#just do that all the time. she has a whole pin collection of different trans colored enamel pins and a few different buttons

[cozylittleartblog]

nisha street clothes!! the contrast between her personal fashion and her work uniforms is crazy, She Has The Range

+ she's got some shit in her hair so she can change the colors of the "dyed" parts however she wants. don't ask me how. scifi reasons <3

[lokislady17]

By now I have rewatched the Acolyte many times-no shame shall live in me! I feel every time I watch one episode or another, I get something else out of it. Yet, there is one scene in episode three (and its reiteration in episode 7) that my mind keeps returning to. It’s when Osha is making her case to her mother about becoming a Jedi. I feel like this is something Mother Aniseya has already accepted in her heart. That Osha is destined for a different path. It’s heartbreaking but Aniseya knows this is the way it has to be. The best she can do is support her daughter as she sets out on her path. Now, we all know that in the curse of youth, we may think we know what we want, so, it’s natural that we are challenged by our loved ones. Ideally, because they are looking out for us. I feel these points are addressed a little bit by the episodes but what I also see being demonstrated is the utility of children in society. Both Osha and Mae are very important to the coven as they will carry on the teachings and wisdom of the coven. To lose even one of them is to make the future of the coven that much more vulnerable. Osha is equally precious to the Jedi as, per their doctrine, the Jedi order does not perpetuate itself through the biological reproduction of it members. Instead, they must go out into the galaxy and collect children, preferably, as young as possible. That way, their minds are more malleable to Jedi indoctrination and memories of loved ones are more easily forgotten. I can’t help but compare Osha’s choice to leave (and confidence in that choice) to a child realizing they are queer or trans. Children, contrary to societal beliefs, are very well aware of themselves. I think so anyway. The part where the coven is pinning Aniseya between her role as leader versus her role as mother is very compelling. The coven represents society, sort of, questioning a parent and the choices they make concerning how they raise their children. Aniseya steadfastly proclaims that she chooses the role of mother. That she is going to trust Osha and support her decision. The whole thing reminds me so much of the bogus cultures wars created by the alt right and there constant fear mongering around gender and their efforts to interfere in public schools to further oppress the right of LGBTQ+ students. If the alt right is to perpetuate itself, it must get control of the education system, i.e they must take control of the next generation. (And for the record, I don’t mean to compare the Jedi to something so vile as the Alt. Right. Flawed though the are, the Jedi don’t deserve that kind of insult) All the while, we have truly descent parents who just want to do right by their children and love their children as they are even though society may question them if not down right oppose them. I hate so much that a show as compelling as the Acolyte had the misfortune of existing in our apparent age of anti intellectualism. To best understand this show, at least some critical thinking skills and media literacy are required. This show has so much to offer and it’s a shame that some are too prideful, too ignorant or just too scared to look for it.

[thechangeling]

But you like her better: Part 2

Sorry it's been a minute! I hope you like it.

Cw: Some brief ableism, mentions of internalized biphobia, and self injurious stimming.

2013

It was raining when 16 year old María Machado Sotomayor first met Kit Herondale.

Marí had always loved the sound of the rain. It was peaceful and rhythmic, creating a nice tingly feeling in her skull running straight down her spine. It also good for the plants. Which meant that Marí arrived (on time for once) at her favorite class in a pretty good mood.

Marine biology was their one of their three special interests, the other two being lacrosse and Base guitar. So Bio was usually pretty fun for them. However this time was different.

Her mood was instantly dampened when she walked into class and saw someone new sitting in her usually seat. A blond, short and white kid who looked far too pretty for his own good. A new kid most likely.

A new kid who didn't realize that Marí always sat by the window every single day. It was their spot. Still Marí was determined not to overreact. They marched over to the new kid  and approached him with their best masking smile.

Remember eye contact. She told herself. Keep your tone light and breezy but not too lifeless. Smile. Appear friendly and non threatening. Try not to sweat. Try not to scream.

"Hi excuse me," Marí began in a sickly sweet tone. "That's actually my seat! Sorry!"

The boy instantly looked embarrassed and apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry!" He blushed. "I didn't realize there was assigned seating." He had an American accent, California maybe?

Wonderful. A white American boy. Just what they needed.

Marí chewed their lip and fought the urge to rock or tap. "There isn't actually," they admitted. "I just usually sit there. So can you please move?"

Now the new kid looked a little offended. A cold look settled over his face. "Well why should I?" He bristled. "This seat isn't really yours. It's not like it has your name on it."

Marí rolled her eyes in frustration. "I tried that already but then I got in trouble."

He stared at them curiously for a moment. Marí took the opportunity to break eye contact finally and scuff their heel against the floor. They were wearing the new black suede chunky heels with the gem stones that Marí had gotten when they went thrifting with their friends.

"María!" The harsh voice of her teacher snapped her back into reality. Everyone had arrived and taken their seats while she was arguing with the American and now everyone was staring at her. "Could you please explain why you are not seated young lady?" She snapped in her extra pretentious sounding posh English accent.

The one that said, "I'm better than you."

Marí tried not to growl at being called a young lady. They weren't feeling particularly female today. Not that Marí was going to bother explaining that to some old British hag.

"He won't get out of my seat!" Marí protested. Instantly laughter broke out around the classroom. Cruel mocking laughter that made Marí feel like her skin was crawling.

"It's ok!" The new kid cried out, practically jumping out of Marí's seat. "I'll move! I'll go sit over here." He grabbed his bag and moved to the back of the room as quickly as possible.

Marí smiled in spite of themself. His random act of kindness was surprising, but they were grateful. They took their seat near the window and sighed in relief.

Marí would always look back on that day with fondness no matter what. It may not have seemed like much to him, but it meant the world to her. After Bio class she had asked Kit to come eat with her and her friends. They had made their introductions and the rest was history.

They became close friends very quickly, bonding over movies and music. They sent each other playlists of their favorite songs and songs that reminded them of each other. Marí made Kit a queer playlist with songs by queer artists and told Kit that they were bisexual and a demigirl. They hadn't even told their friends that last part yet at that point.

Marí also told Kit that they liked to use she/they pronouns, but so far was only using them online. Kit asked Marí a lot of questions then confessed to Marí that he was also bisexual but he was still kinda getting used to it.

"I grew up in a shitty situation," Kit had told them. "I guess I still have a lot of shame."

Marí didn't hold it against him. She bought him queer literature and resources for queer history including "Bisexuality and Queer Theory" and her printed copy of the article published in the 90s called "The Bisexual Manifesto." She gave him advice on websites and people to follow online.

They also just talked. Talked about life and their experiences. Their feelings and their relationships with their sexualities. Bonding with another queer person was always special but spending time with Kit always made Marí feel so...light.

Despite how close they were getting, Marí didn't always want to touch him. They were touch averse in most cases unless they were very comfortable with someone. Sometimes it just depended on the day. On the days where Marí found they could not hug Kit they had invented their own way to show affection.

They would place a hand over their hearts and tap it, as if to say "I care about you" or "I love you." Sometimes Kit would say "tap my heart" as a substitute for actually doing it.

He introduced her to his close friend Janessa, the wayward vampire who was incredibly hot and kind of made Marí all nervous and tounge twisty at first. But as they got to know her, Marí realized that she was also incredibly kind, passionate and clearly cared at great deal about Kit. Janessa was a gamer who had named herself after a video game character. She drank cups of warm blood in novelty mugs with giant swirly sparkly straws and was pretty good at making people laugh.

Janessa, or Nessie as Kit had affectionately nicknamed her, was flirtatious and charismatic, but also brutal and deadly in a fight. She was full of surprises. And maybe, just maybe Marì was a little bit into that.

However as much as Marí didn't want to admit it, they were also were starting to realize that they were way more into someone else. Someone with perfect golden curls that Marí wanted to curl their fingers into.

Eventually Kit came out to Marí as genderfluid and requested that she use alternating he/they pronouns for them. They both made the decision to collectively tell their friends their pronouns. Marí, Kit and Nessie sat around her gorgeous leather couch and talked for hours about gender, identity and transness. Kit pointed put that they may never be able to fully explain their gender to the other two, just like Kit might have a hard time fully understanding Janessa's relationship with gender, or Marí's because everyone was different.

"It's personal Nessie," he had said. "Everyone has their own unique perspective on gender and every trans person has their own complicated feelings about gender and what their own gender identity means to them, and those feelings might not completely match up with another trans person's. But that's ok. You don't have to understand the other person but you do have to respect them."

Janessa's understanding of gender came from being a trans women. It was about a strict  binary with clear lines and rules. Rules that Kit was starting to make a habit of fingerpainting all over and Marí could tell that it was stressing her out.

And Marí had no idea where the hell they fit in these rules. They had stopped playing the game.

But those two loved each other more than anything, and Marí knew they could work anything out. And sure enough approximately seven hours and four margaritas later (only two for Marí,) they had come to an understanding.

2014

She kissed Kit for the first time a month into the new year.

They had been trying on clothes in Marí's room and Kit was wearing one of their old dresses that Marí thought they looked amazing in, but Kit wanted to give it away. It was dark navy blue and sparkly with spaghetti straps, coming to about mid thigh. There were cut outs on the sides, filled in with black sheer fabric, and it had a low v cut at the neckline which was also filled in with black sheer.

Kit had been infodumping about one of the Marvel movies again, Marí couldn't remember which one, and she had kept getting distracted by his tan smooth skin peaking through the sheer fabric and fullness of Kit's moving lips. He smiled excitedly and Marí had stepped forward and kissed him.

Their first thought was that Kit tasted like chocolate. Their second was that they should have done this months ago.

Kit had melted into the kiss, smiling slightly against her mouth and pulling her closer. They kissed her feverishly, sliding their tounge inside Marí's mouth and moaning when she deepened the kiss eagerly. They moved against each other with almost lazy, comfortable precision, kissing each other for what could have been hours or days or maybe only seconds.

Marí couldn't have said.

When Kit finally broke the kiss and pulled away from Marí, his eyes were practically gleaming with joy and love. And that was when they knew.

I love him.

2015

I love him.

Ty's words ran in her ears. Repeating over and over again, maddenly bouncing around inside of her skull until she was forced to utter out loud,

"I love him".

They whispered it under their breath but Marí could tell that both Alyssa and Ty had heard them. It was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop.

But of course. Of course he does. It was obvious. This whole time Marí had noticed there was something wrong with Ty. Just like there was something wrong with Kit. The way they stared after each other when they thought the other one wasn't looking. The loving and worshipful glances mixed with the bitter glares.

Marí had already known that Kit was in love with Ty of course. But the way they had told the story made it seem like they were positive that Ty couldn't be in love with them.

But then again maybe that made sense. Given Kit's history and who he was. But then Marí couldn't help but think of Ty and how confused he must have been. God it was a giant mess.

Speaking of...

The room was still silent. Marí found that she couldn't read Ty's expression as he stared back at her flatly. But his body was shaking, his fingers fluttered at his sides. She wanted to soothe him.

They stepped forward carefully. "I'm not mad at you," Marí assured him. "I was hoping we could talk?"

Ty's left eye twitched. "We are talking," he pointed out. Alyssa snorted.

"Ty, they mean about the proverbial bomb you just dropped a few seconds ago," Alyssa said with a laugh.  Marí smirked to themself slightly.

It wasn't really a bomb. More like a flare.

She really needed to talk to Ty. The only problem was Alyssa had an annoying tendency to never leave his side. It wasn't like she had a problem with the girl. Of course not. But her presence meant that Marí hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Ty one on one.

They cleared their throat. "Alyssa could you please give Ty and I some space to talk?" They asked. Marí hoped they didn't sound too rude. Alyssa looked to Ty and he nodded slightly, signaling that he was ok with her leaving.

That was so strange to Marí. Their relationship. The way Alyssa, a werewolf who hated shadowhunters even more then Marí did, essentially took orders from him and clearly trusted him more than anyone else. But perhaps she wasn't one to judge.

After all, she loved Kit.

Alyssa left the room with a pat on Ty's back and a quick, "call if you need me." Marí shifted their weight back and forth as they rocked slightly from side to side as they waited for Ty to speak.

He stared back at her silently, most likely doing the same. Marí blew out a loud breath and forced herself to stay still, crossing her arms.

"Are you going to say something or should I?" Ty asked expectantly. Marí bit their lip and shrugged.

"I'm still thinking of what I wanna say," she admitted.

Ty smiled at her softly. "So am I."

There we go. Cracks in the armour.

"I'm sorry," Ty whispered suddenly. "I never meant to-"

"You don't have to apologize!" Marí blurted out. Whoops they had interrupted him. "Oh shit sorry you were still talking!" They reached for their hair nervously and realized that they were wearing that Morticia wig for their costume.

Great. Marí moved on to chewing on her knuckles.

"It's ok," Ty reassured her. "I don't really know where I was going with that sentence. And you shouldn't do that." He pointed to her hand.

Marí scoffed, "yeah well you shouldn't dig your nails into your palms." He glared at them and they laughed.

"Not so fun playing a game of Mirror Image is it?" They teased. Ty didn't respond, just stared at Marí solemnly.

"You know I really admire you," he said, aiming his gaze close enough to hers to create the illusion of eye contact. "I always have. I never wanted to hurt or upset you."

Marí wished for a brief moment that they could touch him and then shrugged the impulse off. "I know love," they cooed. "Me too."

Without really understanding why, she pressed her hand to her chest directly above her heart and tapped, just like how she did with Kit. Ty studied Marí for a moment and then followed suite.

Marí in spite of themself, actually felt bad for him. They could clearly see the toll the last three years had taken on him, specifically the last few weeks. Maybe his family couldn't see it, and they definitely knew that Kit couldn't, but Marí could.

Marí of all people could see past the mask because they knew what masking looked like. It wasn't just about appearing normal, whatever that word meant. It was about hiding your feelings. Taking that heart you wore on your sleeve and locking it up tight. But everytime Marí looked at Ty, they could see it. And it was bleeding.

Ripped and bloody and broken, just like her own and yet they both still had the sheer audacity to keep breathing. Marí was proud of them both.

"You need to talk to him," Marí prompted. "You both need to be honest with each other."

Ty furrowed his brow. "Honest? About what? He doesn't feel the same way." He had gone back to flicking his fingers as he stared at her, looking puzzled.

Bloody hell between the two of them, Kit and Ty were giving Marí the mother of all headaches.

They took a deep breath. "Yes they do Ty," Marí tried not to sound exasperated. "Kit is in love with you, believe me. They told me."

It hurt Marí's heart to have to say it, but it was true and Ty deserved to know the truth. And they knew deep down that Kit wouldn't really be happy, he wouldn't be Kit until he had Ty. And Marí had to make their peace with that.

Ty looked understandably confused. He ran a frantic hand through his hair. "But why are you telling me this? Why are you helping me?" He asked. "Don't you love them?"

