#i've had them for so long. it's incredible

[bathypelagicbutch]

the first time i was treated even remotely respectfully in public when i first transitioned was at 3am in a 24 hour pizza place while high out of my mind on shrooms. i was in full drag with a full face and it was the first and only time i was ever gendered correctly and respectfully in a public place while presenting femme. i pass now, and I'm thankful that i do, but the amount of effort I've had to put into making my body as acceptable as possible for people just so i don't get harassed for more reasons than being Black in places i don't belong (super white grad school lmao) is wild. i shouldn't have to make myself look like you want me to fuck you for you to respect me, and it really shouldn't be that hard for queer people to realise that that is literally what most of society, including white queers, forces us to do. there's a weird intersection with Blackness and masculinity for both Black men and women that i feel gets pointed out a lot, but i feel like the hypermasculinisation of Black women unless they present sufficiently slutty is something that only gets talked about at length for cis Black women and queer Black women in general. mainly because whenever the dolls try to bring it up the only response is immediate horniness or complete denial. it's also interesting that when i started presenting more masc i started passing, but since then the amount of horny white people who've been unable to remove the rupaulified fucktoy version of me in their brain for long enough to listen to me when i try to talk about how much it sucks being butch and trans has increased. exponentially. you all have too many issues with Black men to even notice how your racism affects every part of how you view Blackness in general.

speaking of! follow up to that earlier thing i said about not being able to be masc and trans without ppl needing to remind you that they only support you for your ability to fuck them ‐ it's worse when you're Black, and you white queens do it too. and i really don't think you realise you do! because I've talked about this with almost every person I've been with (if I've even been allowed to before being dismissed without a hint of concern) and most of them just admitted to doing this at some point in our relationship. so instead of being philosophical I'll just use a few examples from the past 3 years (because they get worse if you go earlier and also i. do not have to)

you don't get to call me sir in bed because I'm masc and you said you want to treat me like a guy in bed (you're gay please stop confusing Black masculinity for being a man and work on your issues before fucking me) and you especially don't get to use this as leverage against me whenever i discuss how racist the relationship dynamic is despite your incredibly vocal support of my activism. you don't get to use my body or the right to demand that i use your body because you have a fetish for Black men, and you aren't allowed to get upset when i point out that this is the most supportive attitude you've had towards any part of me the entire time we've been together. you don't get to take out your frustration against Black people or Black men by making me fuck you, and again you don't get to get upset when i point out how fucked up that is that you call yourself an ally and then only use that allyship to get dicked down. you don't get to assume that because I'm Black and masc i'm the most aggressive top you've ever come across and you don't get to white woman tears your way out of it by using your own transness as a pass. you aren't allowed to enjoy Black bodies if we're only a commodity to you (which you openly admit) and you similarly don't get to white woman tears your eay out of it by using your confused sexuality as a pass.

i think I've made my point so I'm gonna stop! but yeah can you all be normal about Black people thanks a million blushes sweetly

kinda uncomfortable how ppl cant celebrate black trans women unless they are superduperhyperfeminine with 19 layers of makeup + expensive surgeries/weaves/dresses and looking like theyre going to walk the red carpet every day

[contentloadingandstuff]

Equals - Yae Miko x Kitsune!Male!Reader

A/N: Something experimental today. It's an idea I've been sitting on for quite a while now. If you want to, I'll make more. Enjoy. CW: Mentions of abuse and dubious consent, discrimination, societal misoginy (kitsune culture and stuff), objectification, sexism and the aftermath of life under these. For context - a female fox is called a 'vixen', and a male is called a 'dog'.

The era of Kitsune is long gone. 

Taking a stroll through modern Inazuma, one would never believe that there were once as many youkai as there were humans living on the islands. Tengu, Oni, Bake-Danuki and among them, the ascended foxes - Kitsune. As their demonic fellows, they too had an island to call their own, one that has now been swallowed by the sea for centuries. There, Kitsune created a nation of their own, their hearth, their home. Alongside with houses and streets, they quickly formed a culture that would echo for millennia, right until the fall. 

Many elements of it leaked to the general heritage of Inazuma - the festive masks are one such example, followed by the entirety of ritual practice carried out within the shrines scattered across the land. After all, it's the very reason why a kitsune traditionally stands at the helm of the Grand Narukami Shrine. The same is the case of fox warriors - never has history witnessed a dog lead units of his kin or other peoples to war, at least not one that isn't an exceptional, legendary character of some kind. The reason for this state of things is not easy to find as few cultural sources remain, but scholars did not give up on their research. They sought the input of Yae Miko, one of the only Kitsune remaining in Inazuma, who gave them a simple answer - males are very rare. Satisfied, they placed her answer in the books, and the discussion was closed. 

But Yae Miko, as is customary for the current Guuji, kept the truth for herself. In truth, she decided to conceal it because it's an aspect of her kind that she is anything but proud of, even if she never took part in it. What was ordinary for foxes in their nation's prime would be unacceptable even for humanity of that age. 

There happen to be two ways a Kitsune is created. Primarily, it's through the union of two ascended foxes - a kit conceived this way is immortal and sapient from the beginning, gaining the ability to transform in just a few years of life. Even with a single birth usually resulting in three to six newborn foxes, dogs are rare, with one being born in every fourth or fifth litter on average. The second way of creation doesn't favor them either - so far, there have only been a handful of wild dogs that lived long enough to become ascendants, further reducing the introduction of males into the population. Luckily, evolution had it that those rare men welcomed into the world were incredibly resilient to illnesses and injuries, even by Kitsune standards, letting them live and spread their genes for generations to come. With the proper approach, the Kitsune weren't in any way threatened with extinction. 

As is commonly observed by historians, culture reflects the nature of a species, and such is the case for Kitsune. Over the years, the female-dominated society came to a simple conclusion: males are rare and must be protected. This prime example of a logical takeaway soon led to another, less egalitarian idea - something human researchers would refer to as infirmatus sexus, observing such inequalities in some cultures of their own. Kitsune believed that males must be protected, yes, but thought of them as inferior in intelligence and overall wit, as they rarely ascended from the wild. The vixen majority had no issue with this idea and the society turned matriarchal, increasingly more restrictive towards the men. But it was justified, in their eyes - they were required to prolong the species, right? As time went by, so did the objectification of the male sex progress ever further. 

Before the fall, society was based around large family units - lines ruled over by the oldest vixen, referred to as the matriarch. Beneath her were others - first, her own daughters, followed by those of her predecessor, then their offspring and finally, at the lowest rung, the foxes that just stood up from four paws. Dogs were not subject to this hierarchy, as they were dispensed with as objects with a clear owner - usually the matriarch. She had the right to mate with him, and when a change of power came, so too did the patriarch - usually switched for a younger male from another family, the further, the better. Similarly, male kits stayed with their father (raised, of course, under the careful scrutiny of the vixens) until they were of breeding age to be pawned off to another lineage for political favor, land, rights or simply cold, hard currency. 

Dogs that were too old to produce offspring or simply infertile were disposed of, in ways more or less kind, depending on who happened to own them. The majority got to stay as authorities for the youth and priests, and those with no luck were sold to slavers or human poachers. 

You were born into one such lineage on the fringes of the nation. You still recall the drawings of your infant self - an adorable pup with a pristine but messy white coat, two little ears pointing out, greedily taking in the sounds of the world. Allegedly, you had four sisters, though you never seem to recall their names. The first memories of young Y/N were primarily centered around your father - a towering, muscular fox with a gleam of wit in his eyes and grey eating away at his own fur. Despite his young age and fitting appearance, you always saw him as wise and ancient - maybe because of the hair, darkened by stress and exhaustion. He was cynical at times, but loving nonetheless. One of the fondest memories you had was when he would lift a panel from the floor and let you run free in the forest outside. There were rules of course - don't let anyone see you and come back before the first rays of sun. You enjoyed your time of unsupervised play, chasing squirrels and exploring the woods, always coming back through the same crawl space before it dawned. Your father would wash all the dirt off and send you to sleep with a warm hug, asking you to keep quiet about your adventure. Of course, you nodded along, but being a kid created the inevitability of a slip up. After you mentioned it to your female playmate once, you were taken away from that house and never saw it again. 

You don't know what became of your father. You didn't even get to know his name. 

The new house was larger, and so were the girls inside. While you didn't like playing with vixens at home - there was always an adult watching and you would get relentlessly berated for injuring yourself even in the slightest - you at least had somebody to have fun with. There, you had nothing. Lady Matsui, your owner and wife-to-be, simply had you locked in a room with books and toys to get yourself busy in the few free moments you had. You hated it there, but any mention of it would get one of the toys you had taken away. Any sign of disobedience to your caretakers, especially during exercise or classes, would get you punished. Matsui didn't seem to have patience for you, and was constantly complaining; she wanted a husband with red fur, not white fur. You were simply a temporary solution, and by the end, you would have all her deepest fantasies memorised. You were never part of them - as she said, you shouldn't get too attached. You were to be replaced shortly, after all. At least the food was alright. 

Years went by and it was clear that Matsui would have to begrudgingly accept you as her permanent husband. She didn't take it lightly at first, but after a time of angry outbursts and drinking, she had a sudden change of heart. “If I'm to own you”, she said, “I should at least train you properly”. And trained you were, both physically and in mind. Your free time was reduced to null and your days became dedicated to working out and studying. Sometimes the two were mixed - you had to recite the rules while doing push-ups. Good boys always sleep at night. Good boys thank their mistress for food. Good boys always listen. Good boys never question what they are told. Then, you were served unsalted, nutritious foods. Raw vegetables, slightly cooked meat, plain rice and raw fish made up your diet - all natural, as your Lady wanted. All tasteless. Any fussing, talking back, crying, making mistakes or disobeying would quickly put you in the punishment room. She would slap a bamboo cane on your hands and butt until you were red, sore and bleeding, she would make you kneel on small rocks or sit up the wall for hours, sometimes she would whip you. “Military discipline”. All the while she constantly announced her displeasure with your existence.

