#if you extend the same courtesy to me isn’t that what being mutuals is all about

[miraculosus]

Regardless of what he may believe, Gabriel is not actually entitled to anything. I’m willing to accept that in-universe, magical terrorism is less severe than standard logic would suggest, and I can see how Gabriel’s wish fulfillment isn’t a “real win” if he doesn’t taste it. And if he dies he does in a way lose it all, but a legacy ascribed to him which he did not earn lives on…

The idea that a happy ending for Adrien is impossible if he knows the truth is disheartening to say the least. A peaceful happy ending this season is not possible sure. I would prefer a difficult yet hopeful/optimistic season finale as a stepping stone to further developments. But it’s as you said back in October, the light-hearted tone of the show can’t survive the weight of Adrien’s storyline were it treated realistically, also it’s not his show so everything’s fine marinette saves the day yay omg 18 permanent heroes im drooling think of the toys!

This audacious grinch believes happiness in ignorance - not grounded in reality - is precarious, fragile and worth precious little (just like sentiadriens existence???/omg)… I could go off ranting like many have how clumsy, incoherent, irresponsible or in poor taste certain writing choices are, or we could go back to how if Adrien’s past is rewritten like that then whatever boy his 3D model represents in S6 and beyond can’t be the same character and it’s effectively an AU used as a diversion from a true end. The continuity break between Tortured Adrien and “Free” Adrien seems to me like the hell he endured was simply another doomed timeline with no viable way out (say, isn’t that how Gabriel always saw it?), and what does that say about the real families his resembles whose children and their middle school girlfriends don’t have access to reality-altering magic? There are those who call the show mean-spirited and cynical, even shockingly so (for its genre/demo) and I can see what they mean. Now if you’ll allow me a moment on the soapbox!

I enjoy stories that are affirming, invigorating, revitalizing. Ones that earnestly believe in the value of life and the power of love. Messages that fuel the engines of self-actualization:

Face the ugly truth and survive. Learn to thrive in spite of it, no matter how much time and effort it takes, because there’s love on the other side. Growth is never easy and change hurts but perseverance pays off. Not everything happens for a good reason, but joy and peace can be found beyond circumstance…

That my values and personal tastes are incompatible with the way this story is turning out? Not the kind of issue I expected to confront when I first became a fan of such a silly goofy lovey-dovey superhero cartoon show. But I’m really not a spiteful person nor one to hold grudges, so like, whatever, man…

The question remains whether it is most appropriate/impactful if Emilie’s demise is a moral consequence (negative), a logical consequence (neutral), or statistical inevitability (unlucky chance, also neutral). It could also be a noble sacrifice (positive) but that doesn’t really strike me as consistent so I won’t go into it cuz my brains already spinning too hard.

She’s a plot device dressed as a role shaped like a character so it’s not about her, and Adrien has grieved her remarkably normally— the answer to that question concerns Gabriel.

If her downfall was just then I’d have to recant and say it would affect Adrien further because on top of the base model grief, which is already complicated by the magical coma in lieu of clear-cut death, he’d have to confront and reconcile a loss of faith in not one (and a half? quarter? with Nathalie’s quasi-stepmother/heel face turn situation) parent but both. In this case Gabriel’s whole deal becomes a quest to avoid/erase culpability for every little misstep or major atrocity he or his beloved wife have ever committed (or are currently committing, or will commit, prior to the Wish) actually it kinda warps into this regardless because Gabriel goes out of his way to be evil. This colors the leaked ending super ugly because he gets everything he wants = evil wins(???)

If her death was neutral then it’s primarily about Gabriel’s inability to accept loss and adapt to fundamental changes in his vision of life and the world. This avenue rings less true the harder he leans into the cartoon supervillain role. If ML were a more delicate and mature show maybe that “understandable, though not justifiable” problematic/sympathetic balance would be viable to strike. “Just a man who loves his family” my ass, what the hell do you think the words love or family mean, lol

[theladyofbloodshed]

i was reading the au where where we pretend acosf doesn’t happen fic on ao3 - lol is there another title? - primarily because i saw you mentioned in a post that it has nesta living in spring, and i’m really liking it so far and maybe i’ll eat my words soon, but at this point i can’t help but wish they had more of a friendship? don’t get me wrong, man did some things wrong, and nesta giving him a good dressing down would be the ultimate act of retribution lol but i also can’t help but feel like a lot of the anger/hatred is misplaced? surely if everyone can excuse and forgive rhysand the same courtesy should be extended to tamlin? and like, yeah, hybern cauldron etc but he really didn’t know that would happen? and he tried to stop it? and it was rhysand who failed to protect them at that point? plus, tamlin isn’t simply a man nursing a heartbreak, he’s someone who tried to do the right thing or at least wanted to, who had it all blow up in his face and is now left with nothing, also forced to deal with all the trauma he has been putting off dealing with for possibly his whole life? i don’t know .. i literally just wanted to ask if the fic had another title so i could tell you what a grip it’s had on me (unfortunately for the essay in meant to be writing) but then i got overcome by tam tam thoughts lol

Haha we just shorten it to AU ACOSF :)

Rhys was excused for 50 years of wrongdoings by putting on puppy eyes and being like "i love this mortal woman that you watched me abuse every night". Tamlin was working with Hybern for a few months and acted as spy during that time to gain intel. Rhys did it to protect a select few but there was no indication it would stop. No indication that he was also looking for the mortal woman to stop the curse. If Feyre never existed, he'd have carried on in Amarantha's pocket.

In AU ACOSF, Nesta gets dumped over the border because Beron is after her and Tamlin vouches for her. They develop this mutual respect of "we don't really like each other but we care about this court so we will live with each other". I liked what I did! Maybe others did lmao.

[fivedollarradio]

I took down the two posts I’d written about the Johnny Depp/Amber Heard trial. I wanted to write something longer, but I’ve felt increasingly stifled here with everyone having big feelings about it, so this will likely be the final thing I’ll say about it. I don’t want to lose friends over it, but if it happens it happens. I’m not here to do a play-by-play of who’s the bigger abuser, so don’t leave comments detailing Amber Heard’s abuse tactics; I know the narrative has shifted from her being abused to abuser. In a very black and white way. That’s what makes me uncomfortable. And I’m not going make the argument that it’s “mutual abuse.”. That’s also become a dirty word. Abuse is positional. One partner has more power, physical strength, professional clout and personal agency. In a heterosexual relationship, it’s almost always the man. Fuck, I shouldn’t have to say “almost.” It IS the man. Plus it’s a defamation trial,  and one he already lost once. 

I’m far from some brainless feminist automaton who thinks women are perfect creatures who never lie. There have been a handful of cases I’ve had serious problems with, and have spoken out about even when it was wildly unpopular. From the jump I thought Al Franken was done dirty by Kirsten Gillibrand’s presidential aspirations. He at least deserved the hearing he agreed to. When Conor Oberst was accused of rape in a xoJane blog post, I thought it was iffy, then her narrative fell apart, and she recanted her accusations . I remember A LOT of women thinking she was coerced into it -- she had to have been --  and he shouldn’t have threatened legal action. There are still people who believe he’s a rapist. He’s suffered for it emotionally and, for a time, professionally for it. I am not a Bright Eyes fan and Franken wasn’t my senator. I don’t have any particular motivation for believing those guys. That said, “believe the women” as a default position isn’t a bad one. It’s unnecessarily cruel to counter someone’s accusation of abuse with “Well, I’d like to see some facts first.” Not believing women doesn’t make you a cool girl either.

That Johnny Depp has been exonerated so quickly in the public eye, from villain to victim, is troublesome because of the damage it will do to women coming forward in the future. When I was researching the trial I came across a comment from a domestic violence worker that said the public response to the trial is triggering for many women. On Twitter if you want to question the narrative at all you’re resorted to writing “J*hnny D*pp” so his fans can’t search it and harass you. “But he’s not a perfect victim! And that’s okay!”  To see this thing that women have fought so hard for, and continue to fight for, and why so many abused women don’t come forward, handed to him this easily is the most frustrating thing. I wonder how many people actually extend the same courtesy toward women.

[sunshine--writes]

Blood Bound

header image courtesy of one of the biggest Lady Dimitrescus simps i’ve ever met.

This is the first and last time i will ever write anything so be prepared. Also i’m not the best writer so some parts might be very rushed and sloppy sorry. Idk how to post on tumblr either and also i’m on mobile so sorry for weird formatting issues :)

A little background I wrote this as a presentation thing with my friends so it’s not gonna be good. Also this is the first time i’ve ever written smut so sorry i guess?

Warnings: NSFW of course, uh very kinky probably, swears in this warning, f! Reader, reader is a vampire pls let me have this, IT MAKES SENSE FOR THE STORY PLEASE LET ME HAVE THIS, vampires need sleep i guess idk just fuck let me live, fluff at the end bc im a whore for that kinda shit, probably ooc for Lady Dimitrescu but like idk her character other than dom mommy milkers so, blindfolds, binding arms? what is it called??

All of your senses returned to you very slowly. You didn’t know where you were, or why someone had taken you in the middle of the night, but for some reason you felt safe. You could feel the cold damp floor of the cell you could only presume you were in and you could smell rotting flesh and the wet metal that surrounded you. You could hear the dripping noises of falling water coming from somewhere in front of you, and the sound of footsteps slowly approaching. The only sense you never regained was your sight. You could feel the soft fabric that covered your eyes and made a reasonable guess that your host for the evening had blindfolded you.

“Have you awoken my darling?” Ah, speak of the devil. The person that belonged to that sultry voice was one Lady Dimitrescu -- the countess that you have met with several times before and every encounter has somehow ended the same way. You remember the first time you met the 9 foot tall woman. It was 1920, and as the child of a wealthy eastern european count, you were required to attend the galas that were thrown. During one such occasion you happened to run into Lady Dimitrescu, and had unfortunately uncovered her secret. At the first sign of danger a normal person would have run, but who were you to judge? After all, aren't you two essentially the same?

That was the first night, and the begging of a long mutual relationship between the two of you. A whirlwind of passion, anger, misery, and lust was the only way you could describe these past decades you have spent with her. Everytime you left her embrace, you couldn’t help but long to be in it again no matter how angry you were. This on again off again relationship had persisted through generations, and you would be damned if you would give up now. She had introduced you to your friends who had shared the same beliefs, and made you feel welcomed. She had been there during the downfall of your family's power, and she was there for every milestone. You had to admit, your life was tied to this woman if you had liked it or not. Every night you spent apart was agony, and every moment you spent together was bliss. You have eternity, so what's the use in spending anymore time apart?

This night felt different. It wasn't normal for her to seek out your company, so why has she all of a sudden? And since when has she been this gentle? If it was like any other night she would have already had her way with you and thrown you to the side. Tonight was definitely different.

“My dear turn towards me.” She demanded, and you obeyed, crawling your way to the direction you think she might be in. You found her in the corner of what you think is a cell. You could tell she was sitting in a chair so you sat on your knees in front of her.

“Ah, isn’t this better darling? Everything is as it should be.” You could hear the sound of her claws extending -- and then you felt as she dragged the nail across your cheek, across your lips, and down to your chin.

“My love, head up. This way I can see your beautiful face.” She spoke as she lifted your head with her sharp claw. “Ah this beautiful face, the one that has tormented my dreams for far too long. Isn’t this much better?” You nod, what does she mean tormented her dreams? Over these past years you understood that this relationship was not one out of love, so you never gave yourself hope that she might feel the same as you. Even as her words sounded like a declaration of longing, you refused to dream. An intimate relationship with her, even one without love, was enough for you. As long as you could remain at her side for the rest of eternity you would be happy.

She sighed, “No matter, tonight is somewhat of a celebration, and as I am in a good mood I have sought you out. So where shall we start?” You hear the claw retreat back into her hand and her start to stand up, towering over you. “Lets get you out of these clothes hm?” She grabs you by the neck forcing your body down to the ground, cool gloved hands start roaming all over your body, loosening and untying the thin clothes you wore to sleep that night. “Ah beloved, how I had missed this.” Her mouth descended onto your neck where you could feel the warmth of her saliva as she sucked on that tender spot. You whimpered, moving closer into the bigger woman, although this isn't the first time she has marked you like this, it still sends tingles down your spine. Your hands started to roam as Lady Dimitrescu moved her way from your neck to your chin, and finally to your mouth: enveloping you in a deep kiss. Your back arched to be closer to the woman on top, deepening the kiss. You could taste the reminisce of blood and the sweet wine she had been brewing for years. Tonight really was an important celebration. You couldn’t control yourself as both of your bodys moved in tandem, your hands moving down her back.

She pulled away, leaving you gasping for air, “Now now my dear, you know the rules. No touching without permission. Now let's get these hands out of the way hm?” You could feel as the warmth from her body moved away, leaving you semi-naked on the cold floor. You couldn’t tell where she had gone, nor how long she was gone for -- every minute without her felt like agony anyway.

Her footsteps finally came back, “On your knees,” she demanded, and you moved without hesitation. “Both arms behind you.” Again you moved without thinking, obeying every word. You could feel as some soft fabric was slowly wrapped around both of your wrists and then tied, you could guess that it was the same silk as the one around your eyes.

“There, isn't that better darling? Now lay back down, I will loosen you up.” A claw extended and you felt as the rest of your already loose clothes were torn off, including your slick underwear. “Hm?” she laughed, “Already ready for me?”

“Yes mistress.” you nodded, spreading your legs slightly.

“Darling you know I love it when you call me that.” Gloved hands traced their way from your neck, to your breasts, down your stomach, and finally rested on your thighs. “Hm? What should I do darling? Shall we continue?”

“Yes mistress.” You begged, wiggling your body hoping for her hand to end up in that place you wanted it. You begged for her to give you release, begged for the thing you missed the most over these years.

“Hm? Shall I grant you your requests? Maybe you should beg some more first.” Her hands suddenly moved, finding their way back up to your breasts, hands playing with your nipples. You squirmed, wishing that the woman would give you what you wanted.

“Please mistress,” you begged, pushing yourself onto her thigh. Your cries fell on def ears as she continued to play with you. You started grinding on her thigh, pleading with your mistress to take you. “Please Lady Dimitrescu, please help me.”

You felt her hot hands finally leave your chest, “Fine, I shall grant this one request to you my beloved.” Suddenly you felt a gloved finger push its way inside you, forcing itself deeper in, her other hand went back to playing with your breasts. You gasped, moaning as she started moving around slowly inside. You tried to move yourself down onto her hand, allowing sweet relief. Her unoccupied hand made its way up to your neck and she started choking you.

Her tempo picked up as another finger made its way inside. The sounds coming out of you were ungodly, she had you crying out in pleasure. “Do you like that my dear?” she called out from on top of you. You could only nod your head and cry out something akin to the word yes. She was moving even faster and you could feel the pressure inside of you about to explode, you begged your mistress to please release you, but she wouldn’t budge moving faster than she had ever moved before. You were moaning and screaming in pleasure, you silently thanked whoever was up there that you were in a castle otherwise you would probably have a noise complaint by now. Her movements had you writhing around, grasping for anything with your bound hands. You brought your legs and wrapped them around her, opening yourself up for her. You were desperately grinding against her hand, your walls tightening before you could come.

“Eager now aren't we, well my love shall I let you come?” Although you were blindfolded you could see her smirking face. You called out between moans, crying for her to let you. You were begging and pleading, you must have looked so pitiful but in that moment you wished for nothing more than to come undone by this woman's hands.

“Lets see how loud you can be.” You felt your walls close down on the fingers inside of you as you screamed out in pleasure, the pressure finally being released. You could feel your juices coming out as orgasms wracked through your body. The pleasure was too much for you to handle and before you knew it you passed out.

***

You awoke in a very comfortable bed, the feel of the satin sheets under you cooled your body and sent shivers all over. You had realized that both the blindfold and your arm restraints were gone, and your body had been cleaned up from last night's activities. You were wearing a thin nightgown that only accentuated how cold it was in this room. As you looked around you finally saw the face of the sleeping woman next to you. Strange, you had never awoken next to her, no matter how vigorous the previous night's activities were she always left before you woke up. You giggled quietly to yourself, last night must have been a special night indeed. You saw sunlight streaming in from the large windows on the northern wall of this bedroom casting itself onto her. She had never looked more beautiful in your long life. You reached out your hand and started softly stroking the woman's face and hair, careful not to wake her. You traced your way from her forehead down to her lips, pausing there slightly. Last night was different, it wasn't bad, it was in fact very good. It was just something you never thought would happen for the both of you. As you look at the face of sleeping Lady Dimitrescu in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what your life would be like if you two had a different kind of relationship. Your thoughts were cut short when you felt two arms snake their way around you and suddenly you were pulled into the woman's arms.