She fought the urge to cry as tears gathered in her eyes. She found herself digging her nails into her palms despite chastising Ty for doing it a few minutes ago.

"I'm telling you all of this because I love them" she cried desperately. "Because Kit cries out your name in his sleep Ty! Because everytime he sees you, he stares at you like you are the moon the sun and the stars! Because everytime you speak they hang onto absolutely every word, and when you laugh-" Marí cut herself off.

They squeezed their eyes shut and took deep long breaths. Ty said nothing. Marí opened their eyes to see Ty staring at them in dismay. He looked like he was trying to think of what to say to help.

Marí shook their head. "I know Kit loves me. And they probably always will. We were close friends even before we started dating." Marí groaned and shook out their entire body this time, jumping up and down a few times as well to get rid of the tension. If Ty thought this was weird he didn't comment on it.

Marí wiped her eyes carefully trying not to smudge her mascara. "But you Ty?" His eyes refocused on her again at the sound of his name. Marí chuckled humourlessly. "Fucking hell, he is in love with you. And right now he is thinking that you hate him and I know it's tearing him up inside."

Ty stared at Marí hopelessly, looking overwhelmed and exhausted. "So what do I do then? What am I supposed to say?"

Marí shrugged. "I can't help you with that I'm sorry. It has to come from you." Ty looked even more panicked.

They gave him what they hoped was an encouraging smile. "Don't be scared Ty," they murmered. "It's Kit remember. They're not scary. You have nothing to worry about."

Ty didn't answer her. He had wrapped his arms around his body, squeezing tightly. "Marí do you remember those dead moon jellyfish we buried on the beach?" He asked.

She was a little confused as to why he was bringing this up now. "Yeah? Why?"

"That's what I feel like right now," Ty admitted. "Like I've washed up on the beach and now I'm just waiting for someone to come along and step on me."

Marí's heart sank. "Oh Ty," they breathed. "I promise that won't happen with Kit. I can't make any promises for anyone else, but I do know that Kit has absolutely no intention of hurting you again love."

Ty looked pensive. Marí could only hope that Ty would make the decision to trust them.

With a sudden jolt Marí remembered the party.

"Hey we still have the Halloween party to go to," she said, shaking Ty out of his stupor. "Do you still wanna go?"

To their surprise, Ty nodded. "Sure. I think Alyssa might kill me if I back out now."

Marí snorted. Alyssa Reyes could be pretty terrifying at times.

With surprise Marí found that their spirts were lighter having cleared the air with Ty and with the prospect of a party being renewed.

She smiled. "All right then let's head out!" Marí smoothed down the long black wig over her shoulders and quickly smoothed out the long skirt of her black slinky dress before turning and exiting the training room.

She knew that she would have to talk to Kit at some point and that conversation would be brutal. But at least they could have one last night together.

It's better this way. Marí told themself as they walked back towards the main living room where everyone was gathered.  At least now Kit can be happy.

It's for the best.

It has to be.

So I'm actually planning on writing a part 3 from Kit's pov because the drama isn't over yet! 😏

Tag list: lmk if you wanna be added/removed.

@playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies   @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan @hardlymatters @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @tired-vin @phoenix-and-dragon @the-blackdale @adoravel-fenomeno @the-wckd-powers

[idnek83]

Wait, You Can Do What? Chapter 2/?

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Hajime Hinata/Soda Kazuichi

Words: 5,468 

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot (maybe a little plot if you squint), Trans Soda Kazuichi, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining (a little bit), Vaginal Fingering, Shower Sex, Shower Head Stimulation, Roommates, Wet & Messy (Soda is just super wet the whole time), afab language, Friends to Lovers, (well it's really more like idiots to lovers), 69 (Sex Position), Oral Sex, Face-Fucking, Squirting  

Summary: Hajime got some negative feedback from his most recent hookup apparently, and is looking for a way to improve his next performance.

Chapter: 1, 2

Read on Ao3

_____________________  

It had been two weeks since the dye incident, and while Soda was enjoying his new neon pubes, he couldn’t help but be disappointed that the dye hadn’t gotten messed up.

He was having a hard time coming up with a new excuse to get Hajime to touch him.

“Later.”

Hajime had said he would fuck Soda later, and he had been replaying that promise every night since.

Wait, was it a promise?

Do things you say when you’re super horny and knuckle deep in your best friend’s pussy count as promises?

Hajime laughed and shifted against him, pulling Soda from his train of thought.

They were sitting on Hajime’s bed, leaning back against the wall and watching some shitty comedy on Soda’s laptop. About 10 minutes in Hajime had leaned over and rested his head on Soda’s shoulder, and Soda had pretty much just been thinking about his dick since then.

Soda tried to rein himself in and focus on the movie to get his mind out of the gutter, only to find the main characters in a heated debate about the proper way to eat pussy.

Yeah, his mind was definitely staying in the gutter.

“Y’know…” Hajime shifted to sit a little straighter, head no longer on Soda’s shoulder, but arm still pressed firmly against him. “I was eating out this girl the other day, and she told me afterwards that I kinda sucked at it.”

Soda laughed to cover up the way his stomach dropped at the thought of Hajime sleeping with someone else. It wasn’t like they were an item or anything, and Soda was already well aware of the fact that Hajime enjoyed the occasional hookup, but now that Soda actually knew what he was missing out on, it was a lot harder to act like he didn’t care about Hajime sleeping with other people.

Hajime gave Soda a look that seemed… disappointed somehow, before continuing with what he was saying.

“Yeah yeah, dude, laugh it up, but going down on someone with different junk from you is hard! I’m like the king of sucking dick, but pussy is confusing, man!”

I could probably make it less confusing for you.

Soda couldn’t stop himself from imagining Hajime with his head buried between his legs, nor could he stop himself from thinking he could make that thought into a reality if he just played his cards right here…

“I mean, how hard can it be, dude? You just gotta like… suck on the clit? Maybe get some fingers up in there? Sounds easy enough to me.”

“First of all, it’s definitely a little more complicated than that. Secondly, going down on someone isn’t just about getting them off, you virgin, it’s about making it good.”

“Well getting off sounds pretty good to me.” He hadn’t really meant to say it out-loud, but the way Hajime laughed and bumped up against him was definitely worth the momentary embarrassment.

“Look, think of it this way, if you’re fucking someone do you really just want to get them off? Or do you wanna get them off and hear them moaning and calling your name and shit?”

Soda took a moment to imagine what Hajime would sound like moaning his name.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and Soda took the opportunity to imagine some of the other sounds Hajime might make with Soda’s lips wrapped around his cock. His pussy was definitely enjoying the thought of those noises, he could feel himself getting wetter by the second.

“What’re you thinking about? Your face is red as hell.” Hajime was smirking at him, barely holding back laughter.

“Nothing, fuck you.”

Hajime chuckled and shifted so he was lying with his head in Soda’s lap.

Soda felt himself blush harder.

“Still caught up on the moaning thing? I don’t blame you, it’s pretty hot.” Hajime looked up at Soda for a moment, seemingly considering something. “That’s why I want to get better at eating pussy.”

Soda swallowed around a lump in his throat.

“Huh, guess you need someone to like… give you feedback…”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of a mood killer to be like ‘hey, while I’m going down on you mind giving me constructive criticism and filling out this survey’ with like a random hook up, dude.”

“Maybe don’t do it in such an awkward way then, dude.” Soda couldn’t help but laugh. “But yeah, it’d probably be easier to do with someone you, uh, know?”

“Yeah…”

There was an awkward silence, Soda wasn’t sure if this was actually going where he hoped it was going, or if he was just thinking with his dick.

“Hey, uh… has anyone ever gone down on you before, dude?”

Oh shit, okay, maybe this was going the way he hoped. Okay, fuck, now he just had to not fuck it up. Just gotta respond and say words and stop blankly staring at Hajime.

“Um, not that I’m asking to eat you out! Just wondering if you have any pointers on what feels good…”

Fuck, he was quiet for too long and now Hajime thought he wasn’t interested. Fuck, damage control time.

“Uh, no dude… you’re uh… the only other person who’s ever gotten me off?”

Hajime’s eyes widened and his face flushed a little darker.

“O-oh.”

Fuck why was this so awkward? It was probably best just to be direct.

“Uh, but, if you’re looking for, y’know, feedback or whatever… like, I’d be down for that…”

Hajime lifted his head at that.

“Yeah dude?”

“What’re bros for, right?”

“Right.” Hajime’s grin was so wide it practically split his face in half as he slid off the bed and got on his knees between Soda’s thighs.

It actually made Soda panic a bit, he hadn’t been expecting things to move so fast and he kind of wanted to drag this out as long as possible.

“O-oh, right to it huh? No work up or anything?”

Hajime paused and looked up at him, surprised and a little embarrassed.

“Guess you’re right, better set the mood first, huh?”

Hajime stood up, but Soda only had a moment to be disappointed before he was back on the bed, pushing Soda down, and getting on top of him.

Yeah, that pretty much stopped Soda’s brain altogether, and any functions that had remained were definitely lost when Hajime leaned forward and started kissing up and down his neck.

Hajime was fucking good at this. The way he was nipping and kissing Soda’s neck definitely would have gotten him wet right away if he hadn’t already been practically soaking through his boxers.

Hajime lowered his body to press against Soda’s. He felt Hajime’s half hard dick press against his thigh and couldn’t help the little whimper of pleasure he let out at the feeling.

“See? That’s what I was talking about.” Hajime chuckled before going back to kissing Soda’s neck.

Soda wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. It felt amazing but having Hajime on top of him, pressed so close and kissing his neck almost lovingly, but it was probably going to make him say something he’d regret. Or do something… Hajime seemed pretty talented with his mouth, maybe he could convince him to give him a proper kiss…

Okay, no, gotta get Hajime’s mouth further from his own asap.

He was about to tell Hajime he could stop, that he had definitely “set the mood” already, but then Hajime started grinding against Soda’s thigh and slid his hands up his Soda’s under his t-shirt, and Soda forgot how to speak.

“Cool if I touch your chest?” Hajime mumbled the question against his neck, but slowed his movements just enough for Soda to finally be able to collect his thoughts a little.

“Y-yeah, but uh…” The way Hajime immediately stopped what he was doing and pulled back when he heard Soda hesitate just made Soda want to kiss him more. “Well, I mean, I was kinda joking about the work up thing? Like… I’m already super turned on so-”

Relief crossed Hajime’s face, followed by a teasing chuckle.

“Wait really? From just this, dude?”

Soda flushed deeply, he knew “just this” would have gotten him soaked even if he hadn’t spent the better part of the last hour thinking about Hajime’s cock, but Hajime didn’t need to know that.

“Look, I’ve just been horny since the movie started, don’t get too cocky, asshole.”

“Oh. Man, if you were horny you should’ve just said something. We could’ve been jacking off or something this whole time.”

“Well now you know, so how about we get to that ‘or something’?”

Hajime’s shit eating grin was back.

“I mean if you’re that desperate-” Hajime was cut off by Soda trying to smack him in the face with a pillow, which he caught with practiced ease. They had had many pillow fights over the years, generally over who got to pick what movie they were going to watch, and Hajime nearly always won.

Lucky bastard.

Instead of swinging the pillow back at Soda however, Hajime simply place it back against the wall as he took off Soda’s shirt and shifted lower down his body.

He kissed across Soda’s chest, taking a moment to suck each nipple and gauge Soda’s reaction. Soda was averting his eyes and covering his mouth to stop himself from making any embarrassing noises, but apparently Hajime wasn’t having that.

“C’mon dude, I already told you I want to hear you. That’s like half the point of this.”

Soda reluctantly lowered his hand a bit, only for Hajime to grab it and pin it above his head.

“Don’t cover your mouth again, alright dude?” Hajime smirked “If you do I might have to tie you up.”

Soda couldn’t help the little gasp he let out at that, and Hajime definitely noticed if his chuckling was anything to go by.

But Hajime apparently didn’t feel like teasing him about it right that second, as he simply went back to teasing Soda’s nipples.

He ran his thumbs along the scars on Soda’s chest, then kissed his way along them. The scars weren’t nearly as sensitive as his nipples, but the intimacy of the gesture made Soda moan. He tried to bring his other hand up to his mouth out of reflex, trying to keep quiet, but Hajime simply took it and pinned it above Soda’s head with the other.

“Stay.” Hajime’s face was so close to Soda’s, their lips were maybe an inch apart, and Soda couldn’t help but wonder if he would have caught Hajime staring at his lips if he hadn’t been so busy staring at Hajime’s.

A moment passed, then Hajime pulled away went back to kissing Soda’s chest.

Somehow it felt a little more disappointing than before.

Hajime began to work his way lower, running his hands up and down Soda’s sides as he kissed his stomach. Soda closed his eyes and tried to get lost in the feeling and stop thinking about how close he had been to kissing Hajime.

Hajime choose that moment to slide a hand up Soda’s shorts to tease the highest part of his inner thigh, which caused Soda to both gasp and buck his hips, trying to get Hajime’s hand where he wanted it. Hajime just laughed as he kissed along the waistband of Soda’s boxers, leaving his hand right where it was.

“Hajime, dude, c’mon.”

Hajime hummed against his stomach and took his hand out of Soda’s shorts, only to use it to start pulling the waistbands of both his shorts and boxers down. Hajime’s mouth followed the waistband down kissing every new inch of skin revealed to him.

And then the bastard stopped just as he was about to get to Soda’s clit.

Hajime left Soda’s clothes just high enough to cover his pussy, and chose instead to wrap his hands around to grope Soda’s ass, focusing his mouth on Soda’s thighs instead of where they both knew he wanted it.

Soda couldn’t help but whine.

“Dude, stop teasing! This is just cruel!”

“I’m not teasing, just wanna feel up your ass a bit dude, is that so bad?”

“You are teasing and you know it, you can play with my ass all you want while you’re eating me out.”

“Mm, good point.”

And just like that, Hajime was finally pulling off the rest of Soda’s clothes.

Once his clothes were gone, Hajime sat between Soda’s bent knees, holding them apart and just staring.

“It’s so fucking hot how wet you get dude.”

Soda just swallowed and tried to prepare himself for what was coming.

Hajime lowered himself down and placed a couple kissed low on Soda’s stomach before moving to kiss at the juncture of his thighs. He slid his hands down from Sodas knees to his thighs and gently spread them further, before finally pressing a gentle kiss against his clit.

It was hardly anything, but it still made Soda cry out, and he only got louder as Hajime kissed down his lips before slowly spreading them with his tongue and licking his way back up. When Hajime closed his lips around his clit and started gently sucking, Soda couldn’t help but bring his hands back down to cover his face. He stopped himself last second though, and settle on just gripping the sheets below him instead. Hajime watched him and gave an approving hum, lips still wrapped around his clit, which drew another breathy moan from Soda.

