#i'm sensing a common theme in my work these days...

[zeldalizzy]

Oo how about the chain with wolfie? Maybe using him as a pillow, petting the pupper? Idk

(maybe with wind)

the best pillow ever ✨ wind is cozy, and twi is too, but wars is not happy that his scarf got swiped and will now smell like dog for the next few days 😂

@bat-in-disguise thank you so much for your ask!! this popped into my head first thing when i read your ask so i hope you like it!!

i apologize that it took me so long to answer this! life has been crazy and college keeps me ridiculously busy 😅 i hope you are well!! have a wonderful day/night! 🩵

[sabrecrane]

Battling Writer's Block

Believe it or not there are people out there who believe that writer's block isn't a thing. Nope, I'm not kidding, that is what my lecturer said last year and I just want to assure anyone that may believe it doesn't exist/ or are thinking of giving up on their work, don't. It is a very real thing and is very common to experience especially if you've written so much that you've managed to burn yourself out. Also, nobody in my class liked that lecturer for the rest of the year after making that comment so if you don't believe it's real...I wish you luck is all I'm gonna say lol.

So how do you prevent this?

Well first of all, you can't, but you can decrease how likely it is to happen.

Organisation

First thing is first, get your notes and your characters down somewhere you can look at them. Organisation will help a ton. Personally I have notes scattered all over the place both physical and on a folder on my laptop. Ideas come at random so I jot them down and then always forgot to put the physical notes somewhere. This meant I got stressed because I knew I had a good idea but couldn't remember exactly what it was. I did end up finding the notes and have now bought a folder to store my papers in. But this disorganisation meant I spent a lot of time overthinking my skills as a writer which then affected my confidence and ultimately resulted in writer's block.

Create

The next thing you can do is relax and create. Plots will come in time, focus on creating -- that's the fun bit especially if you're working in the fantasy or sci-fi genre! Don't create your plots first because as soon as you create your characters you might realise those plots won't work with those characters anymore. While this may not directly contribute to writer's block it definitely could affect your confidence so if you already have a good plot idea but find your characters don't fit then store away the idea for later to use with characters that will work for it.

Also I know I only focused on the writing aspect of creation but if you want to create other things then do that, too! Draw, make models, maybe a small mistake you make might give you inspiration!

Take a walk

This is common advice I see and that is taking a walk. If you can't find the inspiration to work on your current project but want to write something, grab your laptop or notebook and just wander around in a park and focus on your senses. What can you hear? What are the conversations people are having? What can you see? Try and show it instead of telling. Is there wind, can you feel it?

Create Your Own Definition For Your Favourite Words

If you don't want to write something too complicated and can feel your motivation disappearing but want to try and regain it, search for words and show your meanings for it instead of what the official definition is. For example the word 'love', the official definition is generalised and always straight to the point but the word means different things for different people. So what is love to you?

Poetry

Adding onto the previous paragraph, maybe try poetry! Last year I was dreading my poetry module but I have actually enjoyed it so far. I never thought I would but at 3am I find myself drafting up a poem to work on the next day. I do have old notes somewhere so when I find them I'll post them here so you have a sort of visual for how some poetry forms work. My favourite type of poetry is freeverse so if you're wanting to create a story without necessarily rhyming but keeping within the poetry theme, that would be a great way to start!

Relax

Finally, read. Sit down somewhere with a cup of hot chocolate or your favourite drink and read. Take some time for yourself, your writing isn't going anywhere and either way it takes time. Writing is a skill to develop not something to rush. Rushing will result in confusion and you may miss out some minor plot points you wanted to add. Reading helps you learn so pick out pieces that you enjoy from the book and see if you can incorporate it into your own work somehow.

To all my fellow writers out there, take a breath. Everything will come to you in time.

[warping-realities]

Part of the Family

Hey guys, first of all this is the long overdue 1000 followers special and also the last story for a while. I'm warning you that it may not be to everyone's taste. There are sensitive themes in the middle and I wrote it more thinking about a horror story than anything else. I don't even need to say that I don't agree with the thoughts and ideas presented by the person responsible for everything who is a fucking psychopath who piously believes that his vision of the world is the only possible one. Anyway, I hope it's an interesting read.

Alexander couldn't believe where the hell he was at that moment. For the young New Yorker, visiting a small town in Texas was way at the bottom of his to-do list, just above getting his teeth pulled without anesthesia. But Abby insisted, and he eventually caved. They had been together for a few months, having met at college where they shared a common class in Columbia. Despite her hick name, Abilene Marrie Johnson, Abby had a sharp mind and a biting sense of humor, able to throw shade right back at his sarcastic remarks with ease, making him quickly fall for her. Not that the fact she was a hot blonde with a petite, well-proportioned body gets in the way. Even her terrible Southern accent was just a remnant of what it used to be, almost unnoticeable, though he still found himself grimacing when she let it slip. That was happening way too often since she arrived in her hometown, where her dad and brother worked in construction. How low-class was that? Not that he was about to say anything to his girlfriend, who was eager for him to meet her family. He didn’t share that anxiety; he could overlook her flaws, but being stuck with two ill-mannered troglodytes was out of the question. This was gonna be his one and only trip to this backwoods hellhole, and he was doing it just to please her—later, he’d make up excuses to avoid going through this crap again.

“A July 4th lunch in a community center… how… proletarian.” He commented condescendingly while looking for his girlfriend at the entrance of the old manor that served as the town's gathering spot. Watching the myriad of folks around him, from all sorts of races mingling just fine, surprised him since he expected a bunch of racist rednecks. What didn’t surprise him was seeing most of them wearing something with the American flag or at least some stripes and stars. Abby wanted to dress like that too, but he’d never let himself be seen with someone dressed so… tacky, to say the least. Independence Day had never been celebrated at his house; his parents were fierce liberals with anarchist tendencies, viewing the day as something hijacked by far-right conservatives who used patriotism to justify their anti-democratic antics. Not that any of them had bothered to vote in any of the recent elections. Seeing such a display of mindless patriotism made him think this day was gonna drag on forever. After a three-hour drive from Dallas to the place, he just wanted to find his girlfriend and get through this torment as fast as possible. He finally spotted her chatting with a hulking Southern dude, older than both of them, with that corn-fed hick boy look, prom king, varsity team… the whole package. He wouldn’t have given a damn if it weren't for the way she was talking to him—too damn cozy for his liking.

“Hum-hum.” He said, positioning himself next to them.

“Alexander, you made it!”

“How could I turn down your invite, even if it means hours of driving to such a… picturesque event? However, I had the impression that it would be a family event.

“May seem strange to you, city boy, but in towns like ours, community is important; everyone knows each other and has helped one another at some point, so we take every chance to be grateful to each other and to the country.”

Said the muscular blonde man who was with her, wearing a sweatshirt with the American flag on it.

“Alexander, let me introduce you; this is John Paul Sanders; he’s been my brother’s buddy for life, from school all the way to college. Now he handles the accounting for a bunch of businesses in Bushfield, including my father’s.

“So you’re the guy who finally won our Abby's heart? You’re gonna run into some pretty jealous dudes, she’s quite the heartbreaker.” The man said, extending his hand to Alexander, who, wanting to avoid looking arrogant, shook it only to feel his fingers crushed by the giant's hand.

“Guess you must be one of them.” He commented venomously while trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes.

“Oh no, quite the opposite. Abby and I are cousins by marriage; my wife Susie is the daughter of Trav’s sister, Abby’s dad. Speaking of which, I gotta run, Abilene; Huck is being a handful; the little demon broke your aunt’s favorite vase yesterday. We’ll catch up later,” he said, kissing her cheek before leaving without even glancing at Alexander.

“Interesting type; I imagine there’ll be more. And as much as he says he isn’t, I thought he seemed pretty interested in you.” He remarked as they made their way to the huge backyard.

“Babe, my house was practically a hangout for the football team; my brother’s friends basically lived there; JP and the others are like older brothers to me, and they all still see me as Tommy’s little sister; it’s natural for them to be jealous. Plus, he’s head over heels for Susie, who’s my best friend. Don’t worry about nonexistent stuff.” She said, caressing his arm.

“My dad’s probably in the back grilling, and my brother… oh, look, there he is.” Abby smiled at another blonde man emerging from a covered area full of tables where the crowd would likely feast later. Sporting a muscular, defined physique, with a five o'clock shadow and that dangerous but cute country boy vibe that certainly caught the eyes of many women, he quickly sparked disdain in Alexander. Did these types multiply by binary fission? The feeling of animosity seemed mutual, as the man’s smile vanished the moment he saw who his sister was with.

“Hey, Abbey Road! Looks like the big city hasn’t changed you one bit; I was afraid I’d find you with blue hair, unshaved armpits, and covered in piercings, with some feminist nonsense tattooed on you.” He said, hugging his sister without giving Alexander a single glance, who was taken aback by the nickname her brother used for Abby, as he imagined that a hick ogre like that would reference crap country music about driving tractors and screwing horses while drinking beer or whatever. Only to then be hit with a mix of disgust and rage at the guy's macho comments.

“Shut up, Tommy, you jerk!” Abby shot back, smiling, without really correcting her brother’s remark, then pulled Alexander by the hand and introduced him. “This is Alexander, my boyfriend.”

“Whats up, bro?” Tommy said, extending his hand to Alexander, who, reluctantly after the last experience, reciprocated the gesture only to feel his delicate hand crushed again as the giant flashed him a wicked smile before turning back to his sister.

“Can I ask what you’re wearing? Dad’s gonna flip if he sees you without a flag on; tradition is tradition, Abilene; I thought you knew that, but maybe the big city got to your head.” He said, glancing at Alexander, as if he knew exactly who to blame for that, before continuing. “I’ll call Angie to get you something from her place.” He turned and called a beautifull and very pregnant Latina woman who came smiling toward them.

“Abby! So good to see you! And you must be Alex; she’s been talking so much about you!”

“Alexander, my name is Alexander.” He replied, annoyed, since he hated any kind of nickname.

“Sorry, Abby called you that and I…”

“It’s all good, Angela, mi amor; why don’t you take Abby over to my place to change and let me and my brother-in-law get to know each other better?” Tommy interrupted, putting himself between his sister and Alexander, wrapping his giant arm around the smaller, skinnier man’s shoulders.

“Sure, I think if you guys chat, you’ll become great friends.” Abby said with a smile.

“I’m sure of it, Abbey Road; now hurry up.” Her brother replied, smiling, while his arm’s strength almost crushed Alexander. As soon as Abby and Angie left, Tommy finally released Alexander, looking at him with cold eyes.

“Speak to my wife like that again, and you’ll wish you’d never set foot in Texas… Xander.” He said threateningly.

“Believe me, that wish already exists… Thomas.”

“The name’s Tommy; I’m not some Thomas.”

“How curious, using the diminutive as a proper name.”

“I guarantee you, nothing about me is diminutive.” Tommy replied, flexing his muscular arm. “And you know what curiosity did to the cat, right?”

Ignoring the threat, Alexander continued.

“I just find the choice strange; your parents should’ve done the opposite and left Abby’s name in the diminutive. Where the hell did they come up with Abilene?”

“It was the name of my dad’s mom, so you better watch your mouth, kid. Actually, I think it’s about time you and my dad had a chat; come with me, city boy.” And he turned toward where he had come from. Not knowing what else to do, Alexander followed him.

“You know, Abby’s always had a weird taste in guys; all the guys on the football team from my time and hers would’ve done anything to date her, but she always preferred… well… people like you.”

The audacity of that hick!

“As far as I know, I’m her first boyfriend.”

“Yeah, exactly.” The other man replied with a mocking grin before pointing to a huge, gray-haired man working the grill, wearing only shorts and an apron with the ever-present American flag.

“Dad’s over there; good luck with that, city boy; you’re gonna need it.”

Tommy said, widening his grin and walking away, leaving Alexander to head over to his father-in-law by himself. Travis Johnson, a self-made man in the construction business, started as a laborer before opening his own company, a pillar of the Bushfield community, Abby’s dad, and apparently not too pleased with the figure approaching him, though he forced a stiff smile for the sake of his daughter when he saw Alexander coming.

“Good morning, son; you must be Alex; Abby’s been talking a lot about you.” He said, taking a long swig of beer.

“Same about you, Travis.” Alexander replied, not correcting his father-in-law on the nickname; he knew he was dealing with a man who wouldn’t take kindly to being corrected.

“Mr. Johnson, son; call me Mr. Johnson; calling me by my first name is an acquired privilege.” The man replied.

“Of course, Mr. Johnson; then I ask that you call me by my correct name; I’m Alexander, not Alex.” Since the old man was gonna act that way, he saw no reason to try to please him anymore; it seemed any chance for a good relationship with his girlfriend’s family was shot, and he wondered once more why he was such an idiot to come to this place.

“Of course, Alexander. We have a lot to talk about, but before that, you want a beer? The meat should take a while, and by tradition, women and kids eat first around here.”

“Thanks, Mr. Johnson, but I’ll pass; I don’t drink anything alcoholic, and my diet is vegetarian.”

“Vegetarian? I see… But the beer is all craft, made right here; The Dubois Widow brews it on the family farm.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on that too, sir.” He said, thinking about contamination and the filth of the pigsty where the old lady probably brewed that horse piss.

“Fine, and I fear we’ll have to move on to more serious matters without anything to grease the wheels.” The father-in-law replied with a voice that was undeniably hostile.

…..

Watching the altercation from a distance was Tommy, sitting at a table with Diego Ramirez, his best friend, snickering at Alexander's pained expression.

“The kid’s shitting himself.”

“Poor city boy. Tommy, that boy wasn’t made for this; I don’t know what got into Abby’s head bringing a city slicker here.”

“Abilene’s always had strange tastes.”

“Hey, asshole, do I need to remind you I was her date to the prom?”

“Only because you were one of my best friends and she knew all her friends would be jealous seeing her with the most eligible bachelor in town.”

“Only because you and our other golden boy, JP, were off at college.”

“Still, it was that night that you and Betty hit it off, and Austin was born; you should thank me for making you take Abby to the prom.”

“Abby herself didn’t seem that grateful; thank God she went to college right after. Which makes me think, a pretty woman like your sister dating for the first time only in her junior year of college is a bit strange.”

“I told you, Abby’s always had strange tastes, as you can see.”

“Dude, your dad’s about to grill the yankee for the barbecue.”

“Would be a better use for him, but the kid’s so skinny he wouldn’t even make a decent serving.” They both burst into laughter, stopping only when a small, dark-haired boy about three years old came running toward them.

“Hey, big boy, come give your uncle Tommy a hug.”

“Austin, come here! Let me see that arm! One more minute and you’ll be bigger than me!”

“I can’t wait to put the kid in pop warner, but there are still two years to go; at least now he has Huck to play with, and Angela’s about to pop with the twins. You’re in for some rough nights, bro; if one’s already a handful, imagine two boys, especially if they inherit my sister’s temperament.”

“Don’t even get me started; if I didn’t love that woman so much… but that’s the burden of a man: providing for the family and understanding when the wife is going through tough times before she gets back to running the household. Speaking of which, how’s Betty’s situation with her mom? The Dubois widow is a tough nut to crack.”

“Imagine being her son-in-law, man. She won’t hear of selling the ranch, but since my father-in-law passed, things have been rough; the cattle and horses need care and Charlene’s not cut out for it, especially with the brewery to run, and Betty’s got our house and Austin… I try to lend a hand, but working as your dad’s foreman, it’s no cakewalk.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve found a way to help.”