No matter how muscular you were made to be, it was never enough. So your diet was changed, shrinking endlessly to meet her impossible standards. No matter if you were tall, it was always too short for Matsui. So you were made to hold on to a bar with rocks tied to your ankles to stretch you out. Your knees still hurt sometimes, the skeletal deformations made permanent by this regular exercise. No matter how much stamina you had, you always ended mating too early. So you were trained, day and night, forced to perform through pain, distress and exhaustion. Sometimes Matsui had balls or parties held at her estate, and you were the main entertainment. You would dance, sing and play any instruments they wanted, but your wife and her friends were never there for your artistic skills in the first place. Your cries, moans and screams were much finer. Now that you think about it, her friends were likely never allowed to mistreat the dogs of their houses, so they took out their frustrations and carried out their wildest fantasies on you - without consequences. They were smaller, they were lighter, they were physically weaker than you, and yet you couldn't defend yourself. It would only make things worse - far worse if you did. You felt filthy. You felt humiliated. Afterwards you cleaned yourself frantically, but the feeling of their hands on you never faded. 

You ended up rubbing so hard that your body bled. 

You became a reclusive, quiet fox. Saying anything more than what was expected of you usually ended up badly, so you decided it's better to just stay silent. Taking your punishments and abuse with silent resignation was the only way of survival - without entertaining whimpers and pleading, Matsui and her vixens quickly grew bored of you. Instead of releasing your pain in front of them, you resorted to crying silently in your room, screaming without making a sound in the moonlight. You did all the things every male did - trained, ate, rested, had sex, attended events as a decoration and primarily - mated. Unlike your father, you never had the chance to raise pups. The female kits were always under the care of the vixens, and you didn't have the luck to sire any sons - for which you were always berated and beaten by your owner, even when she was pregnant. To her, she said, you were useless. Worthless. Even as a breeder. Still, despite not being able to hold your children in your arms, you did your best to learn of them. Some of your caretakers were kind enough to let you know their number and names. You diligently noted these details on a piece of paper, writing the names you would give your daughters if you could. Naomi. Ai. Juri. Kana. These and many more were the only connection you had to your little ones. 

It was the only good thing you left behind when you got the chance to flee. 

Internal rivalry between daughters, sisters and mothers was commonplace, so much so that it sometimes evolved into internal wars - you made use of one. Matsui made quite the negative reputation for herself, not just by mistreating you, but by cheating other families. They were out for blood, and although they wanted to steal you away for themselves, Matsui’s heirs decided that you deserved a chance. Once the fighting broke out, they took you away, threw you on a small boat you had no idea how to pilot and kicked you out to sea. 

It was hardly pleasant at the moment, but you would always thank them for taking pity on you after you landed in Inazuma. In the human nation of thunder, everything felt foreign. It was a bigger island, with long stretches of empty fields between sparse human settlements. These smaller, mortal creatures were quite the nuisance to you - although you saw a few traders in your life, you never got to take a closer look. But, instinctually, you know that stumbling into the view of a human guard was a mistake. You ran away and tried to hide amongst the jagged cliffs near the island's largest mountains, but you had unknowingly walked right into the hands of another, pink haired vixen. 

Your arrival in Inazuma was noticed instantly. After all, humans haven't seen a fox other than Yae Miko for a few centuries now. When she initially heard the news, she couldn't believe it - definitely, it was just another poorly-observed monster, or a mere trick of the light. But she still wanted to confirm that rumor, and the moment she saw a white pair of ears amongst the usual crowds of Inazuma City, she had a single thought - to catch you. Snatch you right up in a net, for whatever silly, selfish reason, if only to touch you and ensure you were real. It wasn't a surprise for her that you panicked and hid as quickly as you showed up - you had reasons to believe your freedom would be unwelcome. Finding you was barely a challenge for her nose, and with the help of a few shrine maidens, you were captured and brought back to her residence. 

What an incredible sight, you were. Definitely one for very, very sore eyes - Miko has long since abandoned the hopes of finding a partner of her own species and having a litter, which definitely contributed to her cynicism and general exhaustion with life. But here you were, real and in the flesh. An actual dog. A handsome, muscular dog. Soon enough, however, Miko's initial excitement dwindled and the factual gravity of things reached her senses. In front of her, curled on the floor, was a dirty, underfed, terrified creature. For somebody that, in the post-cataclysm circumstances of human society she was born into, would shake every room he would enter, you were frightful and quiet. You needed proper care, so Miko announced you would be staying with her until further notice. She then rolled up her sleeves and got to work. 

There was no doubt that you could understand her, and speak by extension, but you were significantly suspicious of her. Surely, she would want to chain you down again, you thought. She might even be worse than Matsui for all you know. Each meal she offered could contain one of these strange powders they made you eat when you were misbehaving, putting you to sleep and letting her do Archons-know-what to you. So you pushed the bowl away, and her alongside it. You had to stay strong. 

—

She takes the handle into her hands and, as gently as she can, pushes it down. The room before her is bathed in darkness, but her eyes pierce through it without issue. The matches she left on the table are untouched. 

What a surprise, she muses. 

From the moment her foot stepped over the threshold, there has been a pair of eyes boring into her frame. Miko casts a discreet glance towards the bedside corner. The resting spot itself was stripped of everything besides the mattress, now placed into a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in the safest spot in the room, the point furthest away from the door. From there your E/C surveyed Miko's every move. A part of her couldn't hold a smile. The unfortunate circumstances aside, it was quite adorable. 

“Good evening.” Miko says, picking up a candle from the shelf. She puts the plate of food she brought on the table and lights it, illuminating the space with a warm, flickering light. Placing the candle close to herself, she looks directly your way. 

There is no response. Your eyes continue staring at her, unblinking. 

No luck just yet. But I clearly have his attention, at the very least. 

A sigh escapes her lips. Miko takes the plate and steps a bit closer to you. “You clearly don't trust me. I can assure you I mean you no harm, and that I won't do anything against your wish, but I bet you want to see for yourself. And while that is alright, I doubt you will get to, the way things are going now.” She crouches down, placing it on the wooden floor. “You must have been through a lot, but please, you need to eat. I don't know what you enjoy the most, so I feel like this is the right place to start.”

Again, you remain still. Up close, Miko can see the blank expression on your face, dirty with mud, sweat and dried blood. Miko rolls her eyes, but manages to silence the groan of frustration before it forms. By no stretch of the imagination was she the best person to take you in, but if not her, then who?

Do you want to be difficult? Fine then. Two can play at that game. 

“Alright then. Suit yourself - if you don't feel like helping yourself to this positively scrumptious meal, I will.” Miko takes the single pair of chopsticks she brought in her hands and lifts a piece of sushi from the plate up to her mouth. She hums ostensibly, enjoying the taste of cold-smoked salmon. 

Something moves in the darkness. Your ears are fully up and pointed her way, like radar dishes picking up every crunch and smack of her lips. The plump, snow white rice and the bright orange salmon exude a tempting smell, reminding you of just how hungry you are. If she eats it without problem, then you should be fine too…

You slowly creep forward, the blankets and pillows around you silently falling as you stretch your aching arms and legs. Miko pretends not to notice you, but in reality her ears tell her exactly what's going on. She observes as your hand emerges into the light, your eyes never leaving her figure. Her sharp eyes instantly notice how chewed your fingers are, with no white nail to see. You snatch the piece of food and sniff it. After making sure it's alright, you bite into it. The delightful taste of well-seasoned rice and real, fresh fish lights up your senses. 

You reach for another. And another. And another. Before long, Miko is pushed back in your priority list and you sit in front of her, wolfing down the food straight off the plate in her hands. The vixen smiles. 

Finally, you're eating. It might not be much, but it's a start. You are just like a stray cat, aren't you? Scared, neglected and mistreated. Afraid of every shadow. 

She delights in watching your ears tremble under the speed of your eating. 

Such a cute creature. Who would ever want to hurt you? Certainly not me. Miko tilts her head. I wonder if I can…

“Thank you for the meal.”

Your sudden words make her pause. She never once doubted you could speak, but at the same time she didn't expect you to open up at something as simple as food. It was important nonetheless - if you spoke once, it would be just a matter of time before you speak again. And then she could learn everything about you. Who you are, what you like, and most importantly, who hurt you. 

“Do not mention it, little one.” She slowly stretches out her hand towards you. “May I?”

You stop eating for a second before bringing your nose closer to her hand. It smells like salmon. You return your attention to the delicious sushi on the plate. 

With a hum of satisfaction, she places her hand between your ears. They fold to the sides, making way for her. Miko rubs her hand over your grimy, brownish fur. It was white once, for sure, but now that colour is just barely showing in places. No worries - she would wash you and make sure your coat will return to its undoubtedly splendid layer. 

“I'm here. It will be alright.”

There's a long road ahead of us. But you won't have to walk it alone, dear. 

Thanks for reading!

[taldigi]

how do you feel about yu’s parents?? What do you think they’re like?

I think they're really interesting to explore- believe it or not. I've seen a lot of different interpretations of his parents, ranging from straight up negligent, to being abusive-- or just simply too busy. I've even seen interpretations where they're perfectly fine parents, and that the year abroad is an unusual circumstance.

The game itself, which is what I would consider primary canon (sequels being secondary and manga and anime being tertiary) never touches on it more than it needs to to justify Yu's presence in Inaba/being new. I think Yu's mother is briefly mentioned once or twice and they are said to have called Dojima once.

I made the observation (previously when theorizing about Ren's parents) that it's completely possible that during the downtime that you don't get to see between transition stages (where, theoretically, the main protagonists would do homework or take a shower or tend to other daily needs) it's totally possible that they call or interact with their parents.

All interpretations are possible, but I know Souji Seta's (the protagonist from the Manga) parents are always moving around- and lot of folks have taken this to heart- and yeah, I can see it and I too like this idea- even though it's worth considering the fact that the manga is mostly secondary to the games (and even the anime!) and it's not definite canon.

That being said, I definitely like the idea that they are a sort of echo of the conflict between Nanako and Dojima. Both suggest career oriented people that probably shouldn't have had a kid in the first place who prioritize their work over their family.. and that, in turn, leading to neglect- with Yu and Nanako both being self sufficient. mature for their ages, and complacent.

Behaviors Yu exhibits- like his ability to cook meals beyond what is expected of a teenage boy, becoming incredibly attached to Nanako (he is one wrong dialog choice away from killing someone over her!) and Inaba, the insatiable need to people please, his initial desire to push people away or ignore others, and his otherworldly emotional control and ability to not express himself.. -is stuff like that echos of a kid who's had to grow up way too fast and not cause any trouble and keep to himself.

