherwise it works its way up until the entire spare tire around his hips is on display

idk if everyone is just short, but Seb looks so tall in this movie, imagine he's so tall that he starts out at 230lbs looking jacked, all brawn, functional strength, low insertion muscles, all stretched out, y'know?

and then he packs on weight, still working, still moving, but putting half the time he used to spend exercises, into eating, he eats what you put in front of him and then some

it's not like it's a burden, eating until he's full and then pushing himself a bit further, but your encouragement and the obvious lust on your face whenever you watch him eat, is an added bonus

when Erin suggests he steal the money with her, he refuses, he's got you and you'd never ask him to risk his life on the off-chance that you might be able to pull this off, so he gets out, back to being an FBI agent, back to you, and finally back to eating what he wants

ohhh he'd thought when you first explained to him how you liked bigger guys that he'd be doing this just for you, settling down, putting on a few pounds, it was probably inevitable anyway, but once you started, once he actually gained weight, he liked it, he really liked it

Chris caught himself sneaking his hand under his sweater to play with the tiny bit of fat that was starting to hang over his waistband

he'd always been confident, but feeling heavier made him feel more powerful, instead of rushing everywhere he took his time, long, unbroken strides, nothing could shake him

he was an excellent fighter, not easily swayed, but they take him out of the field when he gains more weight, he gets out, gets a job as private security instead and keeps gaining

300lbs and he's finally getting a real belly, but you could still see some muscles moving under his ribs when you trailed your fingers over them, he's tall, so all the weight has lots of places to settle

350lbs and his legs are straining aganist his jeans, the fabric between his legs thinning from the constant friction, looking at him you'd guess he was 250lbs, maybe 280lbs

but you didn't care too much about him looking smaller than he was, because when he got on top of you and let you feel all the weight you'd put on him, how heavy he was and you were just struggling to catch your breath with 350lbs of absolute beef cake on top of you, you couldn't really form a single coherent thought

it didn't take long for him to reach 400lbs, and you were all over it, you kept him pinned to the couch by the weight of his stuffed belly every night, riding one of his thick thighs until he'd finally digested just enough, that he could think about anything besides the dull ache in his stomach, you could see his eyes lose some of that hazy fog, his body going from boneless exhaustion to pressing his thigh up into you, matching your rhythm

as much as you loved Chris weighing you down, you had learned the positive sides of being on top of him over the last 50lbs he's gained, he was an impressive man, quietly commanding every room he was in, but you could make him fall apart, come undone beneath you and make him give up all this control

he didn't just do it for you, when you saw his eyes flutter shut and his jaw work to deal with all those overwhelming sensations, you could see him get lost in it, going elsewhere and yet giving himself up even more completely to you

he'd beg for you to touch him, to fuck him, to "please make me come, baby", even though he could easily take all that he wanted from you, he only ever asked for it and how happily you gave it all to him

lotsa text, but he's just too hot in this movie, like you can just imagine undressing him and finding a nice little belly under all those baggy clothes

[acephysicskarkat]

Redemption, Forgiveness and She-Ra S5

So just to spite the anon who told me to stop posting my opinions, I’m gonna post another opinion!

This will contain spoilers for SPOP, Avatar: the Last Airbender, The Good Place, and Steven Universe.

So the most common take that I’ve heard about S5 from Catra stans is that it’s a story about redemption and forgiveness and that if I’m in any way critical of it then I’m saying abusers can never redeem themselves.

To which I say: the second part is a strawman argument, and the first part doesn’t help because it’s a bad story about redemption and forgiveness.

Part 1: Redemption

The problem with S5′s stories about redemption is that they are, universally, undercooked.  For things that the fanbase had been wanting for months, they’re surprisingly lacking in meaningful impact.

Catra’s is the least bad, because Catra is at least on-screen long enough to tell us that it seems to be sticking, but it’s still not good.  It’s rushed, it’s weightless, and it feels like they didn’t even check what she’d done in the past three seasons that she would need to find redemption for.

At no point does she meaningfully confront her actions (which, in case you’ve forgotten, ranged from bringing about the death of Queen Angella (S3E6), to repeated attempts to murder or permanently harm Adora (S1E11, S1E13, S2E5, S3E4-6, S4E3), to bullying Scorpia (present throughout but most obvious in S4E6), to taking part in a war crime (S4E8)), nor does she really confront the jealousy and spite that drove them.  Indeed, the episodes that could have been spent showing us her character development are spent showing us that she still has a very unhealthy attitude towards Adora (S5E6) and telling us that she underwent her character development offscreen, while we were distracted by Double Trouble (S5E8).