“You have the bussiness to help manage, a coaching gig at the school, and a pregnant wife with twins, Tommy; a wife who, by the way, is my sister and would kill me if I overloaded you with my problems.”

“Angela knows you’re like a brother to me, especially after we lost Mateo.”

“I know, bro, but think about it; she’s pregnant with twins, two boys; imagine the tension in her head remembering seeing me and him running around the house or playing ball with you and the guys and thinking that suddenly one of them could be taken from her?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Diego; but you know, I think the conversation got way too heavy for a day of festivities. Austin, your uncle Tommy needs a favor; go find uncle Hunter, uncle J.P and Huck for me.” He said, setting the little guy down before looking at his dad.

“Let’s have some fun.”

….

“What I want to say is exactly what I asked: what are your intentions with my daughter? Abilene may be in New York now, but she’s a country girl, wants to be a vet, and you, with all due respect, kid, you don’t belong here.”

“With all due respect, sir, I think it’s way too early for us to be talking about that, but when and if the time comes, we’ll figure it out.” Figure out way to stay far away from here, he thought without saying it out loud.

“You’re not getting it, kid; maybe in the big city things are different, but here we do things the right way. You came to my house with my daughter claiming to be her boyfriend without asking for my permission first, and you have the gall to say you have no plans for a future with her? No marriage or kids…”

“Oh, as for that, you can rest easy; I don’t plan on having kids.”

“Kid, what do you think you’re doing here? What were you expecting to get?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same… wow.”

He started to respond before being knocked over onto a table by two three-year-olds, with a good amount of cold sauce spilling onto his clothes and hair.

“Little brats! And you ask me why I don’t want to have kids… if I catch those little pests…” Alexander said angrily, getting back up.

“What’s going on here?” asked the biggest cop Alexander had ever seen, a gigantic black man about the same age as his brother-in-law. “Any trouble here, Travis?” He continued, his face serious, though with traces of a teasing grin on his full lips.

“Nope, not at all, Hunter. The kid just lost his cool a bit, that’s all.”

“I think so.”

“Sorry, officer.”

“We respect the kids in this town, kid, and you were talking about my godson and Travis's great-nephew, and the other one is Travis's son’s nephew.”

Alexander looked to the side and saw one of the brats on the lap of the blond ogre who was apparently married to Abby's cousin, and was staring at him menacingly.

“Let it go, Hunter; the kid just lost his head. Speaking of Tommy, where is he?”

“I saw him just a bit ago with Diego at a table a little further up, Travis.”

“If you could take the boy over there, he’s gonna need to clean up and change clothes.”

“Sure, come with me, boy.” The giant said, grabbing Alexander by the arm and dragging him like he was one of the kids.

“Be careful with that mouth of yours, boy; J.P. is a cool guy, but Diego is hotheaded and also the dad of the other of those boys you recklessly threatened.”

Alexander, dazed by the events and indignant about how he was being treated, but also fearing for his own safety, said nothing, allowing himself to be led by in diection of another giant, this one a Latino of the same age as the others. What the hell was in the water in this damn town that created monsters like that? He had no doubt that one day those little brats who knocked him over would grow up to be just as big as their progenitors.

“Hey, Diego, bro. Where’s Tommy? Abby’s boyfriend is looking for him.”

At that moment, the other man was chugging a beer from a pint that looked more like a jug that even one of his giant mitts couldn’t hold on to alone. He finished taking a huge gulp and passed the jug to the side before grabbing his own cup, letting out a loud burp, and bursting into laughter. How could Abby stand living with those kinds of people?

“Oops.” He said, wiping his mouth with his hands. “Tommy went to meet Angie and Abby to find out what’s taking them so long. If you want, I can walk you over there, man.”

“No, thanks; I think I’ll find my way on my own.” Alexander replied, making a disgusted face, finally breaking free from the cop and heading toward the front of the community center before anyone could stop him. He walked quickly, determined to find Abby and tell her he was leaving that place right then and there, and after that, they’d deal with it when she got back to New York for their senior year.

He only stopped walking when he saw his brother-in-law strutting down the street like he owned it, with an air of superiority and arrogance that, if Alexander had the slightest bit of self-awareness, he would’ve recognized as the same vibe he himself typically radiated when not caught in such an embarrassing situation.

“Hey, bro. The guys told me you were looking for me; looks like you’re in need of a little help.”

“I just want to find Abby.”

“Sure, she’s at my place with Angie; let’s head over there, clean up a bit, and I’ll lend you some clothes.”

“I can grab a clean outfit from my car.”

“Nonsense; I must have some clothes from when I was younger that should fit you; that way, we avoid ruining any more of your expensive threads if another accident happens.”

Not wanting to admit he was planning to bail on this place as soon as possible, Alexander opted to follow his brother-in-law to his house. Arriving at the place, a big and cozy house, Tommy asked Alexander to strip down to his underwear.

“Angie will kill me if I mess up her floor, man. Women, you know how they are, especially with pregnancy hormones…Wait here while I grab the clothes, and then you can take a shower.”

“Where’s Abby?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention; she and Angie went to the house next door; Sara, Hunter’s wife, who you met a bit ago, is about to pop; she’s a couple of months ahead of Angie and couldn’t make it to the party today. But I assure you, Abby will be back soon.” He said, handing Alexander a towel. “Dry off with this while I get the clothes; once you’re clean, you can sit in one of the chairs.”

Alexander did as he was told and, feeling surreal, sat there in his underwear while waiting for his brother-in-law to return. After a few minutes, Tommy came back with a change of clothes, which he placed on the coffee table while heading for the kitchen.

“Take a look and tell me what you think.” He said while heading toward the kitchen and coming back with two cups of beer. “So, what do you think?”

“There’s no way I can wear this, man; it’s way too big for me, and I don’t wear tank tops.” Alexander said, holding up a tank that looked more like a sheet, along with a pair of shorts that would easily fit two of his legs in one of the leg holes.

“Why don’t you take a sip of beer, Xander?”

“I already told you my name…”

“We don’t poison our drinks; feel free to drink.” Tommy cut in, then took a sip from the cup he prepared for Alexander before bursting into laughter at seeing his brother-in-law automatically lift the cup to his lips and take a swig for the first time in years. The beer was cold and tasted just like he remembered from the few times he’d had it before.

“Good on ya, Xander. Isn’t it way better this way, acting respectful toward your hosts?”

Alexander was shocked at himself; why the hell did he do that?

“What… what?”

“Hush, boy. You’re about to listen; oh, how I love this part! You have no idea where you’ve gotten yourself into, city boy. You know, I made a promise to my mom a little before she passed; I’d do everything to protect Abby, and I’ve kept that promise ever since in ways you couldn’t even imagine. The things I’ve had to do…But why don’t you let me show you?” Tommy said, and suddenly Alexander found himself in another place, walking alongside Tommy wearing clothes he’d never be caught dead in: ragged shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops, pretty much the same thing Tommy was wearing. Up ahead, walking down the same alley they’d just taken to get to Tommy’s house, was a younger version of himself, all sweaty, shirtless, in shorts and running shoes.

“That’s me on summer break before my senior year in college in Knoxville; I got in on a football scholarship, but I didn’t qualify for the NFL mainly because of what happened a few months before this day you’re seeing. My best friend from school, Mateo, had just died in an accident, and that hit me hard. I couldn’t accept the injustice of the world; first, my mom’s illness, then a stupid accident; it felt like life was just out to punish me. But on that same day, life handed me an unimaginable gift.” He spoke as they approached the backyard of the same house they had just been at. Sitting out front on a bench was a figure that stood out from the rest of the place. An effeminate kid with long blonde hair wearing a feminine outfit—maybe a trans woman? Alexander tried to formulate a question only to realize he was completely unable to speak.

“Hmmm…”

“Let me handle this, Xander. That’s Dylan, one of those weird kids who don’t really know what they are; a rarity around here; you won’t find any of them in town today. I didn’t dislike him; he was polite and considerate, in his last year of school, and undoubtedly eager to leave a place like Bushfield behind once he graduated. Strangely, he and Abby formed a friendship even though she was three years younger than him, and if I could say anything in his favor, it’s that he treated my sister like she was his own. So understand, what you’re about to see was born from frustration and mourning; before this, I might have made a joke or two about the kid, but generally, we treated each other with a modicum of respect. But seeing him there, a dude who refused to be what nature intended, someone who was giving up his masculinity while Mateo, a real man, a warrior, my brother, had left this world, that awakened something in me—an incandescent rage. But not just that; look.”

“What are you doing standing there, fag? We don’t want someone like you dirtying our home and our image.” The younger Tommy said.

“Tommy, come on, that’s not how you…”

“Shut up, you little shit, you fake woman; how can it be that God takes the men and leaves something broken like you…”

“Tommy, that’s enough; you’re not gonna talk to me like that; I get that losing Mateo hit you hard…”

“Don’t you dare say his name with that filthy mouth, you queer… I wish you were like him so I could beat you up and not feel like I’m hitting a woman.”

And then it happened; for a moment, it seemed like Dylan was going to burst into tears, and then, in the blink of an eye, where he had been, was now an older man just past twenty, clearly of Latin descent, with well-defined muscles, a bit dazed for a moment.

“Mateo?” the younger Tommy asked.

“Hey, I miss him too, bro, but you’re talking to the other twin.” He said with a smile. Then the illusion shattered, and Alexander found himself back in Tommy’s living room, unable to move or speak, just thinking about the impossible thing he’d just witnessed.

“And that’s how Diego came into my life; what a surprise it was to find out that to the rest of the world, he’d always been Mateo’s identical twin, and any mention of Dylan raised eyebrows and brought laughter; there’d never been one of those in Bushfield. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what happened, without getting any answers. It wasn’t until over a year later, when I was back in town working as an assistant coach at the high school, that the situation recurred. Abby was starting her junior year and got involved with a troubled kid; Hugo Lafévre had transferred from New Orleans and was the worst kind of troublemaker; he organized protests and rallies against everything I’d been taught to value; he was pro-abortion, anti-gun, and railed against what he calls police violence. He had zero respect for authority figures. I had to do something.”

Again, Alexander found himself in a scene against his will. This time, he was wearing a coach’s uniform, just like Tommy was now, as well as a younger version of he, talking to a young black kid who looked at him with a mocking gaze.

“I have no idea what my sister sees in you; you’re insubordinate and disrespectful.”

“You’re just scared of losing control; for people like you, it’s all about control.”

“Without control, our society falls apart.”

“And what’s the problem with that? It’s about time to dismantle the society you’ve built.”

“Then I think it’s about time you man up, kid.”

“We have very different definitions of what it means to be a man… coach.” The kid replied before breaking into laughter, not realizing the fury building in the older man, who seemed ready to pounce on him, but amid the laughter, the boy seemed to get scared, and puff; suddenly, the giant black man Alexander had met earlier stood before the two, resuming the laughter and speaking.

“… that’s style and lets my abs breathe, and you’re really gonna say anything against a cop, bro? Especially when you need my help to train these little troublemakers; I would’ve been a professional edge rusher if I hadn’t chosen to be a cop.”

“In your dreams, bro…” the younger Tommy replied, still dazed before the image dissolved again.

“It was the transformation of that little shit Hugo into my bro Hunter that made me realize what happened to Dylan wasn’t just a coincidence; I decided I was gonna explore these skills of mine. Slowly, I started hunting down the worst types in town, the punks, the deviants, and the insurgents, and turned them, one by one, into productive members of society. Abby, for her part, finished high school without getting involved with any other undesirable types. But then came her time to go to college; she could’ve gone to Austin or Knoxville, but no, she had to go to the Ivy League, Columbia! What a dumb idea, but my dad agreed, and I wouldn’t dare challenge him. Everything went well for a while, until her first summer break. She showed up here with some older, fat, scruffy dude, who smelled like weed, a wannabe poet who wanted people to call him Sartre; I didn’t even bother to find out his real name; it didn’t matter.

A new vision, quicker than the last. He and Tommy, dressed in Levi's jeans, flannel shirts, and cowboy boots, watched a Tommy dressed exactly like them, who in turn was watching the man Tommy had described, clearly high, turning into the well-groomed blonde guy Alexander met that morning.

“And that’s how J.P. came to be, John Paul, get it? Bet you thought I was some dumb redneck, didn’t you? By then, I didn’t even need to think much to get what I wanted, and I always made sure to keep Abby’s boyfriends close to me because my sister has a knack for finding the most annoying types who end up becoming my best projects. Now you… with you, she outdid herself… with you, I’m gonna have a blast.” He said with a sinister grin on his face. “You can speak now; the last words of a dying man, or did the cat get your tongue?”

For a moment, it really seemed like Alexander was going to say something, but what came out of his mouth wasn’t words; a slimy piece of flesh he couldn’t tell if it was his tongue or something else pushed its way through his lips, prying his teeth apart in an unnatural way and slithering across his face like a giant worm. Soon after, he felt his abdomen contracting with insane intensity, while his face contorted and his skin burned and bubbled in a transformation much slower and more painful than those he had witnessed; not that he had time to think about that amidst all the agony. As the environment around him seemed to darken, only illuminated by the source of heat he had become. Then the pain in his abdomen became unbearable, and while he squeezed it, desperately seeking some relief, it felt like his hands were sinking and merging into the muscular fabric that had just moments ago seemed so solid. But it wasn’t just his abdomen; his arms and legs grew and bulged as he threw himself forward, trying to puke, only to feel his mouth stretch unnaturally wide, while his expanded body was drenched in sweat that seemed to evaporate instantly, only to be replaced by another torrent. Just like the pain began, it stopped, only to start again within his head; it felt like his brain was melting, thoughts, ideas, his very identity turning to mush. He didn’t even notice he now had well-defined abs and toned arms and legs or that his hair had gone from red to a dark brown almost black, while it was drenched in sweat. His physique was nowhere near the monstrosity that was Tommy and his minions. But that was about to change; as his mind emptied of any memory or sense of reality and he threw himself back, leaning against the chair, his arms grew to monstrous proportions, his abdomen became a brick wall, and his chest swelled, while a beard sprouted on him, and finally his thighs ballooned like cords of pure steel, and his calves achieved the angular form of someone used to pushing them through strenuous workouts, while his feet grew absurdly large, emitting a powerful funk that could only be rivaled by that coming from his armpits.

“Almost there, Zander, bro, almost there.”

Upon hearing that name, his head exploded with images, color, and sound, with memory after memory flooding into his mind in such rapid succession that if any trace of Alexander had remained, it would have been instantly suppressed. Then, much faster and more painlessly than when it began, it ended. Throwing himself back, the brute that had replaced Alexander was panting, grinning stupidly, staring blankly at nothing.

“Zander, man, you good? Why don’t you take a sip of beer to cool off?” Tommy asked with a seemingly concerned tone as the light returned to the environment, and the brute in front of him seemed to shrink a bit in size while the sweat that was pouring down his body became just a sheen on his bronzed skin, as he automatically lifted the cup of beer to his lips.

“Ahhhh, I really needed that, Tommy, bro. That was a rough night.” The man said with a grin.

“I can imagine from the screams of the chick you had in my guest room. And from your smell, you reek, bro.”