So personally, I subscribe to that concept: Yu's a kid who's been raised to be seen, not heard- developing complexes and anxieties over being praised for being responsible and mature even though he's only barely meeting that expectation by the skin of his teeth. Nothing less that being perfect for the Narukamis, after all- there's no time to make friends or have many interests when time is better spent on studying.

So... the Narukamis are parents who fufill those concepts. Parents who withhold attention and praise because those are things reserved for truly impressive successes.. and when exemplary is the expected baseline, such rewards are never actually acted upon.

Yu does have a taste in cooking, though- and a selection of music he likes. He doodles in his notes and reads magazines- I feel it expresses that while his parents don't police his interests, it also means that they really care much about their son's interests... as long as they don't interfere with work (and, by extension- Yu's grades or behavior, as he can be considered an asset in said jobs)

Jobs that leave them busy more often than not, leaving Yu alone.. but he's mature for his age, so it's okay. He prolly does a fried egg and toast and then goes and sits in front of the TV to do his homework. Yu seeing this in Nanako... is a lot, and makes their relationship that much more sweet and aajhksdkjasf

His parent's cruelty is best decided on a story by story basis. The level of willfulness in their work (genuinely needed often vs choosing work over family for example) or the level of regret they express upon leaving-- informing many interesting stories.

so yeah thats my thoughts on that.

side tangent, thats why souyo's so nice tbh. Yu always has to be the inconquerable senpai, the perfect big brother, noble leader, and everyone's rock- only to have Yosuke waltz up , hang off of him like a drunk girlfriend, and go "yeah he's amazing, but he's also the world's weirdest man and he's my best friend about it."

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Sea Bat (again)

Debut: Donkey Kong Jungle Beat

It has been quite a long time since our old post on Sea Bat, so long that it was known as Sea Bakky back then! How long was it? Uh it was SIX YEARS? NEARLY SEVEN YEARS AGO??? My word. Well I think we've earned the right to mention this funny slug for the second time in over six years. We can indulge.

I want to talk about Sea Bat because it is so awesome! It's so cool! This is genuinely one of the coolest things ever. We just had a whole year of Shadow the Hedgehog, but sorry! He's only the SECOND coolest character. Number one is Sea Bat, babey! This thing hells yeah! (that's my new way of saying something is really cool. No one else says it but you could start if you want)

It's really a shame that DK Jungle Beat is so slept on, not only because it is genuinely a very fun game, but because Sea Bat is such an incredible design. As the name implies, it is a variant of the typical bat enemy, but as great as bats are, you cannot expect me to give a hoot about a regular ol' bat when one of them is actually a SLUG!

Not just any slug, but a clione, a sea angel, whatever you like to call them! I like to call them Fairy Slugs, but nobody else does. They are really some of the most magical creatures in the world, fluttering about in the void of the sea... and to think that such a magical creature is a SLUG! What a wonderful planet this is!

Jungle Beat dared to ask the question: what if a clione was goth? It would go hard, is what would happen! And it did, and it does. Sea Bat is not JUST a clione with bat wings, not JUST a clione with a bit of a spooky face. It's a FLATWOODS MONSTER clione! That head-and-face-shape combo is unmistakable! Representation WIN: this marine mollusc is from West Virginia!

Just... this thing is so cool. I know I've said that before but it's so cool. And it's criminal that barely anyone knows about it! This design deserves more than to be beaten up by Donkey Kong in an out-of-character spree of violence against innocent wildlife. It should... be on a skateboard, maybe? Nothing preventing anyone from painting it onto a skateboard! Hell Yeah!

And to think, they made this sea angel monster so cool and spooky, and didn't even need to include the real thing's Nightmare Face Tentacle Eruption form. Wowee! Swimming snails can rest easy tonight!

[the-teufort-nine]

My TF2 Fic Rec List [ Fanfics I've Read That You Should Too]

*cracks knuckles* right, let's get started! X Reader fics are not included bc I already did a list of them for an ask. Mind the tags and ratings, as always. I'll add to this as I collect more, but its decently long as is

Symbol Key:

** = Incomplete

~~ = Personal favourite

++ = Under 10k

SpeedingBullet:

~~Running Blind by TheTriggeredHappy

(( Scout's eyes are badly damaged in battle and for some reason, Medic's gun can't fix him. Until they figure out how to heal Scout, he needs someone to look after him and keep him safe.

Sniper is given the job.

[3rd person limited, Scout's POV, some character development done on a whim] ))

The SpeedingBullet fanfic. If you like Scout X Sniper, and you haven't read this one yet, I don't know what to tell you. You are severely missing out on not only a great romance story, but also fantastic team dynamics. Also has an available Podfic!

++From a Hospital Bed by SlightlyLessThanAnon

(( Jeremy wakes up in the hospital, his brain struggling the find coherent thoughts as the world churns around him, in and out of consciousness.

He finds the team may care about him a little more than he thought they did. ))

Short but sweet. More whole team fluff than strictly SpeedingBullet. Very cute.

~~Golden Brown, as well as its sister fic, Take Me Out by Ali_Ker (Alina_Kerrin)

(( After seeing his co-worker in a new light, Scout is faced with unknown feelings and a new, distracting perspective on things. ))

This lovely author can be found here under the handle @alikerao3

Grouped these two together because they are they same story, but told from the perspectives of Scout and Sniper respectively. Definitely a bit of a heavier read, especially for anyone who has dealt with Catholic guilt or internalized homophobia, but my God is it worth it. Don't just read one thinking it isn't worth it to read the other fic. Read both. Also, check out the song that inspired the title.

~~Going Through The Motions by AussieBookworm

(( Working under RED can be repetitive at times - but nothing like this. After a curse is fired his way, Scout is forced to live through the same day over and over and over again. It should be easy for someone as perfect as Scout to break the curse, right? As long as he doesn't have to confront the things he's been feeling towards Sniper it should be a piece of cake! ))

Possibly my absolute favourite TF2 fic right now. Scout gets character development out the ass, Demo has a prominent, important role, and there's a plot twist so good it had me tweaking out. TW for Suicide as a method used to get out of a time loop. Absolutely incredible, and it needs more love.

Gills and Gunpowder by popkeeki

(( Monsters are becoming increasingly rare. Between getting pushed to the periphery of society or being targeted by traffickers, life is hard when you are not (entirely) human. Like many others, Scout tries to keep his true form a secret. It has never really been a problem. That is, until a nosy teammate catches him mid-swim. ))

SpeedingBullet Mermaid AU!! Good luck finding a fic with this premise that also reaches this level of quality.

**~~Pet by Anonymous

(( Sniper's terrified of losing the one person he has in his life. It turns out there's a convenient solution to that: just make sure he has no way out, and the rest will follow.

Scout wakes up in a van he knows all too well, loopy and hungover, and Sniper's waiting for him.

*

Or: Learning to live with claustrophobia in small spaces Or: Making the best of assisted living Or: You can’t outrun a fucking bullet ))

Are you like me? Do you enjoy Scout whump and Yandere!/Possessive Sniper? SpyDad? Do you want more of it in your life? If the answer is yes, than Pet is for you! No NSFW, just pure, delicious kidnapping and one-sided love.

General Fanfic Recommendations:

++Something's Up With Respawn by Camelot_taurus, Old Works (HarveyDangerfield)

(( Respawn starts to glitch, and the Administrator sets Engineer to work fixing it.

It doesn't take long for him to find out exactly what's going ))

Super funny, weird little oneshot. Basically, Respawn starts glitching and producing fucked up, Paperjam Dipper-esque clones of the Mercs.

++Mask Off by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout is sick. Really sick. 'If we can't get this fever under control it's the hospital or the morgue' sick, and Respawn can't help him this time. They'd already tried that. He's gotten so delirious he's fighting Medic every second he's awake, not really lucid enough to remember so much as his own name, much less that of any of the team. Medic is ready to put him under full sedation and try and work things out from there, but Spy has an idea. ))

Wholesome SpyDad fic. Spy actually acts like a dad for once, for his sick little bunny.

~~++Scout, Respond by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout wakes up in a dark, unknown place, with rocks bearing down on him and a spotty recollection as to how he ended up there in the first place. The only thing that keeps him sane is the voice of his team in his ear, telling him to talk, to breath, and, more than anything, to stay awake. ))

Scout gets trapped beneath a collapsed building, and receives comfort from his team over his headset while they race to dig him out. Super cute, definitely a must read, and I've done so more than once.

pick it all up (and start again) by bugbee

(( The clues had always been there, he had just never wanted to see them. Maybe neither of them had, instead content to deny the truth before their eyes for the rest of their days because it was better than confronting the alternative. Except Scout had died, and Spy wasn’t able to keep on pretending for his last moments. A part of Jeremy was glad for it, despite the simmering rage and betrayal and hurt. So when he tried to look God in the eye and tell Him that Tom Jones was his father… He couldn’t. Not really.

(Scout discusses his parentage with God, and stays dead for a little while longer. Well. A lot longer. On the plus side, he gets to attend his own funeral reception.) ))

An alternate take on Scout's death from the comics. Very Scout centric, obviously, and ends happily.

~~A Little Bird Told Me… by the_soup_specter

(( Medic learns a secret— something personal, powerful, big enough to cause a rift in the team of mercenaries that could tear two of them apart. And for once in his life… he’s not sure how to proceed.

With no better ideas, Medic decides to ask his fellow mercenaries for advice. But as dueling viewpoints begin to pile up, will he be able to make a decision before the team is changed forever? ))

Medic learns Spy is Scout's dad, and spills the beans. Everything turns out ok, but man the aftermath initially ain't pretty.

~~seven times he has to explain (and one time he doesn’t have to) by conner_is_alive

(( the trans scout obsession has me in a vice

also if i don’t vent my trans sadness i will literally rip a government building down brick by brick lmao ))

The fic that made me a trans Scout believer. If you're on the fence about that headcanon, maybe give this fic a read.

**~~Kith And Kin by BOREDGrace23

(( Mick never thought much of the BLU team. They were just clones, after all. Designed to be their opponents in a meaningless war.