Hordak’s is even worse, because Catra at least admits she wronged people, even if the focus is put almost entirely on Catra feeling bad about it.  Hordak realises, accurately, that being made into a cog in a machine of conquest is bad (S5E13)...but he never makes the leap onscreen to it still being bad when he did it to other people, as he did to Adora and the other Horde kids (S2E7).  It treats Hordak’s decision to break free of Horde Prime as if it in and of itself makes him good, overlooking that the life he’s trying to go back to was the one where he ruled over an empire of stolen children.

I don’t even want to get into Shadow Weaver.

AtLA gave a compelling redemption arc to Zuko by having him confront the consequences of his actions.  SU gave a compelling redemption arc to Peridot by showing us, in great detail, her evolution from antagonist to ally.  SPOP just kinda tells us that characters are good now and expects that to work out okay.

And the really depressing thing is that both these characters actually could have sustained really compelling redemption arcs!  I would have loved to see Hordak meaningfully realise onscreen that the universe does not consist of him, Horde Prime, Imp, Entrapta, and a bunch of largely interchangeable pawns for him to treat as he sees fit.  I would have loved to see Catra wrestle with and overcome her resentment of Adora, maybe come to understand that being Shadow Weaver’s favourite fucking sucked actually.  The show just didn’t bother, and so what we got was on par with a bad fanfic or the backstory for a D&D character.

Part 2: Forgiveness

For my money, one of the best stories about forgiveness in modern media is in a third season episode of The Good Place called “A Fractured Inheritance”.

Explaining it with as few spoilers as possible, protagonist Eleanor Shellstrop discovers that her cartoonishly neglectful mother Donna faked her death and seems to have built a new life where she’s a good stepmother to a child.  Eleanor spends most of the episode convinced that her mother is running a scam, but eventually concludes that this does appear to be sticking and gives up her plan to reveal Donna’s secret, cautioning her not to go back to how she used to be.  At the end, she opens up to a friend about the trauma she sustained as a result of her upbringing.

SPOP could never.

"A Fractured Inheritance” tells a more compelling story about forgiveness in 15 minutes of screentime than she-Ra S5 managed in four and a half hours because The Good Place cares about Eleanor’s trauma.  It’s portrayed as pretty understandable that she has a grudge against her mother, and working through that takes time and sustained proof that Donna has changed.  More than that, forgiveness isn’t portrayed as a magical button that instantly solves Eleanor’s issues; just because she’s letting go of her anger towards Donna doesn’t mean that the harm she suffered as a result of Donna’s neglect goes away.  Her fear of opening up or being vulnerable, stemming from a childhood of constantly being shat on when she did, is still there, even after reconciling with her mother.

Contrast this to She-Ra S5.  The second Catra says she’s sorry, Adora is willing to forgive her and go across the universe to help her (S5E3), even though in their last interaction, back in S4E3, Adora actively tried to kill her for pretty darn compelling reasons (you may remember those reasons from S3E4-6).  Adora gets, like, a brief rant in S5E4 where she seems to be confused about this, but there’s never a point where she meaningfully seems to process the trauma she’s suffered as a result of Catra’s treatment of her, which we know has been toxic, controlling and unhealthy since they were kids (S5E3).

More than that, there’s never really a point where any of the people Catra victimised in the first four seasons gets to deal with that.  Glimmer seemingly never realises that Catra is why her mother is dead (S3E6), which is especially jarring given that the effects of Angella’s death on Glimmer drove the entire previous season; Entrapta barely remembers that Catra betrayed her and sent her to her presumed death (S5E6); Bow thinks someone who’s done nothing but attempt to hurt his friends for as long as he’s known her is adorable (S5E8); Scorpia forgives her before she even finishes saying sorry (S5E13); and both Frosta decking her in S5E9 and Perfuma’s understandable irritation with the woman who bullied her GF in S5E10 are portrayed almost as jokes, the latter never escalating beyond mild rudeness.

This also extends to Hordak, who, after his tissue-thin face turn in S5E13, gets a baffling montage that tries to portray his picking up an abandoned child and indifferently turning her over to an abusive sorceress (S2E7) as somehow heartwarming and a big bonding moment, and then the notion that Mermista might have some grudges against the guy who burned down her home and displaced her people (S5E7-8) is framed as comic.