Apparently deciding he could trust Soda to keep his own thighs open, Hajime slid his hands back down to grope his ass again, lifting his hips a little as he did to give himself a better angle. He pulled back and replaced his lips with his tongue, keeping the contact gentle like he was trying to take things just as slow as Soda hoped he would.

“Hajime…” it was quiet and breathy, but it made Hajime sigh and close his eyes as he once again traveled lower and licked at Soda’s slit. He began increasing the pressure a bit, spreading Soda out on his tongue as he began to delve the tip into him, just a little, as both a tease and a promise. He pulled Soda’s hips a little closer as he continued, and Soda finally felt his tongue slip into his dripping pussy.

“Hajime!”

Hajime hummed again, and the little extra bit of stimulation from it felt amazing. Soda closed his own eyes and let himself get lost in it.

Hajime was good at this, anyone who said otherwise must have been lying. Soda knew he wasn’t hard to please, but every movement of Hajime’s lips and tongue felt practiced and amazing, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Honestly, that girl had probably just been trying to get Hajime to go down on her again when she said he was bad at it.

Hajime slid one of his hands around from Soda’s ass to tease his clit, rubbing it in slow, firm circles while he began to plunge his tongue in and out of Soda’s pussy. Soda was worried he’d rip the sheets if he gripped them any tighter.

Then Hajime pulled back.

“Open your eyes Soda, watching is half the fun.”

Soda obediently opened his eyes and looked down at Hajime, panting, and was rewarded with a soft smile before Hajime once again wrapped his lips around his clit, sucking just a little harder this time.

“Fuuuck.” Hajime began to bob his head, and while the sensation wasn’t much different, the visuals of it were definitely doing something for Soda.

He felt Hajime slip a finger into him and didn’t even realize he was moaning his name again until he felt Hajime’s pleased humming. A second finger joined the first almost immediately and Soda couldn’t help but remember Hajime telling him how easy it was to just slip his fingers into him the last time they had done this.

I bet it’d be easy for him to slip a whole lot more into me too.

He felt his pussy clench down around Hajime at the thought, which Hajime took as a sign to suck his clit harder and finger fuck him faster. He knew he was moaning openly now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Soda didn’t think he’d last much longer.

But then Hajime, terrible, beautiful, awful Hajime, decided to fucking stop.

“So? How am I doing?” Hajime’s shit eating grin told Soda he knew exactly how he was doing.

“Fucking great until you decided to stop, you bastard.” Soda tried to glare at him, but Hajime just curled his fingers where they were still buried deep in his pussy, which made him groan and throw his head back down instead.

“Hmm, well I wonder if…” Hajime trailed off.

“Wonder what dude? Cus if you’re wondering if you should keep going the answer is fuck yes.”

“Nah, it’s just that… well the girl who told me I suck, we were kinda both going down on each other? So, I’m just wondering if it was more of like… an angle thing? Or maybe I was just distracted?”

Soda didn’t really want to think about the girl Hajime had slept with right now, so he decided to just get straight to the point.

“So you wanna, like, 69 then?”

Hajime perked up for a second before looking a little embarrassed.

“I mean, if it’s cool with you?”

Soda had been dreaming of sucking Hajime’s cock for a long ass time, so it was definitely cool with him but…

“Um, I’m fine with it but like… aren’t you worried about my teeth?” It was something he’s been self-conscious about since he realized he was into dicks. Sure, his teeth weren’t any sharper than the average person’s canine teeth, but he knew they looked pretty intimidating, and if he had the option, he’s not sure he’d be comfortable putting his dick into a mouth that looked like his.

“Dude, you’ve shown me the way you can deepthroat your toys before, and from what I can see they’re all in one piece, so no, I’m not worried.” Hajime slid his fingers out of Soda and gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Unless you’re like actually planning on biting my dick off or something.”

“You kinda deserve it for stopping when you did.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Hajime leaned back and started unbuckling his pants, and it was only then that Soda realized Hajime had been fully clothed the whole time. It felt pretty unfair, so when Hajime got his pants off and started getting into position, Soda stopped him and insisted he took off his shirt too.

“It’s only fair dude, I can’t be the only one naked.”

“Sure dude, you know you just want to see my tits.” Hajime laughed as he pulled off his shirt, taking a moment to cup his pecs and jiggle them a little teasingly.

Soda hated that it turned him on.

He just rolled his eyes and waited for Hajime to stop.

Eventually he did, still laughing, then, to Soda’s surprise, he laid back and gestured for Soda to get on top of him.

“O-oh… I have to be on top?” He didn’t actually really mind the idea, but the thought of awkwardly crawling over Hajime until his pussy was close enough to his face was pretty embarrassing.

“I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but in my experience it’s a lot easier to suck dick when you’re the one on top. The angles just better.”

Soda thought it over and yeah, sucking dick while flat on his back did sound a little more difficult.

“O-okay, but can you, like, close your eyes while I get on top of you then? Shit feels embarrassing.”

“To be clear, I’d love to watch, but if it’s what you want, then sure.” Hajime closed his eyes and relaxed back into the bed.

Soda swallowed and took a moment to just take in the sight of Hajime, naked and fully erect.

Yeah, that was an image he was definitely going to be dreaming of.

He began awkwardly getting himself in position above Hajime, straddling his stomach and sliding himself back until he thought he was close enough, watching Hajime the whole time to make sure he kept his eyes closed as promised.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now…”

Hajime did, and immediately slid his hands up Soda’s thighs and spread his lips a little.

“What a great sight to open my eyes to, think I could get used to this.”

Soda tried not to get his hopes up at the implication, and instead focused on his own task.

Hajime’s dick was a pretty good length, and it was nice and thick too. Honestly it was probably one of the nicest looking dicks he’d ever seen, and considering most of the dicks he saw were attached to porn stars, that was really saying something.

“Hey, you alright dude?” For once, Hajime didn’t sound like he was teasing, just like he was genuinely checking to make sure Soda was alright. It made Soda’s chest feel tight.

But he told his heart to shut up, it was horny time, not feelings time.

“Yeah dude, I’m good, just, uh, taking it in I guess?”

“Okay man, no rush, take your time.”

Soda took a deep breath to calm himself before reaching out to gently stroke Hajime’s cock.

He was a little surprised by how different it felt compared to his toys. It was warm for one thing, and it twitched and pulsed a little as he moved his hand along it. Hajime began slowly running his hands up and down Soda’s thighs, encouraging him, but not distracting him.

As Soda continued to stroke Hajime’s cock he noticed little beads of pre-cum forming at the tip. He wanted to taste them, and he was supposed to be blowing Hajime anyways so…

He leaned in and licked the tip of Hajime’s cock, enjoying both the slightly salty taste and the quiet gasp he heard from Hajime. That was all the encouragement he needed. He wrapped his lips around Hajime’s tip and sucked, not too hard, and the noise Hajime made went straight to his pussy.

He pulled back and decided to focus on the shaft for a bit, using one hand to keep Hajime’s cock in place, only to end up slipping anyways when he felt Hajime’s lips close around his clit once again. He couldn’t stop himself from rocking his hips down against Hajime’s face, but Hajime didn’t seem to mind, if the noises he was making were anything to go by.

Soda tried to refocus of Hajime’s dick, kissed and licked his way back up the shaft until he could close his lips around the tip again. This time he lowered his head, took the tip fully into his mouth as he continued to stroke it with his tongue.

“Fuck, Soda.” Hearing Hajime moan his name was almost better than feeling his fingers slide back into his pussy.

He was definitely going to make him do it again.

Soda began to bob his head, taking just a little more of Hajime’s cock into his mouth with every downward motion. He wasn’t too worried about gaging, he’d been practicing this ever since he bought his first dildo, and some of the toys he had practiced with since then were even larger than Hajime’s cock. Really, the only thing he was worried about was that he wouldn’t be able to actually get Hajime off since he wasn’t sure exactly what would feel best for him…

Okay, so maybe Hajime had had a point earlier; going down on someone with different junk than you was kind of confusing.

Not that that seemed to be stopping Hajime though. All Soda could do was continue to bob his head as Hajime continued to eat him out like a pro. At some point Hajime had started fingering him at the same pace Soda was bobbing his head on his cock, moving his tongue up and down over Sodas clit at the same speed as well.

Soda decided to move a little faster, just to see if Hajime would too.

Hajime matched his pace perfectly, sucking at Soda’s clit now while he continued to work him with is tongue.

Fuck that was good, he’d have to up his game a little.

Soda curled an arm around Hajime’s thigh as he sped up a little more, using it to fondle Hajime’s balls as he slid his cock further down his throat. It earned him another one of those delicious moans of his name, and Soda felt himself getting incredibly close.

He took Hajime’s cock to the base a few times, loving the way Hajime was moaning against his pussy. Pretty soon he had to pull back for air though, Hajime had started curling his fingers down in the best fucking way and Soda was scared he’d legitimately choke on Hajime’s cock if he came with it in his throat.

“Fuck Hajime, more! Just like that, please!” He begged against Hajime’s cock, doing his best to keep working him with his hands and lips as Hajime once again picked up his pace.

Soda couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good, Hajime had started bobbing his head like he had earlier, and Soda wasn’t sure if it was the new angle or if he was just more sensitive now, but it felt so good his arms gave out and his thighs were shaking. He rested his face on Hajime’s hip, still absentmindedly trying to work his cock.

Hajime began to speak, puling away from Soda’s dripping pussy just enough to get his words out before diving right back in.

“C’mon baby, cum for me, cum on my face like a good boy.”

The last two words stuck in Soda’s head, and replayed over and over as he came, squirting all over Hajime’s face and moaning his name the whole time. Hajime didn’t let up, fucking him faster on his fingers and circling his clit with his tongue until he was whining from overstimulation.

Hajime finally pulled back, giving Soda’s pussy one last open-mouthed kiss before shifting them both so Soda could lay back down. Soda gratefully rolled onto his back and looked up at Hajime through half lidded eyes.

When Hajime caught him looking he made a show of wiping his juices off his face and licking his fingers clean.

“Fuck dude, I didn’t know you were a squirter, that’s so fucking hot.”

Soda’s pussy throbbed in interest at Hajime’s words, but he was too out of breath to do anything more than stare.

Or at least he was, until Hajime reached down and began to jerk himself off.

“W-wait dude, I’ll- just give me a sec to catch my breath and I’ll do it.” Hajime had finished himself off in the shower, no way Soda was going to let him do it again.

“You sure dude? Cus I really don’t think I can wait much longer.” Hajime squeezed his cock to emphasize his statement, and Soda noticed it looked red and angry now, like it was literally about to burst.

But he still felt boneless, could hardly manage to lift his head…

Good thing he had a way to get Hajime off without much movement on his part.

“Fuck my face.”

“What?” Hajime looked both incredibly shocked and incredibly aroused.

“It’s fine dude, I you know I can take it.” Hajime still seemed unsure, so Soda pressed him a little further “I want you to cum in my fucking mouth, dude, please.”

Hajime swallowed, but began shifting to straddle Soda’s face.

“Just like… slap me or something if it’s too much, okay?”

“You got it dude, now hurry up and fuck me.” Soda blushed as he said it but just opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue invitingly instead of correcting himself. He figured Hajime knew what he meant, and it was worth it to see the way Hajime flushed at the words.

Hajime guided his cock into Soda’s mouth carefully, and Soda moaned around it, half because the idea of Hajime actually fucking his face was turning him on again, and half because he wanted to make it clear to Hajime how into this he was.

Hajime tried a few quick, shallow thrusts into Soda’s mouth, but Soda wasn’t having it. He slid a hand up to cup Hajime’s ass and slowly pushed him forward, encouraging him to go deeper. Hajime got the message and braced his hands above Soda’s head.

“I’m serious dude, stop me if I make you even a little uncomfortable.”

Soda hummed his agreement and sucked at Hajime’s cock a little before relaxing his throat again.

Hajime shifted forward slowly, watching Soda’s face for any sign of discomfort as inch after inch of his cock disappeared down his throat. Soda just relaxed further and continued to push him deeper.

Once he was all the way in, Soda hummed again and did his best to communicate with just his eyes how badly he wanted Hajime to start fucking into him for real. Hajime must have gotten the message, because he shifted his position a little and began slowly thrusting into Soda’s willing mouth.

Soda didn’t realize how turned on he would get, but every time Hajime thrust back into his mouth, slowly getting faster and more confident, he felt his cunt throb with arousal. Part of him wanted to make Hajime stop and fuck his pussy instead, but Hajime looked like he was getting close, and Soda didn’t want to stop him.

Hajime picked up his pace, finally fucking into Soda’s throat fast enough to create some delicious wet slapping noises as he went. He was still holding back a little as he thrust down into Soda, but Soda was enjoying himself too much to try to make him go faster.

He was touched that Hajime was being so careful, but, if he was being honest, part of him really just wanted Hajime to fuck his throat as hard as he could.

Hajime’s thrusts grew shallow and uneven, and Soda knew he was close. He brought his other hand up to Hajime’s ass, squeezing a little and pushing him forward to make sure he didn’t try to pull out.

He was serious when he told Hajime he wanted him to cum in his mouth.

“Fuck, Soda, I’m gonna-”

Soda just hummed around him and gripped his ass harder, and soon he felt Hajime’s hot cum filling his throat as he did his best to swallow around his cock.

Hajime was panting as he pulled his cock out, and suddenly Soda’s throat felt a little raw.

Maybe it was a good thing that Hajime had so much restraint.

Hajime flopped down on the bed next to Soda, throwing an arm over his face as he caught his breath.

“Fuuuuck dude, that was fucking amazing.” He turned his head to look Soda in the eye. “I’ve never done something like that before, it was fucking hot.”

“Mm, yeah.” Soda’s voice sounded a little raw and he tried to cover it with a cough, but Hajime had already noticed.

“Here, one sec.” Hajime rolled over and reached for something on his desk, squishing Soda beneath him a little as he did.

Not that Soda minded.

Hajime moved back and handed Soda a water bottle.

“You really didn’t have to do that dude, would have been more than happy to just jerk off to your post-nut face.”

“You jerked off last time too, didn’t feel right.” Soda shifted and squeezed his thighs together, trying to ignore the way his pussy was still pulsing. “Besides, I really fucking enjoyed it.”

Hajime quirked a brow at that.

“Yeah?”

“If I hadn’t already soaked through your sheets, I definitely have now okay? That was probably almost as good for me as it was for you.”

Hajime finally looked down and noticed the way Soda was rubbing his thighs together.

“Well if that’s the case, how about I return the favor?”

“Uh?”

“Sit on my fucking face dude.” Both of them blushed bright red for the millionth time that night. “I mean uh… I probably need practice with that too, right?”

Soda had honestly forgotten this was supposed to be about Hajime practicing his oral skills, and based on the demonstration he had just gotten, he was starting to suspect there hadn’t actually been a girl telling Hajime he was bad in bed in the first place…

But he wasn’t about to call him out with such a nice offer on the table.