That's why when he woke up, his vision blurry, his brain blistering from a headache like he'd just woken up from a hangover, and several burning questions about what had happened, he thought it was strange that they hadn't killed him already.

//

Or, BLU are clones and RED are decidedly not. They’re then forced to work together when their teams disappear. ))

If you like Emesis Blue, or horror in general, go read Kith And Kin. And when you finish, go give @boredgrace23 some love for such an incredible fic.

**++Der Junge by UpInFlamesWriting

(( Everyone on the team knows that Scout & Medic do not get along. They're like Sniper & Spy, except less bloodthirsty about it. Medic scares Scout, & Scout doesn't give Medic a reason to like him. When the two of them start being more than friendly all of a sudden, the team starts to worry, especially when it becomes obvious that Medic & Scout are keeping secrets from them. Scout & Medic are not about to tell the rest of the team that they are a pair of transsexual men, especially when Medic agrees to help Scout in his transition. For all the weirdness that goes on in the base, the world is not kind to queer people, & they aim to keep the reason behind their friendship a secret, even if it kills them. ))

Trans Scout and Trans Medic solidarity fic. I need more of this.

Eight Mercenaries and A Toddler by ChaosandMayhem

(( When Respawn malfunctions and their annoying Scout is turned into something far more precocious, it'll take all of the RED team's wits and patience to look after him. At the same time, Engineer must find a way to turn Scout back into an adult before the BLUs-or anyone else-realizes what's happened. No pairings, just a bunch of exhausted trained killers and one hyperactive child. ))

An Ancient Text from 2012 and the only FF.Net fic on this list, EMaAT is a classic for me. Lot's of Spy backstory, if memory serves. Quotes from this live rent free in my mind.

PracticalEspionage:

++Under the Lake by Her_AngelEyes

(( Engineer goes fishing. Hilarity ensues. ))

Don't let the description fool you. This is a non-con/mind break fic. If you like darkfic stuff, than this is for you~

[wispedvellichor]

HELLO HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS POST ON MY DASH IS TUMBLR CONSPIRING AGAINST ME TO MANTAIN YOUR IM-NOT-A-SAP PROTESTATIONS

(I was scrolling your blog bcuz you DM-d me the Sugar Daddies post and I remembered youre on this hellsite and not just a random guy who exists and is the paragon of all I hope to be in my own existence. I found sap instead. Jackpot.)

Anygays I already wished you Happy Microceleb Day BEFORE morning that day in Asmi Time so I get a leeway to reblog this fuck you

I still remember Jan 5th of last year. I was dying of stress [eugh] and I hadn't been outside the house or interacted with anyone else for months cuz. boards [also eugh]. I was scrolling tumblr for some respite in fandom but my dash was filled with all my mutuals reblogging the same fucking long ass post and dying about it. I went to OP's blog to block him but someone was talking about streaming Good Omens the next day?? I decided I needed a rewatch to calm my nerves cuz sure. Why not.

The stream was the first sense of community I'd had in years.

Just - the amount of people - sharing their stories - taking the show that had been such a massive source of joy on its own and adding so much more to it by simply being there. It was surreal, in a way. Being in the community for the first week alone - sharing edits and theories and a little parts of ourselves was. Aaaagh. /vpos

And you were there !! I barely even knew you then but you were, and still are, so so incredible in everything you said and did. You're the reason that any of it even is and I do not believe anybody else in the world is capable of fostering and growing a community, a family, like this one.

I'm so proud of us and all that we have grown to become a year later.

Some of you made friends, some of you found qpps, some of you fell in love with each other, some of you found family.

Check, check and check. No wait wdym the Maggots have shown me all that real love truly stands for I mean whaaaaaat.

I know I've said this before but. You saved me. This community, yes, but also you as a person. You've taught me so much about what it means to be kind; what it takes to bring groups of people together and help them connect out of nothing but sheer love - be it love for a show or each other or, even, for you. Because we love you. And that, I believe, is what's holding us together in the end of the day.

Mkay sap over. This is a reminder to text me. Cuz I miss you.

End of text.

well, it's been a year since i found you all...

My dear maggots,

This is a long letter, but I owe it to you, and I hope you read it. One year ago. That's when I made that fateful Good Omens post. I'd joined tumblr a couple of weeks before that, in some part for Drarry, mostly for some kind of community.

You see, the month before, I'd just dropped out of college, not even halfway through the first year. I'd been isolated by nearly all the students, and the administration took their side. Of the few I'd considered friends, only one checked in on me after. My high school friends were busy with their own college lives. It's a long story, and a sad one, but this isn't about that story.

Hopped up on reading too many tumblr screenshots on pinterest, I threw myself into the hellsite, and finally was able to talk to a couple of people. Some of you have run into my I need a friend post. For once, I had some kind of interaction. And then my dash was flooded with Good Omens and so I made a post trying to figure out what the fuck was going on with the gay angel and demon.

I was in freefall. I'd long since passed the edge of the cliff and fallen over, and everything in my life was upended, and everything that I'd valued about myself, I'd lost. I was in freefall, and you caught me.

Delighted by my utter dumbassery, apparently, you crowded around me and offered theories and fanart and posts and lore. You laughed at my stupid jokes and pulled me in to watch the show with you. You read my summaries and named me the Mascot of your fandom. You were all so, so kind.

Which is why I adore the Good Omens fandom, and why I'll never leave, even after what Gaiman did. Because yes, I'd interacted with him before things went down, and sure, he was involved in the journey, but this isn't about him. I didn't even know he existed before this year. This is about you, and me, and the community that we created. He doesn't get to take that away.

And then, even once I'd watched the show, you stayed. You became my family. You adopted me into your fold. You began to talk to each other, too. Some of you made friends, some of you found qpps, some of you fell in love with each other, some of you found family. And you thanked me for it, but I don't think you understand, it was thanks to you. You did this. You found a sad, lonely boy with a weird unhinged sense of humour, and you saved him. If you were saved yourself, well, I am very, very, glad. Because you deserve that. You all do.

Whether you've never interacted with me with words or whether we've had hours long phone calls, whether you found me out a year ago or last week, whether you're part of the good omens fandom or not, it doesn't matter, I want to say thank you. You should know that no matter what else happened, you are so deeply good. And kind. And you helped me.

I'm in art school now. You were with me while I was searching for a college. While I wondered if I should even join one. You were with me the day I did the entrance exam. You were with me on my first day, and every day after that. When I was at the hospital or at home or on holiday. I knew I was never alone. Because I had you.

You never have to be alone again, either. You gave me a family, and I will do everything I can to keep it safe. I love you, so, so much.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

~ Asmi

[morlock-holmes]

So I've seen you reference works by Duchamp and Worhol and the like before, saying that 20th century art history has already had the conversation about what should be considered art and that critics of AI art are ignoring all that history. But what's the case that these works actually should be taken seriously as art? If I say that I think Warhol's soup cans and Duchamp's Fountain are just juvenile pranks at best and not worth paying attention to, what am I missing out on?

I know that I could find answers to this elsewhere, but I'm interesting in your take on it.

I don't know if it's worth taking them seriously as art, exactly, so much as you have to take them seriously as moments in art history.

I wrote about Fountain here, and I'm a little bit proud of that explanation.

The major thing that happened in the 20th Century is the long process of destroying the idea of "good taste", and of any distinction between "High art" and "low art".

The reason I bring up Pollack, Duchamp and Warhol is that all of them very famously raised the question of "What constitutes worthwhile art?"

A urinal? Splatters of paint on canvas? Paintings of a commercial design you didn't create?

Part of the reason they seem dubious and silly is that they essentially won the battles they were waging so incredibly decisively that it's almost impossible to imagine a world where they didn't.

When Duchamp put a urinal in an art exhibition the idea of doing it was so scandalous and absurd that even a group of avant garde artists thought it was a step too far. Today, if you saw a toilet in a gallery show you'd yawn and say, "Of course".

There is an essay I can't seem to find, (I had thought it was by Umberto Eco but I was apparently wrong) which had an image which stuck with me where the author said that the popularity of Warhol's soup cans gave him the somewhat daft temptation to put an actual can of Campbell's tomato soup up on a shelf as an objet d'art. Somehow, the attention paid to Warhol seems to imbue this ordinary object with a sense of artistry and importance.

Did you know that in 1965 Marvel Comics briefly rebranded as Marvel Pop Art Productions?

Attacks on AI specifically are all waged in an arena where the idea of "High" and "Low" art has been thoroughly demolished, where you can lionize, without any felt sense of irony or shame, the human talent that goes into drawing vampires on Magic: The Gathering cards.

And the reason I put it in a dismissive way like that is that 50 years ago, or 100 years ago, this was not the primary way that the culture conceptualized art. The further back you go, the stricter the distinction between "Art" and "Commerce" gets.

Prior to Warhol and Pop Art, comic books, for example, were generally understood as disposable nonsense designed to distract children; while some adults did, in fact, enjoy and think about them as valuable expressions of human artistry, this was not the dominant paradigm, thinking about them this way marked you out as in some way a member of the counterculture.

Writing an essay about the merits of Jack Kirby as a capital A Artist is no longer an avant garde act of countercultural defiance, it's just... Ordinary. The way one thinks of art.

This is because of adult comic book fans and comic book creators working from the bottom of culture and because of the popularity of people like Warhol and Lichtenstein at the top of culture, eating away at the barrier between high and low culture from both sides.

I don't even like Lichtenstein, I think his pastiches of other people's works are generally less interesting and arresting than it would be to just take the panels he was aping and blow them up.

But he's still important to the general story.

A conception of human artistry where the main important thing is the expression of a human talent, regardless of subject matter, is not some obvious constant of human thought; such a conception would be foreign to most human societies.

The reason it doesn't seem foreign today is in large part due to all the people I keep mentioning.

And so there is something that bothers me about internalizing and agreeing with many of the challenges they posed to traditional notions of taste while simultaneously ignoring and dismissing them as not worth thinking about.

The 20th century attacks on traditional artistic conceptions were so total that they also included strong attacks on traditional ideas of "Authorship" and "Intention" as components of art.

I don't know if this is really making sense. Basically, if you actually want to dismiss the last century of art history, you have to have some sense of "High" and "Low" art, and acknowledge that AI at the moment really only poses a threat to "Low" art which, quite frankly, a person of good taste shouldn't care so much about anyway.