“What are you doing awake so early my little dove? You should rest some more, last night must have been very taxing on your body.” Lady Dimitrescu spoke. You were shocked to say the least. Over the decades you have known the Countess, you have never been in her arms like this. This is what you had dreamt of for so long, wanting to feel true, romantic love from this woman, and now that you are here you felt as if you could cry.

And cry you did. Before you could stop yourself you felt the tears falling down your face and onto the clothes of the woman holding you.

“My beloved what is wrong?” Lady Dimitrescu frantically spoke as she tried to wipe the tears out of your eyes, “What is the matter? Please tell me.”

“It’s truly nothing,” you finally croaked out after minutes of sobbing. You must have looked ridiculous like this. How could you really think that she would love you like you love her. You are nothing compared to her.

“If you are crying then of course something is wrong. Please tell me darling, I hate to see you so sad.”

You hesitated. Was it really alright to tell her the thoughts that have plagued you for generations? You didn’t want things to change between the two of you. Even if you were just treated as a play thing, as long as you could stay with her you would do anything. “I love you. I have loved you for years, and you will never reciprocate how I feel. I am nothing to you other than a toy you can throw away at a moment's notice. But still I wish to stay by your side, even If I am nothing other than that. Don’t let my feelings change our relationship. I only want to stay with you.” The tears came back but you wouldn’t let them fall. You were stronger than that.

You felt her hold on you tighten as she brought you closer to her, lips brushing over your forehead and over your eyes. Her mouth moved around your face, kissing away your tears.

“Beloved who ever said I never felt the same way?”

to those liking this at 2 am: 📸📸📸

[sonnetthebard]

On Losing One’s Head

Or, in other words, my entry to @shipwreckedcomedy‘s fanfiction contest. I have had a really fun time reading the works of Washington Irving to prep for this, and it’s only made me more excited for this series. Even though I know in a modern adaptation it may be changed I’m sticking to a lot of the facts that Irving gives us about the Headless Horseman. Thank you to everyone on here who gave me ideas/ inspiration/ let me rant to you for a bit while I figured this out. It took a bit longer than I had anticipated, but I’m really happy with it. This is probably so far from canon, but I got a prompt from the wonderful ‘S’ anon on here and I had to write it. Enjoy!

Genre: Comedy/ Fluff/ Mystery/ A Pinch of Angst

Words: 4249

TL;DR: Ichabod Crane tries to unravel a bit of the Headless Horseman’s past in order to try and figure out where his head might be. 

TW: Minor bullying, Mentions of war, mentions of PTSD, mentions of decapitation

__________________________________________________________

Ichabod Crane navigated the hallways of the school, eyes trained on his feet. He normally wouldn’t allow himself to walk with such a closed posture- it exposed him for how nervous he was (which was, contrary to popular belief, a more recent development in his personality). This town had put him a bit on edge. This town and his roommate, who was as inexplicable as he was persistent, and happened to be the reason he was allowing himself to walk with such a closed posture. He had a series of questions to ask his roommate at the forefront of his mind, and he’d spent a majority of the day figuring out how to word them so that he didn’t sound completely heartless. He didn’t want anything or anyone distracting him, because the talk he was about to have was very important- well, he thought it was anyways. It was important to him. His roommate seemed like a good person, and he really did want to help him (though it seemed like his roommate was doing more ‘helping’ at the moment than Ichabod was). 

Ichabod’s roommate was, of course, the infamous Headless Horseman. It had certainly made his life interesting- especially given that he was only just settling into this new town and his new position. He was just navigating his new life, and now on top of that, he was also trying to find his friend’s head. So far, no luck on that front. He hadn’t had a lot of luck on many fronts. It didn’t seem like his colleagues were particularly fond of him- especially not Douffe Martling or Brom Bones and his cronies. He wasn’t quite sure what it was with Martling other than perhaps a naturally uptight attitude, but he could at least venture a guess on why Brom Bones didn’t like him. It seemed they both had their eyes set on the same woman- which was another front on which Ichabod had not been very lucky. Katrina Van Tassel, the woman his heart had decided to set on, did not seem to reciprocate his affections in the slightest. Mind you Ichabod also found her incredibly hard to read. She was confident and smart, and one could interpret nearly everything she did as flirtatious. But you also got the overwhelming sense when interacting with her that she was not flirting in the slightest. 

Ichabod needed to stop distracting himself, he thought, as pleasant of a distraction as Kat was. He was on a roll. He was trying to get back to his room in a timely matter because (and I cannot emphasize this enough) this conversation was important. It was also a conversation that his friend would prefer to keep confidential, so he needed to get back to his room and have it before anyone could decide to tag along. He wasn’t the only person in Sleepy Hollow who wanted to help the Headless Horseman find his head. In fact, he had many supporters. But this particular conversation was delicate. Ichabod intended to ask how precisely his new friend had come about losing his head. Ichabod believed that perhaps even though this head wasn’t the Horseman’s original one, it may be able to help with some of his memories- physical memories, that was. It would likely be a hard conversation, Ichabod considered. Losing one’s head seemed like it would be traumatic. Remembering that feeling wouldn’t be pleasant for his friend. He would eventually need to share the necessary details with those who were intent on helping him and his friend, but perhaps the Horseman might feel slightly more comfortable having the initial conversation privately where he could express his emotions without judgement- if, of course, he had any. It was more of a precaution. 

Ichabod found himself so consumed in his thoughts that he neglected to notice a foot extended in front of him. He was looking at his feet. He really should have seen it. But he was in a state not uncommon to him where the world within his head had taken precedence over the world outside of it. Ichabod tumbled to the ground with a thud, and it was not long until a roaring chorus of laughter resounded above him. He did not even need to look up to know precisely who he had encountered and what had happened. He did the courtesy of looking up anyways- though it was probably only feeding their egos to see the embarrassment flush on his face. As Ichabod had suspected, the figures of Brom Bones and his three usual companions Tripp, Cal and Blair loomed above him, their bodies racking with every laugh. Ichabod sighed, fixing his glasses and trying not to pay them much mind. The more upset he got with them and their shenanigans, the more satisfied they would be with their results (which meant that they’d be inclined to throw something else his way). He stood, brushing himself off and starting back on his way. Before he could get very far, though, he felt a strong grip on his arm pulling him back. Even once he had stopped walking, it didn’t let go. It seemed Brom wasn’t through terrorizing him yet. 

“Where are you going?” The strapping Brom Bones smirked. It was a smirk Ichabod was all too familiar with, and one that he had very much hoped he wouldn’t be seeing. Brom was holding him up intentionally. He knew Ichabod didn’t want to be there. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”

“Well-” Ichabod started before being cut off.

“You going to try to pick up Katrina?” Tripp teased, pouting and cooing mockingly at the mention of the woman Ichabod had taken a liking took. He sighed as all four men found amusement in that and erupting into laughter again. 

“What? No!” Ichabod blushed.

“Ichabod and Kat, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-” Cal and Blair cooed before Brom raised a hand to signal for them to stop. 

“That’s enough, guys.” Brom told them, trying not to show how much that bothered him. There was only just a hint of jealousy in his tone, but it was enough for the boys to know they’d gone too far. He seemed to size up Ichabod again, before letting go of Ichabod’s arm. Ichabod sighed in relief, thinking that he was finally free... until Brom wrapped an arm around him in a seemingly friendly gesture, putting on his smug smirk again. Ichabod seized up a bit. He was not too fond of physical contact at the best of times, but especially not from Brom Bones. It took everything in him not to scowl. “So if you’re not going to see Kat... what’s the rush getting out of here?”

 “I’m going to have a talk with the Horseman.” Ichabod told him plainly, hoping that was enough to get him out of this. Whatever Brom Bones had against Ichabod, the feeling was entirely mutual.  

“But don’t you, like, live with him?” Cal pointed out. 

“You could literally talk to him any time.” Tripp nodded. 

“Yes, but I’ve spent all day planning this conversation.” Ichabod sighed. There were very few people Ichabod knew who would understand his situation, and these men were most certainly not among them. “I have to do it soon before I forget what I was going to say.”

“It’s just a conversation, man!” Tripp laughed. 

“It’s not just any conversation.” Ichabod told him, getting an idea. “It’s about his head.”

“You’re still on that, are you?” Brom rolled his eyes, letting him go. He knew he didn’t need to hold Ichabod there anymore. Not only did Blair, Tripp and Cal have him surrounded, but... now Ichabod felt socially obligated to stay. Brom Bones was a lot smarter than he let on (at least socially). Most bullies were. 

“Well... yes. I’d like to help him find it.” Ichabod shrugged. 

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Brom warned him in what Ichabod might almost consider to be a genuine tone. He hand a hand through his hair subconsciously, and Blair reached forward once he was done to fix a strand that had fallen in Brom’s face. Brom gave him a clap on the back as a silent ‘thank you’. Ichabod had always found those four men to be strangely close. “Listen, bud... he’s been missing his head a long time.”

“Since before we were born.” Blair added. 

“It’s not like you’re just going to waltz in and find it.” Brom sighed. “This head probably isn’t going to know anything.”

“We don’t know that.” Ichabod countered. “We’ve finally got people taking the search for his head seriously, and I think we’re making good progress!”

“Right... you keep telling yourself that.” Brom rolled his eyes. “Alright, guys, let him go.”

“But you said-” Tripp furrowed his brows. 

“He’s doing enough damage himself.” Brom sighed. The boys cleared a path for Ichabod, and he meekly started to walk away. He felt oddly embarrassed, or ashamed, about what he was doing. He tried to shake it off, but Brom had successfully gotten under his skin and he knew it. Brom chuckled, almost gloating. “Have fun, dork!”

“Thank you?” Ichabod tried, unsure as to how he was supposed to respond to that. 

Ichabod made his way out of the school (but not without a cold glare from Douffe). Perhaps what Brom Bones had said had some merit. His headless friend had been missing his head for a long time. Did Ichabod really think things were magically going to go better this time around? He wasn’t even dealing with the original head. He couldn’t expect to find anything new. But then again... Ichabod himself had also posed a good point. They did seem to be making progress. And how were they supposed to know if his head could ever be found until they tried? No, Brom was wrong. Brom was wrong a lot of the time, but especially about this. He walked down the streets of the town, head down but significantly more aware of his surroundings. He’d learned his lesson- at least for now. His room was within walking distance from the school. In this town, just about everything was within walking distance. He exchanged nods of acknowledgement with a few people on the street, a smile or two. Luckily, he was running into people who knew better than to bother him when he was like this. People like Judy, Rip Jr., Verla, or Matilda. Verla and Matilda probably didn’t want to talk to him anyway. But Judy had given him a nice smile, and it had raised his spirits. It’s funny how small things could do that. 

“Ichabod!” A light voice called out from behind him. Ichabod pivoted, recognizing it instantly. For anyone else, Ichabod would have simply waved, continuing on his way. But this wasn’t anyone. This was Katrina. Ichabod smiled softly upon finding that he was right. It was a dopey sort of grin commonly found in people when they saw the person that brightened their lives. “You’re out early!”

“School ended half an hour ago.” Ichabod furrowed his brows, confused by her implication. 

“Oh, I know.” Kat clarified. “You usually stay a bit longer, though.”

“Oh.” Ichabod nodded. And that was when it hit him: he had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. He’d always been a little socially awkward- especially when he was under as much pressure as he was with Kat. He bit his lip, trying to think of what to say next. Luckily, Kat took care of that for him. 

“Any particular reason you’re out so soon?” Kat asked, finally catching up with him. She kept walking as if silently asking him to walk with her, or maybe telling him it was okay for him to continue on his way. That she would follow. Either way, it was a great comfort to Ichabod.

“I thought of a few questions to ask the Horseman.” Ichabod told her. 

“What kinds of questions?” Kat asked. Ichabod could tell she wasn’t teasing him. She was genuinely interested. But there was also an air of amusement to her that was undeniable, and admittedly rather attractive to Ichabod. It made him feel like she genuinely enjoyed his company. A light blush covered his cheeks.

“Well... I was hoping to ask him about how exactly he lost his head.” Ichabod admitted. “See if maybe his history might be able to help us figure out where to look in the present.”

“That’s a really good idea! Maybe this head will know!” Kat hummed in agreement. “I’ve always wondered about what happened... People say he was a Hessian soldier. You know, during the revolution.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the concept of Hessian soldiers.” Ichabod hummed. “German regiments for hire, if you will, employed by the British to fight in the Revolutionary War. Do you really think he’s a Hessian?”

“That’s what the lore says.” Kat shrugged, smirking. 

“All the more reason for me to talk to him about this alone.” Ichabod decided. He blushed again, not having meant to think aloud like that. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” Kat assured him. “He’s probably not going to want a lot of people around if you’re talking about... you know, war. It should be just you and him.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ichabod sighed softly in relief. 

“I don’t like to talk about war anyways.” Kat admitted. “I don’t... I mean...”

“I understand.” Ichabod hummed sympathetically. No one liked talking about war. But on top of that, he knew Kat was very against slaughter of any kind. “Have you thought about how to approach it if he has... you know, PTSD?” Kat asked. “It’s pretty common in soldiers, even if this isn’t his original head.”

“I... haven’t.” Ichabod admitted. “I did work out how to ask the in a way that I think will be the least upsetting or offensive.”

“That’s a good first step.” Kat encouraged him. “Just... respect his boundaries. Give him the space and time he needs to answer- if he can answer. Don’t pressure him if he can’t.”

“Right.” Ichabod nodded, taking mental note of those things. “Thank you, Kat.”

“No problem.” Kat smiled softly. It was smiles like those that made appearances in Ichabod’s dreams as he rested his head. She had, Ichabod thought, the most beautiful smile in the world. It was so kind. They approached the inn, and Kat sighed. “Well, this is your stop.”

“It is...” Ichabod chuckled semi-nervously. He stopped, shifting his weight awkwardly on his feet. She had him so nervous that he couldn’t quite stand still. 

“Good luck, Ichabod.” Kat smirked. Ichabod blushed. It seemed that nearly everything Katrina did, intentional or not, made him blush. 

“Thank you!” Ichabod called after her, watching for a few moments as she continued down the street. 

Ichabod sighed, imagining very briefly what their family would look like. He imagined they would be a very handsome family (though the children would get their looks from their mother- he was of the opinion that he was a bit homely). He snapped himself out of it before he could go too far down that rabbit hole. He wondered for a moment if it was weird that he was already thinking that way about a woman he hadn’t even worked up the nerve to ask out. It likely was. But his heart tended pine after things and his mind did no helping, running wild with even the smallest of fantasies. When he was a child, a teacher once told him that his appetite for the fanciful was unsurpassable. He was now rather more a man of reason than he was then, where he was willing to believe just about everything he heard. But his mind did still run wild with whims about more everyday pleasures. Rational joys, like love, romance, and food. Mostly food, until Katrina came along. For a man his size, he had a surprising appetite...

“Hey, Ichabod!” Someone called. Ichabod snapped his head, looking for where it was coming from. Oh. It was Judy again. He waved. “Do you need me to call Lucretia to get you a new key?”

“What?” Ichabod blinked. 

“You’ve been standing there for a while.” Judy pointed out. “Did you lose your key?”

“Oh...” Ichabod blushed. He pulled out his keys, holding them up. “I’m fine!”

“Okay! Just wanted to be sure!” Judy chuckled, going back to her own business.

“Thank you!” Ichabod called after her. It was lovely that she cared. He quickly and carefully opened the door to his room. He saw his friend the horseman busy at work taking a tray of what appeared to be either muffins or cupcakes out of a microwave oven he’d been gifted by the family of one of his students. The room smelled wonderful. “Hello...”

“Oh, hey Ichabod!” The Horseman turned, his- or, rather, her (for now)- hair splaying out behind her in a fan-like motion. She gave him a brief smile before busying herself with her work again. Ichabod liked this head on the Horseman. “I hope you don’t mind, but while you were out I thought you might be hungry when you got home, so... I made some carrot cake muffins.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Ichabod sighed contentedly. So long as she didn’t burn the room down, he had no objections to food. 

“We just have to let those sit for a bit.” The Horseman muttered, removing the last of the muffins from the pan. “There! I’ve got a cream cheese icing in the fridge for when they cool if you want.”

“Lovely.” Ichabod chuckled. 

“How was your day at school?” The Horseman asked. 