[vgriffindor]

aMusketeer Fanfic Master Post

Calling all Musketeers! We’re all in need of a serious dose of our favourites, amirite? I’ve seen a few queries floating around lately asking for some great Muskie fanfic recommendations. I thought I’d do 20 weekly posts, each with a different theme, and ask for your help! There are a ton of great Muskie fics out there, let’s help each other discover them.

How this works: For each theme, please give me your TOP recommendation. It can be a one-shot or multiple chapters, complete or still a WIP, your own or some one else’s, just shout about that one fic that fits the theme and you want people to READ! Reblog to spread the word, with your recommendation and tag me @vgriffindor, or DM your recommendation so that I can post it! I’ll keep each theme as a pinned post up/keep adding to it for the entire week.

Week #2: AUs

It sure is fun to place these four in a different world, and see how they react! Whether it’s the quiet heaven of a bookstore, the flirty, caffeinated vibes of a coffee shop, the perfume of a flower shop, the hard-bitten reality of a detective bureau, or just about anything else you can think of, the boys seem to handle whatever universe we throw at them with their trademark personalities and humour intact.

Midsomer Musketeers by Suzie_Shooter: Exactly what you think and want this to be, when you combine the Musketeers and Midsomer Murders. 

Fraternité et Égalité by BazinMousqueton: Clever, funny, sexy and gorgeously written modern AU in an architectural firm’s office. Slash, but not explicit, almost everyone is bi, and the whole thing is perfection.

(Below is all due to the hard work and enthusiastic response from @animanightmate! Thank you, you are awesome!)

E: yeah, you got me by cherryfeather - modern au graduation party oone-shot with a game of spin the bottle that gets angsty with forthcoming farewells and then very fulfilling indeed.

T: Chapter 10 of the collection of unrelated shorts (very short) His Smile Me Draws, His Frown Drives Me Away by akathecentimetre is entitled  In Goodly Colors Gloriously Arrayed and is a modern au where the lads are working for the Sûreté in Paris (though it’s never confirmed precisely as what) and it’s basically a series of three (the original Inseparables) character studies as they get used to being Responsible Adults. No filth... well, apart from Aramis’s feet...

G: Fancy is a very short modern au short by AnathemaDevice about the cats owned by (or owning) the various season three characters. Includes one of the most beautiful word-sketches of Sylvie I’ve yet read.

E: Mis Adventures by Doom Canary is an utterly filthy, modern British police au short featuring a trans male character that blew my mind in the best ways. If there’s a plot, I blinked and missed it.

T: born like a vapor by mellyflori is - and I can’t believe I’m typing this - a modern au where two of the Four are genies (yep, you read that correctly). It is utterly, unforgettably gorgeous, and just works. Angsty and charming, and has one of the most elegant solutions I’ve seen for “what happens with Constance?” The world-building is done so well it’s almost seamless, and I’m weak for that kind of thing.

T: Brand New Start is a short modern office au by potentiality_26 from Constance’s perspective and is melancholy, sweet, and vivid. OT3 but nothing graphic.

E: One in Ten Thousand by breathtaken is a novel-length modern soul bonds au that, as usual with her, subverts the trope and delves deep into the psyche of an intensely depressed Athos who was in no way prepared to meet his soulmate. It’s hard going at times, but utterly beautiful and very hot.

M: my heart upon my sleeve by cherryfeather is a novel-length modern Shakespearean actors au and I avoided it for ages because the synopsis was written in a deliberately tabloid style and I assumed the whole thing was like that. It is not - it is the most elegant, eloquent, literally tear-tugging bit of angst and mutual pining I’ve ever encountered, and takes in: hurt/comfort, Only One Bed, and friends-to-lovers tropes along the way. Basically, if they were a character in the first two seasons of the original, she finds a place for them in this gorgeous work.

E: The Humbling River (author unknown) is the only A/B/O fic that I will ever recommend, ever. This short is canon era, but I guess it still counts as au? I fell into it accidentally, but it was written so well that I didn’t care about the premise.

E: Une histoire de bleu by ceeturnalia is long. A 100k word modern day au where the lads are security specialists for a private firm in Paris. It is vividly stark and lushly compassionate in one go, and also explores a developing D/s relationship in great detail, so if that’s not your bag, that’s the main core of the story. And it’s handled so well that I have zero hesitation in recommending it, even though that in itself is not really my thing. It’s just so very, very good and, even at that length, still manages to be very tightly written.

M: Death in Waiting by Suzie_shooter is your actual 1920s country house murder mystery with all our favs (seasons 1 and 2 anyway) in a short-novel-length interbellum piece of Upstairs-Downstairs only of course there’s lots of forbidden sex all over the place, and a genuinely gasp-inducing (at least in me) set of reveals.

M: Still Waters by evilmaniclaugh is a modern office au with a twist. It’s porn with a plot (and a great deal of angst), and is startlingly hilarious in places (for good reasons, I promise).

M: Gentlemen of the Road by Suzie_shooter is a highwayman au set, from my vague enough understanding of the descriptions, about 100 years or so after the canon era. As usual for S_s, it’s Athos/Porthos pairing, from the perspective of Porthos, and I keep coming back to it, for the humour, the story, and the sex. Bonus points for Ninon and Rochefort showing up, and our brief glimpses of d’Artagnan being an utter little shit.

M: Mise en place by breathtaken is a short series featuring season 3 characters as chefs. And it’s stunningly beautiful, intimately told from a conflicted Constance’s perspective (something I’m utterly weak for) and I want there to be more because dammit - food and polyamory and found family and so many of my favourite things and I wish she was going to write more and aaaaah. Anyway, everyone is bi and kinky and I am so there for that...

I have so many of these, but I’m going to leave it here while I retain any shred of sanity or dignity, and finish by telling you about my own only (so far) modern au, entitled Summoned (rated M), set in modern-day Cambridge, UK, complete with references to Brexit and climate change, and a detailed depiction of the Fitzwilliam Museum. The MacGuffin is a museum anti-heist. Or is it reincarnation? Or music? Or synaesthesia? WHO KNOWS?! Anyway, it’s 75k+ words of conversations, misunderstandings, music, musings, museum architecture, poetry, stolen kisses, awkward flirting, and confusing flashbacks. There is one extended explicit sex scene and the rest is more along the lines of innuendo and a great deal of heated kissing. And I wrote it in about fives weeks and am rather proud of it, actually.

[queerlyhalloween]

Not to sound like the joker™️ but i hate western society. I know that hair and clothes aren't gendered, so do most of my mates, ive been working hard at unlearning the internalized transphobia that's just a part of being trans in the UK and actually ALLOWING myself to think about going on hormones and dressing in ways other than "ambigious as possible" despite the fact im non-binary

i grew myself a little mullet because ive not been working in the pub and wanted solid snake hair, ive allowed myself to look at my face and the long hair around it and not despair because i know that longer hair doesn't make me a woman, but the moment you go into a shop, or get takeaway or pass by people in the street its all "move out the way of this lady!" and "thank you, ma'am"

i dont want the gender option of 'other' on my ID i want to know 1 good reason why gender should be listed on an ID in the 1st place

ive just come back from the range and i had my hair up like some e-thot fuckboy, i had to go BACK to the range because they got my click and collect order wrong so ive got two members of staff looking over my order, im dressed in black jeans and a black masc-looking ripped shirt, mask covering half my face and as the manager's showing the kid who served me the receipt they go "oh I served that guy earlier" and the manager corrects them "its a lady". I say "im niether" and they both just stare at me like im a toddler. Im already panicking because the air feels the same way it did when some cunt came after me in the pub toliets. "dont worry about it :)" i say, they both turn back to the tills and completely ignore me.

Anyway, micro-aggressions, ive experienced a lot of them for many reasons over the course of my life and today ive decided to snap.

Not at the people in the range like, just in general.

I will never pass. That's just an element of trans euphoria i will never get to experience. Not right off the bat, anyway. Not where i live, and most likely not in my lifetime. Maybe for kids in LA or Brighton, and hey power to you guys man im happy for you, but people assume or guess m/f when they look at me and they will never get it right.

So when i see people on this site try and twitter etc rank "who's the most oppressed"™️ like a godamn smash bros tier list it blows my mind because of all the things you could spend your days doing thats what youre expending energy on?!

You could be the exact same age, race, sex, gender, sexuality, you could have the exact same disabilities, mental health conditions and money in your bank as another person on this site and you'd still never understand what they've been through. Our experiences, our families, our morals and lives are always gonna be different and the moment you try to write definitive rules on whose got it worse you've already lost and you're already wrong. Oppressed classes are not a fucking hivemind and pretending they are is only going to cause you more problems. I get the strong sense that some of you looked at the word intersectionality, went "ah yeah, i know what that means" having never read up on the matter, then proceeded to play the pain olympics.

And its creating a culture where kids feel the need to spills their souls online to justify living their lives!

You've not listed your disabilites in your bio so you're able-bodied. You're Irish but haven't listed your race so you're white. You're cis man so you've never played with gender and suffered as a result. You're asexual so clearly you're a cringeworthy baby who's never experienced a wrong-doing in their life.

The reverse is true too, if you list every aspect of yourself then you're automatically honest. The more opressed you are the less likely you are of causing harm to others. Psht, don't have a carrd in this day and age? What are you, a fraud? cishet white man playing make believe? Post a selfie or face the wrath of ozymandaus. What's privacy? It takes me 3 minutes to read the bio on this discourse side-blog so clearly they're an angel.

my mam abused me for years, she did the same to my brother when i left home at 18 and my dad drank himself to death. My nan, his mother, never believed me because my mam's a disabled woman with a lot of trauma, and at 14 how do you explain to the woman who takes you to the beach that it's WORSE because as she's beckoning you to the side of her bed so she can scream point blank in your face, or hit you, you're never truely sure, you're thinking about running away because of course she physically can't chase you but she can throw. And then where would you go if you did buggar off?

"You have to sleep sometimes" she used to say to me when I'd piss her off. Other days she told me horror stories about kids in care, and disabled people having their kids taken away, made me promise that I'd always love her and always be her baby, and I'd do that for her because she's my mam, she'd be satisfied then ignore me for a while. I grew up thinking that was entirely normal until i'd tell funny family stories at school and nobody would laugh. The closest I got to truely running away was when I changed my name and pronouns and her rejection, turned to vitriol one night and I so, so, nearly held a knife to my throat and simply fell forwards in the uni showers. Obviously I didn't do that.

But she's had a shitter life than me thus far so she's in the right, as the online black/white dichotomy states. I keep her at arm's length but I'm unable to cut her away without losing the rest of my family because I dared defy the role of eldest child and care for her as I've done my whole life, as is expected.

we need to take things on a case by case basis, and learn when stuff is none of our business.

"Hey! :) I see you've reclaimed (X) slur, without submitting the proper paperwork. Real quick tell me every trauma you've ever experienced or I'll write a callout post :) delete this anonymous message (as is your right) and i'll assume you as sus ❤"

you can only call yourself a dyke if on your 13th birthday, the moon's tender rays struck you through your bedroom window and gave you your first wet dream about girls.

Great, cool. I have no interest in calling myself a dyke, i cant call myself a lesbian because it makes me dysphoric, thats why im queer, but i can assure you that when 3 kids from catholic school pinned me under the bridge and threatened to cut me open for being a "dirty dyke tramp" they didn't play 20Qs with me first to check that i was actually a lesbian.

if your first thought is "well thats just misdirected homophobia, so youre not ACTUALLY a victim" log the fuck off and consider what's wrong with you. Because all our oppressors care about is sniffing out the wrong on you and beating it out, they dont care what breed of wrong it is.

so you're going to spend your day, the enlightened adult that you are, frothing at the mouth because some 15yr old dared call themselves butch despite them being OnLY a BiSexUAl? You're gonna say that trans woman deserves to be suicidal because yes she may be trans BUT she's from the UK, so clearly she loves her horrid country and government. You're gonna say that black lad deserves racial abuse because he's trying to focus on his studies rather than go to protests. That 19yr old who's living in poverty deserves it because they work for Amazon. Texans deserve to freeze to death because there are republicans in Texas.

You're going to harass a complete stranger coming to terms with the parts of themselves society has taught them are worthless at best because they're not doing it the way YOU think is right.

This post has not ended where I started it but I really dont care:

Some of you are so fucking desperate to be the bullies you never got to be in secondary school and it shows. But you're cowards. You can't just admit you want to divide and concur so you do it in a new woke way and when your time on this earth is done, you'll have commited the same pain that's been dealt to you and wonder why you died miserable in a world thats more or less the same.

okay to reblog but dont @ me for a debate because i have, like, real problems and will just block you

[deliriumsetin]

So here’s the thing...

I’m really freaking hard to scare. Unlike my cat that just booked it into another room when our UPS guy dropped a package off at the door. Perfect timing, Percy. Perfect timing...

Anyways! I have NOT had a good scare in probably two decades. No matter what fiction I pick up that promises to chill and thrill me, neither happens.

Now keep this in mind.

As of right now I am launching a business and yes, this will tie into the weird opener. Be patient, please.

I am launching Vox et Liber, a publishing house for ALL kinds of stories and ALL kinds of voices. I started working on this in November 2019, what do you mean that was only 8 months ago?! I originally thought the publishing house up after learning a bunch of facts about the publishing world over the summer.

VeL publishing will be a new kind of publishing and I can say that with 100% confidence because I am building this beast from the ground up, with the help of @hazandlouwho​, my fiance, and a few other amazing people!

Because this business is getting started independently, which means no investors, we are working with a VERY small amount of cash reserved for start up. Initially all works will be published digitally. We do plan on launching a Kickstarter in September/October to get enough funds to keep this going and to do it right which means getting stories published physically and sold to both indie bookstores and Barnes and Noble. Please be on the look out for that.

If any awesome people want to donate to help us not break my own personal bank, which will be easy to do since Covid-19 forced me to quit my job working with the public because I’m high risk and unemployment has kept me in limbo for going on 3 weeks, you can tip us on Ko-Fi by clicking here. ALL donations and funds raised go towards launching VeL and all projects under the VeL umbrella.

Bringing it around to the scares. VeL is launching our first project and we need all you awesome writers’ help. As of today we are opening submissions for our first ever anthology, Graveyard Visits. It’s horror with the theme of marginalized voices written as Own Voice fiction. Meaning stories written by marginalized groups with their marginalized groups as main characters.

Submissions are going to be open from July 1st until August 12th 11:59pm EST. Stories are expected to be between 2.5k-5k words in length. We will be paying $.02 per word as well as giving you a digital copy of the anthology. Submission Guidelines can be found here.

Now the whole me being hard to scare; I want to be scared. Submit your best, your scariest, and most bone-chilling stories.

Also, not so subtly gonna add a nudge to @thebibliosphere​ because I feel like she might have something up her sleeve. If not for this anthology then definitely our erotica one that will be announced later this summer.