"High" Art was already ruined before you were born, and any intrusion of AI into that space is pretty much just carrying coals to Newcastle at this point.

Or, if you want to take "Low" art seriously, then... I mean... Take it seriously. Taking "low" art seriously means grappling with the people who made it possible to take it seriously, and that means also grappling with their assaults on authorship and intentionality.

There's something that bothers me about taking the world Andy Warhol helped build as just obviously good while acting like there's no point in paying attention to anything he did.

[spicypepperflakesss]

💚 Post-Route Muriel | My Muriel Masterlist

Muriel and His Pillows ☁️🛌🏻💤

When you first spend the night with him, you were just checking some things out around his house with him because it was a slight mess and you wanted to help with cleaning

You're mortified to peel a pillowcase off of one of his pillows

It's dark yellow

Of course you don't want to sleep in them. They smell incredibly musty [but there's a faint notes of something homey. But you're not telling him that]

"But they're fine" Muriel says in defense, "I've slept on them for years"

"Yeah, but, have you ever washed them?"

"Why would I need to wash them?"

You can see he's also a bit embarrassed. You get the sense that laundry is something not so accessible to him, no matter how much he'd like to do it.

At the end he shrugs, saying something along the lines that give off "it is what it is" energy and he doesn't see the point of washing them. He doesn't force you to sleep on them though

But you're not having it. You drop the argument of course, because poor guy isn't shirking off laundry on purpose anyway.

Instead, you bring your own pillows for both of you to sleep on

At first, he's resistant and stubborn. He says he liked his pillows. Your pillows are your own and "too soft" for him

But that night, the moment his head rested on your pillow, he was gone. Instantly knockout. He got to snoring in a few seconds.

And that's when you decide to wash his pillows soon. You both get around to it afterwards.

And they come out incredibly soft and fluffy. Its dark yellow color is now a cream white. Alas, that initial yellowness was so powerful that not even the strongest, laundry safe bleach could remove it

But Muriel loves the new way his pillows are. He doesn't tell you, of course. It comes out when you're both tucked in one other night, and he whispers a small, shy "thank you". Before he lets out a deep yawn and instantly falls asleep.

And now, every night, you notice that he sometimes snores, because of how much his sleeping self is burrowing his face into his newly fluffed pillows.

Poor guy must have had to put up with them being uncomfortable for so long

Bonus HC: Newly Washed Pillow Smell Profile

Top note: - fresh laundry smell (slight citrus, floral scents. Slightly commercialized so they're slightly stronger than natural citrus and floral smells) [Did not exist previously before his properly done laundry era]

Middle note: - sun dried cloth (like you can tell he just came from walking under the sun, makes the top notes end with slight b.o and forest-y smell)

Bottom notes: - faint notes of strong b.o (but only when you've just showered and maybe you've sweated a bit afterwards.) - dandruff/ scalp scent (like the smell of scalp, 3 days after one has showered)

------------------- If you reached the end, I'm guessing you enjoyed this post! Here's a masterlist of all my Muriel related things for you to enjoy:

All The Muriel Things

[randomfoggytiger]

Hello Tiger,

I've never spoken out on this subject and I'm not going to again, but seeing Sunday's discussion, I can't remain silent. We have different concepts of what it means for a young woman to “thrive” and what it means for a man to assume a relationship openly, without looking like a deer in the headlights every time he is seen with his partner. So far, so good. As for the glaring age difference, it's controversial, but it's not the end of the world either. But what about the fact that a 55-year-old rich man goes after a 22-year-old girl, enters into a sexual relationship and brings her to live with him? 22 years! Do we have a different concept of that too? Is a 55-year-old man with a 22-year-old girl acceptable to you? For me, there's no justification - I'm still a fan of Mulder, but only of the character. For now. Please don't be offended: I'm a long-time reader of your site and even though I don't agree with your position on this subject, I enjoy reading it very much and I appreciate your willingness to write about the series. I wish you a happy 2025!! 🙏

I'm not offended, don't worry. :DDDD Age gaps relationships boil down to whether an individual can stomach that sort of dynamic or not; and no amount of logic or reasoning is going to dissuade a gut reaction. So, I get it when others can't stand it.

And thank you for the compliments! I try to keep church and state (my irl opinions and the series' meta) separate. ;)))

My Thoughts

I don't mind age gaps because I've seen/heard them done successfully-- however, those successes are incredibly rare. Stereotypically, it involves someone younger with someone older, and there's usually money to some degree. Exploitation is a huge risk to watch out for; and I've found the toxic relationships have two prominent factors in common: A. they quickly lock down a younger individual by knocking her up, thus making it harder for said individual to leave; and B. they dangle and lie and push off the type of commitment the younger individual expected, dragging on the process as long as possible while demeaning and belittling the younger person's sense of identity.

Why am I okay with David and Monique?

First off, we don't know how old Monique was when she and David began dating. She first appeared publicly at The X-Files premiere (with her friends and boss from the smoothie shop) in 2016. The two didn't appear publicly together until 2017; and I'm pretty sure she was on set a time or two while S11 of the Revival was filming. She would have been 24 or 25 then.

However, let's assume they began dating in 2015 when she was 22 (after she followed Brad on Twitter or Instagram, I can't remember which): I would immediately raise my eyebrows and go on the defensive. That would lead me down a long rabbit hole of questioning and double questioning; and I would have to arrive at a final conclusion with some sort of evidence to indicate if this was a predatory, creepy, weird, neutral, positive, or healthy relationship-- part of that process would include looking at relationships outside of the two primary "targets": kids, family members, exes, etc. Which I did, because there was a lot of ruckus (on Tumblr, sometimes Twitter) about the nature of their relationship. Next, I would look at the individuality of the people involved: was there an improper balance between the two-- was one beholden to the other? Speaking of which--

Secondly, I long suspected Monique had independence of some form apart from him-- her Instagram posts didn't change substantially after they moved in together except to now include him; she hangs out regularly with her friends; she has hobbies and interests outside of the relationship; etc., etc.-- and confirmed my suspicions yesterday with an old interview. Her parents, per the interview, were well-off enough to give her horse riding lessons... and ice skating lessons... and tennis lessons... and violin lessons... and soccer lessons, all at once (?) She traveled the world for tournaments before meeting DD.

Regardless, I just don't see David as the type to leave an ex high and dry after they part ways-- he went above and beyond to pay alimony and his kids's expenses post divorce (at apparently higher rates than is usual for his $$ bracket in NY, if I recall), and he brings all his past associates, exes, and family forward in his projects. Even if one wanted to write off their relationship as a sugar baby transaction, MP would still have the ability to network as DD's ex after taking the assets both would split post- (potential) separation.

Now, for the moral/ethical aspect: while many are against and few for the idea of age gaps, I-- personally-- weigh each case individually. Most celebrity age gaps are based on transaction, but knowingly. Leonardo DiCaprio, for example, dates only women younger than 25; but his girlfriends seem aware of that fact, and he markets them and their careers pretty generously (comparatively) so that they're established as models or socialites or etc. etc. etc. by the time the relationship comes to a close. (I've never heard one speak badly of him, but there's always that possibility.) If there is exploitation there, it's at least propagated by both parties.

In David and Monique's case, she hasn't used her relationship with DD to market this or that venture-- despite speculation that she would-- but doesn't hide it, either. He, meanwhile, brought her everywhere with him; introduced her to friends, acquaintances, and professionals along the way; and snapped countless photos of her and let her snap countless photos of him. They seem-- on a surface level-- to be attached, in love, and secure in each other. Not to the same degree that he and Tea had, but he's not the same man post- public "sex scandal" and (especially) divorce. And having gone through countless paparazzi pics of the two of them over the years, I've noted that he doesn't treat her differently than any previous "private citizen" ex, and initiates more physical contact in public than she does.

Swinging back around to the moral/ethical argument, is it right that a man thirty years MP's senior should date her-- one with kids, no less? It depends, to me. What is the health of the relationship? What is the health of their relationships outside of that relationship? Are they growing and changing or stagnating and regressing? I've seen both seem to progress rather than regress-- he and his directorial and podcast efforts, she and her arts and crafts and flower business. He and his kids seem to have a solid, loving, loyal relationship even after she joined his life; he and Tea have a cordial, publicly supportive, even loving relationship after their divorce; and he never seemed to abandon his responsibilities to his mom in her last years on earth. As for Monique, she and her friends and family seem (don't have too much information to glean from here) to still have a solid, loving, loyal relationship; she seems to keep out of business that doesn't concern her (DD and Tea's co-parenting); and she seems to not push his kids into compromising or uncomfortable situations.

As far as age gap relationships go, this appears pretty drama free, even-keel, and seemingly positive and healthy-- 'healthy' as in there are numerous signs of personal growth from both parties.

Personally, I think people settle into relationships where they feel most at home, or ones that reflect where they are in their personal lives. Those dynamics could be healthy or wickedly unhealthy; but they're where the person wants to be. (It's up to family and loved ones to rescue an abuse victim, of course, but that person picked someone who reflects how they feel about themselves in their minds, for example.) I don't know what initially drew Monique and David to each other-- maybe she makes a mean green smoothie. Maybe he has a ton of money she likes to spend (though their rather unglamorous lives, factored in with her parents' more-than stable finances, leads me to take this with a grain of salt.) All I know is what I've seen written up on the internet-- that Monique "saved him, in a way" (said a close friend-- who was not a bootlicker, because she also had biting criticisms of David to share)-- or leaked online-- that DD is MP's world and she loves him.