I’m not even saying that neither of these characters should never be forgiven by anyone!  Just that the forgiveness they get in the show is lacking in dramatic weight, because the actions that are being forgiven don’t feel like they mean anything.  Catra has hurt Adora, Glimmer, Entrapta, Scorpia, Mermista and countless unnamed innocents, and it’s all treated like it has the same impact as borrowing Adora’s Xena DVDs and forgetting to give them back.  Hordak should be considered Etheria’s greatest monster given the number of people who’ve died as a result of his actions and maybe one person is slightly irritated at the prospect of having to send him a Christmas card this year.

(This is without getting into the fact that Glimmer and Entrapta are expected to deal with the consequences of their actions to some degree, with each getting an episode focused around that (S2E2, S2E4).  It’s kind of wild that Glimmer nearly destroying the world because she took a reckless risk in a desperate gamble to try and save the people she cares about from the Horde blitzkrieg, a gambit that she immediately tried to fix when she realised she’d fucked up (S4E10-13) is treated as something that causes a notable rift in her friendships, but Catra nearly destroying the world because she was just that jealous of Adora (S3E3-6) is breezed past with an “I’m sorry.”  Entrapta building the robots causes the Alliance to hold grudges; Hordak waging 25 years of warfare is [shrug] Just Horde Clone Things.)

3. Salvaging These Plot Points

Now, as I implied above, the notion that I think these characters are irredeemable is a bullshit strawman, a thought-terminating cliche that Catra stans use to dismiss criticism without processing with it.  So how would I go about it?

Catra

I would start by having Catra and Glimmer be in the same escape.  Having her attempt to sacrifice herself in S5E3 had some weird thematic issues given her previously established self-destructive streak (S2E5, most of S3).  If we have to keep the bad plot point where Adora recovers the friend who loves and cares for her and immediately goes “well, we gotta leave our friends back home to deal with a colonial invasion while we charge across the universe to save my abusive stalker ex who’s never respected my personhood or autonomy”, I’d probably look at the two biggest missed opportunities in the season: S5E6 and S5E8.

S5E6 is terrible, and should just be expunged mercilessly with fire for its baffling endorsement of the sentiment “yes i abused u but now u hate me so i’m the victim really”.  Its replacement should probably be focused around Adora genuinely processing the harm she’s sustained as a result of Catra’s treatment of her, probably deciding at the end that she’ll accept Catra’s help but is still understandably suspicious of her given the established mistrust (S1E8) and hostility (S4E3).

S5E8 is easy to fix, though; instead of it mostly being the characters bumbling around a haunted house, I’d make the setting actually do stuff for the characters’ arcs.  We already know that First One ruins can bring up memories, so I’d turn it into a reversal of S1E11 where Adora and Catra’s friendship can actually be rebuilt, probably culminating in Catra saving Adora from falling off a cliff as a symbolic rejection of the resentment she would have been struggling with throughout the episode.  This is probably where Adora starts to actually believe that Catra has become a better person.

Basically, the goal here is to show the audience that Catra is working to overcome her issues and become a better person, instead of telling us that it happened offscreen.

Hordak

The problem with Hordak’s face turn is that at no point in the show, including after we’re supposed to treat him as Good Now, does he seem to give a shit about anyone not on a list that contains maybe 4-5 names.  I’d probably put in some scenes earlier where his experiences seem to be actually changing him for the better: maybe his response to Entrapta asking him to spare Catra isn’t to commute her sentence to a suicide mission, or he feels a sudden sympathy with a captive Etherian after the fall of Salineas, as the shared feelings of loss line up, and orders their release.  Basically, the idea is to put in some groundwork so that it actually feels like he might be safe to have around, instead of him betraying his tyrannical overlord because he misses his life where he was, himself, a tyrannical overlord.

I also would not play the idea that people might be a little bit suspicious of a man with a 25-year history of ruthless oppression, colonial violence and unprovoked warmongering as a joke.  Just one of those personal quirks.

4. Summary

In conclusion:

S5 is a bad story about redemption because it doesn’t give the characters being redeemed engaging or compelling redemption arcs, favouring a blind rush to the ending, and it’s a bad story about forgiveness because it treats the actions that are being forgiven as though they don’t mean anything, even when episodes or entire seasons have been built on the effects of those actions.  It’s not that these ideas are bad in general, that these characters axiomatically couldn’t be redeemed or that forgiveness is problematic; it’s just that the execution is bad.

Anyway, thanks, jackass anon, for inspiring me to set down my thoughts in detail like this!