“Good.” Ichabod told her, sighing and taking a seat on his bed. The mention of school had reminded him of why he had left school so promptly in the first place. She seemed to be in such a good mood... he hated to ruin it. “Would you... I have a few questions.”

“Oh... sure.” The Horseman shrugged, sitting down on the small chaise in the corner of the room. “What is it?”

“I... know this isn’t your body.” Ichabod bit his lip. “But... do you remember anything about it?”

“I... don’t know. I think, a bit.” The Horseman considered. 

“Do you think you might remember how you lost it?” Ichabod asked carefully. Well, that wasn’t what he’d planned on saying. He winced. “Your head, I mean. Do you remember how...”

“I... can try to.” The Horseman offered. "I don't know what I'll be able to get, though... I don't have the eyes, ears or mind of the original body"

“You could still find something.” Ichabod reasoned. 

“Just give me a moment.” The Horseman nodded, sighing. She closed her eyes for a moment, head in her hands. 

Ichabod gave her space and silence to think. Each new head the Horseman donned seemed to unveil a bit more about his personality. He hadn’t thought to ask about any memories before because it didn’t seem entirely logical to assume that any head other than his own would hold them. But... he’d gotten the idea at school today that maybe the body had a few memories of its own. Like a physical memory. It was silly. And it might lead to nothing. But the chance that it might amount to something was too much for Ichabod to pass us. He was a man of science. And with science comes experimentation. It’s how humanity evolves and grows. This was an experiment that might prove fruitless but was still necessary. Because like many experiments, you can never be certain of what you’re going to find until you conduct it. After a moment, the Horseman raised her head and opened her eyes. 

“Anything?” Ichabod asked cautiously. 

“Not much.” The Horseman shook her head. 

“Not much is better than nothing.” Ichabod blinked, pleasantly surprised. “What did you remember?”

“Well... I don’t have anything visual or auditory... because like I said, those are kind of gone...” The Horseman warned him. “But I can remember... I think the body was fighting. I mean, obviously it was on horseback. That’s how it got its name. But... I think it was holding a gun of some sort. Maybe a musket?”

“Interesting... so perhaps you were a soldier...” Ichabod hypothesized. “Anything else?” 

“Well... you’re not gonna like this.” The Horseman chuckled nervously. She clearly didn’t like it either. “I don’t think this body’s head was cut off.”

“What?” Ichabod blinked. 

“From what I got, it felt more like the head was ripped off. Or blown off. I’m kinda leaning towards it being blown off...” The Horseman winced. 

“With a gun?” Ichabod asked cautiously. 

“I’m thinking something a bit bigger than a bullet.” The Horseman shook her head. “I don’t know what, though.”

“Well, a cannonball would be too big...” Ichabod thought aloud. 

“You know what, I don’t think it would.” The Horseman snapped her fingers. An almost cartoonish ‘lightbulb moment' look graced her features. 

“A cannonball?” Ichabod gulped. 

Well... she was right. he didn’t like that. Because if his friend had lost his head to a cannonball, the odds of it being in good shape were slim. He certainly hoped that this Headless Helper, as he’d named her, was wrong. That maybe the head had been cut clean off. Or that if it hadn’t, it was at least in usable shape. Mind you, he realized, his friend was certainly not around by any natural means, and it was wrong to assume that his head would have been preserved by any natural means either. This entire situation was unlike anything Ichabod had ever been through. It was terrifying... and absolutely thrilling. Ichabod had always imagined himself playing hero, and though these circumstances were odd ones, he was finally living that reality in a way. But back to the matter at hand... perhaps he now had more clues to his Headless friend’s identity.

“I’m sorry...” The Horseman winced. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”

“Actually, it really helps. Very useful information.” Ichabod assured her. “This is the closest we’ve gotten to finding out who the Horseman is. Thank you.”

“I’m just happy I could help.” The Horseman smiled shyly. 

“Are you okay?” Ichabod asked carefully. 

“I think so.” The Horseman shrugged. “I just... I feel bad for this guy. What he went through sucks.”

“Yes it does.” Ichabod hummed sympathetically. 

“I mean, I guess it was a quick death.” The Horseman reasoned. “I just... wow.”

“I’m sorry for-” Ichabod started. 

“No. Don’t be. I really want this guy to find his head.”  The Horseman cut him off. “I’m fine.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Ichabod nodded, not wanting to push. There was a moment of silence between them. “You know, it’s okay not to be.”

“What?” The Horseman blinked, confused. 

“It’s okay not to be fine.” Ichabod told her. “And if you’re not, or you need anything... I’m here.”

“Thank you.” The Horseman sighed. There was another moment of silence. Ichabod didn’t know what else to say. "I think the muffins have probably cooled enough for us to try. Want one?”

“I would love one.” Ichabod nodded getting up, walking to his desk, and pulling out his notebook. 

And so Ichabod Crane took some rather detailed notes on his findings, however scarce, and his new hypotheses about where they might find his friend’s head. While he did this, he snacked on one (or two, or three) of the Headless Helper’s muffins- which were exceptional. Especially for the grade of the oven they’d been baked in. This head had a knack for knowing precisely what Ichabod needed and providing it to him. The other heads he’d encountered... not so much. It was a finicky business working with his headless friend because with every new head he changed fairly drastically- almost as if he were an entirely different person. What a mess Ichabod had gotten himself wrapped up in... Truly, he’d only come to Sleepy Hollow to teach science. Teaching was his passion, and he was very much enjoying his job in Sleepy Hollow. But his mind had always wandered towards the inexplicable, and that was a term that more than aptly described his friend the Horseman. 

In a sense, Ichabod felt that maybe that had been the true reason he was drawn to this little town. That perhaps a higher purpose did exist in his life than simply to teach. He had always thought teaching was his calling, but perhaps it was simply a step on the journey that was meant to be his life. Or a vessel, he supposed, for it was teaching that had brought him to where he was. Whatever the case may be, Ichabod knew that what he was doing in helping the Horseman felt right. He wasn’t usually a man to trust pure gut instinct, but this was different. This felt like the start of something. Ichabod hoped that it was a good something. He would hate to be on the wrong side of history. The Headless Horseman had been a beloved legend for so long, and Ichabod felt it in his bones that he was now building onto that legend. That was a scary prospect. Because if he made a wrong move, all that he was building could crumble as quickly and as easily as a Jenga tower and leave him buried under the weight of his failure, the villain of a story he had never intended to be written into. 

[funkymbtifiction]

i do a lot of mbti research, but i obviously don’t know everything. being close friends with a high fi type has made me recognize how little i understand the function and how frustrating it is to me.

I am an ENTP. if there are misunderstandings, i like to work things out as quickly as possible. i am big on communication and collaboration. however, i have learned not to push her into talking about ANYTHING before she’s ready. it leaves me sitting on things for days with no idea of what’s going on. it’s extremely stressful. i know she’s processing things in her own head, but the lack of understanding or clarity leaves me making up all kinds of scenarios...

[...] this particular isfp friend came to me with a comment i made (online, so written). she took it to be a guilt trip of some kind. i apologized for guilt tripping her and explained that it hadn’t been my intention at all. i told her that i felt insecure myself and the issue had more to do with me, rather than a criticism of her or her actions. the talk seemed to go well. however, she held onto the original way she interpreted the comment and began complaining to mutual friends about being “salty” about what i said. when i approached her, confused, she proceeded to give me the cold shoulder for a week. she said she was allowed to have feelings, which isn’t something i would disagree with.

[...] it’s hard for me not to interpret her behavior as selfish, because i constantly have to defer to her feelings and have adjusted my behaviors to communicate better. yet whenever i try to express anything i need, even if i am EXTREMELY CHOICY with my words, she takes it as a personal slight against her. she’s even said verbatim “what if i don’t agree with your feelings?” and expressed concern about me having a false idea about HER, despite me taking ownership of my own shit. sometimes it just seems like i exist only as an extension of herself. [...]   is this high fi? unhealthy fi? looping?

I’m sorry for what you are going through with this friend.

This is unhealthy Fi-dom behavior: immature and over-sensitive IFPs expect everyone else to walk on eggshells around them to avoid hurting their feelings (while not bothering to censor “how I feel” in order to extend the same courtesy to others), assign motives to other people that are intentionally ‘mean’ and ‘hurtful’ (you are hurting me), door-slam people with whom they have run out of patience and tolerance, and take everything on an insulting level, because they have not yet learned how to self-check their hurt feelings (evaluate them for validity or question whether that statement was meant to offend them), establish barriers against the outside world (to prevent them from being so easily hurt), or embraced healthy Fi-dom behaviors, which is to be tolerant and accepting of other people and how they live, without passing judgment or attempting to force them to change in order to be acceptable to the IFP.

ETPs do not often get along with IFPs for this reason -- because IFPs tend to take everything on a personal level, find ETPs insulting and/or amoral in some way, and object in any way to ‘being teased’ -- and ETPs are often bluntly factual, tend to automatically correct logical inconsistencies (and there are plenty in F types), and are not always cognizant of how feelers might take their off the cuff remarks. Unless both parties want to meet in the middle and agree to work on their misunderstandings and extend the other person an enormous amount of ‘benefit of the doubt,’ you run into a lot of hurt feelings, frustration with how ‘irrational’ the feeler is being, and pent-up anger.

It sounds like you are doing all you can to outreach to her and maintain a healthy relationship on your side, by apologizing for your mistakes and trying to do better -- but she is not doing her part in accepting your apology and trying to accept you for who you are, thus giving you some credit and not over-reacting to everything you say. Talk about compromise with her. Maybe it’s also time to ask yourself if this friendship is giving you more stress and anger and frustration than it is fun and enjoyment and laughs. The best calculation method for the health of a relationship is that it should make you happy 7 out of 10 times. More than that, you are too passive together and there is no friction that will help you grow; less than that, and there is too much contention and differences for you to be good for each other.

Unless the ISFP knows what she is doing is wrong, and is willing to change, she is never going to change this behavior -- which means your relationship will stay this way going forward. Are you making her unhappy (it sounds like it, or she would not be behaving this way?)? Is she making you unhappy? Do you both want to work to save this friendship, or would you both rather walk away? It’s something to consider for yourself and possibly discuss with her.

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Episode 10

Confession time: I don’t like Xue Yang. I appreciate him for all his villain-y villain-ness, but I don’t like the character. I find him kind of annoying in this series, because they just have him so over-the-top nasty all the time. He’s like a caricature of a person. Granted, I haven’t watched the Yi City arc, because, as I think I said before, I read it and once was enough. So the other thing that kind of bothers me here is that we have two villains vying for screen time: Xue Yang and Wen Chao (Wen Chao obviously gets more)—and I guess it’s a bit much. Like, it’s not enough that Wen Chao is on their heels, trying to get the Yin Iron from them, so we need to add this scene where they watch someone else fight Xue Yang. That’s another thing that’s kind of goofy. Why put Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji in this scene at all when they barely do anything? Wei Wuxian uses Binding/Bonding to stop Xue Yang from getting away, but that’s the only real contribution.

See? This is what they do for the first ten minutes of the episode. This could have been told to them or shown in a flashback easily. Easily. There’s other things we see in flashbacks that are arguably more important than this capturing of Xue Yang and introduction to Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. With a lot of things, I’m like, if it was good enough in the book, then it’s good enough in CQL. At a certain point, I have to wonder if they just felt like they needed a fight scene in every episode. Director/writers were like, we gave you that scene with the chicken, now let’s get back to the action scenes! This is my personal preference, but I don’t mind being told some things, versus being shown everything. Like, it’s okay to hide some things from the audience so that they payoff is better at the time its revealed. (I will be forever bitter about how the headband meaning was revealed right away—that was such a great moment in the book, and I feel like CQL robbed the audience of that).

I feel like this is the only part in the whole series where they hint at anyone being gay, and it comes in the form of Xue Yang accusing Wei Ying of touching him inappropriately (basically, I’m not going back to check the subtitles). It would have been funny for Wei Ying to kind of play along with that, but censorship (rip)—I do like his line about how no one can best him in being cheeky, though.

I’ve never been happier to see Nie Huaisang, because that means we’re finally moving on to something else. Woohoo! Let’s go to Qinghe!

I like here how the distinction is made between people who are in clans and people who aren’t. I also like the set-up of how WangXian is similar to Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan: we cultivate together because we have similar goals and ethics, and that they are respected doing that.

And it’s interesting how Jiang Cheng says how it’s an honor to meet those two, but when Wei Wuxian says that he and Lan Wangji went on a night hunt for the same reasons, Jiang Cheng scorns them. He implies such a thing is enough to not let him back into Lotus Cove. I guess he doesn’t extend that same courtesy to Wei Wuxian, which is not surprising. I really like Jiang Cheng as a character, but he struggles with having good relationships. His interpersonal skills aren’t great. I mean, just look at him at the end—irreconcilable damage has been done to his relationship with Wei Wuxian. Can they be civil to each other? Of course! Do I think they’re really ever going to be friends and brothers again? I sincerely doubt it. And this isn’t all Jiang Cheng’s fault or anything; I think it’s mutual, and both of them parted on good terms, but the understanding is that they may never cross paths again. Honestly, that’s what I like about Jiang Cheng—I like that he’s complicated and is stubborn and his pride is important to him; I like that he’s jealous and will hold a grudge forever—that’s what makes him interesting to me. And I love the theme that choices were made, and you can’t go back to how things were. I love that this series/book shows that blood isn’t thicker than water, that sometimes it isn’t enough just to be family—that there are things that can destroy those kinds of bonds, but that that isn’t the end. You can start over—and if anyone gets to start over, it’s certainly Wei Wuxian. Went off on a tangent there, sorry.

I like how much they act like friends here. It’s just so relaxed, so intimate. Just the two of them, because all the others have walked away, including Jiang Cheng. If I didn’t know the story, I’d be wondering why it seemed like Wei Wuxian is closer to Lan Wangji than Jiang Cheng. Jiang Cheng scoffs at him, while Lan Wangji embraces Wei Wuxian’s words, and he’s only known him six months or so. It’s quite telling. I’m glad I’m rewatching this, because there are so many moments I’ve forgotten about that are really nice (I’ve watched the special edition cut about twice, and a lot is cut out, as you know).

Another moment I forgot about: Wei Wuxian standing up for Xue Yang. Not, of course, because he thinks he’s a good man, but because he doesn’t think they should execute a man when they don’t have all the facts. I like the contrast between his way of thinking and Nie Mingjue’s, who is quick to anger, stressed out, and ready to take everything out on Xue Yang. It’s understandable that he wants to just end Xue Yang, considering the threats from the Wen Clan, plus word on the street is that Xue Yang murdered an entire clan, albeit a small one. Nie Mingjue is worried about his own clan, not to mention the Gusu Lan Clan, who he specifically asks about when greeting Lan Wangji. He feels the impending threat from the Wen Clan and he’s not about to take it lying down.

And then you have Wei Wuxian defending a man who in his eyes is innocent until proven guilty. Like I said earlier, I think they all know Xue Yang murdered all those people, but I do like the fact that Wei Wuxian tries to push Nie Mingjue into making a more reasonable choice: waiting until they have all the facts. It’s a nice foreshadowing of what’s to come with Wei Wuxian himself, where most people aren’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Look at that smile! aldslkf

Okay, so first Lan Wangji hears something on his roof, so he grabs Bichen and prepares for a fight. Then he hears Wei Wuxian mumbling drunkenly about how the tiles are rougher in Qinghe than in Gusu, and that little smile forms on his lips. It’s so quick—blink and you’ll miss it. His expression is so soft, so warm, so gentle. Think about this—six months ago, he would have leapt on that roof to go fight Wei Wuxian, and now his reaction is this honeyed smile, reserved at this point only for Wei Wuxian. I mean, have you seen him smile for anyone else? Okay, fine��he smiled at the rabbits too. So the great Lan Wangji only smiles for bunnies and Wei Wuxian.

And I think he really regrets leaving like this. They’ve built up this relationship—this rapport—with one another, and Lan Wangji ends up leaving in the night, basically without a word. Wei Wuxian is too drunk to even know he’s there (if I’m not mistaken, Wei Wuxian calls for him, thinking that’s he’s still inside). Lan Wangji doesn’t know what’s ahead—everything is uncertain: the Wen Clan has ordered all major clans to send one inner disciple to be indoctrinated immediately, there is the issue of the Yin Iron (and Lan Wangji still has a piece of it), not to mention people like Xue Yang who might be roaming around causing trouble on the Wens’ behalf. Lan Wangji is certainly fearful for his home and his people, worried about the Yin Iron going to the wrong hands, likely worried about Wei Wuxian just in general, and regretting leaving him high and dry. This is such a sad moment, and maybe it’s just me feeling that way. It always leaves me with a lump in my throat. I also think it mirrors a later scene where Lan Wangji is on the roof and Wei Wuxian is leaving.