So, in conclusion: I'm very skeptical of any relationship-- age gap or otherwise-- and need to see proof before I believe that two people are actually in love or thriving. Furthermore, it's their business; and as long as his kids aren't feeling neglected, abandoned, or "less than", and as long as there isn't abuse, manipulation, or control, then I figure let the two in the relationship sort themselves out. ;))))

[lambilegs]

Need a pathetic g!p lee harker who just comes home full of stress and lays on top of you while you are sprawled out on your shared bed and she just humps you to release her aggression/stress

g!p lee harker humping reader for stress relief (poor baby needs it)

note to anon: PLEASEEEEEE I've literally thought of this so many times omg. how she'd be so wound up and exhausted after such long hours at the bureau, and would just need your comfort <33 tysm for the ask!! contains: g!p lee, dry humping, reader's genitals aren't mentioned divider by: @pommecita

on the drive home, she's already distracted by thoughts of you. she's been so busy with her current case, barely able to get time in to even get off. as a result, it's made her more needy than usual, pent up from the absence of being inside you all week. and as soon as though enters, oh, well a bunch of others just pour in immediately. her mind is filled with thoughts of the last time you two had sex, and how nice it felt to be inside you, with your walls sheathing her, so tight, so wet.

by the time she gets home to the cottage, her slacks are stretched over her crotch, a very visible tent trapped under the fabric. she can feel her underwear getting slightly wet and sticky from the precum, and even just walking has her throbbing.

when she finds you lounging on your shared bed, in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, she feels her shoulders stiffen at the sight of your shins. it sounds ridiculous, but all she wants is to run her tongue over them till she's right between your thighs, licking and sucking until you come undone on her face and--

she sucks in a deep breath, and makes her way to you, crawling tentatively and laying on top of you. you immediately wrap your arms around her, dotting her brown hair with kisses. lee lets herself sink into the touch, for it's been so long since she's had this -- this wordless kind of affection.

"did my sweet girl have a rough day?"

fuck, you can't just say stuff like that. she feels her cock twitch at it, and she bites her lip, nearly whimpering. she needs you so damn bad, carnally even. just any relief that can be eased out of a long, hard orgasm.

"please, I..." she drifts off, laying herself flat on your leg, hissing when the plush of your thigh presses right up against her dick.

you feel it, of course you do, laughing when the outline of it brushes your skin. "someone did indeed have a rough day, so it seems."

"stop it," she mumbles into your shoulder. "I'm just pent up. I need to come." after years together and too little sex this week, she has no grasp on her words for once, wanting to make her intentions as clear as possible so that you guys can do something about it.

"yeah?" you coo, and lee's eyes flutter shut at your low, teasing tone. "need to get some hands on that cock till you cream yourself?"

a wracked noise chokes from her, raspy and desperate. she needs you so bad. without meaning to, her hips jerk, her aching cock pressing just right against you and giving her the friction she needs. the touch makes her moan and she intentionally lowers her hips again, needing more. you seem to realize this, raising your leg up and making it easier for her to stroke her dick against it firmly.

lee's head falls to your shoulder, her breath hitching, pleasure winding through her dick and through her thighs, sending a deep ache that makes her entire body writhe. she ruts harder, rubbing herself off on the steady softness of your thigh, the imprint of her dick sinking into your skin. her hot, moist breaths fan along your cheek, tongue lolling out without her realizing at some points. she knows she must look incredibly needy right now, painfully aware of every twitch and contortion of her face. but, she doesn't have it in her to care. it feels too good.

she pins your arms down, ducking down to suck on your neck. it relaxes her some, to have you in her mouth, lips ceaselessly rounding and puckering over a patch of skin. the repetitive motions of it soothe her, and that's a feeling more than welcome when she arches her hips and her sensitive balls brush along your thigh. they're so heavy, so full of come she's almost in pain over wanting to release.

"feels good," she whimpers, hips beginning to flail as she pumps harder. "needed it, I -- ah," she moans when you lift your thigh up, pushing it against her.

"what was that, baby?" you ask, a teasing smirk looped on your face.

that's enough to snap her. she shifts, repositioning her cock right over your crotch, and starts rocking against you, hard and fast. you must feel some of the friction too, your chest pressing against hers as you arch up, struggling against the tight grip she has on you.

"mmph, lee!" you whine when she starts pounding against you faster. "fuck, mm, feels so good, so hard."

"god, I needed you," she pants against your ear. "needed to come inside you so bad."

"please, please, do it after," you rasp. "load me up, fill me so nice, please, please, fill me--"

the images lee conjures up in her mind, of your tight hole leaking with her sticky come, loads of it pouring into you and oozing out, coating your folds as hers, are what undo her. her hips stutter, and the knot in her guts snap. hard. an aching, consuming pleasure runs through her body, enveloping every nerve, every vein, the intensity of it making the entirely of her lower body tighten up. come spurts from her underwear, cock twitching uncontrollably as it bursts against the fabric, leaking and soaking it through.

as she rides out the aftershock with some half-hearted thrusts, her body sags against you, lying completely on top of you. her cheek leaning against yours, her nose buries itself in the soft pillow, inhaling the scent your hair left on it.

"that felt nice," she breathes out, her voice trembling.

your hips jerk up, and you softly whine. "lee, I... I need--"

she lands a kiss to your cheek, her dick beginning to stir again as she reaches a hand down to peel off your shorts. "I know."

by the time you come all over her face, she's ready for round two.

[doublel27]

i joined thai bl fandom about six months ago, and although i will keep watching thai bl/gl/ql shows, all this latest stuff has been the final nail in the coffin of my enjoyment in fandom. i've been in fandom for about 20 years and i think along with the dead internet we very much have dead fandom. where communities used to be about fic, fanart, fanmixes, etc now it's just criticisms. do people really enjoy this? constant negativity? i appreciate your voice here and am grateful somebody is standing up for people. there are too many bad faith discourse generators in this fandom unfortunately.

Thank you so much! It breaks my heart that you feel this way. The fact that people don’t feel safe to speak publicly or reblog stuff because of a small vocal minority is incredibly sad and disappointing. I am also a fandom old. 24 years baby!

I mean, I don’t think the social media and increasingly isolationist views have helped with fandom, but this energy has been in fandom for a long time. I survived Cassandra Clare’s minions in the fandom that shall not be named and someone having a tantrum (to years after I had said something and left the group) where she deleted an entire EZ-board full of years worth of X-Men role-play writing because more people stood up to her. It keeps happening and always does when people get into feedback loops and don’t engage outside of narrow focus.

I know it seems like a lot of people engaging in bad faith discourse, but this experience has shown me how small that circle is despite how loud and how much they write and reblog each others posts. But also how many people don’t engage with them. There are so many people doing beautiful things in this fandom: edits/gifsets, fanart, fanfiction. There are wonderful things happening, but it does require some hunting.

Someone was talking about creators of gifsets using (fandom name)edits so people could avoid everything in the tags and I wonder if a bunch of us could use consistent thaibl(type of art) as well as (fandom name)edit so that there are some tags that are focused on creation.

Because we can’t change the behavior of bad actors. I have no intention of changing their behavior. That’s not why I said anything. I said something because people deserve a fandom experience where they’re not harassed. And people who are harassed deserve someone to say that’s not okay.

I’m sorry you’re leaving fandom, but sometimes it’s necessary if it’s not bringing you joy! And you can change your mind. I was never coming back to fandom after X-Men, and here I am.

But my ask box and my DMs are open. 💜💜💜

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Against the Kitchen Floor (Will Wood)

And I swear! I will die trying!/I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress; I promise I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible, I swear!/I'm so fucking sorry! I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all, But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all!

Less rare than scarce, less diamond then rough/Unlikely to be more than just the coal you failed to crush

I'm catatonic in your arms, crying, "How did I cause so much harm?"/I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor/Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours

The vertex of my redemption arc/I’m searching on that virgin heart

"The raw emotion! And I strongly relate to desperately wanting to improve for someone you love. I belt out this song when I feel really hopeless"

"my one OC. also me. also it's just a really good song. one of will's best imo. screaminbg"

"Literally hits almost all of my self-esteem issues. Feeling like people only care about you for your body? Check. Not understanding why anyone would want you? Check. Thinking that all you do is hurt people? Check. I don't cry very often but this song DEFINITELY made me teary"

"one of those if u aren’t paying attention to the lyrics ur like this is nice but once u hear them its an OW holy OW and guilt and I’m sorry feelings"

"Just. Loving someone but not feeling like you’re good enough and trying to improve."

"Not only does this song have lyrics that are deeply relatable to me, but this song also feels very deeply personal to the artist and I feel that anyone who listens to it for the first time has that same feeling of getting punched in the gut. Just the lyrics and the melody and Will Wood’s vocals make this song an absolute masterpiece and I cry every time I hear it."

"One reason I'm attached to this song is because my friend sent it to me and said "I'm kin assigning you this song" and ruined my life (/j) It messed me up because I've always had a hard time in my life figuring myself out and dealing with my emotions, and for what feels like the first time, this song has been able to near perfectly describe how I feel about myself and my impact on other people, and it always just meant so much to me that my friend who sent it to me knows me better than I know myself and shared the song with me and I love them dearly."

Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)

You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere/Any place is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something, me myself I got nothing to prove

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car/Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk/City lights lay out before us/ And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder/And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

You got a fast car/Is it fast enough so we can fly away?/We gotta make a decision/Leave tonight or live and die this way

"I know it's an obvious one but YOU try playing it without crying I dare you"

"I cant explain the yearning but this makes me howl"

"OH GOD the longing!! The yearning in the recurring central image of the narrator and her lover on the highway, feeling this sense of limitless possibility and incredible hope!!! And then the verses take us with brutal efficiency through the collapse of their marriage, the way that the cycle of poverty stomps down on their hopes, and how with nothing left, the narrator does what her mom did and leaves!! Leaving the kids to experience the same thing she did growing up!! But it’s all punctuated and bookended by these callbacks to that central iconic memory of hope!!!!! But by the end we realize that the last line “leave tonight or live and die this way” offers only the illusion of a choice: when the narrator first runs away and later when she leaves her husband and kids, she’s still fulfilling her role in this cyclical generational story. God!!"