“Hey, the ranch was way out, and you know how my mom is. Plus, you gave me the key to your house and told me I could use it in case of emergency. Damn, I really stink.” He said, scratching his balls over the old, worn-out underwear he was wearing, lifting his hands to his nose and sniffing them before bursting out laughing.

“Man, an emergency isn’t banging every skank in town in my guest room; you’re lucky my dad didn’t say anything.”

“Uncle Trav doesn’t care about that.”

“Usually not, but it’s not a good idea to do that when his daughter’s at home.”

“Abby’s here? Fuck!”

“As if she didn’t know your habits, man. But I’d be more worried about the fact that you were supposed to be helping my dad with the barbecue and that your mom had to deliver the beer herself; if it weren’t for me and Diego helping out, I’m sure she would’ve stormed the house and dragged you out by your hair.”

“Damn, Zander Dubois, you’re a complete idiot! Man, I need a shower and some borrowed clothes!”

“And what do you think this is on the table, you moron? Don’t worry; we’re the same size.”

“And I didn’t know that? We’ve been borrowing each other’s clothes forever. So who’s the moron, college boy?”

“Get your ass in the shower already, you asshole; I’ll be waiting with a cold beer.”

Zander took a quick shower, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to wash away all the stink from the night before, but he didn’t care as much about that as he did about disappointing Travis; the man had been like a second father to him after his own dad died and helped him with the ranch’s organization while J.P. kept the bills in check. He’d never been the smartest guy, though he knew how to take care of the cattle and the horses, and had his mom’s talent as a brewer. Besides he was one hell of a hunk, of course, he thought while admiring the muscles earned from years of ranch work and playing football in school, the dream of becoming pro ruined by his father’s untimely death and the need to take on his responsibilities, not that he thought he’d have much chance of keeping a decent GPA. But that was all in the past; he had a good life, although his mom bugged him to marry and give her grandkids like Betty had already done, especially since he was the last single guy in his friends group. Worse of all he felt that call every time he played with Austin, the kid would be a hell of a player one day, maybe good enough to achieve what his uncle and dad couldn’t.

“Damn, you are a damn stud, Zander Dubois!” He gratified himself, admiring his muscles in the bathroom mirror before putting on the shorts Tommy had lent him.

“Thanks, bro!” He said walking in the living room and grabbing the cold beer cup Tommy offered him, taking a long sip, wiping his mouth with his hand, and letting out a small burp.

“Hey, Abbey Road!” Tommy waved to someone behind him, making him turn around startled. Only to find no one there.

“Asshole!” He said, punching his friend’s arm.

“You should’ve seen your face, bro!” Tommy replied, cracking up, with Zander joining in.

“That was a good one, bro.”

“Put on the shirt and let’s roll; my dad’s waiting!”

…..

“Sorry for the wait, Uncle Trav; I wasn’t feeling well.” Zander said, taking off his shirt and putting on an apron, if Travis Johnson was throwing a barbecue like this, he wouldn’t be the one to break tradition.

“How odd; you seemed pretty lively last night, Zander.” Travis said with a mischievous grin.

“I’m sorry about that; if I’d known Abby was home, I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

“Don’t worry about me, but I gotta say that ain’t gonna win you any points with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I ain't born yesterday, kid! I see the way you look at her, and all your buddies are already hitched while you’re still bouncing from bar to bar, hooking up with the first girl who crosses your path just to avoid any commitment.”

“I... I…”

“No need to say anything, son; I’d be more than happy to have you as a son-in-law; I’ve watched you grow up and I know what kind of man you are. But I gotta warn you, something tells me Abby's gonna show up here with some slick city boy who thinks he’s hot stuff just ‘cause he came from the big city.”

“Uncle Trav, it’s almost time for her to finish college and she’s gonna be a vet; there’s no better place for her to work than here, have some faith!”

“I have faith, my boy, but a father’s heart doesn’t lie.”

“In that case, you can count on me and the guys to knock some sense into any city punk who shows up around here.”

“I know that, son. Now enough chit-chat; we’ve got plenty of mouths to feed, let’s get to work!”

In the afternoon, when everyone was well-fed and the booze buzz had taken over a good chunk of the minds present, Zander found himself in the spacious field next to the center, watching kids of all ages play while keeping an eye on Austin and Houston the twelve years old son of his older sister who lived with her husband in Fort Worth so his sisters and brothers-in-law could dance a bit in the hall. And when the not so little guy scored a touchdown in the middle of the fun and ran to hug him, he couldn’t help but feel emotional.

“It’s about time you had your own.” He turned and came face to face with Diego, who was waving and smiling as he watched his own son run over to Huck and J.P., who at that moment was teaching his kid how to hold the ball properly.

“You have no idea what that feels like!”

“Was it my mom or Betty who told you to say that?” He asked, even though he felt a longing inside to be part of that world, to have a little version of himself running around, taking care of the horses, tossing the pigskin in a packed stadium on a Friday night.

“Both!” Diego replied, laughing. “But the boys care about you too, man; what are you waiting for?” He asked as Zander watched Abby play with one of her cousins’ daughters.

“Sometimes we get so focused on something that we forget to see the bigger picture, bro!” Diego continued, turning Zander towards the dance floor full of young women, some sneaking glances his way. “A guy like you ain’t gonna have any trouble finding the right woman; I’ll keep an eye on Austin and Houston; you take advantage.”

….

After dancing with several of the single ladies at the party, Zander sat down to catch his breath while watching the ebb and flow of people, lowering his glasses and checking out a very interesting girl that passed by. Until a whistle startled him.

“Zander Dubois, was that you hitting on Caroline Matthews, a girl from a good family?” Someone said, placing a beer cup on his table.

“What??? Haha, hey Hunter, bro! I'm glad your shift is finally over. And unfortunally, the time to settle down comes for everyone. I want my kids to grow up alongside yours and the other guys’, having the same life I had.”

"So our lone wolf has finally decided to join the pack, thinking about adding a Dallas or a Knox to your mother's list, bro?" Commented Tommy approaching while bringing out snacks and dips and placing them on the table. "The rest of the guys are coming, they're just going to drop the boys off with their moms. We're going to have some boys time. Caroline Matthews then? She's hot, man. But I admit I had hopes between you and Abby."

"Me too, but it's like I said, you and Hunter are going to be parents soon, Huck and Austin are already growing up, I want my kids to grow up with them. And Abby..."

“I get it, man. I just worry about her; she’s always had a strange taste in guys.”

“Your dad mentioned he’s worried she might show up with some stuck-up city slicker.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That if some snobby city boy shows up here with Abby, you, me and the guys would take care of him, country man style.” Zander replied emphatically.

“Thanks, man. I know I can always count on you!”

“Dude, we’re family. And one day, Abby’s gonna find a guy who’s just right for her; I’m sure of it.”

“I believe that too, bro. And it’s gonna be someone just like you and me!” Tommy replied with bright smile.

[aangussca]

Monkey Wrench Episode 4 Fanart: Caught in Their Game (December 2024)

I absolutely LOVED the new Monkey Wrench episode! :D

HOLY COW, @zeurelart, @neatotito and the rest of the @monkey-wrench-series team did a phenomenal job this time around (please give them some love bc they absolutely deserve it)!

So it only made sense for me to finish this drawing (the idea for which had been mulling in my mind through the months MW episode 4 was being teased), which I enjoyed creating.

(Yes, I was partially inspired by Neoni's song 'Jump Rope' bc both share the theme of games (literally and symbolically). If you have already watched MW Episode 4, feel free to give it a listen - I'm curious to hear your thoughts: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NhDON376rd4)

Below are the close-ups, as well as me rambling about the reasoning behind the symbolism here:

(SPOILER WARNING FOR MW EPISODE 4 FROM THIS POINT ON!)

Since I realised MW Episode 4 centred around the theme of games (literal and metaphorical), I couldn't not include references to games to associate with the following characters.

Shrike, Beebs, Agent K, and Kara = Arcade games

Campion Ajax = Chess

Tyneen = Video/computer games

Jawbone = Darts

Disco Head = Casino card games

Disco Head is the most self-explanatory (because ✨casino�� - those cards were SO fun to render btw):

Episode 4 confirms that DH took over the Thicc Chicc Casino after Kara assassinated the previous owner, Chester McNevins, in Episode 1. It also implies DH worked with Agent K and Kara to take over the casino by "taking care" of Chester (that's just my theory ofc).

In Episode 4, Shrike is tempted by the pixel DH gave him. In a moment of cockiness, Shrike believes that he can succeed in his gambling spree from luck alone (DH even said "Today's your lucky day!" after giving him that pixel) - to which he was completely unsuccessful.

While not explicitly referenced in this drawing, a popular casino card game is Blackjack. A common misconception regarding Blackjack is that winning the game is purely determined by the luck of the players (i.e. Shrike being overconfident about his luck). In truth, there is a lot of skill and strategy required in order to be successful at the game (i.e. DH's charming persona and ability to play into Shrike's weaknesses to make him gamble all of his and Beeb's money).

Additionally, Blackjack is a game where players compete against the dealer, not each other. In my opinion, this idea makes sense (in a roundabout way, at least) for DH, given his dealings with three of the five antagonists in this episode: Agent K, Kara and Jawbone. All three have different motives to DH's, yet they work together and are connected through him.

2. Speaking of Jawbone, I wanted to reference two kinds of darts:

The game darts (which he plays in the scene at the bar)

Poison darts (which in my mind made sense given his hatred of Shrike, as seen in the green "cataclysm-poisoned saliva" and the sticker on the dart)

3. Initially, I wanted to reference a joke about "gamer rage" with Tyneen and her competitiveness.

But when watching the episode, I did not expect video games to actually be mentioned in relation to her (with Jawbone owing her a copy of the video game 'Marrow Inheritance').

4. Ah, yes: Campion Ajax (I always disliked him from the moment he was teased and, by the end of this episode, I wanted to replace all his steaks with rocks and send him on a one-way trip to the Marina Trench for trying to hurt Beebs >:[ ).

The reason why I gave Ajax a blue chess pawn was because that's how I felt he saw Beebs:

A feeble, inferior* pawn to potentially use to fulfil his selfish goals.

(*Ajax even called Beebs "inferior" when talking about his prosthetics, which... I felt so bad for poor Beebs having to endure the torment of this guy, and I'm SO glad he stood his ground and saw through his manipulation.)

5. For some reason, the idea of an arcade game fascinated me (our protagonists feeling trapped in both their insecurities and in a much bigger game, perhaps?), especially as a way to connect the antagonists to our protagonists' stories through colours (in the cabinet designs and the arcade buttons):

Yellow = Disco Head

Green = Jawbone

Red = Tyneen

Purple = Ajax

Dark blue = Kara

Black and white = Agent K

Another colour motif I included, which you can also see in the lighting and the background, is the pairing of turquoise blue (cyan) and magenta pink - which you can see in the lighting of the final battle scene.

Yes, I did intend to give Shrike and Beebs backgrounds that are different to their usual colour motifs.

Shrike (usually associated with red) = turquoise/blue

Beebs (usually associated with blue) = magenta/purple

(I'm sure you can guess why I also drew the glass screen cracked between Shrike and Beebs... given the ending.)

On top of that, you could argue that the antagonists in Episode 4 would be great as "arcade/video game bosses" who can have their own "boss fights" or merge into one big "final boss fight" (with different stages).

Also I think Agent K is cool (and would definitely make an awesome "final boss" alongside Kara) with his design and his vibes, enough said. :]

Bonus Agent K appreciation in the form of screencaps bc I can:

[temilyrights]

simple thing, where have you gone?

alex blake x gn!reader

summary: for @storiesofsvu's holiday bingo "first snowfall" square + also inspired by this ask i recieved. alex knows you aren't sleeping and is determind to find out what's bothering you, and she's bringing out the big guns - hot cocoa.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nightmare descriptions: feeling claustrophic, being trapped. alex touches r's hair (long enough that she moves a strand from r's eye - no description of hair type/colour). kissing. no use of y/n or pronouns. hurt/comfort with a happy ending.

a/n: this was so fun to write. i think it may be my fav thing i've written. i'm changing up the photos i post because i've seen a lot of people do this format (e.g. @emilys-bangs & @catssluvr - check them out <3) and i think it looks a lot prettier and cleaner than a gif so i'm jumping on the bandwagon.

Alex balances the two trays of steaming cocoas in her hands. The aroma tickles her senses, the creamy chocolate temporarily transporting her back to her childhood, to winter evenings in front of a fireplace with her family. It’s a welcome comfort after five days in chilly Bismarck, ND. She pushes her way into the conference room the team are currently taking up residence in; multiple heads lift up, sighs leaving lips, as shoulders relax at the indulgent scent, and Alex knows she has made the correct choice in grabbing the sweet treat for everyone. 

“Is that what I think it is?” JJ sighs, hopeful and exhausted. 

“I thought we could all use a little pick-me-up, especially in this weather.” She responds as she places the heavy trays on the table. Her eyes dart around the room as eager hands begin reaching for the hot beverages. Your absence is notable, and makes her teeth dig into her lip. A common theme this week.  

“Thanks, Blake.” Morgan nods gratefully. He sips the cocoa, savouring the taste, thrown back to his own happy memories. It’s beautiful how a simple drink can have a room full of agents silently reminiscing. She catches Hotch, tenderly holding the cup, a warmth making its way up his cheeks as he takes a sip, so unlike the stoic figure he tries to hold whilst at work. 

Alex grabs the last two cups from the tray. “Where’s-”

“Out back.” Reid interrupts, worry obvious. She wasn’t the only one that had noticed your declining state. 

She retreats from the room with a smile as the team all voice their thank you’s. The cold night air is less forgiving when she steps outside a second time, biting at her skin, and causing her face to flush pink even as the hot cocoa continues to provide warmth to her hands and she buries her face in her scarf. She finds you leaning against the precinct wall, the glow of a nearby security light breaking up the night sky, highlighting you enough that she can make out your arms wrapped tightly around your body and your stare stuck on a point in the distance as she approaches. 

You look around, the bags under your eyes more obvious in the unflattering yellow light. You haven’t been sleeping, Alex knows. Has been able to hear you restlessly moving around your room late at night due to the thin hotel walls. And despite that, you are always pouring over casefiles when everyone arrives in the precinct in the morning, looking like you’ve been glued to the chair for hours, even though the clock only reads eight am. 

It’s not healthy, you’re working yourself to the bone and she can’t figure out what it is about this case that has you on such high-alert. It was brutal, three victims so far tortured and mutilated, but she’s watched you not flinch at worse.

She’s worried about you. 

“Hot cocoa.” Alex says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing her lips as she pushes the drink in your direction. 

Your eyes widen, mouth opening in surprise, “Oh.” You take the cup from her hands, eyes tracking her face for a moment before you fully accept the gift, always looking for an ulterior motive. 

You lift the drink to your nose, eyes closed as you inhale the chocolatey aroma through the mouthpiece of the lid. A hum leaves your lips, your shoulders relaxing further into the wall. A sense of peace finally settling over you for the first time this week. 

Alex finally rewards herself with a sip of her own cocoa. The hot liquid fighting off the cold air and encompassing the ball of warmth in her chest that is directly related to you. She did good. Anything that eased the now permanent furrow of your brows was a win in her books. 