Also that fucking wangxian.mp3 playing in the background for this whole part—of course I’m going to get emotional!

Perfect response: Wasn’t me!

I mean, couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy, though. The captain was such an asshole, and I don’t blame Jin Guangyao one bit for what he did. That man emotionally and verbally abused him I’m sure on a daily basis. Not saying that murder is the answer to your problems, but in this made-up fantasy world that is CQL/MDZS, that guy fucking deserved it.

I also like how even though Nie Mingjue is super pissed and upset by what Jin Guangyao did, he still catches him when he gets run through, and he’s absolutely torn up about banishing him. It’s pretty powerful when it cuts back to him in his idk throne room (whatever you’d call that, I know it’s not a throne room, whatever) and everything is smashed up. Like, this man is enraged. The last thing he wanted to do was banish Jin Guangyao, but he had to. He couldn’t keep a man like that around. Jin Guangyao, by murdering the captain, had lost Nie Mingjue’s trust. Not to mention, who let Xue Yang out? Was it Jin Guangyao? Nie Mingjue doesn’t know; in his mind, Jin Guangyao could have been responsible for that too.

So, I actually really don’t like this. Wen Chao has already spilled the beans on the “evil Gusu Lan Clan” earlier, implying that they did, in fact, stand up to the Wens, and now he says outright that they sent forces to Gusu to burn the place to the ground. I hate that they tell us this! It’s so much better in the book when you don’t know what’s going on until Wei Wuxian finds out at the indoctrination! This is one of the most annoying things about Untamed—they spoil all the big secrets right away. In the book, the big secrets hit so much better when they’re finally revealed. It’s honestly a great feeling that the payoff is so good. Watching Untamed, I was just like, what?! Don’t tell them yet! Like the headband?! Argh!! Yes, we got that one good scene, but I would have traded that for what happens in the book (of course, the whole being tied up with the headband probably wouldn’t have made it into the tv series…). [NB: I laughed when I was reading over this again and saw that I’d already brought up the headband. Sore spot lol.]

But also, does Wei Wuxian not look worried enough here or is it just me? I feel like he should be more concerned. Even though he has the utmost confidence in Lan Wangji’s skill, he’s just one young man up against a huge force from the Wen Clan.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |

[weirdnessxmagnet]

Dig Two Graves

February 2021, The Otherlands

“We’ve been at this for hours, my dear. You deserve a short rest or you’ll burn yourself out.”

"Burning myself out is my MO." Toni joked, though she made no protest when Anna insisted they take a break and set about filling the kettle, leaving Toni to contemplate the stubborn stand of bubblegum pink hair still hanging before her eyes. She'd been aiming for natural red.

“I would offer you tea, but I know you’re wise enough not to take it.”

"You're not even going to try? Are you sure you're feeling well? Maybe I was tired enough to slip up, and now we'll never know." It was a joke and it wasn't. While Anna had been as thorough and patient a teacher as always, there was a distinct shortage of the usual mischief, and Antonia was beginning to wonder if this break wasn't for her own benefit. "Anna if I've turned my hair pink, will it go back if I just ignore it or will I need to work out how to turn this off?"

“You have a point, we can only dream of how many ways I could have trapped you here if your tiredness clouded your judgement.” The fey gave a quiet half-laugh as she felt for the jar she needed, finding a cup not too far from it. “As for your hair, because you are still learning and there isn’t quite so much power behind it yet it will fade of it’s own accord. Give it an hour or two, it shouldn’t last much longer than that.”

"Oh, good." Antonia nodded, not that the purely visual gesture likely communicated anything at all to her host, and brushed the offending strand behind her ear, where she could more easily ignore its lingering 'you tried' energy. It was progress, she reminded herself. Power couldn't come overnight, no matter how impatient you were.

Anna set the kettle on the stove and returned to her seat across from Toni while she waited for it to boil. “Continue the way you’re going, and you’ll be able to hold it as long as I without much thought.”

"You think so?" Toni laughed, more than a little flattered at the suggestion. Anna was no novice. Matching her in anything would be a significant achievement.

“I once turned my hair blue for 3 days, not a complete tragedy you understand. I was barely 10, it was much more fun than it should have been. Not quite so much so for my father.”

Toni laughed at the story, having heard enough similar tales from Anselm himself to easily picture it, but with nothing to add silence settled over the room and hung uneasily for a moment before Anna spoke again, fingers drumming ever-so-softly on the table top.

“Toni, I wonder if I might ask you a question?”

"You may. Is everything alright?"

Anna stilled her hand, even seemed to stop breathing, for a moment before she spoke again. "I need to speak to you about Andras."

There was a long moment where she did not breathe. Did not move. Even her expression was frozen into the same curious look she'd had before the question was asked. When it hadn't come up in their first few conversations since reconnecting, she had been lulled into the belief that Anna either didn't know, or else was otherwise indifferent. Apparently not.

So this is how I die.

At least Anna would likely be quicker about it that the others. A poor comfort, but something. Still, in what are truly only a few seconds of silence, she assessed everything available to her. Anna's blindness may have given Toni a brief advantage on home ground, but not in the fey's own domain. Would the ring still carry her back, if Anna didn't wish it to? Would her connection to Jawhara persist across planes? Or was this the final death for sure.

Damn it to Hell.

Her fingers hovered over the gems of the teleportation ring as she answered, hoping her suddenly dry throat wasn't too audible. "Oh? What about him?" Toni winced at the sound of her own voice; far too controlled, entirely lacking the expected venom on her tone. She didn't need to sound scared to sound scared.

"I was told that he had been killed for what he had done," Anna started, unusually cautious, "I was told by someone close to me, but I admit the news didn't come with very many answers either. I need to know if y..." She paused for a moment, steadying her breath, and if Toni didn't know better she'd have thought the queen was more scared than angry. "I heard a rumour, that it may have somehow been at your hands. Is that true?"

Well, she wasn't being stabbed. Yet.

Yet being key, because Anna seemed to want confirmation she had the right person first. With that thought came the impulse to lie. She was human, after all, perfectly capably of telling an outright untruth without any careful stepping if she so wished. It might have been the safest course.

Yet the very thought smacked of disrespect, which somehow felt worse than the truth of the situation. At the very least she could own her choices, and the reasons for them. If this was how she went, she was at least not going to be a coward about it.

"Not entirely my work, but by my hand and intentionally so." She inhaled slow and deep once it was said, waiting for the axe to drop. Anna, for her part, was silent for a short time, unmoving as she absorbed what she had been told. It felt like a small eternity.

“I’m... I am... Sorry, Toni.” The words seemed to be difficult for her, though Toni struggled to comprehend them for an entirely different reason. “For your loss. No mother should endure that pain, regardless of how they came to motherhood.”

"What?"

It was as if the words refused to register. That had not been at all what she was expecting, and now she was struggling to kick her adrenaline soaked mind back into working order.

"I..." What in the world was she supposed to say to that? I kill your husband and you're sorry? There were no guidelines for this. "Tha- I appreciate that, Anna. And you have my sympathy for any pain we caused you." She would not say she was sorry for any of it; she really, truly wasn't. Even with Anna in mind she would not hesitate to do it again. Still, Anna's emotions were unfortunate collateral damage.

“Had I known what he had meant to do I would have come to you. I understand why you did what you did.” Anna offered after a moment of quiet contemplation.

"It wouldn't have mattered, the Watchers were deaf to wiser council, and I was in no position to do much of anything alone, but I appreciate the thought." Her anxiety was gradually ebbing away, giving way to a familiar heavy melancholy that ruled all conversations on this subject as of late. She almost missed having Andras to focus her rage on; sadness left her so much more tired.

“I think hard-headedness goes hand in hand with wings. I offer my apologies for bringing the subject into conversation, but I needed to know. I needed to know who finished it and I needed to know that my children needn’t keep watch over their shoulders waiting for something that may or may not come.”

"I understand. Your children are safe from me, and from Ezekiel, but I can't speak for any of the other Watchers. From what he's told me, though, it seems like they've already moved on to their next scheme. You're probably in the clear." Toni had firm rules around involving partners and children in revenge plots, specifically that she didn't involve them unless they involved themselves. She would want the same courtesy extended to her, after all.

The answer seemed to satisfy her host, at least, as Anna's shoulders releasing tension Toni hadn't even noticed she was holding. As she did so Toni's own hands finally stopped hovering over her ring.

“I can understand you must been worried when I asked, but I commend you for your honesty.”

Worried! Toni laughed, her own relief audible. "Quite the understatement. I was pretty sure I was about to be on the wrong end of a sharp object. Probably for the last time." Sighing heavily, she stretched the remaining tension out of her body, her chair creaking as she did. "I respect you too much to lie to your face about it."

"The feeling is mutual, I can promise you." The kettle whistled, startling the pair at once. Anna rose from her seat with a small chuckle at herself, making her way back to the counter to add the necessary bits and pieces to her cup and to silence the now boiling kettle. "Sure I can't tempt you? No strings attached." she offered with a mischievous smirk as she held an empty cup aloft. "After all, even my father's quite attached to you and I think he'd be quite put out of I let all the rules apply."

Toni chuckled, shaking her head at the fey's mischievous look, which may as well have been a glaring neon 'Danger' sign. Not a chance. "I'm sure he'd forgive his darling daughter anything. I appreciate the offer but I'm quite alright without." Not so much a return to safety then as as a return to a far more controllable danger. This at least she could handle.

[daincrediblegg]

As Time Goes By (1/2)

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Co-worker!Reader Word Count: 1803

Author’s Note: Lmao so I’m deadass 3 days late with this, but I got inspired for it literally on New Years Eve, and it’s been running away from me ever since (mostly ‘cause I actually came down with a pretty bad infection, and now I’m apparently allergic to the antibiotic the doctors gave me for it. It’s not been fun the last few days). Here it is now in its final form (split into 2 parts for my own sanity and yours), and with it, I thank you all for coming in at the butt end of 2019 and playing a big part in saving my ass. All your fanfic, all your art and acceptance of mass mutual love for this boy, and whether you’ve reblogged and liked or commented on my art or what little writing I’ve done or even my dumbass tag meta, I’m incredibly humbled and screaming about it literally all the time, and I love you all. Hope to talk to more of you in 2020 to keep the clown love going strong, and I’ll see you all very soon for part 2 ;)

Arthur hadn’t really believed it when he’d been invited.

In his 33 years of life he had hardly ever been invited to anything. Birthdays, Christmas parties, dinners, drinks. If he had been offered any of these occasions, he’d often be forced to turn them down. He could justify to himself that he’d hate to leave his mother alone on any given holiday (let alone any day, with how poor her health was), but deep down, he felt the gesture empty. If he went, he’d be no more than he already was- an invisible man. Nobody to talk to, nobody to really celebrate with despite festivity cascading all around him. All because nobody really wanted the freak there anyway. Why go to all the trouble when he could be far more comfortable at home alone instead?

But when Gary had approached him one sunny Gotham winter morning as he was buttoning his golden vest, and said that the rest of the guys were planning to go to a bar on Nolan and 3rd to celebrate the New Year, he actually thought about going.

He was sweet to do so. Always nice to him. He’s sure the other guys wouldn’t think to extend such a courtesy to him, let alone want to. He knew what they thought of him, and frankly he didn’t think too highly of spending more time with them either. He was ready to make his usual excuse- that meds needed to be picked up, that his mother needed tending.

But it was four little words that Gary had said- soft enough and potent enough to make him reconsider.

“She’ll be there too.”

His eyes find her almost immediately, and Gary’s eyes follow- by the vanity, where she tugs down her wig to cover her hair- bright red spun yarn, dressed in a pair of braids. Her fluffy underskirt poking out a brilliant white under her blue polka-dot dress as she leans closer to the mirror. 

She’s lovely. Always has been. In and out of makeup. Always wishing him a good day, laughing at his jokes. She even asks for them- on days when she drags her feet up that long staircase, tired eyes hoping all the more that whatever he has for her will do the trick that he loves best- a smile, no matter how soft, and a chuckle, whether it leaves her chest or not. Anything is enough for him. 

He knows he’s going, deep down. He knows it surely as his heart starts thudding against his fragile ribs just a little harder as she smoothes her hands down her plush skirt.

“I-... I’ll think about it.” he concludes softly.

“All right. I hope you will. It’d be good to see you there, mate.”

They share smiles- genuine ones, before Gary gets back to his locker, dragging out his own jacket and wig. Just then, he sees a flash of pastel blue flutter past him, and his eyes flit up to her face, full of warmth as she waves a gentle goodbye to him. 

“Have a good day, Artie.”

Chills shoot up his spine in a rush. A hit of joy. An impossible wish, but one spoken true all the same. He wonders if there’s invisible cherubs behind him, stabbing him with arrows. 

Arthur lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers weakly as he smiles back at her.

“Have a good day…” he repeats. 

Her smile gets wider before she turns her attention to the dwarf next to him. 

“You too Gary.”

“And you!” he shouts after her, as she finally picks up her bag and trots down the stairs. He knows his eyes aren’t the only ones on her when she leaves, but he hopes that his eyes are more important than most. 

“How come she never tells me to have a good day?” Randall quips with a shrug. Gary rolls his eyes as he turns to him in reply. 

“Maybe because you’re an arse-hole.”

He laughs at that. Neither the laugh he pushes out of himself for courtesy, or the ones that force themselves out and choke him. He laughs for real, and he knows he’s going.

He has to.

His mom is nodding off, thank God. 

She’s been fed, and they’ve watched a bit of the Live Gotham New Years Celebration coverage on TV- Murray Franklin, hosting- from her bed. The lights are out, save for the soft blue glow of her TV, and it’s just enough of a sleeping potion to start putting her under. She always gets like this, in truth. Out cold long before the night really has a chance to even begin. It’s a blessing, really. Especially tonight. 

Because it gives him plenty of time to get ready. 

Sure, he doesn’t have much of a choice in what suit he wears- the only one he owns being a deep maroon, a hand-me-down from the last decade. He can’t decide how to style his hair (though he’s bathed, he’s at least managed that much, for her), whether to slick it back or keep it casual, all he has in the way of cologne is something cheap he got from the drug store on his way home from work the day Gary invited him, but he’s got the spirit. For Her. And it seems that today, it’s enough.

He gathers the necessaries from the closet before he leaves his mother to sleep, switching the tv in the living room onto the special while he prepares, dabbing the cologne to his wrists and neck, wiggling his spindly legs into his suit pants on the couch. 

Just then, as he’s buttoning up his fly, the brief commercial break ends with a quick jazz sting from the band- moved all the way downtown just for this occasion. He watches as the comedian approaches a couple. Arm in arm in the snow and smiling like they’ve won the lottery. Murray quips of how happy they are, about his own relatively new wife and how it won’t last- all in good humor. But he can’t register any of it. 

All he registers is the way the woman’s hands move around that man’s waist. He feels it himself. On him. Faint. A warm hand wrapping around him, just under his jacket, grazing over the deep blue sweater he’d dragged on this morning to go to therapy, fitting so neatly in the space between his hips and his ribs. It’s uncanny. It feels just like her.

And for just a moment the couple on the screen is gone. Replaced by another, far more handsome than the last.

Him and her. Together. Happier than the thousands of handmade smiles they paint on themselves with rich pigments in cheap grease. Hers is particularly divine. Her cheeks rosy as they lift fully to accommodate her joy. It makes his heart want to break his bones, leap right out of his chest, into the palm of her hand of its own accord. 

And they remained that way. For hours. Gotham’s imposing buildings shrinking beneath the way they look at each other, hold each other close and not just for the inevitable warmth her body brings to his. And at the stroke of midnight, he pulls her impossibly close, cupping her face when he kisses her, the cold air melting away under their shared warmth as confetti falls around them with the snow. They even get on the kiss cam. 

Gotham sweethearts. And everyone knows it.

He smiles, as the saxophone slowly pulls him out of reverie. The chilling blue light of the tv washes over him, and his hand pulls itself agonizingly from the spot it found across his abdomen, feeling his rib sticking out in his laid-back position. Murray, bundled up in scarf and woolen coat, speaks loud and clear into his microphone over a cheering crowd, ever the professional. 