Against the Kitchen Floor submitted by @pixopolis + others

Fast Car submitted by @smallboyonherbike + @uchihasasukeofficial + @all-our-exploring

[pocket-vvardvark]

WIP Wednesday

Ty for the tag @skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter <33

I'd like to tag: @aviel-the-trans-bucket @hircines-hunter @fangsandsoftgrass @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @scholarlyhermit @sanza-17 @sulphuricgrin @changelingsandothernonsense @progmetol @varlaisvea @yansurnummu @yewphoric @lucius-the-sinful no pressure as always!! ♥️♥️♥️🥰 Love ya'll with my whole heart

I've got a new chapter in the works for sweet decay 🤪 so, here's the WIP under the cut bc it's sorta long

Rivenspire is cloaked in the warmth of the sunrise. Blooming across dry earth, it softens the land’s foreboding appearance into something habitable. Having been awake for far too long, Verandis palms his sunken eyes as the soft glow filters in through open windows behind him. At the very least, the weather was somewhat pleasant in favor of the most recent heatwave. His body is no longer among the living, but the heat still drove him onto the edge of exhaustion just as easily as it would to a human. Voyage to Lillandril would be a pleasant escape to the lingering heat, and a part of him missed Summerset. Among the cities in Summerset, he supposed Lillandril was the fairest. Cradled upon the sea, the wind which swept only the most beautiful flowers was tinted with a satisfying chill against the heat. His thoughts shift to Angelica; briefly imagining her time on the island. Yesterday, she mentioned her distaste for Altmer culture, which was fair in its own right. No matter how hard a half-breed attempted to live up to their purpose, no full-blooded Altmer would label them anything but an Ephem. As saddening as it was, this was the way of his people. Thumbing over a groove on the hardwood of his desk, Verandis mulls over his relationship with the pesky minx. It was growing, that's unfortunately true, but to what extent? It had been an incredibly long time since he called another his lover, and oddly enough, Angelica didn't seem the type. She seemed content to toy with him, refusing to acknowledge him as anything other than good fun. Although, her gentleness from the other day did start to confuse him. The whole situation vexed him; feeling like a bumbling idiot left in the dark of some grand plan. Years of building House Ravenwatch softened him, and maybe that was why he was far too slow on the uptake. Regardless, the job needed to be completed, and he supposed he should use her…talents she so dramatically bragged about. The sun rises above the trees, signaling it was time to move. Verandis does so, gathering the bare essentials and finally roaming the halls until he reaches Angelica’s room. Raising a hand to knock, his knuckles fail to reach the door as it's opened before he can. 

She smiles. It's surprisingly bright for how strangely she acted the other day. Another facade? He'll see in time, Verandis assumes. 

“So…it's time?” Casting red hair aside, she tugs it into a messy bun of locks, then pats her leathers down. Ah, another surprise; that she's actually wearing proper clothes this time.

Prepared to suffer by her hand from whatever acts of mischief she'll no doubt drum up, Verandis answers with the utmost exasperation, “Yes. Bring along what you need.” Squinting, he watches as she disappears back into her room to procure a satchel.

“I do hope that's necessary.” 

Laughing as she peeks into the standing mirror, she makes one final adjustment to push her breasts up. “Oh, hush. We're taking a trip to the market, right? I'll need gold for that…among other things.”

‘Among other things’, that little remark did not inspire much of anything in him but annoyance. She hoists her arm into his, linking together as she bats her lashes. “I’ve been waiting for a chance like this; to come along on some grand adventure with the Count of House Ravenwatch. My sister told me all about you, you know.” 

He's pulled along with her, walking a stride slower due to their height differences. It would seem her younger sister had a bit of a loose tongue. Thinking about Alethia softens his expression, though, he knows there was no ill intent behind her excited story-telling. She couldn't keep a secret, that much he knew.

“Did she, now? I can only pray she had good things to tell.” They pass the doors, already walking down the rough, cracked path to shornhelm. 

Making a sound rivaling that of a disgruntled guar, he’s bewildered enough to glance down at her. She sticks her tongue out once he does, “That's what I think about your stupid attempts at being posh. Or…maybe you're shy. Are you shy, count?”

She snorts, tugging at their linked arms with an impish grin. 

“You-” Verandis scoffs, but he makes no move to wriggle away, only yielding to her kisses placed on his cheek. “I'm not shy. You're just…too overzealous for me. Not even Gwendis is this tiring, I should have you know.” 

Gasping dramatically, she feigns a sniffle, “Breaking my heart so soon? How could you…I thought we shared something special.” 

“Special? Hm, I had the distinct feeling I was but only a tryst to you, Angelica.” Their footsteps halt on the barren path of dirt as Verandis stops. He grazes a knuckle over her cheek, relishing in her sudden speechlessness. There's a hint of intrigue in her eyes, but something much less distinct; embarrassment. 

“Tsk, tsk…” the pad of his thumb strokes the tip of her cheek bone, “Projecting, are we?” 

Life spreads back into her features, moving her lips as her expression excites, “Projecting? No way, now you've got to buy me something like you promised.” 

Nothing gets past her, he's sure of that as she reminds him of what foolish words he uttered last night. It almost worked, if she hadn't been so perceptive. No matter, it would prove useful in the next days they’d spend together 

“A shame you hadn't kept your promise, then.” She blinks, fascinated by the ethereal hue his carmine eyes take against the bright sunshine. It steals her breath away, causing the briefest stirring deep in her belly. Truthfully, she was beginning to fluster at the sight of him like this; gazing down at her with such a romantic expression, like he could dip her back any second for a kiss. There was no love lost between any number of her trysts and herself, as the fickle emotion only served to complicate things. It stood in the back of her mind, though, as if it tempted her into taking that step. Oddly numb, she couldn't make sense whether she even wanted love. Sure, she'd never stayed quite this long with any of her romps, but it felt strange to just up and leave like they never met. Perhaps it was as her mother said, that one day she would want to settle down, to be with the one man who stole her heart. A flush does make its way to her cheeks, so light a dusting that Verandis nearly mistakes it for the sun on her skin. She takes her own embarrassing reaction in stride, smiling to him so lovingly that they both falter in each other’s grasp. Unlike the night they shared, it is him who concedes first, his grasp brushing away so softly she misses it. Clearing his throat, they continue down the path until Shornhelm can be peered at in the distance. The blob grows until she can see the roofs, the people, and of course, the market. Angelica observes the sights, its fairly different from both of her homelands from what she can recall from both Summerset and Western Skyrim. Hard times have clearly claimed most of Rivenspire’s goods and, frankly, the morale, too. Most shopowners looked more like they were proud owners of shacks rather than appealing homes; it went double for their wares, unfortunately. The only exciting things left were the rare pieces of jewelry she spotted along the way, and the occasional sneak she took of the count’s face while he was deep in thought. A local apothecary catches her attention, drawing her closer until several ingredients greet her eyes. The woman looks only to be a few years younger than herself, smiling but ragged after whatever turned shornhelm into turmoil. Hopefully, after her sister’s little adventure here, things would get better. Nevertheless, Angelica wasn’t entirely heartless, so she took what little ingredients were left and paid a little extra. She winks, and tugs the count along before the young woman can argue against the generous amount of coins splayed across the worn market stall.

“Well…I believe that’s all I’ll be in need of. Never hurts to pack a few poisons.”

If he noticed what happened, which she realizes he must, it doesn’t earn her a conversation. Either perturbed by her shocking display of kindness, or their recently shared embarrassment, Angelica cannot tell beneath his seemingly aloof gaze. 

“We should get a move on, then. Rivenspire lacks ferries, so we’ll have to carriage our way to Glenumbra.” She wants to kick herself for feeling disappointed he doesn’t thrust his arm out for her to hold, but makes due with this new development. It’s not like they were close, but she was finding herself longing for some type of…praise from doing good. Divines, did whatever happened last night really affect her that badly? She hadn’t thought so, until her thoughts soured from every woman which passed their way to ogle Verandis’ human disguise. A part of herself swelled in pride when they sunk back down upon her appearance by his side. That feeling was only doubled when she realized they would never know his secret, and such an intimate secret it was. Jealousy wasn’t her style, but she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to swathe the Count in her perfume before exiting the castle next time. He certainly smelled better in it than whatever ancient perfume he wore beside her. Curious, she peeks over to marvel at his disguise. Honestly, she preferred how he always looked; with eyes as red as rubies and alabaster skin. It simultaneously enthralled and got her feeling rather heated. Such raw and dangerous intent was no longer evident in his now honey-colored eyes, and that left her feeling quite bored. Although…she could make due with those amber eyes if they watched her with the utmost adoration; that would be her goal for the day.

Grinning, she’s back to her confident self, looking as mischievous as a nixad. He realizes she snickers like one, too.

“Do I dare ask what you’re conjuring up behind me? I fear you, at times.”

Prancing back to his side, her fingers curl into his own, forcing him to slow his stride once more.

“Nothing much, just admiring the view.”

He snorts, “Of my backside? How quaint.”

Nudging him, he gains an eyeful of the sweet little twist of her lips, “It's a very disarming backside.” 

Sighing, he can't help but chuckle at that, “Whatever shall I do with you?”

His eyes jump between her own, searching for the reply her lips twitch with. Angelica settles for a gentle peck on his nose, laughing when he wrinkles it from the tickle. 

“I'm sure you'll dream up some elaborate plan to keep me quiet, darling.” 

[salemoleander]

Creator Commentary / Explaining Elements

I don't normally do this, but there's SO MUCH going on in this one that I actually wanted to do a commentary on it and why I picked what I did! I put a LOT of thought into elements and how they contribute to the overall effect of a piece, so I thought it might be fun to lay some of that out.

That all got (predictably) incredibly long, so it is under its own cut! I've labeled each bullet by what I intuitively called that element, rather than the actual title/author/etc, to make it easier to follow which bit I'm talking about. (For example, rather than "Président de la nuit", I've labeled it "Chair painting".)

Also, you seem unstable… speech bubble

Chosen because it evokes superhero comics (which is the AU we’re in) and gives a humorous/light-ish start to the piece.

Could genuinely be said from either of them.

Overlaid on the wound-tending image to form a kind of tableau

Bandaging hand art

The hands being Grian/Scar’s isn’t sensical per the fic (they only had the 2 hands during the backstory) but the theme of helping/dependence due to injury really benefits from it.

This art also works bc it ties in the seafoam green & skin tone/reddish hues that appear in the chair & other hands. (The right side of the piece is blue/black, bc it’s about Scar’s “betrayal” of evicting Grian from his body)

in his eyelids poem excerpt

Contains the idea of existing inside another person, as well as the fear - one last nakedness, one last level of being exposed to the possible judgment or harm from someone else. 

The words ‘sleep until dawn’ create an image of soft/warm affection, and the mention of nakedness also leads well into the nude man with blank eyes below it, what happens when Grian is kicked out of that body.