“Thank you.” You sigh, eyes fluttering open. Your body rolls against the wall, leaning more towards her and creating a little pocket of space where the harsh biting air seems to dull. Her eyes move across your face, caressing every detail, wanting to hold this time while she can. 

“How are you doing?” She asks, trying to keep her voice light so you don’t get defensive, and unintentionally making it soft and intimate in the small space.

You take another sip of your drink, nodding. “I’m okay.” 

She arches her brow, she can’t help it. Her lips tilting upwards as her fingers reach out to ghost your arm. You follow the action, breath catching, and she forces her hand away, scolding herself for wanting more, always having to resist the urge to pull you closer.

She tucks her free hand into her trouser pocket, “How are you doing?” 

You blow out a breath, visible in the air. She wonders if it might snow, the air feels frosty enough. “I just wanted a breather. I was about to head back inside.” 

“A breather from what exactly?” 

You huff, eyes moving away from her and focusing on something across the street. “I mean isn’t it normal to want a little space after five days of being in each other's pockets? I love the team but it’s not like any of us have had five proper minutes alone since we got here.” 

She nods. She would agree with you if you weren’t beginning to get defensive, eyes avoiding hers and feet shifting beneath you. She tilts her head, aiming for casual, but knowing the words will hit anyway, “And this has nothing to do with the fact you’re not sleeping?” 

Your eyes snap to hers, panic obvious, before they flicker away and you bury your head back in your cup. “I don’t know what you mean,” You murmur, words threatening to be lost to the cup as you take another sip of your drink. 

She aches to reach out and stroke the hair away from your face that you are using as a shield. Instead, her fingers flex on her cup, her teeth digging into her lip. “You can talk to me.” She whispers, voice coming out like a promise, a vow. “I want to help, however I can.”

“Why?” You ask, disbelief coating your features, looking at her like she’s a puzzle you can’t solve, no matter how hard you try. 

“Because you’re hurting.” She responds honestly and swallows down the lump in her throat that tries to make itself known. 

Tears build in your eyes as you shake your head. Your eyes flicker over her face and then away again, a soft laugh escaping your mouth as your fingers tap a pattern against your cup. “Just like that?” You whisper throatily, gaze still trapped in the distance.

“Of course,” 

You swallow roughly, eyes finding their way back to hers, lost and scared. An expression she never wants to see on your face again. She doesn’t have it in her to resist again.

She sighs, stepping closer and gently brushes the hair from your eyes. They fall close, a soft breath leaving your lips as you lean into the gesture. She memorises each detail of you, committing the length of your eyelashes to memory, the lines around your mouth, the feeling of your skin beneath her touch. Her hand trails down to your arm and settles there, safe. 

Your eyes flutter open, holding her gaze as you nod gently. ”I haven’t been sleeping well.” You confess.

She waits patiently for you to continue as she notices a few white snowflakes land in your hair. 

Snow. 

“I’ve been having this recurring dream where I'm trapped in this box, and I can barely breathe. It’s—awful.” You rapidly blink away the tears in your eyes. “I’m screaming but no one comes. I’m all alone. And then I wake up and I feel claustrophobic in my own body, all these emotions bubbling up that I can’t release.” Your tears spill over and you reach up to hastily wipe away the mess with a shaking hand. “It’s stupid and selfish. There’s three dead women and I’m crying over nothing.”

“Sweetie, no.” She urges, hand tightening on your arm. “You are none of those things. Those dreams sound atrocious. No wonder you haven’t been sleeping.” 

“I’m so scared to close my eyes.” You whisper, hauntedly. 

“Then let me watch over you, and when the dream hits we can break the pattern. I’ll be there.”

You shake your head, laughing, “What? You’re gonna watch over me while I sleep—”

“Yes.” She interrupts, voice serious and weighted. She won’t let you joke this away, not when you look seconds away from collapsing. Alex would sit there the entire night if she needed to. She would watch over you and keep you safe. 

You swallow roughly, unable to hold her intense gaze, the probing eyes that not only saw you, but took action to help. Snowflakes continue to slowly fall, landing on your hair and face, and making her heart erupt with emotions. The urge to touch is amplified tenfold, the combined beauty of the snow and you almost too much to bare. She forces her hand to fall away. 

“Alex, I will be okay. You don’t need to do any of this.” 

She nods, knows that, but it will not stop her. “You need to sleep. You are destroying yourself pretending you don’t. Why wouldn’t I help when I can?” 

You sigh, frosted breath erupting into the space between you. Annoyed, frustrated, at the thought of needing anyone. “Only because I need to be able to focus on this case.” 

She smirks, eyes brightening. “For the good of the case.” She hums, catching your eye and enjoying the almost bashful expression that coats your features as you huff out a laugh and your gaze skates away again. 

You take another sip of your drink and she mirrors you. It’s beginning to lose its heat, but you don’t complain. Snowflakes continue to fall, and Alex turns towards them, lifting her head into the snowfall. The delicate flakes land on her face, cold and wet, and a smile tugs at her lips. This was the first snowfall of the year, and she could not think of a better moment for it to arrive than when you were standing next to her. 

The chattering of your teeth breaks through her basking, and she turns back around, a disapproving tut escaping her mouth when she finds you shivering on the spot in silence. “Let’s go inside before you get hypothermia.” 

“No,” You protest, hand landing on her arm to stop her moving away. “No, you love the snow. Let’s enjoy it a moment longer.” 

“Honey, you’re shivering–”

“I’m fine.” You rebut, shoulders squaring in stubbornness. And then, softer, from below your lashes, “I want to finally enjoy the snow with you.” 

She melts, putty in your hands. She can’t argue with you, your eyes should be considered a weapon the way she crumbles for them. She nods, and outstretches her hand, “Here, give me your cocoa.” 

You pass it over without objection, and Alex walks a few steps away to dispose of both cups in the bin. Long since cold and of no use to anyone now. She begins pulling off her scarf as she approaches you again, and your eyes widen. 

“Alex–”

She wraps the burgundy cashmere around your neck, bating the hands away that try to interrupt her task. Your shoulders slump, your nose burrowing into the material as a sigh leaves your lips. She smiles and ignores the biting cold now hitting her body as she fiddles with the end of the scarf, making it lay flat against your coat. 

“There,” She whispers.

You sigh, holding her gaze with a furrowed brow. She can see thoughts winding their way through your head, but you don’t voice them. Instead, you stumble forward, your arms pulling her in and wrapping tightly around her waist, eliciting a surprised “oh” from her throat as her own arms hold you close, after a second to compute. Her nose finds its way to your hair, the smell of your shampoo evading her senses and making her hold you tighter.

“Thank you.” You whisper. “For everything.” 

“You do not need to thank me.” She responds, hand stroking your hair before she pulls back to see your face, missing the sight. Your hands remain fixed to her waist, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you look at her. She tracks the movement, heart thumping in her chest. 

“I don’t want you to think your actions go unappreciated.”

She finds a strand of your hair, one not even in your eye, and stokes it out the way, a choked tut escaping her throat. It’s getting increasingly more difficult to remember herself, to draw back, especially when you look at her with soft, unguarded eyes. The snowfall is getting more intense, covering you in white snowflakes, landing on your eyelashes and melting as you blink.  

“I could never feel unappreciated by you.” She responds, voice barely louder than the wind. Too honest, too much of her heart on show, and you must see it, the way your breath catches, your hand tightening in her jacket. “I just want to do what I can to keep you safe.”

You arch a brow, “You know that’s not always gonna be possible, right?”

She nods, hand moving to cup your cheek and caress the cold skin. You lean into the gesture, your eyes falling close. She isn’t silly, she understands the risks of this job; she knows it isn’t always going to be possible. However, why does that mean she should stop trying? “I know, but sometimes it’s nice to know someone has your back.” 

Your eyes open again, blinking slowly, snowflakes interrupting your sight. “And that's all this is? Just you having my back?” You run your lip between your teeth, your tongue swiping out to moisten the chapped mess you leave behind. 

Alex tracks the movement under heavy eyes, “No,” She breathes, honestly. 

Your mouth parts, your chest rising and falling, eyes focused on her own mouth. Her thumb trails down your cheek, pausing by the corner of your mouth as her gaze finds yours again. You watch her, pupils blown, and Alex slowly pulls her thumb across your bottom lip, feeling the soft flesh, and nearly crumbling at your heaving breath. 

“Alex–” You sigh, eyes pleading for more. Her heart thumps, head hazy with desire, as she finally brings her mouth closer to yours. Your hot breath hit her lips, breaking up the cold, and melting the snowflakes that have landed near her lips. She doesn’t mean to tease you, she just can’t believe she’s here, and is set on memorising every moment of this interaction. 

You have other ideas, a frustrated whine leaving your lips, as you thrust forward and close the remaining distance. Her body hums at the first brush of your lips, needy and impatient, her stomach tingling as you pull her flush against her. She can’t think, can’t breathe, as your lips move together, the sensations perfectly overwhelming. The kisses melt into something gentle and slow, but the neediness never leaves, simmering under the surface. You both balance on the edge of something more; blood rushing through her veins, but she’s not able to forget her location. 

She pulls back, short of breath, the cold air rushing to fill in the space and making her shiver. Your lips are swollen, so kissed. The most irresistible you’ve ever been. She caresses your cheek, “You, my dear, are the person I’m falling in love with.” 

You rapidly blink away tears, “Really?” 

“Of course,” She nods, smiling. “It’s you.” 

You shake your head slightly in disbelief, “You make everything sound so simple.” 

“I think with you it could be.”

“God–” Your voice cracks, and you tug her back your lips finding hers again, frantic, hot and needy. You devour her with bruising kisses, communicating what you fear to say aloud, and Alex catches it all. I feel it too. I want you. I’m scared. Please stay. 

She pulls away, earlier than she wants to. “Honey–” She meets you in another kiss, but drags herself back again, forcibly taking a step back so she can’t fall into you again so easily. 

“Sorry, sorry–” You say between laboured breaths, shaking your head. 

“It’s not because I do not want to.” She explains, a blush rising in her cheeks, that mingles with the permanent one on her face because of the frosty air. 

“I know,” You nod, smiling bashfully. “But we should get back to the team.” 

She sighs and nods. “Yes.” 

“And out of this snow before we catch a cold.” 

She looks out at the white flakes, beginning to settle on the ground. Hopefully in a few hours she’ll be able to feel the crunch of snow under her feet. Your hand rubs up and down her jacketed arm, “When this case is over, I’ll find a place where you can properly enjoy the snow.” You promise. 

Her heart warms, gaze softening as she looks at your earnest expression. “Come on, you’re right, let’s get inside.” She places her hand on your back and pushes you back in the direction of the precinct.

You oblige, shoulders bumping together as you walk. Alex catches your eyes just before she opens the door to the building, eyes soft and her smile just for you. Her hand falls from your back, forcing her touch away, as she pulls open the door. You step inside, subtly squeezing her hand as you pass, making her heart thump. 

She follows, watching as you attempt to shake off the snowflakes that cling to your body. It's useless, they’re already melting, soaking into your hair and clothes, but she enjoys watching you try. 

“There you guys are.” Morgan interrupts, making her break her gaze away from you and to the man watching you in mild amusement. Alex’s not ready to give away just how much she’s feeling for you to outsiders just yet. She wants to keep it between the two of you for now. “Hotch wants us to go over victimology. Thinks something isn’t right.” 

She nods, ready to focus back on the case. “Of course, let’s go.” She heads in the direction of the conference room, mindful of the way Morgan hangs back to speak to you. 

“Is that Blake’s scarf?” She hears him ask, amusement thick in his voice. 

She doesn’t dare turn back around. 

“Yes, I was cold.” You respond, defensive, and likely with an eye-roll.

He whistles, “I see you, casanova.” 

“Morgan–” You protest, voice dripping with annoyance. Alex winces and pushes her way into the conference room, hearing his loud chuckle sounding from behind her. 

The rest of the team is already spilling over folders, and she takes her seat, pausing first to slip out of her wet coat and discard it on an unused chair. You make your way into the room and she can’t resist looking at you from the corner of her eye as you take the seat opposite her, a smile on your face that conveys you can feel her stare. 

She looks away, forcing you out of her mind, and instead focusing on Hotch as he starts to voice the holes in victimology. 

She’d check on you again this evening. There was an unsub to catch.

taglist: @aburman03

[historianofgalar]

With Typhlosion trending, I think it's time to bring up the, "Humans and pokemon were one in the same," and the implications that humans uses to breed with pokemon. Please do not worry, this post is as SFW as it can be, but I do apologize for some other stuff that mighr be brought into it. I'm just discussing the origins of where these ideas came from.

"Did people mary pokemon?"

Yes, and while I'm sure there are some... different cases, most of the marriage worked differently than human marriages. The marriage itself was about the union; not the romance or the children that were expected of from marriage at the time. I explained it in this post, but the Diamond and Pearl clans of Sinnoh would "mary" their lord or lady pokemon, not in a romantic sense, but in a union sense. The wardens would still be allowed to have relations with or marry humans. Even outside of the clans, there were some instances of people marrying their pokemon to show a union between them that wasn't romantic.

In modern day, marrying your pokemon partner is considered taboo due to the modern ideas of marriage focusing on the romantic aspect of it only. Modern-day members of the Diamond and Pearl clans will still sometimes have the practices of weddings with their lord or lady pokemon, even if they are not legally married. It's important to know that, if you're meeting a warden who is married to their lord or lady, that they are bonded in marriage, but not in the way that modern society sees marriage.

The clans have always seemed to view pokemon as one of them. There are instances of people calling their partner pokemon their brothers, sisters, parents, or children. While I do not originate from these clans, I do follow a similar belief. I have been partners with my Dragapult, Aosmhor, since I was 10 years old, and she feels like a sister to me. I do not use pokeballs on my pokemon (accept for Mallaithe the Runerigus, but that was a catch-or-die situation) because I follow a similar belief that they can be used to control your pokemon. These pokemon feel like family to me, and I do not wish to put them into tiny balls.

"Can humans and pokemon have kids?"

Theoretically? Yes. But not with just any pokemon. It's assumed that humans could potentially make a successful embryo with related species to us, like Oranguru or Gardevoir, but no one (that we know of) has ever tried to make an embryo in a lab or anywhere else. There could've been some potential hybrids in history, but nothing ever fully concrete.

//Don't come at me, I didn't just pull this outta my ass. There was a successful human/chimpanzee embryo in a lab

"Where did the myths of humans having children with pokemon originate?"

One reason is that it was most likely to explain why a pokemon looks the way it does. Typhlosion can be mistaken for human from a faraway distance (same height as a human, very human-like eyes, sometimes walks on 2 legs), and people back then must've thought it was part human/part pokemon. It's also why there are so many myths of Ghost Types once being human; to explain their odd behaviours. While I'm actually a believer that some ghost types were once human (Yamask, Spiritomb), pokemon like Gengar most likely weren't human. But, there are myths of it once being human because it follows humans, hides in human's shadows and, despite its wideness, it is the same height as a small human.

The stories could also just be for entertainment or to teach a lesson. A common theme amongst a lot of folklore is, "don't be tricked by seduction." Since fairytales love their symbolism, they'd often use pokemon such as Foxmon or Humanoid-mon as the symbolism for seduction, since many foxes are able to do magic or are just very sneaky, and some humanoid-mons can be easy to mistake for human women. It's why there's so much folklore of Zoroark turning into beautiful women, Primarina luring men to their deaths, and Kantonian Ninetales luring men into the woods with illusions of beautiful women. It's not literal; it's all a metaphor.