“Well folks, this is it! Not much more than an hour left until the New Year! Pour some Champagne, and get your sweethearts close, and we’ll be right back after these messages.”

Panic washes over him so fast he almost tumbles over the coffee table trying to get up off the couch. 

He’s late.

Quicker and more lithe than a cat high on their nip, he tugs his sweater off, buttoning up his clean white dress shirt as fast as he can- praying he didn’t skip any buttons, or that he improperly tied his tie. 

“Happy? Where are you going?” a sleepy lilt calls from behind him.

He almost yelps, but before he can he turns to see his mother, leaning against the hallway, looking like she could pass out again right then and there. Leaving his waistcoat not fully buttoned, pulling his suit jacket on, he strides over to her and supports her sleepy form, starting to try and lead her back to bed. 

“I’m meeting some guys from work for a drink.” A half-lie, as they reach the bedroom door. Enough to not make her question why he’s dressed to the nines and the strong and heady scent coming off of him - discount eros from a bottle. She hums a little “oh”, mulling over what she should say in response. He doesn’t give her the chance. 

“I’m sorry Mom, I forgot to tell you.” Another half-lie, but it completes a full truth for her, letting him keep the solitary thought of her all to himself, even for a little while longer. 

A look of unnecessary worry strikes across Penny’s face.

“You shouldn’t drink, Happy. It could mess with your pills. And you know I don’t like you being out this late.”

He winces at that. Guilt hitting him like needles prodding his veins. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to hurt. That she doesn’t trust him to leave and make it back in one piece. That she doesn’t trust him to know himself. 

That she doesn’t trust him.

But she can’t dissuade him now.

They reach the door to her room, and they both slink in. He lets go of her once he’s sure she can make it the rest of the way to her side of the bed by herself, and swipes up his old hoodie draped over the corner that isn’t hers.

“I’ll be home by next year, I promise.” He purses his lips with a playfully disarming smile for her. She gives him a breathy chuckle of acceptance, and sits back on her bed again, pulling up the covers as she does. 

“All right, Happy. Be careful.”

He nods, tugging the hoodie over his suit- trying not to wrinkle the sleeves as best he can.

“I will, Ma.”

He blows a kiss, and before she even has the chance to give him one back, he’s picked up his wallet and keys, and he’s out the door, locking it behind him.

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [19]

Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 19.5 OR Chapter 20

➜ Words: 3.1k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

“Thirty days.”   Your eyes are locked with his and he hangs on every word that falls from your lips. “Enter an agreement with me. If after thirty days, it doesn’t work, then we can break it off. If after thirty days, we aren’t happy, then we can both mutually walk away and never try again.”   Hoseok is a man of plans. Negotiating and establishing contracts between parties is a part of his job. So it doesn’t take much convincing, especially when he wants this as much as you do. “Okay.”   //   There’s a shift. A change. Yet, at the same time, nothing feels significantly different. Maybe it’s in the way your shoulders feel lighter, even if the worry is still there. You can smile when your eyes meet his now and he returns it meekly as if it’s a promise that everything will be okay, that he’ll follow through.   The rest of the office gathers together and no one asks any questions. But Jimin still pulls you aside, asking if there’s an issue he should know about. You reassure him things are fine — finding it funny how everyone automatically takes your side, including Hoseok’s own partner.   For so long, your life has felt chaotic. It’s a breath of relief to find the world normal and constant outside your bubble. And it’s not difficult to revert back and discover peace again. Between the bickering of Yoongi and Sunyi, Jin and Taehyung being noisy with the latter clinging onto Jungkook, everything has returned to its ordinary days. Just this time, you just have someone by your side.   The night market is bustling with people and crowds, lights twinkling in every direction. “Ooh, chicken skewers!” Like a hyperactive dog, Jin goes running off to a stand and Namjoon follows.   Jungkook is also infected with enthusiasm and quickly turns towards you. “Want some, Y/N?”   “I’m good, thanks.”   Sunyi takes a moment to stop at a stand, putting on a yellow sun hat with flowers decorated around the ribbon as the vendor watches with a smile. “What do you think of this hat?”   “You should pick one that covers up your face more,” Yoongi deadpans, causing the girl to scowl at him.   Eventually, the group splits off, either eating or shopping for souvenirs. You remain walking on the streets alongside Hoseok, stealing a few peeks at him when given the chance. His hand slips from his pants pocket casually and as you stroll, it grazes the back of yours.   “You can hold my hand if you want to,” you murmur, not sure if he hears you.   But then after a delayed moment, Hoseok hums a low note and takes it. He laces his fingers with yours and a tiny smile sneaks up your lips, matching Hoseok’s. You lean closer to him, no one else in the office turning around to notice. It’s a long way to go, but it’s just the beginning.

The quietness used to make you feel unsettled. There was something about being in the silence of your own head, stewing over numerous thoughts, aboard trains that you don’t know where they’ll lead, only to forget once you’ve snapped out of it. But no longer is that quietness unpleasant. While you’ve had enough time to become comfortable in your own presence, having him here beside you makes you all the more content. The silence is far too comfortable.   You stare out the window, smile stuck on your face, exhaling. The sceneries pass by, playing along to the tune of the soft radio. He’s singing quietly to any song he remembers and you don’t say anything, merely listening and being lulled.   “You know…” You break the quiet, craning your neck over to stare at his profile. “You don’t have to tiptoe around me.”   “Who says I am?” The lawyer steals a glimpse of you, a mischievous smirk pulling at his lips.   “Me,” you tease, having too much fun know that the tables have turned. You repeat the things he used to tell you, using his own words against him. “You’re stiff — I can tell.”   Hoseok snorts, a rush of air coming from his nose and his mouth curls. “I’m not just used to switching off my work mode. Plus, you’re too adorable and I’m not sure how to deal with that yet.”   You scoff. “Don’t act cute with me, Jung.”   “Why not?” He pouts, puffing out his cheeks and quirking his head to the side as if trying to appeal to you. “Don’t you like me cute?”   “Focus on the road before we crash and die.”   Hoseok laughs, hands moving along the steering wheel and turning it with the palm of his hand. He leans back in his seat, acting excessively casual and cool that it almost comes off as practiced. “You want to go to dinner afterwards? I still haven’t taken you out on our first official date yet.”   “Depends where.”   “How about Chinese?”   You consider it before recalling the lunch you shared with him a few months back and a sense of nostalgia brings a better idea. “How about curry?”   “Curry, it is! Yes, ma’am.”   A giggle spills from your throat and you give a firm nod of approval. “That’s right.”   “I know a good place. Leave it up to me.”   “Okay. But if we eat at my place, you’re going to leave after.”   “Of course.” Hoseok gasps, playing into his natural theatrics, and making you laugh when he pretends to take offense. “Who do you take me for?”   “I’m just putting it out there. It’s my personal first date rules.”   “Mine too.” He takes another peek before focusing on the road ahead. “Just letting you know, i have plans to abstain from any physical contact for the next decade.”   Hoseok smiles when you laugh, cheeks aching. It seems that lately, all you feel is giddy. You point off to the curb, trying your best to remain composed, but obviously failing. “You should park here.”   “Isn’t that too far away?”   “...I don’t want my mom to chase you again.”   “Fair enough.” Hoseok was helping you pick up your belongings that you left at your mom’s while staying there. It didn’t take an extra second for him to offer his driving services and you didn’t object either. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” He opens the door for you, ushering you out with the utmost courtesy. “How’s your shoulder and your neck?”   “I’m fine,” you insist. “I’m a lot better.”   Still, he remains unsure. “Call me if you need help.”   “I don’t know, Jung. You think you can handle my mom?” You’re bantering with him, all in good fun. But when his expression becomes blank, you realize he genuinely seems sad and sorry about it. You know Hoseok’s used to people not liking him in his line of work, but your mom was an important family member and it was clear he wanted her approval. You quickly jump in before his brain can implode with stress. “I’m fine. Don’t worry, alright? I’ll be out in five minutes.”   “Okay.”   You walk down the block, crossing the street before stepping up towards the front door. No one answers the doorbell. You ring again. Waiting. No one answers. With a sigh, you dig into your pockets for the key, wondering if she’s sleeping. The door opens and you slip off your shoes.   “Mom?”   “Y/N?” Her voice comes from upstairs and immediately, the ceiling trembles with her stomping steps making haste. “I thought I heard that doorbell!”   “I’m just grabbing—”   It happens too suddenly. Your mom’s hurrying down the stairs. And her foot — it slips. Her arm extends, grabbing onto the banister, but it’s not enough to hold her upright. Her feet lurch forward. Her body pulls away from her arms, going in different directions. There’s a terrible crash, and she tumbles down the stairs, hitting against the wall. You shout, paralyzed in shock.   And your mom curses, laying on the floor by your feet.   //   A conclusion in your mind has finally been reached — the hospital is a terrible place to be. You didn’t know you would return so soon and this time, it isn’t even for you. You’re holding your mother’s cold hand in yours, unable to stop crying and sobbing onto the sheets as you’re hunched over, sitting in the stool beside her bed. The heart monitor lurches every so often with a beat. And while the sound is eerie and unpleasant, looking at her is even more so.   The right side of her forehead is bruised, purple flowers blooming on her old skin wrinkled from age. You never noticed how tired she is, how it’s made her aged, and it makes you sob harder.   “Oh my god.” She finally speaks up. “You need to save this for the funeral.”   You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and she continues relentlessly, “I’m not dead yet and I won’t die so easily. God knows you’ve given me a heart attack enough times — if I’m not in the grave by now, I won’t be for a while.”   “I thought….I thought…”   “You’re just like your dad.” A softer smile pulls on her lips. “So concerned about everything. It gives me a headache.” You manage a small laugh at her absurdity. Honestly, you expect nothing less. “If you care this much, you’d visit more often or pick up your phone and call me. It wouldn’t kill you.”   “Sorry…”   The older woman nods, turning to face the plain ceiling and sighing. “My butt kind of hurts.”   You frown, looking over her and slightly hovering. “Do you need me to call someone?”   “I want liquids.”   “Water?”   “No. Tea.” She smiles. “Go look into the vending machines. As long as it’s not that iced tea, I’m fine with anything. If not, go to the cafeteria or find a coffee shop.”   You’re appalled. “You want….tea?”   “Yes. Will you get it for your dear mother?” Her request is more like a command. You’re not even sure if she’s allowed to have tea and you don’t know what’s wrong with her, but you abide your mother’s headstrong will, slowly getting up. “And leave that door open. I need some air in here. It’s suffocating me.”   You obey, leave it slightly ajar and your eyes straying off before you spin around on your heel, going on a quest for tea whilst feeling like a child navigating the hospital on an odd mission. It’s quiet for a long moment and the woman inside the room sighs once more and looks off at the door. Her voice is still strong despite her fall.   “Jung, get yourself in here. Don’t make me repeat myself twice.”   There’s ten seconds of silence. Then, a nose pokes through the gap of the door and there’s someone meekly shuffling inside, acting all too out of character. Hoseok’s head is downcasted, eyes pinned to the ground, practically bowing on the floor. “Hello.”   Your mother moves to sit upright, wincing in the process. The lawyer’s eyes widen and he rushes over, arms opening to help her, but then he retracts when she manages on her own. “Sit down, boy, and don’t touch me.”   He immediately plops down and she glares, detesting his very face. Eventually, she looks away, scanning the premise. It’s a small hospital room with a window off the left wall, but private nonetheless. “You must be doing well if you could afford a room like this.”   “I-uh...I’m doing okay.”   “Did you really think I wouldn’t know you were here? I was still conscious when you picked me up, threw me into the backseat, and shipped me here.”   “S-sorry…” Hoseok takes a deep breath, meeting her eyes. He hasn’t felt so nervous for something since his job interview at Wendy’s firm, but with years of being under strict authority and in stressful situations, he composes himself and speaks in a gentler tone. His hands are placed reverently on his thighs and he bows his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did to make you feel this way towards me. But I’m sorry for my actions. I was in accident—”   “Save it. I’ve already heard it from my daughter.” The woman exhales, locking her gaze onto his and boring her eyes into his skull. Hoseok never thought there would be someone more intimidating than his sister, but he swallows hard and shuts up, allowing her to talk. “You’re a cruel man, Hoseok.”   “To have the audacity to come back and court my daughter after you left her high and dry.” She half-scoffs and gives half a laugh of disbelief. The woman feels your humiliation, the shame of crawling back to someone who threw you away, the anger, the sadness, the helplessness. “You can’t even remember what you did to her. When I heard, I thought this was from a TV drama. I thought no way was this part of real life. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made it all up. But of course, it has to be real. You always find new ways to make my only daughter suffer. You can’t leave her alone, can you? Had I known back then, I would’ve thrown you out onto the streets right that instant.”   She looks away with a scoff, too tired to berate him further, insult him, or chuck the tissue box at her bedside table towards his figure. The woman has given up. She sighs. “Well...what can you do?” It’s almost as if she’s speaking to herself. “How am I supposed to stop you...or her? I’m an old lady. I can’t even chase you out the house properly without falling over.”   “But I hope that your intentions with my daughter are right or may god help you, Jung Hoseok, I will personally see you in hell.” It’s what her late husband would’ve said..maybe in less sharp terms. Still, she recites the words, reminding the lawyer who sits motionlessly beside her. “When I die, she won’t have any family left and no one to support her. I hope you will be the person she leans on.”   “I won’t disappoint you,” he reaffirms, earnest in his promise, keeping his head downcasted respectfully.   “I’m not giving you my blessing because of you, boy. I’m giving it because I know my daughter’s stupid and you’re stupid — it makes you both a good match. And if I didn’t accept you...well...I’d rather not make her suffer more.” Despite her cold words and insults, her arm extends, putting her hand over his like she did with you. She pats him once with a bit of reluctance.   “If you’re not serious, if you’re not committed to her, then tell me. I don’t want you to make a mistake and make her experience...that again.”   “I’m serious about Y/N,” Hoseok whispers, wholehearted and purposeful with how he punctuates the syllables. “I love your daughter very much.”   “Good.” She nods and allows herself to relax back into the soft bed. “That makes me feel a lot more at peace.”   Outside of the room, you’re leaning against the wall. You’re right by the door with a cup in hand, but never once are you seen from the inside. Patients, doctors, and nurses pass by you, the world moving around. They’re oblivious to your smile and the way your chest has eased with a bigger weight you didn’t even notice existing there.   //   “Did my mom say anything?” The door shuts to your apartment and your feet pad against the floorboards, making your way to the modest kitchen. “I was surprised to see you two chatting.”   “She said to say hi to my mom.” He follows after you, setting down the takeout. “Apparently, they were good friends or something.”   “Oh, I see.” You don’t push, but you shift around to face him, stopping Hoseok right in his tracks. “Are you alright? You’ve been quiet.”   “I’ve been thinking.”   “About?”   Jung Hoseok’s hair is slightly ruffled, not styled or curled into the common look he wears for work. He’s enveloped in a simple black hoodie and dark jeans, bringing you a sense of nostalgia as if no time has passed whatsoever. “That I don’t really….care anymore.”   You frown in confusion, not understanding where he’s getting at. “What?”    “I know it might be bad, but I don’t care what happened to us. I’ve just been thinking that this entire time, I’ve been hung up about the past and our history together and now I realize I don’t care.” There’s a pause, his brown irises gazing back into yours. “What I care about is now.”   You echo him, “Now?”   “What I should care about is the things I can remember. What I have is the power to control my future. And I want to spend that future with you.”   You scoff, stepping forward and encircling your arms around him. It’s odd to hug him like this, but it’s not necessarily foreign. “You’re such a sap, Hobi,” you murmur underneath your breath.   He smiles, leaning down until his chin is propped on your shoulder, returning your embrace and giving you a tight squeeze. “I know. I should’ve majored in literature, huh? With a concentration in poetry or something...”   “Imagine if the rest of the firm saw you now.”   “That would ruin my image,” he mumbles, shutting his eyes and enjoying the way you lean your head against him and how your fingers run through the black strands of his hair.   A wistful sigh leaves the seams of your lips, relaxing in his grasps. “Your image is already ruined.”   He pulls away with a slight pout. “What do you mean?”   “You’re a softie now.” You poke him, even when Hoseok sulks harder. “You’re not so scary anymore and they think you’re my best friend.”   “Me? Best friends with you?” The man grins, mouth pulled slightly in a heart shape as his eyes crinkle. He resists the urge to nuzzle into you. “I couldn’t think of a better position to be in.”   “Oh?” A single brow raises. “Want to go back to being friends then?”   “Excuse me?! Are you trying to friendzone me? I think it’s too late for that.”   “Nothing’s ever too late.” You giggle, placating him and slipping out from your best friend’s arms. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold, and I change my mind and you’re back to being my friend.”   He salutes you silently before opening the plastic bag, fiddling with the knot for a while. A smile pulls at your lips and while you didn’t say it out loud — you’re glad that he agrees with you.   Your past is filled with Jung Hoseok and so is your present. You hope your future will be too.