We also have a podcast series in the works but I will do another post on that once I or my awesome soon to be brother in law (that’s STILL weird) have a moment to do up some graphics.

Click below for my rant on why traditional publishing right now is a soul sucking leech on EVERYONE.

On average with hardcover books an author is lucky to make $1.50 off each one sold and that’s only AFTER they sell enough to cover their advance. I also found out the average advance is like 3k per book. Some (not including the wicked big names who get a shit ton more) can get as high as 5k but others can get as low as a 1k. An author is lucky to see that twice a year (selling 2 books) because they have to spend time MARKETING book 1 instead of writing book 2. 

Keep in mind fiction hardcovers are generally sold between 19.99 (usually YA) or 29.99 (usually adult). Wicked big difference, huh? I get there’s a lot that goes into making a book, trust me I do but the split between should leave the authors getting around $4 per copy instead of less than $2. That $2.50 is just extra that the publishing house takes because it can.

Then there are the mass paperbacks which an author gets paid 50 damn cents per copy. Yes, those books retail for anywhere between 7.99 and 14.99 per book and sell way faster than hardcovers. Take it from an ex-bookseller.

Most books take on average 500 to 1,000 hours of work put into them before they even get handed off to the publisher for the FIRST time. At minimum that author sees an hourly return wage of $6 which is BELOW the United fucking States shit-tastic minimum peasant wage. We devalue the arts so fucking much- arg! But that can be a separate rant for another day.

Then after doing more research I realized just how off balanced the publishing world STILL is in the year of hell 2020. Don’t believe me click the link. Sarah Park Dahlen did a great article with a great graphic on it. 

As of 2015, yes I’m paraphrasing to continue to rant, children’s books had ALMOST more books about anthropomorphic cars, household items, and animals than there were books about Black kids, Asian Pacific kids, Latinx kids, or Native American/First Nation kids combined. Talking teakettles and their kindred got a whopping 12.5% while if you add up all the groups above you get 14.2%. None on there own beat out the freaking Easter Bunny! Of course books about White kids are the highest at 73.3%. Yes, this was as of 2015 but as an avid reader who reads middle-grade and up books for fun I can tell you nothing much has changed. Books about black kids maybe SLIGHTLY higher since the BLM movement (fuck yes progress!!) but I’d be heartstoppingly shocked if they beat out talking fucking trucks.

And that’s just race. From what I gathered with all the publishing houses less than 100 books with LGBTQIAP+ main characters are published each year. Wtf? And among that as of 2015 55% percent are about cisgendered males and 31% are cisgendered females. (Thank you @malindalo​, you are awesome and I’ve enjoyed meeting you at the Boston Teen Author festival the last few years.) So, just focusing on those 2 first letters, huh? I want to read a story about a kickass transwoman that has to deal with transitioning WHILE demons have torn their way out of hell. That would be badass! Holy shit, someone trans write that!

Same goes for people that live with disabilities whether they are physical or mental, including mental illness and neurodivergents like myself. If you haven’t figured out by this rant just how ADHD I am than you might need an ADHD in your life. My brain works differently and I would have killed growing up to read about characters that have to deal with what I deal with. We have Percy Jackson now and his all ‘verse but it’s not enough and it wasn’t published until I was on my way to college.

All that aside we now have all the bs coming out about what’s been going on in traditional publishing. About all the dickweeds that have been using their power and pull to sexually harass new authors, most often the new authors are young women. I unfollowed people and canceled a pre-order because fuck that shit! Also, I don’t give a fuck how big a name someone is if the hate they spew makes all their trans fans collectively feel like shit for not believing the simple fact that transwomen are women then they deserve to get dropped like the bag of shit they are. TERFs can fuck right off. 

All the publishing bs has made me more determined to get VeL off the ground because no, no, no. We’ll have none of that. All the listed above reasons can go play in traffic. We will be paying our authors better and taking care of them from day 1. We will be making sure our catalog is so damn diverse that you’d have to be looking at the wrong website to not find a story that you can’t see yourself in and lastly, if we hear of any of our authors pulling a Myke Cole or a Sam Sykes than they are dropped. It is in the best interests of our authors futures that they aren’t shitbags. /end rant

If y’all have any questions about anything of this, I think my dms are open or if I’m wrong just tag me. My days lately have been chained to my shit dell computer with one or both cats pinning me to the couch. I finish this up as Percy settles in on my legs. Also, thunderstorm is starting up and both are sleeping through it? If only I could be so lucky when the fiance and I have kids...

[southeastasianists]

It seems that most older Hanoians consider the sound of the electric trains and the crowded nature of Dong Xuan Market in the subsidy era as part of their collective memory, but the bustling sounds of Troi Market are unfamiliar.

Since the middle years of this decade, and especially after President Obama’s visit to Vietnam in September 2016, people overseas have started seeing advertisements for Hanoi on CNN.

The city has been depicted in western media as a city of combinations: prestigious culture and industrialization, old pagodas and shopping malls, a veteran of the past, and mediator of the present and future. This also applies to the nation’s PR campaign on an international scale.

Tourists from around the world, many of whom only knew about Vietnam through war, were surprised by these depictions, not knowing that such representation of Hanoi was also common among citizens. Such identification has been present in the mainstream media for many years through the explosion of the internet and social media. That image has been so popular that it became some sort of "identity" of the city. Having said that, the construction of such an identity puts boundaries around the concept of Hanoi. It attaches Hanoi to a limited number of images and locations, therefore marginalizing other images and locations. Chợ Trời is such a case, even though it is only 2.5 kilometers from Hoan Kiem.

The goal of this article is to examine Troi Market as an example of marginalized areas and concepts of Hanoi; thus introducing other approaches to the city by looking at the market through the theoretical lens of cultural studies, and combining discourses about the market with the writers' real experiences at the location.

In 2010, images and narratives of the area frequently appeared in the popular discourse. However, these representations were mystified by an otherworldly Hanoi portrayed as a secret place with "occult rules" and that the only way to explore it was through “infiltration.” A tourist website even described chợ Trời as a place “not for the weak.”

Through the semiotic framework of the French structuralist Roland Barthes1, the old temporary market has been simplified as a sign. Barthes meant that in the province of meanings and representations, our ideas of a place, or even a city, are affected by other dominant institutions of thoughts which desire to expropriate these ideas for its own benefit.

In the case of the market, a location not likely to be found in historical texts, our interpretations about the place are limited because capitalistic ideas unintentionally prevent us from approaching its original root. Therefore, if we perceive a city as “text” which includes a system of signs, representations, mythologies and tonalities constantly in dialogue with ordinary life,2 we instantly recognize that the "book" making up Hanoi is made of many pages and each of them exists among us. This forces us to consider power relations and the efforts to govern the population that is embedded inside the city settings. The most debated dimension is a clichéd one: “Who are the Hanoians?”

Intellectuals in northern Vietnam have been answering such questions in numerous ways, as has the media. Tremendous attention has been paid to analyzing the answers in order to find a “truth” about the concept of “Hanoians.”

The recognition of a certain Hanoian identity legitimizes certain groups of people or places a certain culture in the center of the Hanoian discourse, and marginalizes others who do not share these particular traits. But instead of answering the question of "who," cultural scholars are asking "how" the Hanoian identity been constructed through history? By answering this question, we reveal the hidden dialogues between the constructed “Hanoi essence” and the lives of Troi Market residents.

A rare 2019 piece of writing by Nguyen Ngoc Tien3 about the history of Troi Market reveals the geographic precariousness of its community. In 1945, there was a flea market on the right side of the Tonkin Financial Department where merchants traded used French military gear. This flea market, however, lasted no longer than a month due to an Imperialist Japanese prohibition on social gatherings.

After the French resumed control from Japan, stolen-good traders started gathering again and formed another market on Kham Thien Street and Hang Dua Street, though they jumped from street to street to avoid the police.

It was not until 1950 that these traders were allowed to congregate on Dumontier (modern Thinh Yen Street), a street far from the center of the city. In 1954, after the signing of the Geneva Convention, families who decided to migrate to the south brought their used goods to the market near Thien Quang Lake, transforming the area into a spontaneous market.

Nevertheless, when the Viet Minh took control of the government in Hanoi, they banned trading activities at Thien Quang, and traders scattered until 1955, when the government gathered all merchants at Thinh Yen Street and formed a market called Hoa Binh.

The reason why people now call this place Trời (Sky) rather than Hoa Binh was that in the beginning, none of the kiosks in the area had a roof (in English, chợ Trời can also mean 'flea market').

Nghia (not his real name), a man who has lived near Hoa Binh Market since 1955 recalled the precarious nature of life in the past. The reality continues today due to a plan to rezone Troi Market that has been approved. He claimed that the plan had moved many kiosks from the old space to Hue Street and Tran Nhat Duat Street, far from the market. Some traders even went across the Red River to form a new market in Long Bien District.

Unlike the boundary on the official map, which pinned the market on particular roads and lanes like Tran Cao Van, Chua Vua and Yen Bai 2, Nghia insisted: “Troi Market's position is for its people to decide. It's not a market anymore, but a spirit of some particular people and some particular techniques of trading." This attitude is somewhat similar to the attitude of many other merchants and curious journalists towards this place: "Wherever it moves, it will still be a flea market."

Through the viewpoint of Deleuze and Guattari4, the movement of Troi Market is the process of de-territorialization, in which an object, a state of affairs, or a culture escapes from its pre-given geographic. Appadurai5 implied that the distance of a culture towards its locality is a condition of possibilities for the natives to expand their imagination about their own custom to surpass a particular space.

This imagination also allows them to accept the appearance of alien cultures in their space. Nonetheless, in the context of globalization and marketization, the de-territorialization process can lead to an identity crisis among mobilized communities like Troi Market. I recognized this crisis while interviewing Van (not her real name), another resident we encountered while conducting fieldwork there.

Van had a stall on a small lane. Her table was close to the pavement, while some plastic chairs, a table for guests, and a charcoal stove lie right in front of the line which divides the residential area and the extended road. When the rezoning of the market was finished, her stall and many other kiosks in front of the line would be removed. The middle-aged woman shared her fear of moving to a strange new place; however, many years have passed, and the project has yet to be completed. Thus, Van and her family live with the feeling that her stall could be removed at any time.

Such is the situation of chợ Trời: a place of suddenness and mysteries, an identity united by memories and embraced by those who belong to such memories. We heard it first from the media, then from the memories themselves.

But that is not what the market people think. From time to time, both Nghia and Van provided conflicting viewpoints from the mainstream media. Their memories about the past are very much different from "Hanoian" memories of the past: she recalled the time she was in her “hometown" on Hang Quat Street. She described it as crowded and busy, even though the whole country at that time was in the midst of the subsidy era.

This fragment of memory is somewhat different from the version of the past in which “everyone was poor, but happy” that we hear so often from the mainstream media.

Another strange message I heard from both of them was the manifesto of chợ Trời people for being “native Hanoians." In the dimension of collective memory and its formation, the manifesto claims that the people of the market were an undeniable part of the Hanoian community because they share the same pool of memories, even though the way they recall their memories deviates compared to the dominant discourse.

According to the founder of Memory Studies, Maurice Halbwachs6, when one memorizes the past, one’s memories are constructed and affected by the contemporary discourses and ideologies. Thus, it is not one’s decision to just forget something and remember another, but the real influencer is the power relations of the current time. Therefore, in order to understand the positioning of power relations moving within the documented Hanoi and its components — Troi Market, for example — we shall learn of how the concept of Hanoi has been constructed throughout history.

An article in Van Hoa Magazine titled “Constructing the polite, civilized Hanoi people: easier said than done,” shows that the construction of a Hanoi identity is still ongoing even today. From the beginning of the last century, the French had already tried building their own version of Hanoi as “Little Paris.” However, it was an unfamiliar concept for people.

In a book called Hanoi Old Stories, the late To Hoai wrote: “Streets in the French era were divided into different zones. There were no instructions or signs, no walls or barriers, and not even a restriction; but passengers have to understand the rules to watch their steps.” Vann7 demonstrates that the French brought modernity to Hanoi by building their own water system; the locals were hired only to kill rats. But despite the obvious gap between the colonizers and the colonized, Thanh Tam Tuyen still decided to depict the “Vietnamese Paris” as a place of the locals in his poem 'Serenade': “...There is a little Paris - For me be the poet…”

Discussing this “Little Paris” with a confrontational attitude, “The sluggish Hanoi” by Trong Lang or Vu Trong Phung’s documents have illustrated degraded and filthy living conditions under the French "civilization." Normally, a discourse will create the center position of the hegemonic system, thus marginalizing other groups of smaller discourses. In “Little Paris,” the French stood in the middle of the discourse because they created the norms of "civilized" and "politeness."

The locals could only choose to fit or not to fit into the discourse, unable to create new possibilities for new discourses. The subsidized era in post-1954 Hanoi indicated new discursive centers: "sunshine on Ba Dinh Square," "voice of the old Father," or "the ever-higher buildings," all of which represent the spirit of a subsidy economy. Meanwhile, on the margin of the discourses, people moved away from the concept of “a united world” through black markets:

Tong Dan street belongs to kings

The Church belongs to flatterers

Dong Xuan belongs to merchants

The streets belong to the people.

From the loose ties in the construction of a Hanoi identity, we come to the conclusion on the framework of Hanoi as an imagined environment of an imagined community7 which views identity not as essential and eternal, but as representations and metaphors. However, Donald thinks that this framework only works if put in the framework of power, as he quotes Lefebvre: If there really exists texts, words, or documents in here [the city], it has to lie among norms, motives and regulations.

The case of Troi Market is remarkable because it represents illuminated identities that shall never be revealed in the regulated systematic market society of the west. However, those identities do not stay passive, but actively look for weak points in the system.

Through the stories of Nghia and Van, we recognize that Troi Market always seeks to stand in the same pool of memories of Hanoi. This leads to a methodological question: Is document study enough to understand a location or a city? Are we bypassing the roles of memories and emotions? In other words, as we make many marginalized parts of Hanoi less invisible, can we make Troi Market visible?

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 8: The Tower Upright

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Ryder and Taylor head to local out-of-the-way voodoo vendor Laveau’s for the final ingredient in their protection ritual. While he waits, Taylor gets his fortune told by the real deal—a spirit medium descended from Marie herself.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Krom’s barely through the threshold before Taylor pounces; hovers around him comically short and buzzing like a gnat.

“So, what did they say? Do I need to call — I don’t have my phone, shit — please tell me I’m not cut from the show.”

Luckily the stone troll looks freaked-out enough to get him to stop and apologize. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I just…”

“No, no I completely understand!” Krom scratches the tips of his head and laughs it off, “I just didn’t want to step on you.”

“He’s not that short.” calls Ivy from her booth at the back.

Taylor shrugs it off. “But I appreciate it.”