Some do have a grain of truth, though. Zoroark would use their illusions to look like humans, but Hisuian Zoroark rarely did this since they wanted to avoid humans. Primarina have beautiful voices that would enchant any sailor, but since they were still wild Pokemon, the Primarina must've felt threatened or scared by the sailors and would harm them in self defense. Ninetales create illusions from fire, and will sometimes use these illusdions to keep people away. But, they rarely ever do it to keep people in the forest, since they dont like anyone in their territory, and the illusions were often scary. But, for the sake of storytelling snd explaining things they couldnt understand, they would change it.

Then there's Frolass, who will just lure men away and freeze them. That one's real. Beware of Froslass if you're a man or too masculine presenting. Unless you're my kid apparently. Froslass just get confused looking at them...

[aishangotome]

[Gilbert] Amnesia Event: Only Loving You Part 1

Translated by request :)

♡———♡

One day, I lost my memory after being caught up in a runaway carriage incident in town.

Gilbert: This is troublesome. To think you'd forget all of our... intimate moments.

Gilbert: For now, we'll execute the coachman who caused the accident...

Gilbert: The problem is this distance between us.

(This is a nightmare.)

(I'm having a bad dream.)

I, Emma, who works at a small bookstore in Rhodolite, the nation of roses and art, inexplicably woke up in the castle of Obsidian, the enemy nation of military and minerals, facing a refreshing, one-eyed royal man with black hair... the absurdity of this dream makes me dizzy.

(Why am I in Obsidian? Why is a royal speaking to me?)

I rolled off the bed and escaped to the wall, but the man who introduced himself as Gilbert steadily closed the distance.

Though he seemed to be smiling, his blood-red eyes held no laughter, which was simply terrifying.

(Being the infamous royalty of Obsidian, he must have killed many people...)

(If I'm not careful, I might be killed too.)

Gilbert: Hmm, to be feared this much by my Little Rabbit, who loved me so dearly...

Gilbert: The shock is so great, I'm tempted to prepare a cage right away.

Walter: Idiot! Don't say such things, even as a joke!

The man who shouted, startling me, was a man who introduced himself as the court physician—Walter.

Walter: All you ever do is imprison or execute people when you're troubled...

Gilbert: I'm serious, you know? Because if I lock her up, Little Rabbit can't escape.

(.....!)

Walter: Stop threatening an injured person. Look, she's pale as a ghost.

Gilbert: Oh, sorry? I'm a kind and sweet villain to you, so I'll stop if you don't like it.

Gilbert: But if you keep acting like this... you know?

(I really might be locked away somewhere.)

This was no time to escape reality with fear.

I rebuked my body, which wanted to run from Gilbert, who stood before me, and held my ground.

(First, I need to understand the situation. Without any memories, I can't even know how to act properly.)

Emma: Why... am I in Obsidian?

Gilbert: Because I brought you here, of course.

Emma: Why would you bring a commoner like me...

Gilbert: Because I'm a great villain who loves my Little Rabbit.

Emma: ...Little Rabbit? Are you referring to me?

Gilbert: Yes, you. I love you, you know.

(This makes no sense.)

But indeed, my reflection was clear in his seemingly emotionless red eyes.

I felt something like sincere affection, and I had no choice but to accept Gilbert's words.

Emma: Could you please tell me the circumstances leading up to this?

Gilbert: Of course, I'll tell you everything, all night long.

Gilbert: On the bed.

(!?)

(To think I'd really be brought to the bed...)

After Walter finished tending to my injuries, I was led to a spacious, black-themed room.

I was intrigued by the shelves lined with as many books as a bookstore, but Gilbert stopped at the bed at the far end of the room without pausing and urged me to sit.

(This is probably Gilbert's room, right?)

(...If I don't obey, something terrible will happen.)

Though I tried to sit as far away as possible, Gilbert mercilessly sat down close enough for our shoulders to touch.

I quickly gave up on trying to escape.

Gilbert: Now, first we need to start from the moment you were chosen as Belle.

......

Gilbert: ––And so, you were happily loved by me, the world's great villain, and lived happily ever after.

(No, wait a minute...!)

(Was that story real!?)

I was chosen to be Belle, which selects the next king of Rhodolite, and at the same time, Gilbert, who was visiting for an exchange event, was taken with me, and now I'm his fiancée, or something like that...

(This is a joke... right?)

Gilbert: I'll have you know, I don't lie.

Emma: ..............

Gilbert: Oh, are you frozen? Can't you accept it?

Emma: ...I don't think I'll ever be able to accept it.

(It's like I've been told a grand fairy tale... it doesn't feel like my own story.)

Gilbert: I see. If your mind rejects it, then it can't be helped.

Gilbert: But your body might remember, you know?

Emma: Huh?

Gilbert, his lips curling into a smile, pushed my shoulders down onto the sheets.

I could easily imagine what would happen next, and my blood ran cold.

Emma: Please stop!

Gilbert: Why? Didn't I just tell you you're my fiancée?

Gilbert: We used to do this often.

His cold lips brushed against my ear, then bit down hard.

As I grimaced in pain, he traced his tongue over the spot.

(He's... serious...)

(But, what is this... this strange feeling?)

Despite being attacked by a strange man, I felt no revulsion at all.

It seemed "my body remembers" was indeed true—

Still, my heart couldn't keep up, and when I pushed him away, Gilbert bit my skin once more and pulled back.

Gilbert: Did you take me seriously?

Emma: ...Were you joking?

Gilbert: Well, you're injured, after all.

Gilbert: If you weren't, I would have forced you to remember.

Emma: ........

Gilbert: Didn't I tell you? I'm a kind and sweet villain to you.

Gilbert: I'll let you remember slowly.

Gilbert: Even if you lose your memory, you can never escape me... right?

Prince Gilbert cupped my hair with his fingers and placed a kiss upon it.

It was a gentle touch, conveying a sense of affection.

(Even though he's supposed to be scary... it really seems like he loves me.)

"Why he came to love me" wasn't mentioned in the previous story.

(Will the day ever come when I remember?)

(...I want to remember.)

The next day arrived, still amidst the confusion and agitation of my memory loss---

I was invited by Prince Gilbert to a quiet place filled with plants.

Gilbert: ..............

Emma: ..............

(This is boring.)

The unfamiliar equipment and the tags on the plants made it look like a laboratory.

(It "looks like"... it might actually be one.)

Prince Gilbert silently wrote complex equations on documents.

I had no idea what any of it meant.

(I wonder if there's anything I can do...)

Looking around like a suspicious person, I carefully examined each item when something caught my eye.

Emma: Roses...?

.

.

.

Part 2

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[incorrectbatfam]

Batfam’s Father’s Day plans

(also on Ao3)

"Morning, Bruce."

The way Stephanie says that instantly makes him look up. She traces her socked toe on the right angles of the tile, looking down. 

"Morning, Steph." Bruce puts his coffee down. "Something wrong?"

"Huh?" She perks up in realization. "No, not at all. I actually just have something for you. I stopped by Walgreens on patrol last night 'cause I ran out of antiseptic, and I saw something that reminded me of you." 

She hands him a dark blue greeting card with a cartoon fruit bat and Comic Sans text reading: You drive me batty, but I love you.

"Get it? 'Cause it's a bat, and you're the Batman." She scratches the back of her neck. "Not trying to make it weird or anything, you're just a cool mentor and whatnot. But also, it's nice to have someone who you can mess around with. My old man was always talking business even when he was at home—you kinda do that too, but in a good way 'cause anything's better than being a D-list villain, y'know. Plus, unlike him, you're working on striking a balance. Sometimes you even have a sense of humor." She chuckles awkwardly. "Anyway, I'm going on a jog. Text me if you need anything." 

Before he processes her rambling, she grabs a granola bar and races out the door. He opens the card and out falls out a handful of purple confetti plus an ever-rare two-dollar bill. Smiling, he brushes the confetti up and puts it in his shirt pocket. 

Bruce checks his watch. Everyone else is already out, except for Cass. She was out late last night on that Clayface mission, but even she should be up by this time. He fixes her a bowl of cereal with the package instructions and brings it upstairs. 

"Cass?" He knocks. "Are you up yet? It's past 9:30."

He hears the duvet crunch like a candy wrapper as she shuffles around. A moment later, the door swings open as a messy-haired Cass yawns. 

"I'll leave this up here for you," he says, putting the bowl on the dresser. "Any big plans today?"

She shakes her head. "Write reports. And relax."

"Well, you deserve a break. Great job on the stakeout, Princess." He plants a quick kiss on her forehead. 

"Love," she says.

"Huh?"

"Favorite thing you do. Love."

He laughs softly. "I try. Now go get dressed."

The rest of the day goes by like any other. Despite it being Sunday, he still has a meeting scheduled with some Singaporean investors on their timezone. By eleven, he and some other executives are gathered around the long conference table as the video call drones on, and it's not until over an hour later that they're finally let out. Bruce loosens his tie and Tim does the same, sighing in relief and exhaustion. 

Bruce asks, "Did you have lunch yet?"

"Oh, I forgot that's a thing," Tim says, stretching. "Hey, remember that ice cream place on 32nd?"

"You want ice cream for lunch?"

"I'd break your no killing rule for their M&M cookie sundae, okay?" he says. "Besides, remember when you took my friends and I there even though we massively bombed our first off-world fight? I might still be a massive perfectionist but that made me get a little more comfortable with failing. Anyway, I thought it'd be cool to stroll down memory lane—and have junk food as a meal without Alfred knowing. Unless you're busy, which I totally get."

"Not at all," Bruce replies, putting an arm around Tim's shoulders. "Duke and Damian will be at the arcade all day and I don't have any urgent side business." 

And so, instead of calling Alfred for a ride, they journey through the Gotham subways with Tim's camera capturing the Grammy-worthy saga of a billionaire CEO battling a common turnstyle. They get a few side-glances in the sparse train car, but besides a teenager asking for Tim's autograph, the civilians leave them alone. Pretty soon, they're at a 1950s-themed ice cream parlor, where the waitress slides their orders down the long chromium bar. 

"Why do they call it a banana split?" Bruce asks, grabbing the cocoa powder shaker. 

Tim pauses mid-bite of his cookie. "...Because they split the banana in half?"

"Really?"

He moves the whipped cream aside to reveal the cut banana in Bruce's dish. 

"How would it sound if I said I never noticed that?"

He smirks. "That's why I'm the brains of this operation."

"Indeed you are." Bruce ruffles his hair. "Though this head of yours could use some shampoo." 

"Will saying I love you get me a free pass out of it?"

"No." He laughs. "But I love you too, son."

Alfred catches on to their little dessert escapade and picks them up from the parlor, though not without commenting on the strawberry stain on Bruce's jacket. As Tim plugs his music into the car, Bruce takes the time to listen to the voicemails he got during their lunch break. 

"Hiya Bruce," Clark's voice plays. "I hope today's going swell for you. I just want you to know that I'm glad I can call you my pard'ner." Bruce snickers at the country twang.

Next is Diana. "Bruce, I apologize if I must keep this brief since I have a curator's convention today. However, I wish to tell you that you are an invaluable teammate and even more remarkable friend."

"Hey Batman, I gave you a shoutout to the Central City press for your help taking down Weather Wizard," Barry says. "Also, thanks for letting me borrow your communicator. I can always count on you to be overprepared. Have a good one!"

"Bats, tell your kid to quit taking my yogurt from the fridge." Ah, good old Hal. "Also, today's all about guys like you, so... yeah. I admit, you could be worse." 

Finally, there's one from Zatanna. "Afternoon, Bruce! I'd tell you in person if I wasn't caught up in Kahndaq, but I hope today is extra special for you. I know how much the birds mean to you, and I know they're gonna treat you well."

(There's also one from Ollie, but he's just asking if he can use the communicator after Barry. In the background, Dinah is is clearly ordering food.) 

After dropping Tim and Alfred home and switching to a more discreet vehicle, Bruce makes his way to pick two of his other kids up from the arcade. 

"Did you guys have fun?" Bruce asks as they climb in.

"We decimated every game," Damian says, "and won you the finest specimen as a trophy."

He plops a five-foot Snorlax into the front seat and buckles the seatbelt.

"This is for me?" Bruce asks. 

"Tt, who else would it be for?"

"I didn't win as many tickets," Duke says, "but I also got you a spider ring and a Chinese finger trap." He puts them in the cupholder.

"Why are you giving me all your prizes?"

"Again, who else would we give them to?" Damian asks.

Duke says, "I think what he means is that you do a lot for us, so this is a thanks from us."

As silly as it might seem, Bruce is genuinely touched. 

Pre-patrol dinner is a quiet affair, with Kate stopping by because she apparently forgot to go grocery shopping. She takes a fingerling potato off his plate. 

"Um, you're welcome?" he says. 

"Bruce, we're family. It's what we do." She takes a bite. 

He takes a piece of asparagus from her. "I wish all of us were here, though. Too bad Dick and Jason have that Penguin stakeout. Hopefully they're being safe."

"Even if things go wrong, they were taught by the best. You should trust them more." Selina gets up and places a peck on his cheek before going to get a drink. 

"I do," he mumbles into his meal. "It's the world I don't trust." 

As he puts on his cowl, he asks Barbara for an update on the evening. So far, Duke is handling a carjacking, the girls are preoccupied with a strip mall hostage situation, Damian is patrolling Metropolis with Jon, and Kate is kicking off her shift with a car chase against Two-Face. Tim and Selina are staying back to catch up on some overdue reports, but other than that, the cave is quiet. 

"Before you go," Barbara says, "my dad was cleaning out the attic and found something you might like."

From her bag, she pulls out a blue mug that says: World's Okayest Dad.

"My brother got it for him a long time ago, but... you know. It's all yours now, if you want it." 

He takes it, running his thumb along the words. 

"It suits you," she says before turning back to relay something to Stephanie. 

The route laid out for him tonight gives him the perfect opportunity to swing by and check on two of his boys. He lands on the rooftop silently, where Nightwing and Red Hood have already set up camp. Evidently, they don't notice him as they keep going with their conversation.

"Did you get dropped on your head as a baby?" Jason asks. "Sour cream and Greek yogurt are not the same thing."

"They totally are, change my mind." Dick glances through his binoculars. "No sign of Cobblepot yet."

A moment goes by as Jason not-so-covertly steals some of his brother's patrol snacks. 

"So how'd family therapy go yesterday?" Jason asks. "Did the old bat finally show an emotion?"

"It was pretty insightful, at least on my part." Dick lowers his binoculars. "I think I realized where Bruce's persistence comes from. It's annoying as hell, but I think that's how he maintains hope. And who knows, maybe it's his love language."

Jason scoffs. 

"I'm serious," he says. "I know none of us are stellar at this family thing, but we care about each other. You can't deny that. We just gotta... refine how we express it." 

"Count me out."

"Jaybird."

"Codenames, Dickhead."

Dick snickers. "You love us, admit it. All of us."

Jason mutters a string of curses under his breath before saying, "If you tell him, I'm filling your mattress with sour cream."

Bruce smiles and leaps to the next building. 

At the end of the night, Bruce finds Alfred brewing tea in the kitchen and takes the kettle from him. 

"I got this," he says. "Why don't you go relax in the living room? I think they added your favorite detective movie to Netflix." 