[rasoir-national]

The big Investment law rant one (1) weirdo was asking for

@ghostplantss​ oh no i'm sorry i know i've asked you so many questions already but? i smell tea against investment law?

You know, I was going to hold off on this one as not to go through another rambling so soon, but fuck it, I just got out of an investment law midterm, I’m barely coherent, all of Paris is on strike and cold as fuck right now and I got literally no sleep last night because my crush was crashing in my fucking bed because of the strike and they have someone but they keep flirting with me like crazy and I don’t know what to do and everything sucks so this should be fun.

What was I talking about ? Oh yeah, investment law. Strap in.

Let’s start at the beginning : investment law is part of the big happy family known as International Public law. What is international public law ? Well, if I had to sum it up in one image, it would be this :

What you have to remember is that you, I, and pretty much everybody, live in what’s called a judicial order. Our lives are framed by rules, and when we interact with each other, if there’s a doubt about the sense of those rules, then there’s an authority tasked with creating and enforcing those rules we can turn to. Now we obey that superior authority for a variety of reasons, but really, we do it because we have no choice : if we want to evolve and interact in the community that we’ve been given of that we’ve chosen, we have, by nature, to follow its rules. Basically, if that authority is a playable character, we are the NPCs : we are free to perform certain actions, but for the game to be playable, what we do has to be dictated by what the playable character does. This works because there is one will that orientates what is allowed to happen within the scope of their adventure.

But imagine now a game in which there isn’t one playable character, but many : maybe ten, maybe twenty... maybe 206, if the UN official count is to be trusted.

What I’m getting at with this godawful analogy is that the natural subject of international public law is not you or I, but those authorities themselves : the States. And right out of the bat, there’s a problem : because for it to be law, there has to be rules, and there has to be someone to enforce them. For an individual, that someone is the State ; even when we interact outside of one single state, the rules used are created by A State to tell us what law should then apply, and then enforce that law, be it because that’s your state of origin, or because you’re on that state’s soil... This works because there’s all of us, and then there’s a superior authority whose rules you have no choice but to refer to, even if it’s to break them. But the states ? There’s no one above them. On the international scene, every State is equal, and every State is sovereign. If a country wants to be bomb its entire population and turn its territory into a waterpark, that’s awful, but is there anything another State can do ? It’s not infringing on its sovereignity. It’s minding its own business. What are you going to do ? Who are you going to call to ? What right do you even have, as a State, to tell another State what it’s supposed to do on its own soil, with its own citizen ? No one gave you that right. There’s no one to go to to enforce that right.

Now this is where you tell me that I’m full of shit, because what about the Security Council ? What about the UN ? What about the International court of Justice ? Those are things that make rules, and can enforce them ! And you’re perfectly right. Because just like in the image above, if everyone is equal and there’s nothing to dictate how everyone is supposed to interact, then it’s just chaos. If there’s no one to give you rules, then you have to give them to yourselves. If it’s gotta be a multiplayer, then you gotta have some ground rules. But nothing exists on its own. Every rule, every organization, every power you might give up, you have to agree to. Nothing can be taken for granted. Nothing can be claimed against a State, if you cannot prove that they have agreed for you to be able to make such a claim.

That’s International public law : a process dating back several millenia during which what would become the modern States laid the groundwork on the way they would interact with each other to maximize their interests. Nowadays, a dispute between States can get solved in a court of law that they invented and invested with powers to do so, according to rules they have agreed upon. But I don’t think people really appreciate how recent this all is : until, well the 19th century really, the way to solve any dispute was War. Because whatever law there was, was law created by a State, a law they had no right to impose on another sovereign State that was its equal.

Now in that construction I just oversimplified for our amusement, what about us ? Us, the people ? Where do we stand in international public law ? Well... Nowhere. International public law is not for us. Our rules are given by the States. Again, if the States are playable characters, we are the NPCs. We don’t exist on the same plane as they do. Our way of interacting with the world is necessarily via playable characters. The rules the States give themselves may affect us, but they are not for us. They don’t give us any rights, or obligation. Every right or obligation we do get is through a State that may apply to us what they’ve agreed to with other States. What is, oh, I don’t know, the New York Convention on Children’s rights ? It’s a treaty between States. No more, no less. If your State didn’t agree to that treaty, and didn’t decide how it was going to enforce that treaty, then it doesn’t apply to you. It doesn’t exist. We, the people, can be objects of International Public law, but we are never its subjects. We do not act. We do not sue. We are NPCs.

That is, unless, you have money.

So, if you’re one of the two people who’ve read that far, what’s investment law ? On a basic level, nothing that sounds so wrong : if you’ve read my previous rambling about Immigration law, you know that a foreigner on a State’s soil has basically no rights unless those rights are given to them. But like I said, States have understood that it’s highly beneficial for them to act according to rules than to just evolve individually in total chaos. The idea if that if someone wants to invest in a territory other than their own, they’re getting a pretty awful deal : the State doesn’t have to protect their investment, their own State can’t do anything if something goes wrong, so all and all it’s really risky. Now that situation is not good for the States : ideally, you want as many people as possible investing money in the economic activity. So how do we make the situation mutually beneficial ? We agree, among States to protect each other’s investors if they invest on our soil. That’s what we call IT : investments treaties. They are international treaties, usually bilateral (BIT) in which States agree to lay the ground rules of the way they’ll treat each other’s investors. The basis of any international public law is reciprocity : I’ll agree not to expropriate your investors out of nowhere, and you’ll do the same with mine. If something goes wrong, I, a sovereign State, agree to give your investor the right to request arbitration between us, if you’ll extend the same courtesy to mine.

So at first glance, this is pure international public law : the investor gets certain rights in the process, but only because the States agree to it among themselves. The investor still doesn’t exist as a subject of international public law : these rules apply to them because their State has agreed to it.

Except.

Except with time, international arbitration, which is the main way disputes between States and foreign investors are solved, has developed rules that say otherwise. Now, the investor doesn’t have the right to sue because the State said so ; this is their own right, given to them by the treaty itself. Now, an investor may even sue a State in a way they haven’t even agreed to be sued by using different clauses to import advantages from other treaties to which their State wasn’t even a party. Investor can now hop from treaty to treaty until they find a way to create the exact right that they want, that has never been given to them by any state, and that they apparently possess anyway, because they’re just as powerful as States. I can’t really give you any example that wouldn’t be atrociously technical, as arbitration awards are several hundreds pages long, but trust me on this : the investor can drag a State to court.

“Who cares ?” You might ask. Their rights, the State’s rights... Why does it matter ? Well, aside from the fact that it makes them unique as individuals, as the rest of us do not get to gain rights simply because a treaty somewhere says so - I know some asylum seekers who would be very happy to see the Geneva Convention applied directly to them instead of having to follow a State’s rules - it means that the investor can act exactly as if they were a State. Meaning that in court, they are parties, on equal footing. Meaning, if you’ve followed, that for a State to claim something against the investor... They have to have agreed to it.

Counterclaims are a way for the State that’s being attacked by an investor to turn around and claim they’ve been wronged by the investor. I have neither the time nor the skills to peel off the layers of neocolonialism that make investment law, but at this stage you’ve probably more than understood that BITs essentially exist between “developed” States and former colonies as a way for investors of the former to keep investing in the latter, theoretically contributing to its development but in reality funneling natural resources and profiting from cheap labour and looser regulations. If you know anything about capitalism, what happens next will not surprise you.

Sometimes, the State may act like a dick for no reason and deprive the investor of their investment. But most of the time, they do it because the investor has been acting like a dick and potentially causing some serious damage on its territory. Maybe they’ve ignored labour regulations and accidents happened. Maybe they’ve thrown bribes left and right. Maybe they cheated on their taxes. Maybe they were in charge of a petroleum concession and basically destroyed the entire eco-sphere of the region.

Well, if you’re a developing State and you find yourself in that situation, you better hope you have some good lawyers and some rainy days funds. Because the investor will sue you for infringing on their rights, and you’ve agreed to that, haven’t you ? Remember that treaty you signed ? And since it’s a treaty, you’re not just responsible before one investor, but before another State. And there’s a good chance that State is a lot more powerful than you are. You want to explain yourself ? Well fear not, you can make a counterclaim ; but you’re gonna have to prove the investor has agreed to be countersued. And since they’ve never signed a treaty...

Don’t worry, that doesn’t mean everything’s lost. Maybe the arbitrator will agree with you. It could happen. It has happened. Once. A single time in the history of investment law. In 2018. Remember that company that destroyed an entire region ? They’re called Burlington, and they now owe Ecuador a handful of millions for the damage they caused. Let’s give ourselves a hand, folks. We got one.

I realize how dry and theoretical this might all sound, especially since most people I interact with here come like me from a “developed” State and might not have seen firsthand the wreckage investors can leave in their wake. But once again, I have to come back to immigration law. The situation of migrants is not any different than the one of investors : they are guests on foreign soil, hoping to be nonetheless awarded protection. Except for some reason, one does not exist to the eye of International justice, while the other can drag a State to court over rights that were never technically awarded to them. I’m honestly not opposed to seeing the classic conception of International Public law evolve ; maybe it is time for individuals to gain a legal international existence. We certainly have a lot to gain in terms of rights. But for some people, that’s been a reality for over 50 years, because capitalism feels like they have something to offer that makes them deserving of superior recognition. We let the people with the greatest potential ability to do harm act with the least supervision and the most rights to their name. People like to use the phrase “two-tier Justice” for a lot of things, but this goes one step beyond : this is a case where a certain kind of justice is only accessible by a certain kind of people. Legal theory has very real consequences. But unless you’re fluent in legalese and can stomach thousands of pages of technical analysis, you do not know how quickly things move in the international scene for the rich and powerful. The States themselves don’t want you to know - otherwise, you might start to seriously question why you still have to obey their rules when others have hoisted themselves out of the cardboard box and are now staring them in the face. Imagine that.

So that was way too long and angry. Have a picture of my silly dog.

Good boy.

[akatdeity]

RULES

On the Muses -

    Hidan is a priest with extremist tendencies. You will often find him with some sort of weapon in his body as a part of ritual self-mutilation. Body horror, existentialism, and general violence is to be expected, and will be tagged accordingly.

    Hidan is mostly friendly and contemplative, but easily slips into teasing that can be cruel. He isn’t looking for relationships that aren’t between him and the Big Guy Down There. Please be patient with him. Don’t force anything. If you want him to be gentle or soft, please DM to plot out something with the mun.

  The only holy thing this blog recognizes is Jashin, so please - no god modding.

   †   .   †   .   †

    Jashin is a god of life and death. He can often be found among the suffering, judging souls and setting them right. Psychological horror, existentialism, and general creepiness is to be expected, and will be tagged accordingly.

    Jashin is calculating, and stares at men as if they are cogs in the grand scheme of his perfect universe. To him, everything has a balance, and so pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin. He favors very few. Please be patient with him. Don’t force anything. If you want him to be gentle or soft, please DM to plot out something with the mun.

Being a god, he will occasionally intervene in the lives of mortals. Mun will contact you ahead of time as needed. Note that Jashin will not intervene on Hidan’s behalf: his follower will reap what he sows.

   †   .   †   .   †

On the Mun -

Basic Info: Mun has no pronoun preference. Use whatever you like. 

Shipping: Mun is open to almost all pairings where characters have chemistry. 

Hidan/Konan: 🚫

Noncon and domestic abuse: 🚫

NSFW: Mun is 21+. Will write 18+ ships with 21+ RP partners. 

Interactions -

Unless otherwise discussed, Mun usually answers queries assuming that the relationship between characters is that of canon. Muses will interact and ship with everyone, so long as they are compatible! Friendships, rivalry and hateships are also sought after. 

     Style: Paragraph/Prose, usually present-tense.      Length: Match quality not word count.       Asks: 

Put IC dialogue in quotes.

Indicate applicable verses, muse(s) and/or characters. 

If not specified, Mun will choose whatever is inspiring.

    Mutual RP Blogs: ❤️     Non-Mutual RPers: ❤️     Non-RP Blogs: ❤️     Likes & Reblogs: ❤️

All likes are good likes.

Ask before reblogging an RP thread.

Anyone can reblog posts in which Mun is OP. 

    OCs, Alts, Rare and Crossover Characters: ❤️

Please DM a VERY detailed bio prior to interacting. 

   Over-Projection & Kins: 🚫    Callouts/Vagueposts: 🚫

  †   .   †   .   †

FAQS:

    Who are you?

I go by “Akat” on my roleplay Tumblrs, @akatdollie, @akatdeity, and @slcklecell.

If you know my fandom main do not mention it to others, please.

    Are you affiliated with Akatzombie?

No. Akatzombie—though my friend—is run by another wonderfully talented mun.

    Why didn’t you follow me back?

First, this is a side blog. I may have followed you back from my main, “akatsings”. You do not have to follow that blog for me to interact with yours.

Second, I don’t automatically follow back. If I do, I may unfollow at will—nothing against you, I just aim to keep my dash focused for my muses.

Third, if you don’t see that in your follower list, don’t worry! I still answer casual asks (ooc and easy interactions) from anyone, both rp and non-rp blogs.

    How selective are you in general?

I will not respond in detailed prose to any rare, crossover, or OC character without an easy to find biography/intro. I am not researching your muse. That is not fun—it’s homework.

OOC and headcanon asks are fine, though.

I will not answer shipping, violent, or sexual asks for anyone but my mutuals. Even then I only answer what inspires me.

The reason for this is that my muses tend to respond aggressively to unsolicited advances, and I don’t always feel comfortable answering in character.

I won’t thread for anyone but long-term friends or those who respect and understand the dynamics of my characters.

I reserve the right to determine who does and does not meet the above qualifications.

    How selective are you in shipping?

It usually takes me two to three sentences of a reasonable argument/AU to ship something, but I won’t do all the work to make it “happen.”

Further: Just because I generally ship something, doesn’t mean that I will automatically ship my muse with yours. Different muns have different portrayals and different writing styles for the same muses; sometimes these portrayals click. Other times they don’t.

    What if my character doesn’t meet yours in canon?

That’s fine! Just ask or dm me with how you want them to interact (friends? Rivals? Comrades? Etc), plus a scenario where they do meet, and I will tell you how my muse will react in that situation, and then we’ll move on from there.

    What if I want to make an AU for our muses?

Same as above! Give me an idea and we’ll talk about it.

I generally have a lot of open-ended verses that I adapt to fit other people’s muses and ideas. You are free to propose a variation on them, or another verse entirely. However, I won’t be doing all the work in order to get our characters to meet, interact and like/dislike each other—that’s unfair, and too much work on one mun.

If you’re having trouble, start with— “I really think it’s cool if X and Y character—“ etc. Or how you think our characters would work together.

    What if I accidentally break a rule of yours?

If you’re a mutual, I will take a screenshot of the rule and kindly remind you to abide by them. If you’re a stranger, I will automatically soft block or block, depending on how badly the rule was broken and how uncomfortable I feel.

I don’t make these rules to be mean, but to save the time and energy of us all. So if these rules are disregarded, then we will have to cut our losses. I will unfollow when I feel like someone has not read my rule page, and not be inclined to interact.

If you’re unsure if you have broken a rule, please politely ask. I don’t bite really.

    How do I interact with you more?

Send! 👏 More! 👏 Asks!

OOC, or IC, I promise to return the favor.

     Can I have your discord ID?

Nope! This is reserved for long-term friends and mutuals that respect my characters.

If you are one of these people, do not give out my ID without asking, please.

  †   .   †   .   †

Thank you for reading my rules! Mun will extend the same courtesy to you, and will be reading your blog information prior to following or interacting.

   †   .   †   .   †

    Note: Mun works eight to six job Monday through Friday, in addition to running several sideblogs, so replies may be slow. Feel free to poke them if you haven’t heard from them in a while.

About   †   Verses   †   Rules (here)

[vyrannn-blog]

I had just complained about having to clean up the basement after me and my friends hung out because there wasn’t a mess

She then texted me:

Mom:hey set your phone out for me. Unacceptable to not go do what i ask you to do. If your room and the basement isn’t super cleaned up (and bird stuff) no friends over tomorrow...