“Anyway; the company manager’s a little mad no one could reach you but I convinced them to give you a week of sick leave? Even though there was this one weirdly giddy guy…”

They join Ivy on either side. Taylor groans and rubs his hand over his face.

“That would be Antoni. He doesn’t matter. I really appreciate you doing this for me, Krom.”

“It’s no trouble!” And the troll’s voice is so filled with sincerity he has no trouble believing it.

“That’s our darling Krom.” Garrus returns behind the bar with his tray of collected dirty steins and beer glasses. “He’s like an angel; always helping others. You’ve got nothing to prove sweetheart — you know that.”

Ivy answers Taylor’s question before he even has the chance to ask it; “Stone trolls have a bit of a rep’ around here. You saw their natural element at Persephone.”

“Bodyguards, hired muscle, and the like.” Krom agrees; pointedly trying to keep his voice his usual baritone despite Garrus’ casual compliments.

“So you’re a pacifist?”

“In the flesh — so to speak.”

There’s a thud from behind and all eyes turn to see a stack of crates stumbling out from behind the back room curtain. Not hovering in midair as Taylor originally thought but carried by a very red-faced Cal. Who still forces on a smile through his gritted teeth at Garrus.

“Where… where?”

The fae gestures with a bony finger. “Just leave ‘em behind here. I’ll unpack before the evening rush.”

He slams them down before Taylor can even try to offer help — grumbles under his breath about something he can’t quite catch but he knows Cal’s grateful to Garrus for giving him a place to stay. He must be paying off the stupor he drank himself into following their return as less-than-triumphant heroes.

“I should start taking in strays more often — pun not intended,” Garrus teases but all in good humor; especially when he slides a cool glass of water for Cal to chug when his hands are free, “someone to do the heavy lifting around here and all that.”

Krom shifts in his seat. Something so subtle only the two beside him notice it. But Ivy doesn’t give him the chance to let it go and kicks his rock of a leg with her heels.

“I — I could help with whatever you need, Garrus?” Even though it comes out as more of a question than anything.

The look the two exchange is strange but fond. Garrus’ eyes softening under the twinkling lights. Maybe he regrets what he said — or the implications behind it.

“But if you’re laboring around here then what would I have to look at for inspiration?”

Not the smoothest save, in Taylor’s opinion. But Krom acts like it’s the highest form of praise and brushes the compliment off with a wave.

“Are they always like this?” Taylor whispers to Ivy. The revenant just sighs and nods. A long-suffering struggle on her end no doubt.

Heavy footfalls on metal steps herald Ryder’s arrival from the apartments above. He looks around and beelines towards Taylor in a way that almost has him jumping and hiding.

“You, me; let’s go.”

“That’s not how you ask a man out on a date, Nik.” chides Ivy as she pushes the mortals together.

“What?” He blinks; shakes himself out of whatever thoughts compelled him to seek Taylor out. “Wh — shut up, Iv’.”

“Right,” she winks, “he’ll go with you anyway. It’s part of your brutish charm.”

“Shut up, Iv’.” Taylor parrots with a glare. “Is the spell finally ready?”

Not that he’s not enjoying his time at the Shift. And following the disaster that was the Bayou and Persephone he’s not exactly eager to go into other supernatural spaces any time soon.

But he’s never been one to stay cooped up for long.

Ryder huffs. “Not quite. Damn toad wart expired. Luckily though there’s a shop down the road that carries simple ingredients — so put away that grin Iv’. I’m done owin’ you for now.”

Probably a good thing judging by the low witchy cackle she gives instead.

“So let’s get goin’, hustle hustle.”

“But wait — is it safe?” Taylor follows anyway. Keeping at the Nighthunter’s heels is practically his new job. “You didn’t even want me leaving for the theater.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“With your hallelujah arrows, right?”

“Holy light arrows, Rook. You sound like an idiot when you say that.”

“Well now I’ll keep doing it to piss you off.”

“‘Course, because why would you do anything else?”

Their bickering continues out onto the ruins of another day of Mardi Gras fun. At least some things never lose a sense of normalcy.

It’s a small shop — one of those ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ types. The shop name LAVEAU’s is hand-painted above a doorway embellished with the classic purple, green, and golden plastic beads of the season’s parties.

Taylor stops Ryder before he opens the door. “‘Laveau’s’ like…?”

“Read the signs, Rook.”

There they are clear as day; painted by the same hand as the top sign but with an artist’s frustration behind every black-painted stroke. One on the door declaring ‘Yes, like Marie herself’ and then one blue-tacked beneath it; ‘Not Affiliated with Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo.’

“Oh. Got it.”

While the outside may lack the flair and panache that attracts the usual tourist crowds the inside is a whole other looking glass. Probably looks the way it does to differentiate between those who want fake dolls to poke with pins and those who want a real hex to mess with.

God, he’s talking about real hexes. When had this become his life?

Together they weave through the cluttered mess of uneven shelves and their uneven products. Books stacked flat where they’d fallen over at some point and left that way with little concern. A bundle of glass-looking orbs balancing precariously without cradle to keep them from rolling off the edge. A plant hanger in the middle of the room holds a pile of sage sticks just there. At second glance some look a little used.

The back ‘counter’ isn’t even that. It’s a folding table with a frayed tablecloth unevenly distributed atop and an old and rusting register in the corner.

First Taylor sees the joint resting in an ash tray made out of a mason jar lid. Only when it’s picked up and placed between two pink lips does he realize the man sitting kiddie-corner to the till.

“Welcome, wayward souls, to another side of the witch you know,” he recites as if from a script; monotone — doing everything he can to dissuade those who might darken his doorstep, “everything you see is one hundred percent bona fide authentic to the craft. Don’t do the rhyme if you can’t do the wiccan time.”

Ryder stops abruptly. Arms folded and a raised eyebrow looking over the pile of scattered tarot cards strewn across the table. That which holds the proprietor’s attention more than customers.

Unbidden he reaches out and plucks a card at random. Turns it over to stare at glittering golden words ‘The Emperor’ upside-down.

There’s no way the shop owner should know what card was grabbed — not like he can see though the matte black backing — but he gives a low and throaty chuckle. Lets smoke billow in a thin stream around the same lips now curled in a smirk.

“You always picked predictably, Ryder.”

Ryder who frisbees the card back onto the table carelessly. “I’m not still unconvinced you don’t set me up every time, Luc.”

“For all the shit you see…”

“I’ll always be skeptical of some damn cards, yeah. What else is new?”

“Good question.”

Luc finally drags his gaze up and away from his reading. Gives Ryder an easy and lazy smile that might possibly be the friendliest greeting to the Nighthunter Taylor’s seen so far. Had he not joined Ivy in teasing Krom only a short while ago he might have run himself ragged trying to understand the electric connection he’s witness to.

There’s definitely a history here.

Ryder sighs; knows Luc isn’t going to answer him until he answers himself. “The usual, man. Another day another job. Not much changes for me.”

“That’s not what I hear. In fact — I hear quite the opposite.”

“Sure those aren’t just voices from a bad trip?”

Luc laughs and kicks himself up to balance on the back two legs of his chair. Teeters dangerously close to falling backwards. “Could be, brother, could be. But I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the spiritual radio this time. Everyone who’s anyone heard tell of a gutsy break-in among the city’s most elite. And all the chaos that followed.”

Ryder’s teeth grind together; his brow gives an almost imperceptible twitch.

“What did I tell you about listenin’ to the rumor mill, Luc?”

“Are they wrong?”

Not giving an answer is answer enough. Makes Luc give a haughty grin so wide Taylor likens him to a shark.

“I said what I said; another day, another job. It got me a rare ingredient I needed. I figured I could get the rest from your sorry ass if I could get you to look away from that damn deck long enough to ring me up.”

Luc makes everything look easy; from getting on Ryder’s bad side to letting his chair fall forward so he can stand. Like he’s not moving through air and gravity but dancing through deep watery depths.

But there’s a defensive edge to his voice — the first emotion beyond amusement — as he starts to gather up his cards.

“I’ll have you know I’m fond of this deck in particular. They were given to me as an apology from someone who never apologizes.”

“Oh yeah, what for?” Judging by Ryder’s tone, though, he already knows.

Still he lets Luc’s bright hazel eyes bore into his soul.

“Skippin’ out come dawn without so much as an adieu.”

Taylor laughs because, well, it’s funny? Only to quickly realize it’s not the right thing to be doing when he catches the strange look Ryder throws back at him; halfway and in profile — like he stops himself before he can make it a whole confrontation.

The teasing’s gone, now. “Yeah — listen, any chance I still have that standing credit here? I need frog warts and a few other things for a protection spell.”

“Ain’t like you to run around on an empty wallet.”

“Yeah, well… this job ain’t just another.”

And as ‘Another Job’ Taylor kind of takes offense to it.

Luc jerks his head towards a doorway shrouded with a curtain of thick wooden beads and the occasional bird feather. “You know where the stores are, cher. Just consider ya’self lucky Mardi Gras is a prosperous time for us all.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Luca. And if it makes you feel better the life you’re savin’ ain’t even mine.”

Taylor’s a step behind his heels when Ryder turns and keeps him at bay with a palm to his chest. His heartbeat stutters; spandex yielding to the firm press, but Ryder says nothing of it.

“Stay up here.”

Taylor scoffs. “Why? I’m not going to accidentally cast a spell or anything.”

“Maybe not, but the last thing I need is you gettin’ clumsy on the wrong object and fuckin’ us both even deeper.”

While he fumbles for a retort worthy of the witty comeback, though, Ryder makes his escape. Calls back; “don’t touch anything, don’t look at anything — and don’t let him suck you up in that damn deck!” before he’s gone in a clatter of beads.

They both know he’s not going to listen — he only says it so he can tell Taylor off when something inevitably happens. That seems to be how they function. Not that he plans on flailing his arms and messing with the first thing he hits, but…

“Since you ain’t dead I’m gonna assume Ryder’s not takin’ on the role’a teacher of the nighthunting arts.”

Snaps Taylor’s attention back to Luc; back in his chair and shuffling the deck in long and ring-adorned fingers.

“No.”

“Good. You might just stay alive then.”

“Apparently that’s a hard thing to do so, sure.”

Luc gestures to the chair across from him. It’s an offer, not a demand, but out of spite for Ryder’s twenty different moods — follow me, don’t follow me, around and around again — he takes it up. Watches Luc shuffle and reshuffle with naught but the soft collision of the cards as music.

When he realizes Ryder’s going to take his time, he figures the best way to start might be an introduction.

“I’m —”

“Pick a few cards for me, Taylor.”

He hadn’t even realized the man had started a spread; each card turned down and black as the void in a soft arc reaching out to him across the table.

Luc is courteous enough not to blow smoke in his face. Sits back slightly hunched and letting his focus flicker between Taylor and the cards. Like both are equally likely to speak to him in the silence.

“It’s probably useless asking how you knew my name, huh?”

“Smart boy. Sometimes they whisper an’ sometimes they scream, but I gotta say it’s been a good long while since I heard the cards call out the way they do to you, Taylor Hunter.

“So help me out here. Pick a few and let them show us why they’re so damn chatty.”

He wants to point out that the only chatty one around is Luca himself, but again that’s one of those useless things he’s finally starting to come to terms with. Knows another useless thing would be to ask why he can’t hear anything… but that’s because hearing is the only word he can think to describe it too.

They’re cards — just plain tarot cards. But like inky tendrils they’re reaching out to him across the table on another plane of reality. One where they have soft black fingers that wrap around his wrists and bring his hands to hover over them. Like safety.

Ryder said… “Well, Ryder said…”

The look Luc gives him cuts him off. Yeah, that was a bit of a stretch, wasn’t it?

He points at random; watches Luc pull a card out without flipping it over. Keeps going until a curt nod cuts him off and nine rectangles of shadow form a square across from him.

“This ain’t your average reading,” that much being obvious by the reverent way the shopkeep looks down at his selection, “and I ain’t your average reader. You’re not from around here.”

“Are you asking?”

“No. But I figure that means you did what all newcomers do — got yourself one of those back room phony shows at the House of Voodoo.”

He wants to say he hasn’t only for how ashamed Luc’s tone makes him feel about it. But yeah — yeah he had. Doesn’t remember much about the event itself but knows somewhere buried in the clutter of his desk back at his place there’s a piece of paper from whatever the alleged ‘psychic’ had him ask.

Luc nods slowly. “Mmhm. Sometimes — ‘bout as oft’n as pigs fly — the cards they play don’t listen and give out an ounce of truth. Nothing life-changing, but a slip enough to tempt the handler into believing.

“You won’t get none’a that here. Whatever’s shown when I flip these babies around has been, is, or will be whether you know it or not. But they only tell as much of a tale as you’re ready to hear.”

The unasked question: are you ready to hear it? And Taylor isn’t sure he knows how to answer.

He knows a lot about himself; inside and out. Has lived through too much and shoved too much inside for too long not to. It’s something he’s proud of. A lot of people spend their lives with no understanding of their inner self but he’s never had that problem.

But there’s a difference between knowing it and seeing… whatever these cards might show him.

What if what he knows isn’t what they say?

Life would be easier if Ryder took that opportune moment to reappear and save him the trouble of having to make the choice.

But life isn’t easy.

He nods — but before Luc can flip over the first card he reaches out and stops him.

“I’m not, like, sealing a deal with a demon or something, am I?” Judging by the look he gets he really shouldn’t have asked.

“Do I look like a demon?”

“I don’t know what demons look like.” He knows it’s a lie but says it anyway; can think only of that skeletal face sneering at him under the moonlight.

Luckily it’s not enough to deter the shopkeep who just bats Taylor’s hand away. “Judgin’ by your ghostly pallor I’m gonna call your fib on that one. But if it eases ya mind; no. No deals here. I get as much outta this as you do.”

Well that’s okay then, isn’t it?

Luc flips the first card over and has himself a little laugh. And why wouldn’t he — The Fool isn’t just an apt card but an apt description.

Taylor’s humor is, however, short-lived. “Seriously?”

“You drew the card. Only one to blame is you.”

“So I’m gonna be even more of a joke in my future or something?”

Luc shakes his head; spreads his fingers as far as they’ll go as the shadow of his palm casts over the center card. “This ain’t your future, but your self. This is you, Mister Hunter.”

“A fool.”

“A man of innocence,” comes the quick correction, “and oftentimes a free spirit. You do your own thing; march to your own drum. Ev’ry Sally and Joe likes to laugh at the Fool but he’s got his eyes set on the horizon and that’s worth admirin’. So don’t sell him — or ya’self — short.”

Innocent — not quite. But the rest Taylor doesn’t disagree with. Seems he knows himself as well as he thought.

Luc’s painted nail traces along a jagged line on the image. “But see here; the Fool stands at the cliff’s edge. He’s a card so it ain’t in his nature to look anywhere but where he’s told but you’re not a card, are ya?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you lookin’ forward at the horizon or down into that abyss,” — he flips over another card before Taylor can answer — “or maybe you see the Tower on the other side.”