"This is a pleasant surprise." Alfred raises an eyebrow. "What brought it on?"

"It's Father's Day, of course," he replies, pouring the cups of tea. "You know you've always been a second dad to me."

"You made that clear with last year's breakfast surprise," Alfred says. "Care to join me?"

"Always," Bruce says. "By the way, do the kids seem different to you today?"

[receivedhope]

More Kurt clothing discussion please

i'm gonna break out my personal notes/observations of kurt's fashion sense for you:

knee-length shorts combined with knee high boots/socks is a very common combination for him, mostly in season 1-2

layers! it's a fun ongoing joke because it's ever so true (for the first four seasons...) if you want to make your fanart kurt outfit more kurt-ish, just keep dressing him up. and if you want to make a fanart kurt outfit that he would wear in season 6, just imagine literally any guy ever walking down the street that blends into his surroundings.

aside from the one line of knee between the knee high socks/boots and knee length shorts and the occassional unbuttoned shirt that may let you peek at his collarbones, the most naked he will get is showing off his forearm (but he does wear a very short short in a katy or a gaga with ankle length doc martens... i'm pretty sure that's the most he has shown of his skin in an outfit)

there is always some concept behind his outfits, most of the time it's a theme, but there are ones where its unified by texture/color or the contrast between them.

in his dalton arc, he tries very hard to match/mirror blaine

death imagery is a recurring theme, which is almost expected for a character who is so defined by death

he rarely if ever wears women's clothing that is meant to look flattering only on feminine bodies, so nothing that would enhance curves, for example.

the most unconventional and feminine piece of clothing he wears in earnest is the skirt in britney/brittany but that seems to be worn over pants as well (maybe leggings?) and he does seem interested in the pumps sue got for unique in saturday nigh glee-ver, though i'm not sure if he would want to wear it himself or just have it in his possession, since he is very crow-like with his affinity for collecting whatever sparks interest like the white suit from the same episode.

i desperately want to see the corset he allegedly wore to second period in acafellas... but i kind of assume it's actually a shirt with a lace up back, similar to the vest in i am unicorn in the scene where he first sees the campaign posters designed by brittany

the only kind of headpiece he usually wears are hats, so no hair pins or headbands like rachel's, but he does wear sweatbands when working out. he also wore a bandana a couple times as well, like in wheels.

i don't know where else to put this, but i love his little yellow coat + rainboots from nbk, especially because it does look like an outfit for the rain, which fits well with the overall theme of that episode and the need to survive it like a rainy day... idk... i like it...

[byemambo]

4Minutes EP. 3 - My Takeaways

I went back and skimmed through the previous episodes 1 and 2 (which I've already posted my takeaways for in the previous weeks) to confirm a few thoughts I have now that I finished episode 3.

Tyme's Temperament (Childhood Trauma)

I found this small exchange between Tyme and Great to be pretty insightful in terms of how Tyme's attitude affects his every day outlook on life. This seems to be a common trope in films and TV (especially in thriller/crime genres) where a main character has motives to avenge the death of their parents, which I'd assume would be the case with Tyme as well as the series goes on and we're given more context to why Tyme is caught up in Great's family organized crime scheme. Given that his motivation for being a surgeon isn't rooted in being a contributing member to society through hospitality but by making ends meet for him and his grandmother, it's no surprise that Tyme's attitude towards his patients is distant and impersonal. This dissociation can also stem from experiencing a huge loss at a young age, and putting the burden of financial responsibility onto himself.

We see this by a shift in Den's disdain for Tyme's lack of empathy towards his patients by going against their wishes for the mere sake of not letting his patient die, which we can already see this dependence Tyme has with being unable to let go and allow the laws of nature to run its course. Given that this seems to be a recurring theme of Tyme's from how Den's attitude was when reminding Tyme of the patient's name, we hope that his story arc will consist of Tyme learning what it means to "let go," especially because he's taught himself for many decades to "hold on."

Win and Tonkla (Your Wish is My Command)

The way these two establish their relationship in this episode isn't surprising to me, but what became evident was the juxtaposition in how Tonkla's treated by Korn and by Win. Korn became someone who shoves Tonkla to the side, someone who he had successfully hid away from his personal life and making a deliberate choice to keep a distance from him. This lack of communication burdens Tonkla to a point of heightening his grief, which we know how corrupted it is for officials to rendezvous with victims of a case assigned to them, but ultimately sparks codependency between Win and Tonkla, which Tonkla relied on Korn for until he became an after thought mourning the death of his younger brother (thank goodness Dome is alive btw). The stark difference between Win's approach versus Korn's is simple: fulfilling the wishes of Tonkla. Although we've only seen this exchange occur during the heat of sex, we see Tonkla ask the same of both people (fuck me raw?), Korn saying nothing while protecting himself while Win speaks up for the sake of their safety. However, this will become a losing game if Tonkla still seeks validation from Korn, pushing him beyond his limits and may contribute to harming the individual that we saw in the opening of episode 2. I also want to know whether or not this will heavily affect Win's desire to help Tonkla with his younger brother's case, revealing his chief to be one who's accepted bribes in the past and has a strong sense of justice.

Great Documents the Timeline

Thank you for Great having a head on his shoulders and taking the time to document his findings on how his visions and powers work, giving us a chance as the audience to continue with our own theories and assumptions. I don't really have any plausible reasons for what each minute in Great's visions represent just yet, but I'm leaning towards each time Great and Tyme make a decision significant in keeping their paths crossed.

When it was 11:00 - Great runs into Tyme in the ward after leaving flowers for the patient. When it was 11:01 - Right after Great and Tyme exchange phone numbers. When it was 11:02 - Great finds Tyme attacking his brother, but is revealed his true identity when confronted outside the lounge.

Foreshadowing

I found the inclusion of the message "Can you forgive me Great?" to be the most interesting in the entire episode: because the message only becomes important once we're revealed that Tyme is connected to Nan, the woman who infiltrated the crime scheme and sending evidence back who we can assume right now is either Tyme or the police investigators. But then it makes me wonder: how is Tyme associated with her, is he more than a regular surgeon at the hospital with a connection to the police or is he actually a part of the police which is already iffy for me because if he's also an undercover investigator AND surgeon good fucking god...? Are both of them individuals who are outside of the police investigation as it seems Win isn't aware of their participation as a potential fellow investigator? Since Win was forced to step down from Tonkla's brother's case (I can only assume it's treated separately from the gambling investigation), does that mean he will invest more into the online gambling case since now not only was there a hacker and shareholder mole involved in episode 2, but now we have Nan being held hostage (which I'm still unsure of whether she's working directly with Tyme or with the investigators as well)?

Honorable Mentions: Meeting Between the Two Visionaries

I'm curious to know how Den will set up his patient with Great, since he's been doing extensive research into their prospects. Will they meet in person beforehand: have they already met in his "gallery" that Great described it as when he wrote down his findings? Will this "gallery" be a recurring setting we will encounter as the series progressed (since it's featured in the trailer and teaser photos prior to the first episode's release?) And I just rewatched the trailer again: I'll still be shocked if Tyme is actually undercover while still doing his doctoral duties cause that'd be a little insane to me...

[badgalsasuke]

Kishimoto x Masafumi Goto for CUT Magazine (August 2012)

Interview by Shin Furukawa

Masashi Kishimoto x Masafumi Goto (ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION) First meeting on the occasion of their second collaboration in about 10 years! Why do "NARUTO" and ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION resonate so passionately?

Asian Kung-Fu Generation will be working on the theme song for the latest film in the Naruto series, Road to Ninja: Naruto the Movie. I'm sure there are many people who are excited by this news. About 10 years ago, the opening song for the first TV anime Naruto was Haruka Kanata, the first song on ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION's album Houkai Amplifier, which was re-released as an indie album when ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION made their major debut. The exceptional compatibility between the world of "NARUTO" and ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION's music, as seen in this opening video, can be said to have significantly influenced the subsequent trend of anime and rock collaborations. And the theme song for this film, Sorede Wa, Mata Ashita Mo (Well then, See you tomorrow), conveys how even after about 10 years, Naruto and ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION are still deeply synchronized.

On the day of this conversation, it was actually the first meeting between Masashi Kishimoto, the original creator of "NARUTO," and Masafumi Gotoh, the vocalist and guitarist of Asian Kung-Fu Generation.It became a conversation where words continuously flowed from both parties, endlessly discussing the parts where they resonated with each other.

―It turns out this is actually your first time meeting.

Kishimoto: That's right. Goto: I'm happy to meet you. Kishimoto: I don't have many opportunities to meet musicians, so I don't know what to say.

Goto: Hahaha, but (during the photoshoot) we were able to talk normally, right? Kishimoto: Yes. Goto: We were talking about the time when the 'NARUTO' anime (hereafter 'NARUTO') aired 10 years ago. Kishimoto: Yeah, exactly. It was really sensational, you know? It was around the time I started introducing a lot of characters, so I thought it would be great if the anime's theme song had a sense of speed. I wanted to create an image where a lot of characters would appear with such a song. So when I saw the video and "Haruka Kanata" combined for the first time, I thought "this is amazing". Goto: (laughs)

Kishimoto: It felt like a music video, really fast-paced and it matched the image perfectly. My younger brother and friends called me, and a lot of people said they really liked the opening. So I thought there might be some kind of chemical reaction when ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION's song and the "NARUTO" video came together.

―But it was originally a song that had been around for a long time, wasn't it? Goto: That's right. Kishimoto: Really? Goto: It was released about six months prior. At the time, magazines like Rockin' On hadn't even posted a review.

―No, no (laughs).

Kishimoto: Hahaha.

Goto: When we re-released it through a major label, it was like Rockin' On did a complete 180 and started posting reviews and stuff (laughs). But I thought it was really good too. It gave me goosebumps.

Kishimoto: But after that, ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION started cheating on us and doing openings for various anime series.

Goto: (laughs)

Kishimoto: At that time, I was a bit jealous, you know?

―(laughs).

Kishimoto: It felt like my ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION was going somewhere else. So I've always wanted them to do it again someday.

―I think the reason for that kind of chemical reaction is because there were common themes between "NARUTO" and Asian Kung-Fu Generation.

Goto: For example, when we look overseas, we always think we're doing rock, but we incorporate quite a bit of Japanese methods and scales into it, so I think it's perceived as very Japanese music from abroad. And, since "NARUTO" also features ninjas, I think there's probably a synergistic effect there as well.

Kishimoto: I also draw manga that is very Japanese. But the main character has blue eyes and blonde hair, so it's a mix of Japanese and foreign nuances. So, although music and manga are completely different, I feel like ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION's songs and the worldview of 'NARUTO' are mixed together nicely, like a DJ.

―Did you choose blonde hair and blue eyes because you wanted to make a comic that would be popular overseas while still respecting Japan?

Kishimoto: I didn't have that image in mind at first. I just wanted to do ninjas and do something Japanese, but if I just did that, it would have become a typical ninja thing, so I intentionally added elements that were different from that.

―He said that when he started "NARUTO," he was in a state of complete exhaustion. So I think the situations of ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION and "NARUTO" were similar.

Goto: I empathize quite a bit with Naruto's situation. Kishimoto: (laughs) Is that so? Goto: Yeah, that kind of inferiority complex.

Kishimoto: I also had a hard time getting recognition back then. No matter how much I wanted the editorial department to publish my manuscript, they wouldn't let me, I often found myself not being recognized. So maybe that's why I made the protagonist feel like he wanted to be recognized, and wrote the story around that theme. So when I listened to ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION's "Haruka Kanata," the line "縺れる足" (Our feet are tied) stayed with me. The various grudges I have inside me and the parts of myself that I can't be honest about end up coming out as remarks as well. So the visuals and the music matched, but there was something about the lyrics that stayed with me as well. So I wanted ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION to do it again.

―Before writing "Haruka Kanata," ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION had a lot of medium-tempo songs. But at that time, punk and melodic hardcore bands were on the rise, so you tried that kind of fast-paced sound.

Goto: Yeah.

Kishimoto: I see.

―So, "Our feet are tied" feels like you're forcing yourselves to run, but it's like you're trying to somehow break through the situation at the time.

Goto: Well, we were just struggling (laughs). We wanted to be recognized, too, and in our circumstances, we were working part-time jobs and not making much progress.

Kishimoto: I was in a similar situation.

―So, is Naruto the character that Goto-kun empathizes with the most?

Goto: Also, the roots of Naruto and Sasuke are the same. It's just that the way they are expressed is different, like yin and yang.

Kishimoto: That's right. There are parts where I'm depicting both shadow and light. When I was younger, I used to focus mostly on the negative aspects. But I draw with the concept of rising from that, he gets up from there, becomes able to express himself, and goes to the point where he is accepted. So, I have to properly depict the negative parts as well. In that sense, I think music is the same. I really empathize with Goto-san; he must have had a tough time too.

―I thought you two had met before.

Kishimoto: Not at all. When I first heard the band name 'Asian Kung-Fu Generation,' I thought they must really love Asia since it has 'Asian' and 'Kung-Fu' in it (laughs). I also like Asia and draw things related to Japanese culture, so I thought we might have a similar sensibility.

Goto: (laughs)

―We were talking a bit about Jackie Chan while we were waiting.

Goto: That's right. We added "Asian" because we thought it would be more interesting if we said we were an Asian band when we performed in front of Westerners. So when we were thinking of a band name, we definitely wanted to include "Asian". We also thought kung fu was interesting, and Westerners tend to remember our name.

Kishimoto: It has an impact. It has a big impact even for Japanese people. It got into my head right away.

Goto: I thought of it because I wanted it to be a name that people would remember (laughs).

Kishimoto: When I think of titles for my manga, I take the name 'NARUTO' from the naruto that comes with ramen. Rather than using something that doesn't make sense, I think it's easier to imagine it if I use an easy-to-understand noun like this.

Goto: Now it's all about 'NARUTO.' And I think 'Dattebayo!' is amazing.

Kishimoto: I wanted to give it a childish nuance.

Goto: It's not something you see often. It's like a set ending, the first time since Korosuke's (from 'Kiteretsu Large Encyclopedia') "Nanto Kanari" (laughs).

Kishimoto: Changing the endings like that to give a character a unique touch is often seen as quite simple-minded, but surprisingly, it actually works and is important. It adds a distinctive feature, and somehow have people accept it. It's like deliberately making it feel unnatural. At first, people go 'What is this?' but gradually it becomes a habit, which is what I'm hoping for.

―Whether it's music or comics, probably both are the same, but having a catchy phrase like "Dattebayo!" is important, and the meticulous construction of the logic behind ninjutsu is also crucial. I think the reason for your success is that you delve deeply into both aspects.

Kishimoto: That's right. If I'm really meticulous I feel satisfied, but the readers don't seem to keep up. It's a difficult balance. Goto-san, when you write songs, you want to write songs as maniac as you like, but do you also think that if you go too far, it might be a bit complicated (for listeners)?

Goto: Because we're a band, the other members sometimes stop me. They say things like, 'I don't get it at all.'

Kishimoto: So that happens (laughs)

Goto: That's because we're a four-piece band. And even when we release an album thinking we've really brought it back, we get comments like, 'No, my friends told me that what you're doing is way too difficult and they don't understand it.' Even when we think we've made it easy to understand, sometimes we end up going a little too far.