Broken glass

Needed a low-contrast bg image that would blend well into the art below, and to enhance the idea of superheros/danger/risk/fighting without just chucking another wounded hand into the mix. 

When you/ bend and kiss the rotting wings poem excerpt

The rest of the poem is much longer, and even this stanza is longer, but it had several bits I found either redundant or less-applicable for this use. 

The final line in full is “Even now I still need something better to say/ than this hush love creates between two people” but ending it at “better to say” hits harder. The hush love creates is being created by the other pieces & its placement over a cozy house scene, no need to belabor the point.

He tugs gently on my towel… poem excerpt

I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO USE THIS FOR FOREVER Fjords is a phenomenal collection but the poems create such a specific feeling that they’re very hard to use well. 

The full poem POV is referred to with she/her, which isn’t a dealbreaker but I found I could cut around those lines & still get the core image I wanted to steal for this.

Again emphasizing this gentle/warm/caring nature that still results in unclothing (a last nakedness!) the POV character, in reminding them they are not human, and an assumption that that is a flaw.

Blood decanter

This was one of the last additions - I like to break up horizontal/vertical edges when I can, and that middle edge was VERY unbroken. 

There are a bunch of other vein-style carafes by the artist, but this one had an alien/baby-animal-taking-its-first-steps spindliness that I liked.

The recurrent blood motif is partly my own personal bias towards it but also bc it turns out it is VERY HARD to visually convey ‘guy who is living inside another guy’, especially if you, the artist, have a phobia of parasites. So, blood/veins/connections through tendrils it is. Vaguely mold-like but not bc I am a big baby.

Red wings

Again, wanted to break up that vertical line, and also this Grian does have wings, and also also I figured I could maybe do a sort of tableau thing w/ the guy sitting. Not trying to do true collage there, but the implication of his having wings is good enough for me!

Would you murder me texts

Needed something small/with simple or no text to go over the cozy chair. At one point Grian mentions basically ghosting Scar for almost a year?? And it seemed like an appropriately funny-but-not-really thing to include.

Chair painting

I needed the coziest, most Scar-tastic living room (with a balcony/night view bc superhero au obvs) and Ms. Carole Rabe fucking delivered. All of her paintings are so richly done!! Go look at them!

Scar colors, and also blends between the seafoam/pale green & orange -> sunset tones that play so well with the red and dark blue.

Also. There’s only one chair, and it’s empty. 

Give until I’m… poll

I originally used all 4 of the results from this, bc imo they fit REALLY well to Scar Grian Xisuma and then one aimed at recovery. In the fic it’s clear they’re all kind of.. different flavors of too-altruistic, different flavors of lighting themselves on fire to keep someone else warm.

However that ended up dominating the feeling of it/ adding too much gray, so I dialed it back to ones that convey the fears/themes of the work. 

Scar refuses to become hollow, refuses to be a home for someone else; Grian trusts and trusts and that breaks him, gives up his own body until it is a shell for Scar to carry out; Xisuma has seen everyone he loves die and keeps going, doggedly continuing a heroic fight that nearly ended with him dead on a warehouse floor.

Sitting on floor guy painting

GO LOOK AT DENIS SARAZHIN’S ART. NOW.

Okay - the blue with touches of red at the toes was the right color for what I needed. He’s in the dark, almost veiled by the quotes around him.

Mostly I picked this for his expression. Go look at a full-res version of this - his eyes are intelligent but veiled, mouth slightly hardened and fist clenched. 

I also think the title has some very good synergy with the themes.

love me enough to drown me out

I don’t do easter eggs, but this is about as subtle as I’ll let things get. Depending on screen brightness a lot of people won’t even see this element to the right of the sitting man, which is intentional.

With this I was both thinking of Grian’s need for Scar (love me enough to ignore your misgivings, to let me be part of you, to escape the pain of being alone in my own head, drown me out) and Scar’s implied request in return (love me enough to drown out the distrust, to let me see you, to eclipse your fear of not being enough).

It’s hard to see bc this is the point in the story where they are the least communicative - Grian made into an insensate thing, Scar never even telling him what he was planning. 

Think of visible red/blood in this collage as representing ‘wear your heart on your sleeve’; the text is obliterated because the idea it contains is obscured.

I return to the site of injury

Trying to let some pieces be more/less easily legible, letting smaller/more private thoughts exist with less contrast.

They are each others’ sites of injury; Scar literally could not have lived without him, and Grian cannot forgive the wound of separation.

to have & to hold

This might as well be the thesis statement. To have - to possess, to contain, to consume, to be - is incompatible with to hold - to comfort, to exist beside. Wanting doesn’t make them synonyms.

happiness is…

Gonna be real, I just saw that title on an old blood donation ad and was like ‘LOL yeah that works’.

Like yeah happiness is helping other people despite the risk to yourself, reaching out will always be nobler than stagnation, etc etc.

Birds and smoke

I love the bright red of the birds against the smoke, and the sky/smoke mimics the blue of the top right side excellently.

Needed something to subtly set the scene (there’s a fire in the warehouse, it’s nighttime, etc) without being too muddy bc there’s so much stuff in the foreground.

Veins and Bones Arm Embroidery

MAYBE MY FAVORITE ELEMENT

The artist (if I’m understanding correctly): Photographed her own arm. Printed it on fabric. Drew on her bones. And then embroidered her veins!!! Sick as hell!!

I wanted something that used veins, that showed the entry/takeover of Grian into X’s body while also avoiding gore. I had a cool old blood-drawing illustration that I decided to abstain from bc I thought it might be a bit much (and also it wasn’t colorful and I didn’t wanna have to do Yet Another Filter)

The tracing of bone underneath - the implication of something permanent and solid that veins are woven around/ latticed on - felt like a good choice to convey what Grian does in the fic.

with all the holes in you already…

Abjection, baby!

No seriously, go read some Kristeva and then come back. 

Jenny Holzer the text artist of all time tbh. 

Needed something to convey injury/damage/mutualistic parasitism/’you’re afraid but you don’t have to be’ and unfortunately just pasting in a scene from the Xenogenesis trilogy would take too much room.

Also the pale mirrored silver/red fit great with the arm embroidery and bloody hands.

Car headlights

Wanted to convey city/bright/hard to see, and the moment they stepped out the door with Grian piloting X, the need to stand up to news & paparazzi, just a bunch of things related to ‘bright light in my eyes ouch’

I did not hunt down the moment

I am SO SAD scatterghosts deactivated. Wonderful TMG edits.

So this already had the perfect colors and was itself a city scene, it felt very logical to overlay it on the car headlights.

I was mostly thinking about how after a year of avoiding him, this reunion comes upon Grian without warning. 

Also thinking about dreams/waking, potentially suppressing X’s consciousness, and a blurry-eyed attempt to determine What Is Happening.

Bloody hands

\o/ HANDS WITH BLOOD (Do you have any idea how hard it is to get good art with blood/gore that isn’t 1. Guro (very.) 2. Irl photos of dubious provenance 3. Medical photos again of dubious provenance??)

There’s a whole set of hands with blood in that series, actually! I chose these bc I wanted 2 hands (Grian and X), and I wanted X’s to be lax, with Grian’s active.

I thought the way the thumb is digging into the lower arm seemed evocative of the connection/penetration of letting your cells start to breathe for somebody else.

The blood is blood but the way it coats one hand while marring the other also brings up contamination/spreading, like we can see Grian’s cells flowing down?

Do you have a question…? poem excerpt

Again, slightly harder to read than I might normally do!

A question that can’t be answered is about keeping secrets, as well as Grian’s refusal to ask Scar why, to confront him, to have that conversation.

Mercy being difficult to understand is the other side of that coin - if Scar wasn’t being cruel, why did becoming hurt? Why is he willing to risk his life for X, despite knowing the incredible danger? He wants to be a pigeon again.

A piece of burned meat poem excerpt

This is Xisuma’s POV to me, post-fic. Not much of it, but I wanted to explore both the idea of ‘my body is HURT and I am not in control’ and also ‘I am so tired. I have been so tired. At least this isn’t up to me anymore.’

catching signals that sound in the dark webweave

Created as a gift for @droidofmay for her incredible fic!

// Sources under readmore //

What is a webweave? Previous art: Third Life | Void Falling | Attempt 33 | Limited Life | Nightingale | solving counting sheep | Hunger au

Also, you seem unstable… speech bubble / via imperiuswrecked ◆ Naka-Choko [the inherent homoeroticism of wound tending] / @dontbelasagnax ◆ Excerpts from Your Lover (The Galloping Hour: French Poems) / Alejandra Pizarnik via @feral-ballad ◆ Constellation No. 26 / Zhao Zhao via @psikonauti ◆ Excerpt from Hush / C. Dale Young via @grocerystoredean ◆ Excerpt from Refrigerator General (Fjords I) / Zachary Schomburg ◆ Carafe Nº6 / Etienne Meneau ◆ Red wings / Natalia Karna ◆ Would you murder me… texts / sparklebussy (deactivated) ◆ Président de la nuit / Carole Rabe via @huariqueje ◆ Give until I’m… poll / @orewing ◆ Out of touch / Denis Sarazhin ◆ fill me up, fill me full up / @taohun ◆ Excerpt from Heed the Hollow / Malcolm Tariq via @geryone ◆ Excerpt from No I Don’t Want to Connect with You on LinkedIn / Emily Skaja via @serratedpens ◆ Happiness is- / National Institutes of Health ◆ Fire reflected on birds in smoke / Coen Robben via @theanimalblog ◆ Constructual 5 / Juana Gomez ◆ With all the holes… (Survival series) / Jenny Holzer via @valtsv ◆ New York Winter 2014 2015 / Lina Scheynius ◆ I did not hunt down the moment edit [[Need More Bandages / TMG | Night Lights, Berlin / Lesser Ury]] / a-doctor-not-a-fangirl (deactivated) ◆ Lie (Peripety series) / Jen Mazza ◆ Excerpts from From The Book of Time (Devotions) / Mary Oliver via @liriostigre ◆ Excerpts from Having It Out with Melancholy / Jane Kenyon via @cithaerons

[monnnn244]

always ily and never ykiwmywyghbauasaicvlatbmmadrtetm

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.