The Tower card is actually at the Fool’s back but he’s learned enough now not to question the metaphors.

“All that love for life might come at a cost. An’ hey — maybe it’s one you’re willin’ to pay. I don’t judge.”

No matter how hard he looks he knows he isn’t going to see the same thing as his reader. But… “I’m gonna need you to be a little less cryptic and a little more straightforward.”

“This ain’t science. Everything’s up for interpretation when the cards are involved.”

“Okay so interpret what exactly you mean by a cost. What cost?”

His rings drum on the plastic surface slowly before Luc clicks his tongue. “Looks to me like you’ve been through some shit lately. Life-changin’ shit — shit that skips right over dippin’ a toe into destiny and pushes you right in the deep end tied to an anchor — or ten.”

Finally Luc looks back up but his gaze is guarded; carefully and excellently so. He can’t get a thing out of just a look.

“I could have told you that.” He mutters a defensive reply. “A couple of days ago everything was fine and then my best friend’s in a coma, I find out the shit I’ve been hallucinating my whole life is real, and on top of it some big scary Ugly wants my skinny ass for a meal.”

“That explains our friend Ryder, then.” Luc almost seems to peek at the row’s last hidden card. When he turns the Eight of Cups over the hum he hums reminds Taylor of endless weeks of therapists and their noncommittal noises failing to cover the scratching of pen on paper. “And it’s all a helluva lot, I bet.”

It’s a bit hard to play off the full-body adjustment to hide his discomfort but Taylor likes to think he pulls it off pretty well.

“Understatement of the century.”

“Makes a world ‘a sense. You’ve tried gettin’ away from it.”

“Actually I haven’t really had the time.”

Only Luc disagrees; shakes his head curtly and offers the Cups to Taylor like it’s written on the surface in plain sight. “The cards ain’t just talkin’ ‘round the physical. Sometimes we do all the runnin’ in our minds and we don’t even know it. It could be as simple as connecting new things in ya life to old ones and convincing ya’self they’re the same; whether they are or not.”

Oh, there it is — on the surface and in plain sight. Struggling for Cal and Donny. Taking blame for what happened (not that he’d tell Cal, he’s got enough to feel bad over). Jumping down Krom’s throat about the theater company.

“Don’t beat ya’self up too bad,” continues Luc in a way that makes him freeze in the sudden fear that he can read thoughts as well as tarot cards, “a little escapism is good for the soul. The hard part’s when you gotta come back to reality an’ doin’ it without a fight.”

Taylor offers the card back and watches it settle home beside the Fool. The same Fool he’s now a little reluctant to identify with so quickly. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Got it — now cut the ramblin’; you’re talkin’ over the cards.”

Only hasn’t he been the one doing all the talking? Arguing won’t help but that little nugget of petulance persists.

This time Luc reveals three cards one after the other. Makes sure to let each one rest face-up before moving on. Letting them breathe. Letting them speak.

Strength. The Hermit. The Two of Swords. The first two facing Taylor this time as if in judgment. No; they haven’t drawn that card just yet.

He realizes he’s waiting on bated breath when his lungs start to burn and beg for fresh air. Why is he so quiet all of a sudden?

“Tell me more about those hallucinations ya mentioned, Taylor.”

That’s not where he was expecting that to go at all; catches him off guard. “Sorry?”

“Don’t be,” but the other man sounds distant; lost in his thoughts, “jus’ tell me. Said you been seein’ things ‘your whole life’ right?”

“Yeah. But I’d really rather not, uh, go into…” Wasn’t his life story down on the cards? It was hard enough explaining everything to Kristin — and they knew things about one another bound to secrecy by the sanctity of roommate-dom. So he tries to keep it all in the realm of the reading; “I mean I know what they are now. I was seeing glamours. Like through them — without a charm or spell or whatever. I dunno, Nik can explain it better.”

When Luc doesn’t give the same shocked jaw-drop the trio at the Shift had he entertains the brief hope that the same talent runs through the psychic’s veins. But that’s dashed when he catches sight of the unconscious way Luc grabs onto one of the numerous stone pendants draped over his neck — the way he thumbs over the polished surface and tugs on the leather cord.

It’s not the same one Ryder has but pretty damn close; close enough to assume his glamour-charm used to have a home in this very shop.

“That kind-a inner sight’s awful rare.” He practically mumbles.

“Yeah, it’s been mentioned.”

“Not unheard of, mind you. Not in things that ain’t entirely mortal by blood and bone. When you draw Strength in reverse it’s not the opposite like you’d think; it ain’t sayin’ you lack strength.

“Think of it more like the meanin’ is just turned about. Upright’s outside and the other is inside.”

“So it’s inner strength.” He can get behind that.

“Or lack of it.”

I’m fucking sorry? “Who—what-now?”

“This row,” he gestures a little too grandly for the subject matter, “is your past, present, and future. I told you the cards were screamin’ — and they still are — but not this one,” — not Strength — “this’un’s more of a whisper. And it makes sense given that you called ‘em ‘hallucinations.’”

“And an explanation for us ‘card’-of-hearing?”

Luc bites his tongue — really and without metaphor; wince and all. Grabs a stray bit of crumpled receipt from god-knows when his last sale was and scribbles on it in blocky letters.

“‘Note to self,’” he enunciates his writing harshly, “‘add sign to shop: ‘Owner Has the Right to Refuse Service on Account of Shitty Fucking Puns.’”

The glare that follows tells Taylor it won’t be long before that sign has his name added to avoid confusion.

No regrets. None at all.

Puns aside, though? The level eye he gets across the cards takes a turn for the serious.

“I think it tells me a lot more than you’re ready to share. About ya life before this; about the things you done to make the pain go away. Some of us may be human but that don’t mean we ain’t still animals. And animals lash out when they’re scared.”

He’s right. It’s a lot more than Taylor’s ready to share. Makes him want to scramble the deck — flip the table on its end. And maybe the old version of him, the version in those cards, might have.

In his silence Luc gets the answer — “moving on…” he almost sing-songs — lets his fingertips dance on the card showing the present: the Hermit.

Which Taylor tries not to take personally. Who is there to be angry at other than himself?

“So since that one’s reversed too that means… what, that I’m a hermit on the inside?”

“I can see how you’d think that,” laughs Luc, “but not quite. How about we let the professional do his profession?”

Taylor gestures. The professional carries on. “It ain’t easy comin’ into this life so late. ‘Specially when you end up seein’ all the bad before a lick’a good comes your way. But you’re drownin’ in it — that’s what the Hermit’s tellin’ us. No time to ruminate?”

He scoffs. “Something like that.”

“Well make time. Lest it all starts crashin’ down and you get the proverbial water in ya lungs.”

“It’s not by choice. There’s things after me and —”

“And excuses ain’t gonna keep you afloat.” The man reaches over faster than Taylor can move back; actually flicks his forehead dead center.

“Ow!” He swats Luc’s hand away.

“It ain’t me sayin’ this, Hunter. It’s them,” he gestures to the cards, “and they know more about this world than either of us could learn in a hundred lifetimes. Take ya damn time and really work out how you feel. Else you won’t be able to face this here future with a clear head.”

Luckily Taylor doesn’t have to ask; isn’t certain he’d be able to as he looks at the Two of Swords card and feels sweat start to bead at his temples.

Playing with tarot cards is all fun and games when you don’t believe. Even when you do — a measure of healthy skepticism is good for the soul. But with everything he’s seen; been told?

Who would willingly ask for their future foretold after that?

“I think we can skip to the next cards.”

“Oho, this don’t work like that.”

“Why,” doing his best to keep his voice level, “it’s my reading, right? I don’t want to know.”

“Sucks to be you, then. You draw; you listen. That’s how all true readin’s go.” Luc leans back on the creaky chair and lets the Swords card flip and twirl between his fingers.

He could make it easy on them both; stop arguing and just get up and leave the reading unfinished. Find Ryder in the back and apologize for doing what he said not to do — again — and book it out of there right quick.

But he doesn’t.

“Now I get why Nik said not to do this.”

“Ha — well, hindsight ain’t much use in a house of foresight baby. So listen; an’ listen well.

“In proper tarot some cards are real close in meanin’. That’s where the spread comes in — the order, the intent; not to mention the cards all ‘round it. The Swords in your future point to some hard fuckin’ choices. And if ya keep on the path ya’re on you won’t be makin’ ‘em with all your marbles.

“I ain’t talkin’ about decisions that can be made for you, neither. When it comes down to it you’re likely to find ya’self alone — not only in the act a’ choosin’ but in dealin’ with the consequences.”

“So what kind of choices? What do the cards scream about that?”

“They don’t —” he tosses the card back down and it’s probably not a coincidence that it slides magically askew back in the reading’s place, “— on account of all the changes between now and when that time comes.

“The cards give truths where mortals lie; hope where the world pushes despair. But at the end’a everythin’ they’re just cards — bound by the same circumstances as you or I.”

It’s probably meant to be poignant; something that might be sold on a re-purposed wooden palette hand-painted and polished. In a shop similar to this — right between the mismatched crystal balls and Ryder’s coveted frog warts.

But all Taylor can think is; “Well that’s absolutely useless to me beyond freaking me out.”

Luc gives another one of his gap-toothed grins — “C’est la vie, mon petit,” — and doesn’t wait for permission or argument to reveal another card.

“If it makes ya feel any better —”

“Doubtful at this point.”

“— Fair. But they won’t leave ya hangin’. Unless the Hanged Man is drawn, a’course. Naw, rest easy knowin’ you won’t be goin’ the journey alone.”

He frowns; confused. “But you just said —”

“Hush. All the best journeys are made with friends. Though I… I ain’t sure I’d call the Nine a’Wands a friend…”

Curiosity replaced by twists and turns of his bewildered head; Luc bites down on his thumb nail and scrutinizes the seventh draw. “In fact, I’d call whomever this bad draw represents —”

“Ryder!”

The Nighthunter emerges in a wave of beads carrying a pearly sphere the size of his head tucked in the crook of his arm. At the same time Taylor jumps — a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar — and swears when his knee bangs under the table.

Luc doesn’t notice — or doesn’t care; still fixated on the black-and-gold design in front of him. Mutters “could be him, but…” under his breath so low that no one catches it.

Taylor fumbles for an explanation — which is a pretty stupid move seeing as he was ready to just come clean only a minute ago — but doesn’t get the chance. Though he would like to state that it probably would have been an extremely convincing and well-versed one had Ryder not just held up a hand and rolled his eyes.

“I figured you’d ignore me. Already took out my anger with a mortar and pestle in the back.”

Well he’s a little offended now. “I wasn’t blatantly disobeying you or anything,” then; “I’m a grown adult and can make my own choices.”

And doesn’t that karma come around to bite him in the ass pretty damn fast. He makes a great effort not to look at what is no doubt a haughty look of ‘I told you so.’

“Yeah yeah, cry me a river.”

He props the sphere on a large cushion nearby to keep it from rolling and drags the last free seat over into Taylor’s personal bubble. Already looking at the spread like he, too, can hear these alleged screams from the deck. “So, Luc? Any tell on whether or not I’m gonna get paid for this gig?”

“Wha — hey!”

Taylor knows he doesn’t hit Nik’s arm that hard but the offended look he gets back is more than enough.

“Ouch. That hurt.”

“If that hurt I need a new bodyguard.”

“Don’t tempt me to pawn you off.”

“Please do.”

A tinny click draws their focus away from each other and to Luc’s newly lighted blunt. No longer puzzled by the cards — his eyes are brighter; they shine with understanding.

“Nevermind. I get it, now.”

“Get what?” barks Nik a little too defensively.

“Didn’ I jus’ tell ya not to mind it?”

Taylor cuts Nik off before he can continue arguing. They’ve been here too long already. “If we can’t leave until this is finished — can you finish?”

Two cards remain to be revealed. The fortune teller takes his sweet time with a few puffs before agreeing, if reluctantly. Maybe he just doesn’t like an audience?

All sense of the mysterium is gone. Luc flips the cards one at a time with one hand while sucking in his joint with the other.

The Five of Swords. The Wheel of Fortune.

It’s totally the secondhand high that makes the golden wheel glitter and seem to turn before their eyes. Totally.

He braces himself for another round of cryptic semi-explanations. Only they don’t come. Luc’s eyelids droop heavy — almost closed. And judging by Nik’s frown that’s not a normal part of the reading.

“Luca? Hey —” — he snaps in front of the man’s face — “— Laveau!”

He doesn’t quite jerk out of his momentary trance; eyelids flutter as if awakening from a dream.

“Maybe you had a point, Hunter,” after a throaty cough, “maybe it’s best this go unfinished.”

“What seriously? After all that earlier shit?” He balks. Beside him Ryder grabs the Swords and looks it over back to front.

“You’ve never left a reading hanging. What gives?”

“He’s still new to the life. I think he’s had enough bad news for today.”

Taylor practically snatches the card from Nik. But it seems just as reluctant to give up its secrets to him, too. Makes him toss it back down in frustration.

“Just tell me,” even he can’t believe what he’s saying, “since I dunno if it’s worse to know or to guess.”

“Trust me. The worst one’s knowin’.”

“I’ll take that as you’ve never encountered crippling anxiety, then.”

In rare sympathetic form Ryder reaches out and rests a hand on Luc’s exposed forearm. They aren’t hiding behind quips or dancing words any longer; you could see the remnants of intimacy between them from space.

“Luc — come on. For my sake, too.”

The doubt doesn’t ease off from the fortune teller’s brow. In fact it looks deeper than ever before. Finally he yields. “All right — but don’t blame me or the cards. We’re jus’ messengers after all.”

No longer in need of a familiar touch Luc shakes the hand off. Mutters something unintelligible under his breath and takes another few puffs to calm himself down before he covers the Five of Swords like he can’t do the reading while looking at it.

“There’s more than difficult choices ahead for you — and for those what end up around you. A fight looms —” he turns the Swords card on its back atop the revealed Wheel of Fortune, “— on a bigger horizon than that’a the Vieux Carre. Might even be one bigger than this world of ours.

“Not so much a fight as a battle; a war. Turnin’ and churnin’ at the banks of the river and out into the ocean. Ready to flood the whole damn city — every corner of the earth. And it’ll keep ragin’ and screamin’ with every body what falls to it.”

Ryder goes still as stone beside him. Taylor finds himself revisiting the notion of it being better not knowing.

“What does any of that have to do with me?”

“You, Mister Hunter — you’re smack dab in the middle of it. More’n that… you belong there.”

Apologies. Sympathy. Condolences. Luc can’t seem to settle on one way to look at Taylor so instead he just focuses on packing his deck back up. He isn’t as careful this time around — like he’s angry at the cards and what they had to say; to scream. Two separate entities working off of one another but, at the very least, both unhappy with the outcome.