Kishimoto: That's true. When that happens, I just ask the editor.

―It's just like being in a band, isn't it?

Kishimoto: Yeah, that's right. I ask the editor, he checks it and say it's no good, but sometimes I can't give in easily either. There are times when we spend hours working it out until we both agree.

―How did you decide on Asian Kung-Fu Generation for the theme song of this movie?

Kishimoto: First, when we were discussing what to do about the music, since I'm not that knowledgeable about music, I asked the assistants, 'Who would be good?' Out of the eight assistants, three said, 'Asian Kung-Fu Generation would be good.' I had a feeling that Asian Kung-Fu Generation would be good too, but I was like, 'Really?' Then, the film production committee also asked, 'How about Asian Kung-Fu Generation?' I was like, 'Huh? Is this really happening?'

Goto: (laughs)

Kishimoto: We all agreed, 'It has to be ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION,' and it was unanimous. Also, when I was deciding on the music, I went to a convenience store and there was a flyer featuring ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION (laughs).

―How did you feel when you received an offer from "NARUTO" after such a long time?

Goto: I heard about it, and the song was already in the process of being completed. So I was like, "Oh, this song fits." Most of the lyrics were already written, but I was like, "This somehow fits the content".

Kishimoto: That's right. The lyric "異端者" (Heretic) really suited it. Naruto and Sasuke are like heretics to me. And the line "One, two, three, drive them out" - that "drive them out" - I think it fits perfectly with being banished or escaping from the village.

Goto: I was surprised too. What's more, that part is the most Japanese-like (laughs).

―It certainly fits the movie perfectly, but it's also simply a straightforward song for 2012 ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION.

Goto: Yes, yes. The idea of ​​"NARUTO" came up towards the end of the project, and we were able to steer in the direction of staying true to ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION. The timing was perfect.

Kishimoto: It feels a bit strange, but it's like we've come back to the roots again (laughs). We started out strong and successful, and then ASIAN KUNG-FU GENERATION started doing well in all sorts of places, and I was a little jealous.

Goto: (laughs) "NARUTO" is more amazing, isn't it? We haven't sold millions (laughs)

―Where did the phrase "heretic" come from?

Goto: The current social climate is like a yes or no society, where you encounter weird people and just attack them. I was thinking about what that would be like, and when I applied it to 'NARUTO,' I realized it could also be seen in the context of Naruto and Sasuke.

―I think the theme of this song is linked to the current trend where if you try to fight or take action, you get beaten down or crushed. I believe this is a song written by Asian Kung-Fu Generation in that context. It also resonates with Naruto's situation and his unwavering determination to not give up.

Kishimoto: Yes, that's right. Naruto ended up being like the outcast of the village. His parents made him bear that burden, asking him to endure it to save the village. But he tries hard to carry that burden. However, the adults around him, out of fear, try to ostracize him. But surprisingly, he fights back with a bright spirit. There are times when he gets down, but fundamentally, he doesn't get discouraged or broken, which is something I wanted to portray. So, it feels like it fits perfectly with this 'Well then, see you tomorrow' theme.

Goto: The only thing I was really conscious of was the intro. That was because of "Haruka Kanata" (Far Away).

Kishimoto: Yeah yeah (laughs).

Goto: It was a bass intro, so I thought it would be good to have another bass intro. It was like our own "second meeting" kind of thing.

Kishimoto: I'm grateful (laughs).

Goto: I said it would be good to have another bass intro for our reunion, so I had Yamada (Takahiro) play it.

Kishimoto: That makes me really happy (laughs).

Goto: I said, 'I hope only people who get it will get it and smile.'

Check out the translations of Haruka Kanata and Well then, See you tomorrow here and here

[our-lady-of-haymakers]

Watching IFTV and it's really fascinating to see the way Claire's attempts at bullying bounce off Rei's thirst because once you get past the comedy of "Joke's on you, I'm into that shit", there's this persistent and perhaps even radical subersiveness to their whole dynamic, which lies precisely in the sense that it gets to act as a dynamic?

Claire's bullying is often an attempt by her to mobilize the apparatus of noble hegemony upon those she sees as undeserving and inferior, an act of humiliation in which she exposes and "corrects" what she perceives to be an irregularity in the hierarchy and therefore derives purpose by upsetting the position of another, a (dis)placement that draws upon the aspects of the public execution, the symbolic decapitation of a reputation, to re-enact and re-establish aristocratic authority in the theatre of classes and ideas that is the academy.

When Rei responds to this not by defending herself in terms of the dubious categories of essence or ability that have propped up this profoundly unequal society, but by doubling down on the theatricality of the ritual humiliation, by embracing its exhibitionistic aspects and transforming it into a heightened platform for the declaration of her queer identity, she accordingly elevates her queerness by its encounter with a hegemonic power that it refuses to be categorised or stereotyped by, and indeed subsumes the thrust of Claire's inquisitions and degradations into her gleefully transgressive play of performances (doubly relevant given that she knows she's in a game), attaining freedom through stock characters, writing herself and Claire into a complexity not afforded to them by the original text by flipping the script.

While Claire attempts to bring the abstract and lofty ideology of the aristocracy, the hyper-public common sense of inequality that is enshrined in law and culture, into the arena of public interaction, hoping to make an example out of Rei, to make an upsetting reality conform to the script she's been schooled in, Rei moves in the opposite direction, and brings the private into the public, politicising the otherwise concealed, downplayed or ritualised matter of sexuality and attraction into daily life where it cannot be ignored. While Claire strives to strip away what she sees as false pretensions to expose the true essence of people underneath, believing that it shall confirm the differences she's been raised to believe are inherent in the classes, Rei turns these attempts at revelation into a symbolic eternal striptease, revealing always another layer, another exposure that turns back on the one who hungers to strip away, turning their desire into a dependency, a "not yet" that lets Rei set the world to her own timepiece.

As such, Rei integrates at one stroke the fact that she loves women and the fact that Claire loves aristocracy, yoking the two into a similar level of political importance, the genius of which is that it works two ways. On the one hand, it renders Claire's bullying and class violence an act of seeming kinkiness and indulgence rather than the sacred duty of the chosen few, an "Oh my, not here, darling, you're so demanding today!" in which Claire is framed as a dommy queen going to great lengths to maintain the roleplay, an actor who clearly likes her bit in this French-nobility-themed drama a bit too much, hamstringing entirely any authority she might demand outside the context of the bedroom. On the other, by putting forth the perspective that all the ritualism and pomp of aristocracy is just that- rich kids playing dress-up and not at all the solemn proceedings of the gifted elite, Rei also strikes a symbolic blow against the cult of nobility, puncturing the gravitas with which they appoint themselves protagonists in politics, and exposing in her invocation of roles the possibility also that these roles might change, that any day now the next set of domineering and imperious rulers might not be of noble birth at all, and the day after the troupe may put on a different production entirely, forgetting in their fun all this now-outdated talk about empires and princes.

While Claire is of course initially incensed and disturbed by this, given that Rei challenges and erodes the entire purpose of her identity-affirming tactics of bullying and challenging usurpers, making her wonder if she is truly entitled to any grander obedience and special status at all, these ideas of fluidity and performativity might also represent for her a chance at change and escape, a route out of the crumbling palaces of a decaying royalty. If she is not in fact essentially and transcendentally the daughter of a noble house, then she also needs not act like one, and could be anyone she pleases and be with anyone she's pleased by. Rei's queerness therefore represents a challenge and threat to the entire system she is housed and mantled in, but also offers her a path to happiness as a person, a right to joy and love that is freely given to all who live and needs no grounding in nobility- indeed, it is only by the destruction of her mythos and iconography, that terrifying and liberating act of blasphemy, that she can become human and therefore go on to become a freak, the making-by-breaking that is promised by the queer revolution, a transcendent transsexuality, a metamorphosis that makes all reality into the cocoon that it shall soar free of, feeding-as-needing, desire as production and a new genesis.

In short, I Favour the Villainess boldly asserts that loudly loving evil women is a vital step in the revolution, and that's such an important message. "I Can Fix Her" as "I Can Create a World Where She's Just a Travesty and not a Tragedy". Wanting so badly to give a bitch head that you rescue hers from the guillotine. "My favorite Girlfailure was Marie Antoinette". Simply an excellent premise.

[kenobers]

What kind of music do you think the other Batboys listen to? (If you're interested in them ofc)

okay, first of all this is my first ask!! hello!! and it's about music, so extra bonus points to you!! 🌟

second of all, of course i'm interested in the other batboys! i'm working on their spotify wrappeds right now. for anyone’s who interested, here is my spotify!!

these are what i personally think each of them lean towards music wise based on canon and my own headcanons, please don’t stomp on me if you disagree :-)

Dick listens to clown music i really only found one panel of Dick listening to music and it was mostly Original Pilipino Music and mostly ballads, which i love. it also lends itself to Dick being a fan of indie and soft rock, as well very much being a child of the 90s. The Cure and Billy Joel are artists i see him enjoying. i know a lot of people envision him as a pop fan and i think he specifically listens to early rock-pop music from the 70s; think ABBA, the Carpenters, Donna Summer, artists who would mix well with his affection for balladeers. My self indulgent headcanon is that he's a huge Fleetwood Mac and Mavis Staples fan. i think it's a legal obligation to have an appreciation for grunge to be part of the batfam, but i think he sticks with the basics.

Jason canonically likes Slipknot, Lacuna Coil and Poison Idea (which i forgot to include on his spotify wrapped, oops). however, given his background, his continued interest in being connected to the streets of a large east coast city and the fact that we know he loves good writing, he's definitely a 90s east coast hip-hop guy. i really envision him being a huge Wu-Tang Clan fan (as we should all be) and DMX wrote his theme song Where The Hood At. both the metal/punk and hip-hop genres have heavily political roots and the flaws of political systems are a common theme, which is something he’d appreciate. however, i think Jason's criteria for adding a song to his spotify is if it's good. he's not a snob, he just likes his music to be loud and have good lyricism. he likes to be able to relate to it, whereas Dick would be more about the vibe. i love the idea that he's into Jack Johnson when he wants a softer sound. he also gives me major Artic Monkeys vibes.

Tim canonically likes The Clash, Green Day (i think this is another one they all have in common) and i believe Oasis. so one could comfortably deduce that he's into punk rock, early alternative and brit pop (which makes sense, these all tend to go hand-in-hand). i think he would be fond of alternative and indie, like i think he would dig Steve Lacy and Frank Ocean (he's also a bisexual man in his late teens/early twenties who's heavily online, so i feel like it's also a fairly safe bet that he listens to Frank and probably Tyler too). i think he goes through strong phases of certain artists/genres. i think, like Jason, he likes to be able to relate to his music, but he’s also a bit of a music snob.

Steph's most streamed artist is Mucous Membrane. i get strong punk rock, punk pop vibes from her. she likes anything she can scream along to. My Chemical Romance, Paramore, Avril Lavigne, Pierce The Veil, Hollywood Undead. she definitely had a very strong Panic! At The Disco era. she's got a soft spot for Megadeath too. but i think she’s also more than capable (and willing) to scream along to some bubbly pop music too.

Duke has been seen singing The Man on The Flying Trapeze by Spike Jones. granted, this is a fairly well known song and it had a specific context, but i also kind of love the idea that Duke listens to jazz, like also has a lot of Chet Baker and Billie Holiday saved. that’s his time-to-lock-in music. then i could also see him digging a genre that samples a lot of these artists, like r&b and hip-hop. i see Kendrick Lamar pop up on a lot of Duke playlists and i’m inclined to agree. i’d also add Jay-Z to the mix. a good chunk of his spotify wrapped is stuff he plays to get hyped up, which can vary quite a bit. there’s some Fall Out Boy, Chase Atlantic, Rihanna and some classic rock. i think he also daydreams to Holding Out for A Hero quite a bit as well.

honestly, i feel like Cass pulls the most from everyone else’s playlists. i would say that she’s family spotify stalker, but frankly i feel like she uses youtube music. anyways, her personal tastes would lean more towards the sad girl side; Halsey, Mitski, Phoebe Bridgers, Mazzy Star. maybe Penelope Scott and Grimes - i could see her vibing with the combination of the sad girl feel and a unique sort of sound. thanks to Jason, she also digs System of A Down. for Cass especially music is an emotional outlet, so i think she’d be drawn to more emotional stuff. that said, she’s definitely an ABBA girl.

i see people try to argue that Jason would listen to musicals, but if anyone is the secret theater kid, it’s for sure Damian. he likes the drama and the flair of a megamusical and as such, a couple of songs from The Phantom of The Opera make their way onto his playlist (he secretly relates to certain aspects of the storyline but he won’t say that part out loud). he’s a musician himself so it’s not hard to imagine him enjoying someone as genius as Sondheim, although i imagine he’s very picky about which cast albums/recordings he spins. he listens to a lot of classic music, with a special appreciation for Bach as he’s more or less the violin king. but Beethoven’s got a little more flair. i think he also has a playlist of songs he picked up from his siblings and Superboy

i think they all share an appreciation for Nirvana, The Pixies, The Spice Girls and A Tribe Called Quest.

and i do think The Spice Girls comes strongly from Dick’s influence.

what do y’all think they listen to?

[cozymoko]

Wow I just have to say your work is truly muah😚chefs kiss💗.and so I had a question from reading’s team Taka works, so it seems they have a place so stay at so I was wondering how does housing work since there are times where sasuke doesn’t taken darling with him said in one of the post unless he trust them enough.

P.s hope your doing well 💗

RULES AND HOUSING FOR TEAM TAKA — ( FT. YAN. SASUKE AND HIS S/O)

Note: Hi! I'm glad you were able to send me a follow-up message. I summarized this and the other message you sent. Please enjoy.

PPS. — I hope you're doing even better. (ㅅ˙³˙)♡

Synopsis: What domestic life, housing, and rules Sasukes' darling and Team Taka would have to follow.

Format: Headcanons

WARNING(S): Yandere themes

🍙 Rooms are placed as followed: Yours and Sasukes' the furthest down the h all for privacy. Then Karins' a but away from yours, her closeness isn't ideal but he fears that if you (unless you're bisexual) Therefore, Suigetsu and Jugo share a room a great distance from your own as there's no need to be any closer.

🍙 Bathroom schedules are strict but necessary in Sasuke's mind. Only when he is present can they stray from it if they choose. Sasuke had morals, shockingly, and he doesn't let his childish needs deviate him from their tasks for the day. He's not all that bad as long as you're by his side.

“[Name] can you pass me the shampoo? Jugo won't get out of my way.” Suigestu cried out.

You watched him with a deadpan expression, still cradling a very exhausted Sasuke in your arms. Even if you wanted to there was no way you could help him in a situation like this.

“Hah? Just move him out of the way—!”

“Shut up.”

🍙 As stated, whoever proves themself capable of watching you will be by your side when he cannot. You are to stay within the walls of your tiny cabin which you all shared, guarded closely by your "friends" (not Karin she's even an option).

🍙 Despite being utterly infatuated with you, Sasuke does not lack common sense. He's more than aware that the average person wouldn't dare go against him if they didn't want to face the consequences. Not only that but he does have quite a bit of trust for Suigestu and Jugo and expects them to treat you properly in his absence.