Me: i was literally just going to go down there? and i need to wake up tomorrow and practice so i need my phone. don’t just assume that i’m never going to do something if i don’t do it immediately it’s rude.

Mom: It’s rude the way you are speaking to me, and rude to ignore me as i ask you to do something and walk away. I would hope and expect the same amount of kindness and respect you give to your dad. I’m the one (with lindsay) who helps you and provides for you and i hear you always treat your dad so much better. That hurts.

Me: the way i speak to you is the level of respect you have for me and my privacy and my feelings. i wouldn’t be so passive aggressive if you respected me more and i needed to get ready for bed and i was about to go down and clean the basement (even though there wasn’t a mess) right before you texted me. you have a weird mindset where you think if i don’t do something immediately i’m never going to do it. and i treat dad better because he respects my privacy and if i don’t want to tell him something he doesn’t keep pushing it.

Mom: We will talk about this tomorrow. Goodnight love you.

Me: no, we won’t.

Mom: Yes we will *kissy face*

-next day-

Me: i need two white t-shirts for marching band by tomorrow.

-she had yelled for me because she wanted to talk, and i thought that she wanted to talk about what we had talked about the day earlier, not the shirts so when she told me to come to her i asked why and she said “because” instead of explaining why, so i said “no”-

Mom: That’s the kind of thing i was talking about for disrespect. When you’re asked to do something by a parent you do it politely and respectfully. Don’t expect me to get things for you and allow friends etc when you act like that. You’re grounded today, no friends over or you don’t go anywhere. When i get home I’ll have your phone for the rest of the day.

Me: i’m not your slave

Mom: It’s basic obedience and respect Brykelle

Me: I don’t “have” to respect or like you at all. there is no rule that i have to enjoy being around you or talking to you, and i don’t get why you need to talk to me

Mom: You are correct, you don’t have to like me but as your mom you should respect and i would hope love me. I’ve never done anything but love you and try to help you. Your dad has done the most horrible things and train wrecked our lives that everyone has done so well to keep on moving forward ad doing awesome. You seem to forgive him and be kind to him yet often don’t to me. I just needed to ask you about the shirts.

Me: don’t try to blame this on dad, and yeah dad has done some messed up stuff but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person and he at least treats me like an actual human person

Mom: I’m not trying to blame anything or anyone just trying to show you as a comparison. I’m clearly not a bad person either, and i certainly treat you well and do anything i can for you. For sure we can do a better job it just needs to go both ways. My point was for whatever you feel i do wrong I would hope to get the same courtesy, kindness and forgiveness as you give dad who’s done much more horrible things if that makes sense

-i had made some plans with friends that i hadnt seen in forever a few days prior-

Me: so my friends, that i haven’t seen for two months, can’t come over?

Mom: Sorry, not until we have talked through and have an understanding... got to have some respect and mutual understanding going. When you choose to speak to me the way you did last night and earlier today privileges/fun times are taken away...

Me: oh ok i see so basically i’m going to be forced to act like i like you or i won’t be able to be with my friends or do anything that is remotely interesting and my brain will slowly rot and i’ll go insane. makes sense

Mom: Haha. As i said before... it’s basic respect and the way you should treat your parents. Ask all the older kids... it’s all the same and a common thing. Sorry I’ve not done a better job to help you understand your parents. They’ve gone through the same thing - I’m sure they will tell you... better to figure it out and it will save you a lot of grief

Me: i don’t “have” to treat anyone with respect unless they’ve proven they should be, and i’m not going to “figure it out” with you

Mom: Whenever you’re ready...but until then it will be resorted to no friends and likely lose your phone too. Most of the time you’re respectful and kind... but there are times it’s unacceptable and basically I won’t put up with it. Dad would do the same. Ask the older kids once again... they will tell you who was tougher.

Me: i’ve already made plans with my friends, that’s not fair at all. me leaving the house doesn’t effect you and it shouldn’t be any of your concern, and talking to you would bring us to the same conclusion as us texting.

Mom: That’s what you’re not understanding, it is my concern. The quicker you learn to be kind, polite, do the simple and few things i ask of you then there is no problem. Talking is always better but I’ve been at work so that’s why I’m texting

Me: how is it your concern? if i’m out of the house i’m not making a mess, i’m not being too loud, i’m not bugging you and lindsay so i don’t understand why you care at all.

Mom: Literally if last night when I asked you to go down and make sure things were neat in the basement and you did it... all would have been fine. When I asked you today to come down and talk to me instead of saying “why” and “no”... and just coming down to talk - all would have been good.

Me: i didn’t want to talk to anyone at the time. i had a headache and being in the main room makes voices really loud and it hurt my head.

Mom: You never bug us. We want you to have fun wth your friends- but it’s a life lesson and  teenagers jobto learn to be respectful and obedient.

Me: i did clean the basement last night. you aren’t my boss.

Mom: Sorry, but as your mom I am the one who has the responsibility to teach you and help you learn what is right and the more you fight it the more difficult it will be. The sooner you understand and are kind etc then it will be no problem to be with friends etc

Me: keeping me from what makes me happy isn’t going to make me respect you. it will make me resent you and feel like you’re the thing keeping me from being happy. i’m very respectful of people that deserve to be respected.

Mom: That’s so sad that you don’t feel that wa. I don’t know what I’d ever done to you to deserve it. Dad hasn’t had to discipline you... I’ve had to bear all fo tht and been rather lax and easy on you. Most of the time you’re great - it’s just gotten a little out of control (which is typical for your age) and I’ve got to reign it in

Me: You’ve invaded my privacy, you’ve threatened to take away multiple things that make me happy multiple times, you mae me feel like all i am to you is something that makes messes and then you get mad when i don’t do things immediately  and that makes me hate doing things for you because you get mad so fast.

Mom: I’m sorry and will certainly try to do better. I can see how you’d feel that way. I’ve had to work, had to figure things out and so being gone a lot that happens sadly. I’ll try to do a better job. Maybe you can too.

Me: whenever i used to try to tell you and lindsay about things that i;m really excited or interested in you act like it doesn’t matter and it makes me feel like you don’t care about my interests and opinions. that’s why i don’t like talking to you guys.

Mom: I would LOVE (and so does he) to hear about more of what you’re excited about and interested in. We will do better. I was just saying the othe day how we need to sit each night with you and Josh just to talk and hear about everyone’s day.

Me: but here’s the thing, i don’t like doing that anymore, i would’ve loved doing that two years ago but not anymore

Mom: We will have to get back to that point. I’m willing to try. Are you willing to try?

Me: no, you’ve ruined it for me

Mom: Well maybe you can change your mind. Sure hope so.

Me: our relationship is way too broken to fix so i’m not going to treat you any differently than i have. the thing you don’t understand is that all you have to do is give me food and a plae to sleep and most of the time i’ll figure the rest out myself. i don’t need to talk to you anymore because you’ve pushed me so far away that i’m closer to all of my friends than you now

Mom: That’s pretty sad. I would hope I’d get the same courtesy you extended Dad who’s done way worse things to ruin our family than i ever did.

Me: stop acting like dad’s a terrible person, he’s one of the most amazing kind and smart people i’ve ever known. he’s made some mistakes, but at least he understands how to raise kids.

Mom: I’m glad you have friends you’re close to, and that’s how it should be. Just know I love you and will always try to make things better.

Me: Sorry i didn’t mean it like that, i meant that as in he understands how to not make me feel like crap when i do something wrong. anyways can i please go skating with my friends tomorrow? you said i could yesterday but you said i was grounded a bit ago. we’ve been wanting to go for almost a month and we finally found a good day to do it and i don’t want to let them down

Mom: I’m on my way home, we will talk when I get there.

Me: i don’t want to

Mom: Sorry not an option

Me: see this is what i’m talking about. forcing me to have a conversation isn’t effective, and it’s a lot harder for me to talk to you in person

Mom: That’s fine, your choice. If you want to be able to hang out we will have to start talking and figuring things  out so let me know when you’re ready.

Me: i don’t think you read my last text correctly, i said i get anxious when i talk to you in person

Mom: Well that’s something you’ll have to overcome. But it’s normal I get it.

Me: if i could “overcome” it i would’ve by now. that’s like telling someone that’s afraid of heights to just “get over it”. you can text me when you get home but i’m not going to talk to you in person.

Mom: I’m home, I’m beat. I need to mow the lawn and shower. If you decide you’re ready to talk let me know. That’s one of the problems with phones these days... if we need we will shut it down for a while so you can learn to talk to your own mom. Like i said- it’s pretty easy to get to do the things you want and go the places you want when you’re willing to make a relationship work with the people who care for you most and take care of you... and make it possible to do the things you like to do.

Me: it’s not my phone’s fault it’s yours! i don’t get why you blame everything on my phone. the reason i don’t like talking to you in person is because you make me feel like i’m letting you down and that i’m not good enough no matter what i do or say

Mom: I’m very sorry and I told you you I’ll certainly try to do a better job. That’s on me for sure

-I’ll update when we text or interact next-

[daiimonas]

@ilovelocust prompted me: “Let’s see, howabout werecat Keith crushing on werewolf Shiro, but Keith is really embarrassed by his were form because he turns into a housecat. He’s trying to hide this fact from his crush.”

So, this took me a while because, well, I had fun writing it, and instead of being a drabble, it turned into a short 2K ficlet. Since it’s so long, the majority of it is going under a cut so save people’s feeds. I hope you enjoy!!

-

Keith’s been acting strange lately.

The thought settles itself, strange and unwelcoming, in the back of Shiro’s mind. He moves ink-colored eyes over to the smaller man, whose current focus is on the crane machine ahead of him. Violet hues glare intently at his current task, his hand moving the joystick methodically around its pad. Shiro hesitates before asking, but decides he might as well get it out of the way.

“Are you okay?”

A slight falter in the movement of the joystick is the only indicator that Keith has even heard Shiro. His eyes stay focused on the crane, eyeing the Zarkon plush in the back corner that he’s been trying for the past five minutes to retrieve. He continues staring at the machine as he says, “I’m fine.”

Shiro watches him a moment, casting his eyes between Keith’s face and the crane machine. The tip of Keith’s tongue pokes out from between his lips as he focuses, leaning a bit towards the crane machine as he attempts to line up the crane with its prize When he’s found the perfect spot, he drops the crane. They both watch as the crane drops and wraps its claws around plush Zarkon’s head.

“You haven’t seemed fine the past few times we’ve hung out. You’ve seemed…” He trails off as the crane, with Zarkon in tow, hovers over the gap to the receiving slot of the machine. Zarkon drops, landing with a soft thud into the slot. A loud victory song sounds from the machine and Keith lets out a soft ‘yes!’ as he leans forward to grab the plush. When he straightens again, plush in hand, Shiro continues. “You’ve seemed distant. Like you’re trying to tell me something that I should already know. But I don’t know, Keith. Whatever is going on, you need to tell me.”

He watches as Keith sighs and tightens his grip on the plush in his hands. He clenches tight enough that his knuckles turn white and Shiro narrows his eyes in concern, suddenly worried that maybe this is more serious than he thought.

“I –“ Keith starts, then stops, his mouth closing, then opening, then closing again. Shiro waits patiently for Keith to find his words. When he does, he sighs. “I do have something to tell you. I just…don’t know how.”

“Is it bad?” Shiro asks, his tone light. Then, with a teasing smile, he asks, “Will I have to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Keith snorts, momentarily distracted by the joke. “You just assume you’re going to be staying over?”

“If we’re going based on our previous history, then yes.”

As Shiro speaks, he takes a few steps closer to Keith and loops two fingers through the front loops of Keith’s jeans. He pulls the smaller man forward and presses a chaste kiss to Keith’s forehead before wrapping his arms around him. Keith allows it to happen, stepping forward and resting his cheek against Shiro’s chest. Shiro smoothes a hand over Keith’s hair and says, “Talk to me, baby. It’s okay.”

Keith is quiet for a moment, giving Shiro time to continue petting his hair to comfort him. Half a minute passes before Keith pulls back and says, “Can we go somewhere first?”

Shiro shrugs and allows Keith to take his hand. Keith leads Shiro through the arcade, dodging bodies and generally trying to avoid any further contact with anyone. Shiro catches the glance that Keith shoots Hunk on their way out, the slight nod between friends that acknowledges the other leaving.

When Keith and Shiro step outside, Keith darts to the left, leading Shiro in the direction of the closest bus stop. Shiro falls into step next to Keith, waiting patiently for Keith to talk.

The night air is cool against Shiro’s skin, a light breeze tickling against the revealed skin of his face. He inhales; the smell of food, beer, and human filling his over-sensitive nose. They had decided to come to the human part of town for Keith, to try to keep him away from the rougher part of town where were-packs gathered. Being the only human in the group, Keith had started getting tired of all this “alpha this” and “beta that” talk every time they had gone out. Not that Shiro could blame him. He may be an alpha wolf himself, but sometimes he needed a break from it all.

“So,” Keith says, drawing Shiro’s attention away from his thoughts and back to Keith. He notices that Keith looks timid, maybe even a little scared. Keith releases Shiro’s hand and fidgets with his Zarkon plush as he walks. “I may…I may have lied to you.”

Shiro feels the words like a knife to his heart. Without being able to control it, he feels anger spike through his system. He reins the emotion in, carefully tucking it away for later. Hesitantly, he asks, “About what?”

He tries to mask his anger, his worry, but he still catches a wince from Keith out of the corner of his eye. Slowly, Keith says, “About…being human. Because I’m not. I’m, uhh…I’m a were, too.”

Shiro stops walking and stares at Keith. Keith, the human, that he’s been crushing on for months. That he pined after for months, only to find out the pining was mutual and everything made official a month ago. In all their time together, not once had he ever sensed that Keith was anything other than human. So how –

“I guess…I’m not really a were? I don’t know, really…I just know that I can..change. But I don’t have to change, like weres do. I just sort of…can.”

The explanation is broken, nervous – a hint of desperation behind his words just begging for Shiro to understand. Shiro can tell that Keith sincerely just wants Shiro to understand and that the lie hadn’t been malicious. Instinctively, Shiro sniffs the air and finds himself asking, “Why can’t I smell you?”

Keith finally turns around to face Shiro, offering nothing more than a limp shrug. Shiro tries to wrap his mind around this new revelation, that Keith – his Keith – isn’t human. Shiro supposes it doesn’t really matter. He’s not even human himself, after all. But he had been up front about that. He had told Keith that he was an alpha wolf, and that he would have specific needs. He had been honest with Keith and had expected Keith to extend him the same courtesy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Shiro asks, keeping his tone neutral.

Keith shifts his weight from one foot to the other, attempting a brief glance to Shiro before looking away again. “Well, because…I…”

With a frustrated sigh, he turns on his heel, stalking away from Shiro with a brief ‘follow me’ called over his shoulder. Shiro hesitates, wondering where Keith could possibly be leading him, before following behind him. Keith leads him into an alley, far enough in that they can’t be seen. Shiro wonders if he should be worried, but shakes off the feeling. When they’re far enough into the alley, Keith turns back to Shiro and obviously drags his gaze reluctantly from the ground to meet Shiro’s own. Shiro arches an eyebrow and Keith sighs before muttering, “Don’t laugh, okay?”

Keith shifts from one foot to the other again, still very obviously nervous. He glances at Shiro again and Shiro offers a brief nod. At this point, his anger has ebbed to genuine curiosity. Not many people are ashamed of their were forms – it’s usually the opposite, in fact. So what –

Before he can finish the thought, a soft, white glow envelopes Keith’s body. Shiro feels his eyebrow raise, curious, as Keith starts to change.

The change is never a pretty process, so Shiro looks away to give Keith the space he needs he needs until the change is complete. He hears, rather than sees, Keith’s bones shift into a different shape, his descent onto all fours, his clothes falling to the ground when they no longer have limbs to cling to. He waits a while longer, waiting for Keith to give some sort of sign that he’s ready for Shiro to look.

The sign, apparently, is a gentle nudge to Shiro’s ankles.

Shiro tenses and glances down, his eyes locking onto the grey and black shape weaving its way through the space between his ankles. He glances back to see an empty pile of Keith’s clothes laying on the cement. He moves his eyes back to the…thing, moving between his ankles.

Keeping his tone as neutral as possible, he says, “You’re.. a cat? A tabby cat.”

The cat around his feet looks up, and Shiro feels his breath stutter. Normally, a were would take on the attributes of whichever animal they change to – they would adopt all of the animal’s features, down to their very eye color. Keith’s eyes, however, are the same deep purple that they are when he’s human.

Shiro can’t help but smile, seeing the familiar violet hues staring back at him from the grey-and-black tabby beneath him. Keith stands on his hind legs, climbing his front paws up Shiro’s legs, an obvious ploy for Shiro to pick him up. Shiro laughs and obliges, reaching down to wrap his hands around Keith’s midsection and lift him up, cradling him in his arms. Keith purrs, leaning forward and butting his head against Shiro’s forehead. Shiro sighs, nuzzling his nose into Keith’s fur and lifting his head to kiss the top of Keith’s, right between his ears.

“I can’t believe I’m dating a tabby cat,” Shiro says jokingly, and Keith lets out a disgruntled meow, biting the tip of Shiro’s nose gently.

Just then, Hunk comes bounding around the corner of the alley. He’s about to say something when he takes note of the cat in Shiro’s hands and pauses. He raises an eyebrow and says, “You mean of all the places that Keith finally decides to show you his were form, he leads you into some empty alley and just changes for you?”

Shiro shrugs just as Keith turns in his arms to turn narrowed eyes at Hunk. He growls under his breath, ears back, and Hunk holds his hands up in response. “Woah, man – hey. None of that now. It’s not my fault you’re so worried about being a house cat. House cats are cool! Tabby cats are great. Just because you’re not some big badass were doesn’t mean you aren’t a badass human. I’m scared of you when you’re human Keith. Human Keith is scary.”

Shiro laughs, but cradles Keith closer to himself to stop him from jumping at Hunk and mauling him to death. Keith lets out a low rumbling groan, but cuddles back into Shiro. Shiro turns back to Hunk and says, “We’ll be back in a minute. I think we’re pretty much done here.”

Hunk shoots finger guns at Shiro and turns back to the arcade. Shiro walks back over to where Keith’s clothes lay abandoned on the ground and sits, depositing Keith into his lap. Keith, rather than climbing over to his clothes to start changing back, pats in circles around Shiro’s lap before settling down entirely. He rubs his head on Shiro’s thigh and Shiro laughs.

“You could have just told me,” Shiro encourages, reaching out and petting behind Keith’s ear. “Your were form is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Keith doesn’t attempt to respond, just continues to lay in Shiro’s lap and purr. Shiro, perfectly content to cuddle Keith for a while before actually heading back inside, settles himself forward. He keeps running his fingers through Keith’s fur absent-mindedly and smiles, once again thinking to himself  –

I can’t believe I’m in love with a cat.

[maychorian]

Weekly Voltron Fics #32

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. Also follow @maychorianrecs​ for individually tagged posts, the easier to search and reblog. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

A Very Bland Voltron Christmas by genericfanatic Words: 1,367 Author’s Summary: The paladins go shopping for space christmas gifts at the mall. Made in honor of getting 100 followers on my sideblog blandvoltronheadcanons! My Comments: Super cute and fun little fic about the team going back to the mall.

If You Trust Me by yet_intrepid Words: 3,430 (1/?) Author’s Summary: “I’m sorry,” the young man says to her, as they slow to a walk in an empty residential street. He’s dropped her hand; Allura thinks for a moment that she misses the closeness. “I could have gotten you arrested.” “I almost got myself arrested,” Allura points out. “Your apologies are unneeded. Let me offer my thanks instead.” “No,” he insists. “You would have been in worse trouble had you been caught with me. I have—a history.” She looks down at his right arm, ending bluntly before the wrist. “You’re really a thief?” My Comments: Holy crow, I am IN to this. It’s an Aladdin fusion AU with Shiro as the leader of the group of homeless kids and Allura as the princess running away from home, and it works amazingly well. I can’t wait to see what happens next. Shallura.

Hallelujah, You’re Home by tymedfire Words: 4,542 Author’s Summary: It’s been two years. Two years since they’ve felt rain on their faces. Two years since they’ve seen their families, since they’ve spoken to their families. Two years since they really started to learn what war was. Two years since they stopped being teenagers and became soldiers. Two years since they left Earth. Three, for Shiro. But now they’re going back. They’re going home My Comments: This is wonderful, sad but very beautiful. Going home is really hard sometimes. Everyone’s support of Lance was gorgeous, especially Pidge, but everyone.

Surface Tension by Teramina Words:  8,425 Author’s Summary: Companion piece to 2x08, Shiro’s perspective + aftermath My Comments: Really well-written missing scene and alternate perspective for a very important episode. The mutual protectiveness and concern in this relationship always gets at me.

Down Time (Don’t Let Me Down) by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 2,096 (2/?) Author’s Summary:  “Hunk smiled, a tint of guilt on his face, and tightened the hose with a final tug. ‘Oh,’ he said. 'I’m winning a game of hide and seek.’” My Comments: I really like this author’s gen stuff, so of course I’m going to read their collection of prompt fills. The first one is some really cute fluff featuring Hunk and Pidge, and the second one is an angsty Shiro character study. You should probably subscribe so you don’t miss any. I did.

Hold these Shattered Pieces of My Heart by WildWolf25 Words: 6,322 Author’s Summary: Those memories seemed so far away; cozy nights holed up in a blanket fort in the living room, lit up only by the glow of the television screen, were a stark contrast from the hell he had been experiencing for the past two years. He wished he erase these past couple of years and go back to the days before the Kerberos mission, back when his biggest problem was trying to beat Katie at rock-paper-scissors to choose which Alien movie to watch first. He wished he could go back to summer barbecues and robotics team competitions and stargazing and looking for UFOs on the hill behind the house. Back when the horrors he witnessed could just be turned off with the press of a button and exchanged for a different movie. Back when he could sleep through the night without waking up in a cold sweat with a racing heart and fear running through his veins; back before a time where waking up didn’t mean the nightmare was over, only that the dream version had ended and he was stuck in one he could never wake up from. (Matt has some trouble sleeping after he’s rescued, but Shiro’s got his back. Or, front, in this case) My Comments: Can be viewed as platonic or pre-slash. This is a really sad but sweet fic, very heavy and vivid with the feelings it evokes.

Singularity by this_book_has_been_loved  Words: 29,260  Author’s Summary: AU where instead of landing in the trash nebula, Pidge finds herself on the same planet as a certain Galra prison camp. My Comments: Well-written little AU about Pidge going all-out to rescue her family and everyone else helps. Canon won’t be like this, but that’s okay. Fic is good. 

when next we meet by julesdap Words: 1,899 Author’s Summary: Hunk had told her to eat, and when Pidge had said nothing, he brought her a meal. Keith had told her to change out of her dirty paladin gear, and when Pidge had, still, said nothing, he said he would guard Matt closely while she left to change. Shiro had told her to rest, and without waiting for a response, offered to watch Matt while she napped, promising to wake her as soon as Matt did. Lance had told her, simply, that Matt would be alright soon, but also that he understood how it felt, to worry all the time for your family. All in all, Pidge was grateful. My Comments: Lovely and poignant fic about Pidge finding Matt and all the healing and adjustment that needs to be done. Everyone was delightfully supportive, and there’s a Shiro/Matt kiss, if you’re into that, but the focus is on Pidge and her brother.

Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty by Ford_Ye_Fiji Words: 1,534 Author’s Summary: When the Galra attack unexpectedly, Keith is incapacitated. The Red Lion has to take some drastic measures due to the absence of the other Paladins. My Comments: Red is Keith’s adoptive mama, and she is FIERCE about it. Fun fic.

if you’ll be my stars, then i’ll be your sky by Lobo_Loca Words: 10,910 (2/?) Author’s Summary: [“Road trip!” Lance exclaimed. Shiro sighed. “We are going on interplanetary reconnaissance and diplomatic missions, Lance. It may seem a bit scenic, but it’s not a road trip.”“I don’t know,” Hunk chimed in. “Dubiously edible food, extended periods of time in confined vehicles, strange places with stranger people, sleeping in vehicles instead of local establishments because who knows what happened in those beds: sounds like a road trip to me.”] For Day 1 of Voltron Week: Space/Travel. My Comments: The paladins split up into two groups and head off for adventure! Great fun so far, good banter and character interaction, and it looks like there will be plenty of hijinks to come.

We’re Good by kuro Words: 2,455 Author’s Summary: So Keith and Lance weren’t actually on bad terms, or that was what Keith had come to believe, at least. Which made it all the weirder that Lance had been rather snippy lately.(Or, Keith and Lance try to figure out how to be friends with each other. They might not be very good at it.) My Comments: Aw, poor Keith. He really wants to be friends with Lance and doesn’t get it when Lance starts snapping at him for reasons that are beyond Keith’s control. Fortunately, Hunk is there to tell Lance that he’s being a jerk. Very cute ending. I love when these two become friends, with no shipping in sight.

Halcyon Day by Stratagem Words: 1,599 Author’s Summary: Altea is celebrating the creation of Voltron, and as usual, Coran is busy tracking down one missing princess. Also, Coran’s family loves him very much. My Comments: Gah, this author just does the best and most heartbreaking family stuff. This is beautiful, and it’s sad only because you know what’s going to happen in the future.

The Truth is Out There… Right Under Lance’s Nose… by Ninja_Librarian Words: 5,706 Author’s Summary: Katie Holt’s infiltration of the Galaxy Garrison under the male alias of Pidge Gunderson was marginally successful. There were hiccups along the way. But her true identity–and gender–were never revealed. Although there were a few close calls, courtesy of her pilot teammate… Or, 5 Times Lance probably could have figured out that Pidge was a girl… My Comments: Lance is an innocent soul who always takes Pidge’s words exactly at face value no matter how outlandish her explanations get. Hunk is more suspicious and figures it out before he even reads her diary. Also, Pidge is protective of Lance because he is a dumb baby who needs to be protected. Love this fic.

If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane by WildWolf25 Words: 2,745 Author’s Summary: Sleepless nights and homesickness are not uncommon for the paladins. Sometimes the best cure is adopting each other as surrogate siblings. My Comments: Absolutely excellent Pidge and Lance friendship culminating in a sleepover and the sleepy determination that they are all siblings. Shiro shows up at the end and is also summarily adopted. Super cute stuff.

Daddy Daycare by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 1,552 Author’s Summary: “Kolivan turned to investigate the yelp and saw Lance rubbing at his side and pouting. Antok shrugged innocently, and well, he’d never done great with children. Antok tended to practice pinching as a discipline tactic.” My Comments: The Dads of Marmora are so quality. Lance and Keith act like toddlers and get put in time out. Perfection.

Altean Benadryl is evil and they should also put english labels on the damn bottles by GreenhouseNurse Words: 1,978 (4/?) Author’s Summary: Lance just wanted some stomache medicine. Lance can’t read altean. Medicines can have very similar names.This isn’t going to end well.(Gift for Anon who like my prompts on tumblr ) My Comments: Very short chapters, which is usually a bad sign, but this is great so far. Good descriptions and good emotions, the works. Everyone is very worried, as they should be.

Slav has Seen Some Shit by Megaeevee Words: 1,616 (1/?) Author’s Summary: Slav has lived a long life. It wasn’t always a good one, but at least he survived. He’s seen things that nobody should see, and done things that nobody should have to do… but he’s still here after all of it. And he may not seem like it, but Slav is a fighter. He made it, despite there being too many realities in which he didn’t. My Comments: I’ve never seen a Slav-centric fic before! This has a great, though heartbreaking start, and I’m very much looking forward to more. No idea where it’s going to go, which is kind of exciting.

Grayscale Images by cipheredsong Words: 6,173 (2/?) Author’s Summary: On a mission to form an alliance with a new planet, Lance has a run-in with a strange species of plant that gives him an even stranger virus-type illness. It doesn’t seem to be that bad… until Lance’s whole world is fading away around him. Or is he fading himself? He can’t trust himself to think clearly, but he can’t trust anyone else, either. My Comments: I’ve read plenty of OOC Langst where the team is cruel and dismissive to Lance for no reason at all. This is not that. It’s an alien infection invading his thoughts and convincing him that they don’t care and it’s useless to go to them with his hurts, and that’s a GREAT premise. I’m totally into this fic and can’t wait for more.

i can’t drown my demons by electricindigo Words: 5,906 Author’s Summary: But really, he’s okay. He’s great, actually. He’s dealt with this before, and it’s not like it’s new to him. He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him, he doesn’t want Shiro to see, so it’s fine. He’s fine. He’s okay. He’s okay. (He’s not.) - Lance gets seriously hurt during a mission, affecting both his physical health and mental health. The team is worried. Lance doesn’t remember what happened. He doesn’t want to be helped. My Comments: Heartbreaking but very well-written and realistic fic about the aftermath of captivity and sexual assault. (Mind the tags.) Lance’s PTSD is a little grittier and more awful than typical fics, but it felt very real, and all the worse for it. The way he pushed the others away even while he desperately needed their help was definitely true to my experience. Good thing Shiro didn’t give up. The comfort part was fantastic, too. Good and necessary cuddling, that’s what I like to see.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

tommino posted a new chapter of Fighting the Surface HapaxLegomenon posted a new chapter of The Machinations of Perception MoonlitPaladin (MoonlitStardust) posted a new chapter of Gate Keeper Eastofthemoon posted a new chapter of Towards The Sun IcyPanther posted a new chapter of As Color Fades Away kyanve posted a new chapter of Truce Rururinchan posted a new chapter of Worth of A Paladin squirenonny posted a new chapter of Someplace Like Home TheHomestuckWhovian posted a new chapter of This Is New achieving elysium (Ogygia) posted a new chapter of familiar KairaKara101 posted a new chapter of I'm not the Lance You think I am ptw30 posted a new chapter of Bromances in Space buttered_onions posted a new chapter of The Size Of Our Actions MagmaWrites posted a new chapter of The Times They Remembered Pidge Was a Girl CamsthiSky posted a new chapter of It's Getting Darker But I'll Carry On WildWolf25 posted a new chapter of Coran's Guide to the Care and Keeping of Earthling Humans LonelyGirlInSpace posted a new chapter of The Color Of Our Planet From Far Far Away

[johnwikk-blog1]

Rules

I’m rather slow now that college classes have started. I might only get to drafts on the weekends, but I do try to work on them through the week.

I prefer all interactions to be with people 16+ but I’m most comfortable with my RP partners being 18+.

I will not do adult RP with anyone ooc OR ic under the age of 18.

I’ll RP almost anything else. ALMOST. Ask for clarification. Yes, that includes more...taboo subjects.

No godmodding (within reason of lore), Mary Sues, rudeness, blah blah you know the usual. Please don’t meta-game unless we’ve planned your character can do something like that through IMs. I’ll extend the same courtesy.

I don’t always practice reblog karma. However! I will try not to excessively reblog memes from your account unless the source is deactivated, and I expect the same. A few is alright, but if it starts getting into 3, 4, 5+ reblogs, please maybe send a few my way! I’ll do the same!!

John Wick is a movie about an assassin and hitman. I sometimes tag violence and blood, but...c’mon. Don’t follow a hired killer character if you don’t want to read about blood. With gifs, I try to tag a little more strictly but again. Guns go boom. Guy gets his head blown through. Often.

Will interact with OCs. The John Wick fandom is SMOL, so gimme the OCs and other canon characters. Lemme love em.

Selective; sometimes I just cannot find muse writing inspiration for a thread / may get hit with inspiration weeks later. May not follow you, but if something isn’t tagged mutuals only, feel free to nudge me!

Tag johnwikk if you want me to see something and respond to it.

I’m shy. Prod me in IM. Plot with me! I don’t bite.

If we’re mutuals, feel free to request my Discord info!!

I prefer to write in the present tense, third person. 2+ paragraphs to novella length. Don’t worry about matching exactly, But if I write four paragraphs, please at least try to gimme two to go with! You know. Within reason and all that.

I hardly format! I only sometimes use icons past my starters! Feel free to format your posts how you want, but mine will remain as seen on my blog currently. Sorry.

That said, I really prefer starters be over one line, and preferably a paragraph (or more).

My timezone is EST, but if you don’t mind waits in between responses, I will work with people from any timezone.

If you follow me on a personal blog, PLEASE do not reblog my RP posts. It really messes with my tracking. Feel free to like them though~ Also, if you follow me from a main blog but have an RP side blog, PLEASE TELL ME what your RP blog is!

Subnote: Please don’t like starter calls if you’re a person blog and I don’t know who your RP blog is. Starter calls are for writing RP starters, and if I don’t know who you are, then it’s pretty useless in the long run.

((more may be added over time!))