🍙 To ensure that his expectations are met, expect a thorough examination upon his return. The Uchiha will strip you bare, slowly tracing his fingers along the smooth skin that covered you. His scent is still strong on your being, luckily, and so are his bruises (hickeys). For a man so rough, this time he was not. Carefully inspecting you as though you were a fine piece of cloth, picked and sewn to perfection. And in his eyes, you were.

🍙 Rule #1: “Looking you dead in the eye for more than a minute is strictly forbidden.” Your eyes, dare he say, are one of his favorite things about you. No matter how hard you try to conceal your emotions, your eyes are always so honest. However, he's not one to let others share such experiences with him. This is Sasuke, he's a possessive man!

🍙 Rule #2 “Disrespect or harm to [Name] will not be tolerated.” If not for Jugo, Karin would have violated this rule a long time ago, in front of Sasuke at that. She hardly liked you most days and she made sure to show you. Perhaps it was just his conscious but he couldn't bare to hear the pained screams of Karin as he knew her punishment wouldn't be a mere slap on the wrist.

🍙 Rule #3: “Any extreme intimacy results in death.” Things like hugs and hast pats on the heads were scarce for you as they would happen when Sasuke was out. Even so, you were often by Sasuke's side, joining him on his Endeavors set by Orochimaru himself. It pained you as you barely got any intimacy from your partner himself. You craved it more and more as the days went on. But if intercourse with anyone but himself crosses your mind, kiss them goodbye!

🍙 These are a merely few of the excessive rules he's set in place, the major ones at least. After some time these became second nature. Nonetheless, those are practically the only rules they roughly follow. You live together for fucks sake so there's no reason to act like strangers. Unless they happened to piss Sasuke off.

[laenordeservedbetter]

heyy so hear me out obsessed ghostface Sam...

But I Love You!

Words: 2.1k

Pairing: Ghostface!Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Sam would do everything in her power to make sure that you remain hers no matter who she has to stab in the way.

Warnings: (18+), killing, violence, manipulation, cussing, suggestive themes, unhinged Sam(?), confusing ending, not proofread (i had a long day and i'm tired). lmk if I missed any.

The italics in the first few scenes with reader & sam are Sam's inner dialogue/thoughts. This doesn't follow the scream timeline. Here, Sam never left Woodsboro, Tara's still in school, and Sam became Ghostface.

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

—

It started with an attraction or in simpler terms, a crush - the foundation of all things relationship related.

You turned up to her workplace by chance, caught up in the middle of the storm. It was common sense to stop driving and find a secure place to stay for the meantime. The diner Sam worked at was the closest. That’s how you found yourself acting as the cloud that would pour water on a certain place. Your day had been terrible. You were late to work, customers were more irate today than the previous days, and you forgot to bring your umbrella before leaving. Clothes soaking wet and droplets of water pouring on the floor, Sam was bound to notice you.

At first, her blood boiled. After all, she’d have to be the one to clean up this mess. But when she took a glance at you, her heart skipped a beat. The makeup on your face was smudged, your hair a tangled mess, but damn, “You look beautiful.” Sam whispered.

Your head snapped up, noticing someone else’s presence in the room for the first time. “What?”

“I said, ‘how can I help you?’” Sam silently cursed herself for slipping up.

You don’t notice the lie. “I’m looking for a place to stay for an hour or so. Just until the rain calms down. And maybe food?” The woman has an unreadable expression on her face. “Don’t worry, I have money, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The woman smiles kindly, “Oh, I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Oh? What were you thinking, then?”

“That you might need a change of clothes.” Sam gestures to your outfit.

“You’re probably right.” You say, “Sadly, I don’t have anything else to change into.”

Sam bites her lip, weighing out her options. “We have a spare uniform in the back.” She relents.

“That’s kind of you, but wouldn’t your boss be mad?”

Ugh. Roger.

“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him. The only thing you should focus on right now is making sure you don’t get sick.” Sam walks to the room that says ‘staff only’ and comes back less than a minute later to hand you the clothes. “Here. You can change to the bathroom over there.” She points to the lavatory.

“Thank you so much. You’re an angel.” You say, taking your time to go to the bathroom to avoid slipping.

Once Sam hears the door close, she looks to your car parked outside. She can’t let you leave. Not yet.

She grabs her umbrella hidden under the counter and makes her way outside, making sure the bathroom door is still closed before popping the hood of the car open, removing the rotor piece. “Nice and easy.” Sam mumbles, pocketing the piece. She rushes back in the diner, hoping to be there before you can question her whereabouts.

You exit the lavatory wearing the uniform given to you by the kind stranger.

It fits her perfectly. “All good?” Sam asks, handing you a towel.

“Yes, yes. I can’t thank you enough. Not many people would go out of their way to help a stranger.” You shiver, putting the towel around you like a cloak.

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

“Please. Call me Y/n.”

“You have a pretty name.” She says.

“Not as pretty as yours. . . Samantha.” You squint your eyes to read the name on the tag of her blouse.

Sam’s brows furrow, “How did you know my name?”

“It’s on your tag.” You point out.

Sam laughs, like, really laughs. The laugh-at-your-crush’s-jokes-even-if-you-don’t-find-it-funny kind of laugh. What is happening? “Fuck. Sorry. I’m not used to pretty girls complimenting me.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” You take a seat at one of the stools near the counter, smirking, “You must have dozens of women and/or men lining up at your door. With that face and kind heart, anyone could swoon.”

“Nope. Trust me. There’s no one.”

“More chances for me.” You do a fist bump in the air, not caring how stupid you looked. “Yes!”

You see Sam’s eyes widen as she tries to look away.

She’ll be the death of me.

-

As predicted, your car wouldn’t start. Sam gladly offered you a ride to your apartment, where she then asked for your number. You had no hesitation and gave it, thinking her intentions were pure. And they were.

Mostly.

-

That was eleven months ago.

You and Sam are together now and the crush bloomed into something more.

She was the perfect girlfriend. Good-hearted, gentle, caring. You thought you had hit the jackpot until the cracks in your relationship began to show themselves.

At first, it was the little things you noticed whenever you were together in public. Sam always had an arm around you. It didn’t matter if it was your waist or your shoulders or locking your arms together. She wanted to make sure the world knew that you were hers, which was fine. She wasn’t ashamed of you. Though, whenever someone looks at you too long or if they flirt with you despite Sam being there, her grip on your body tightens a little, but not too much to the point where it hurts.

The more time you spent with Sam, the more your friends started to get worried. It’s not healthy, they said. She’s keeping you from seeing us!, they argued. As soon as you shared their worries to Sam, she took effort in dispelling your doubts, telling you that your friends were envious of what you have and that it was normal to spend more time with your girlfriend than your friends, added by reassurance that there was nothing to worry about.

You chalked it off as Sam trying to look out for you.

After all, she is your girlfriend.

Then, there was that moment at a party.

It was a gathering for work. A room full of rich snobs and picture perfect careers. You couldn’t stand it, but your attendance was required. The only upside was that the company allowed you to bring a plus one. Naturally, you asked Sam and she said yes.

Even though you were elated that she agreed to go with you, you didn’t consider the possibility of not being able to talk to her much throughout the night because of strangers chatting you up. Some of them had the intention of asking you out. Though, upon seeing Sam’s deathly stare, they backed off. All but one.

The guy, Michael (tall, brunette, green eyes), would not stop leering at you with a mischievous grin. You felt sick to your stomach, uncomfortable by the way he looked at you, but not being able to do anything about it since he wasn’t actively trying to pursue you. Still, it disgusted you.

Sam’s hold on your waist remains, her jaw clenching, a clear sign that she was getting antsy. “Can we leave?”

You nod, “Yes. They’ve all seen me already, I think. We can finally go.” Despite the looks given to you by Michael, you tried your best to not let it dampen your mood, smiling at your girlfriend.

“Good. Come on.” Sam says, leading you to her car without so much as a smile.

“Hey, Sam, are you okay?” You make her look at you, holding her face in your hand.

Her gaze softens, “Yes, I am. Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”

“Other than the way his eyes made me feel, I’m fine. I’ll probably forget about it when we watch a movie when we arrive back home.” You assure.

“Who says we’re watching a movie?” Sam’s lips quirk upwards, hands wrapping around your waist as she pulls you to her while your arms move to her shoulders.

“Well, what do you have in mind, Miss Carpenter?”

She gives you a peck on the lips. “It’s better if I show you.”

You ran inside the car in a hurry to get back to your apartment and let Sam do the things she wants to you, the awful looks by Michael replaced by the desire pooling in you when your lover teasingly runs a hand between your thighs.

Again, it was fine. Everything was as it should be. Perfect.

But what came after? Not so much.

-

After you fell asleep, Sam carefully shuffled out of bed. She grabbed her dark cloak and Ghostface mask from the closet, running her fingers over the outlines of the eyes, sighing in relief. It felt good to pick up the mask again. Lately, she hasn’t been going out in the streets as much, having you to thank for that. As luck would have it, you gave her a mission (although inadvertently) at the same time the urge to kill became intolerable.

The job was easily done. Sam found Michael still at the party, waiting for the right moment. Michael went out the house, going for the alley since the bathroom was occupied. That’s when Sam made her move. Michael did not fight back, the alcohol in his veins dampening his ability to form coherent thoughts (assuming that he is better sober than he is drunk). Behind her mask, Sam was bursting with glee. Oh, how she missed it. There was nothing to compare to the feeling of excitement as you witness someone bleed out before you and the satisfaction that comes with it -- well, maybe nothing except you, her girl.

Sam opens the door to her room, anticipating your body still on the bed, sound asleep, but to her shock, you’re situated on the couch, both eyes on the bloodied mask in her hands.

“Sam, why is there blood on that?” Deep down, you knew the answer. You want to hear the confirmation first before you do anything that could potentially put your life in danger.

“I-it’s paint, baby. Tara’s got an art project for school. I-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I’m not five. I know blood when I see it! That is blood!” You point out, frustrated. “And what kind of excuse is an art project?! My neighbor’s cat could make a better excuse.”

“Baby,” Sam’s tone is dangerously low as she stalks closer towards you. “I did it for for you -- for us. The way he was looking at you… I didn’t like it one bit, so I removed his eyes.”

You get up from your seat, going to the farthest corner in the room away from Sam. She does a gesture to signal that she’ll go towards you and you put a hand up in warning. “Stay the fuck away from me! You’re mad!”

“Oh, please. Don’t we all go a little mad sometimes?” She retorted, ignoring your protests.

You flinch from her touch when she touches the side of your face with crimson colored hands. “You’re sick, Sam. I’m calling the cops.”

“But I love you!” Sam yells, her voice breaking at the end. “Can’t you see? I did it for you.”

“You keep saying that, but do you really mean it? ‘Cause if you did this for me, you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.” You spat, punching her abdomen, followed by a kick to the stomach.

Sam doubles over, giving you an opportunity to run, to call the cops, to do something. “Honey, please. Let’s talk about this! I’m sorry, okay? You know how much I love you. Please stop this. You’re hurting me.”

“I am?” You question in dubiety. Sam is clutching her stomach, tears pouring like a water fountain. That’s the moment it hits you. “I am.” Letting your guard down, you run to Sam, clinging to her like a lifeline, your last chance. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

She shushes you, “Hey, it’s okay, I know.” You close your eyes shut as she presses a kiss to your temple. “I love you so much.”

You let her pull you in an embrace, holding your body tightly. How you love her so. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, saying those three words back. She did what was best for the both of you. Nothing can harm you ever again so long as you stay by her side.

“My perfect girl.” Sam whispers. “Do you trust me?”

There was no getting out of this. You’re in it for the long run now. “Trust is a tough thing to come by these days.” You sport a grin against her neck that vanishes quickly, for you don’t want Sam to recognize it. She thinks she has you wrapped around her finger, but she doesn’t know the truth of it. It may be like a game for her, but not for you.

It’s not game over.

Not yet.

[path-of-grass-and-leaves]

How to Handle Difficult Spirit Communication

UPG Warning: All of this information comes from my personal practice and is not universally true.

To start, spirit communication can be challenging when done solely through divination, but that doesn't mean it's impossible. For beginners, I suggest researching how to sense and perceive spirits. After a while you'll likely begin to develop your own personal methods.

That being said, you don't need to have highly developed spiritual perception in order to communicate. This is where divination comes in. It can be difficult and sometimes frustrating but the more you practice, the easier it will become.

Let's dive into some of the common causes of unsuccessful spirit communication:

You don't know who you're reaching out to or why.

I think this happens more often among beginner practitioners. It was definitely one of my first mistakes when starting. You want to get into spirit work so you dust off your divination tools and start searching for the first spirit willing to talk to you. This IME has resulted in spotty or inconsistent communication and downright unpleasant experiences.

You should know why you're opening channels for communication. Are you attempting to contact a specific individual? Are you searching for a spirit guide or familiar? Are you seeking information or help with a working? Maybe you just want to honor your house or local land spirits. Maybe you suspect that a spirit is trying to get your attention and you want to find out why.

Whatever the reason, you want to make sure that you have a vague idea of who you're contacting and what your intentions are. One thing that I've found when reaching out without direction is that sometimes several unrelated spirits will come through, tying up the lines and confusing the reading.

Divination method is too limiting.

Some spirits prefer specific divination methods so it's important to experiment. Not getting results while using the pendulum? Try something else, like automatic drawing/writing, shufflemancy, or scrying. Tarot meanings not lining up? Try reading the images or elements and numbers instead, or adding an oracle deck to the mix.

I find that using two or more techniques at one time yields the best results. This includes asking for signs and performing dream work or spirit travel.

Results are being overlooked

I always make sure to write down results during divination. Otherwise it's very easy to miss out on key information. Let's say that I'm doing some bare bones spirit identification. I choose to use tarot and shufflemancy. During the session I notice that I'm pulling a lot of wand cards and many of the songs mention fire in some way. So, okay, now I know that this spirit is likely connected to the element fire. Good enough for now.

The next day I ask a follow-up question and don't get any results. This is when I would go back to my notes and review them. It's possible that my question was answered during the previous session and I had overlooked it while focusing on the more obvious information (the fire themes), and the spirit is frustrated with having to repeat themselves.

Questions are too broad or too restrictive.

Let's go back to general identification. I break out my tarot cards and ask, "Who am I speaking with?" and the cards that I pull aren't making sense. In my opinion this question is too direct and open-ended. I might want to rephrase it and ask something like "Which of the images on these cards best represent your preferred form?".

If successful, I would at least have a general idea of appearance and go from there. I might take note of additional details like the suit of the card, it's elemental and planetary correspondence, and assigned meaning.

I would avoid yes/no questions completely. In my personal experience they're always inconsistent, frustrating, and require a lot of guesswork.

Certain actions are required for contact.

Depending on context, culture, folklore, personal path, etc., some spirits may require that you perform a certain ritual or provide an offering before they will speak or work with you.

Now I'm not suggesting you leave offerings for just any random spirit, but there are some situations where it's appropriate. If contacted by an unknown spirit, for example, I would skip all forms of veneration and go straight to divination. But if I were to try and work with, let's say the spirit of my local river, I would have my offering ready before introduction.

You're communicating too often.

Just like any activity, spirit work takes energy. Overdoing it can and will result in burn-out.

If your attempts at communication are unsuccessful you might just need a break. Make sure to step back often and focus your attention elsewhere, like self-care, socialization, and hobbies. Answers will often present themselves after or even during a period of rest.