“I’ll get a box for that crystal ball — the warts are yours but I’ll need interest on that relic.” He can’t get away from the pair fast enough. Shuffles the tarot deck in his hands as he goes.

He wants to be surprised that Nik doesn’t follow; doesn’t go to check on someone he obviously has a past and present connection with. But in the goody bag of his emotions he just keeps pulling out resignation — even when he cheats and peeks inside.

That’s all there is. All he can feel.

Where’s that opportunity for escapism the cards had mentioned earlier? He could use a bit of that at the moment.

Doesn’t know when exactly Nik started trying to comfort him; hand on his upper back, the gentle back-and-forth of his thumb. Taylor’s not a big fan of touch but that seems to be how Ryder connects to the world; through the physical.

And oddly it’s working. The comfort thing.

“You okay?”

He’ll sass such a ridiculous question later. “Uh, honestly I don’t really know what I am right now.”

Ryder’s face is unusually close when Taylor looks his way. The barest flicker — a crack in the bravado. Nik is worried for him.

“That can happen after Luc’s readings. You think I warned ya away to keep you from somethin’ fun? Knowin’ his connection with the spirit world makes it all really…”

He struggles for the right word. Weird, coming from him.

“‘Real?’” offers Taylor, and gets him a nod.

“Yeah, really real.”

Noises of shuffled boxes and Luc’s grunts draw them out of Taylor’s personal space and back to the world around them. Up near the back curtain Luc gently eases the crystal ball into a wooden box.

“So, question.”

“Yeah Rook?”

“What do we do now?” Because if turning tail and running like a shameless coward away from this war is an option, he’s taking it.

“We keep on going,” Nik answers, “We get back to the Shift and finish up this blasted protection spell and then we dive into findin’ your attacker and punch a bunch’a holy light holes in it’s ugly-ass face.”

This time when he reaches into the bag of emotions, luck gives him a break and lets him pull out the barest ghost of a smile.

“Man, it is ugly. Like — fugly ugly.”

Ryder’s smile is just as small — but no less sincere — than his.

“It damn sure is.”

[sandfordsmostwanted]

Trans Emmett Forrest Headcanons

(Hey, these are some of my trans Emmett Forrest headcanons that I wanted to get down. I’m new to researching trans issues so if anything in here is inaccurate or harmful, don’t hesitate to let me know and I’ll amend it accordingly!) 

Emmett knew he was different from the other kids in his class, but didn’t realise he was trans until he was about 10/11. Initially, the idea terrified him; all the male role models in his life had been scumbags or wastes of space, and he didn’t want to be anything like them. He buried himself in his work to keep from thinking about it, and as he researched more and more, he found himself being drawn to trans and LGBT topics. The idea of it became less scary, and he started dressing differently. What little pocket money he was given was saved up for buying more masculine clothing that made him feel like his true self. His mom, busy with night school and work, didn’t question it.

Emmett comes out to his mom about being trans a few weeks before applying to Harvard: he wants college to be a fresh start, and to allow him to start living at the person he has wanted to be for years. He’s ridiculously nervous, but his mom assures him that she will love him no matter what. The revelation isn’t quite what Emmett’s mom was expecting – she was expecting Emmett to come out as gay rather than trans – but she shows him just as much love and acceptance as she would have done otherwise.

Her only sadness is that Emmett had been keeping this inside for so long, and she apologises for any influence she or her boyfriends have had in forcing him to stay closeted. That apology is what sends Emmett over the edge, and both he and his mom have a good cry.  

Emmett’s mom has a massive influence over helping Emmett choose his new name: he values her opinion, and it helps them feel close. Emmett was originally named after a relative, but no male names in his family appeal. Instead, he chooses Emmett as a variation of his dead name, and it still allows his mom to call him “Em”, her chosen nickname since his birth.

“Emmett” also has a range of meanings for Emmett himself. He takes strength from the fact that it links to the Hebrew word for truth, something he strives for constantly. He also likes its Germanic links to the word “universal”; as an advocate for equal rights, he likes that he can represent that in his name. Additionally, as an enormous sci-fi fan, he gets no end of satisfaction about being named after Doc Brown from Back to the Future.

Being uncertain about his gender identity stopped Emmett having a bat/bar mitzvah at the traditional age; he wasn’t sure which one he wanted, and besides, his mom didn’t have the money for such a lavish event and he wasn’t close enough with his relatives to warrant one anyway.

Emmett does however choose to have a bar mitzvah at 30 – during that time, he’s reconnecting with his faith, and becoming more comfortable with his gender, and it just feels like the right time.

Transitioning at Harvard is difficult – not more so than Emmett expected, but it’s certainly not easy. He is frequently misgendered by students and staff alike (Callahan is particularly bad for this, often misgendering Emmett on purpose to undermine him) despite wearing a “he/him” pin most days. He learns to keep to himself and works his way to the top of the class without joining any study groups – not that he was invited to any anyway. It’s lonely, and exhausting, but it pays off when he gets Callahan’s internship and sails through the rest of law school. Eventually, he’s so successful that they have to start taking him seriously.

As a consequence of his hard work, Emmett is the first trans editor of the Harvard Law review, and the first trans valedictorian. Later in life, he is one of the first trans professors at Harvard Law.

Emmett specialises in family law – he doesn’t want anyone to go through the horrors he experienced as a kid, and especially wants to make sure all kids have a safe and loving family. Trans folks (especially kids) are obviously one of his priorities; he’ll often take their cases for free, just to ensure they get decent legal representation. He also specialises in divorce and domestic abuse cases, as he wants to support people like his mom. His favourite cases by far are adoptions though; when they go well (and they often do in Emmett’s hands, because he fights damn hard to make sure no-one gets left behind) they light him up for weeks at a time.

Emmett doesn’t start taking hormones for his transition until after he meets Elle – they’re expensive and difficult to get hold of without insurance, and all of his money is either going to living costs (rent, food, bills) or into a savings account to buy his mom’s dream house. Instead, he binds and takes strong enough birth control to stop menstruation almost permanently. He struggles with dysphoria but hides it as much as he can, using baggy clothing as a defence mechanism.

Elle finds out Emmett is trans entirely by accident. He’d been intending to tell her for several months, but with law school being so busy, it never felt like the right time. They’re studying together one night and Emmett had been particularly grouchy that day. Midway through a playful argument, Emmett had stood to collect a book from a higher shelf, and Elle had noticed a bloodstain on the back of his jeans. She quickly puts the dots together and gives Emmett her (his technically) hoodie to hide the blood whilst walking him back to her room to clean up and get the necessary supplies. Emmett is mortified, and upset, but Elle reassures him that this doesn’t change anything about their friendship and that she still adores him. When he still seems nervous, she introduces him to her secret Milky Way stash, which makes him smile.

Emmett is exhausted by the whole ordeal and stays the night; usually, he would sleep on the floor when crashing at Elle’s place, but she won’t hear of it when he mentions how bad his cramps get. The next morning, he wakes up to find Elle sat at her desk, surrounded by bright pink documents. Apparently, Delta Nu has a wide array of resources for trans members, and Elle had stayed up all night studying them all to learn about trans life, and how to support her friend. Seeing her, bright and chipper as she researches, is the first moment Emmett realises he might be in love with her.

Emmett was worried that, after coming out, Elle would be less comfortable with physical affection, but if anything, she gets cuddlier. She grabs his shoulders when excited, playfully swats him during arguments, and wraps herself around him in increasingly frequent hugs. He adores them; they make him feel safe and confident and warm. If they hold for slightly longer than just friends, it’s just because Elle is such a damn good hugger, right?

And then she buys him the suit and good God, he feels like his heart is going to explode. Wearing clothes that fit, having her look at him as if he’s something worth seeing, feeling good about his body after so so long: it’s overwhelming. So yes, he does go in for a kiss when she wraps her arms around him; he’s not sure if it’s romantic or just exuberant, but he goes for it, because he adores the woman in front of him, and wants to let her know. When they settle into a hug, he’s a little shocked, but he doesn’t appreciate it any less. It still remains one of his happiest memories.

Emmett would be reluctant to admit it, but the Wyndam trial terrifies him. Not only is it his first case as co-counsel, but the eyes of the world are watching, judging. Elle grabs his hand the first time they walk into court together, and he can feel the butterflies in his stomach take flight. It’s that feeling – plus his new confidence and his complete belief that Elle is onto something – that enables him to confront Nikos about his boyfriend. Showing off his ass was a bit of a cheap move, but it worked, and he swears he saw Elle blushing when he turned back around. Serves her right for that bend and snap – he could barely keep himself from jumping up with Warner and Enid when she’d demonstrated it.

The next few days are a whirl – they’re riding high on Emmett and Elle’s success at court, then Callahan ruins everything, and he can feel Elle slipping through his fingers. He panics – he’s already lost so many people, but this one hurts more than anything, like he’s being stabbed over and over again. He feels his throat close up every time he thinks of her leaving, and the words don’t come out until her door is shut and she’s out of reach. He buries himself in research that night – anything to help her stay, and to keep the case going even without her. He doesn’t sleep but doesn’t drink Red Bull to stay up; his heart is already hammering, and besides it reminds him of her too much. So he’s late to court next morning and he feels like he’s running through treacle without her. And yet there she is, shining in her pink glory, and he wants to scoop her up in his arms and never let her go.

But they’ve got a case to win first, and he settles for whispering in her ear. They do it easily – Elle really is a genius and she’s come so far. When they win, he can hold her, he can finally hold her. Warner comes and goes, his proposal rejected before Emmett can really get worried. Elle finds him soon enough after, slipping her arm around his waist and pulling him close. They smile for the cameras, but when they look at each other, both grins get a tiny bit bigger.

Eventually they wind up back at Elle’s place, sprawled across her bed. They’re both too exhausted to do much more than hold hands, but it’s the most comfortable Emmett has ever felt, and when Elle eventually sits up enough to pull him into a kiss, it’s perfect.

After the Wyndam case, Elle and Emmett discuss what they plan to do with their share of the legal fees. Elle, not needing the money, uses her share to buy Emmett a year’s supply of hormones to help start his transition.

During the early stages of his transition, Emmett experiences really bad acne and gets self-conscious about it; he worries that clients won’t take him seriously if he looks like he just walked out of high school. Luckily, Elle is on hand and her expert knowledge of skin care helps soothe the problem, and the acne fades much faster than expected.

Emmett also gets self-conscious about his weight during his transition; he isn’t particularly overweight, but the redistribution of fat leads to him having a little tummy, which when combined with his wider hips and fuller thighs, make him look heavier than he used to. Elle thinks it’s adorable, but understands his concerns, and helps him dress in a way that makes him feel comfortable, but still shows off his body rather than hiding it.  

Emmett’s voice takes a long time to settle when cracking. It seems to get worse when he’s nervous, which is an extra stress when trying to take on difficult court cases. Once, during a particularly gruelling trial, he loses his voice completely, and had to pass the case onto Enid while he went home to recover. Luckily, Vivienne points him to an excellent voice therapist, who helps him both lower and take care of his voice.

As much as Emmett loves his suits, he hates wearing ties, especially when he’s binding. He finds the combination too constricting, and so pulls his tie off whenever possible. High-stress or pressure situations are the main culprit, but it will always be the first item of clothing he removes after work.

Emmett is not a particularly tall guy, and as a consequence, Elle in her higher heels can often end up a few inches taller than him. When they first start dating, Elle abandons these shoes; as much as she adores them, she doesn’t want him to feel self-conscious. When he finds this out, he tells her not to worry; he’ll stand on a box – he’ll stand on a hundred boxes – if that’s what it makes to make her feel beautiful.

Emmett never planned to have top surgery: he viewed it as an unnecessary expense, and finds binding to help ease his dysphoria enough to function. But after repeated chest infections and increasing back pain from overbinding, as well as a sudden self-consciousness when he turns to wearing more tailored clothing, he admits that it is more of a necessity than he thought. He gets his surgery six months before he and Elle are due to get married, and though he takes longer to recover from the process than anticipated (he keeps attempting to work too early, and only worsens his condition), he is a lot more confident, and feels genuinely attractive on his wedding day. Elle makes her agreement very apparent later that night.

[mvsicinthedvrk]

ollie’s massive post of pride month headcanons

now that i’m back from vacation, and it’s JUNE, i thought it was time for a fun headcanon post before i dive back into all the replies i owe lol 

i am nonbinary and queer & this is how i interpret my characters and their pride-month activities, full respect intended for all identities listed below  🎉 

this is my collection of queer characters, who i love not just because they are queer, but also, i’m glad that they are. below are descriptions of how i think they’d spend pride:

wei wuxian: this man is bisexual; throughout his many years in D.C. he’s had many terrible dates/great dates with people who are women and also with people who aren’t women. he’d be decked out in bi-flag facepaint colors and front row for the pride parade with a group of as many friends as he can gather. he’s unaware and doesn’t remember his soulmate lan wangji who isn’t here anyway, so he’ll probably go home with someone at least once over the pride weekend festivities (although he sort of does that all year round anyway). it will be a nice time had by all.

martin blackwood: martin is gay. he’s fairly inexperienced with relationships in general, and he probably downloaded grindr then immediately deleted the app out of vague panic. he never would have mentioned it to his mum when she was alive because there was no reason to, and he wouldn’t mention it outright to his coworkers, though he would answer honestly if asked directly. he’s not much of a crowds-person so i think his main pride month activity would probably be attending a low-key drag bingo event at a bar somewhere that’s warm and welcoming but not overly crowded. he’d probably take home some cheap sunglasses as a prize and be very pleased by it.

patroclus: he’s gay as well. sadly he probably got scheduled to work at the hospital most shifts during pride so he won’t get out to the festivities, but he wears a subtle pride pin on his nurse badge this month, since that’s allowed in the dress code.

orpheus: currently in a hetero-passing relationship but probably bi otherwise? and THE most supportive of people on the lgbtq+ spectrum. almost definitely owns a “love is love” bumper sticker that he doesn’t actually put on anything because he doesn’t have a car. he’ll donate money to trans-related crowdfunding websites when he comes across them online even if he doesn’t really have the money to spare, and he is made immeasurably happy by the whole vibe at pride.

henry strauss: this man is canonically bi. he’s probably still working at the bookshop during pride but he took it upon himself to set up a special section in the front of the store featuring underrated queer authors, and he’ll go out and get fully trashed at the bars late at night to get the full Pride(tm) experience. 

(sidenote: i do acknowledge that pride-- and the lgbtq+ community in general-- needs more non-alocholic spaces, but, like, getting trashed at the bars is my favorite pride activity so it is what it is. -ollie)

wen kexing: this man is gay and canonically loud about it. he is the type of person who literally tells his crush roughly the equivalent of “have i mentioned i like men?” so i am sure he would special-order a hanfu that elegantly includes every color of the pride flag rainbow, and he’s probably found atop a corporate-backed float in the parade. 

ki yu ri: she’s probably pan in my interpretation of her. i honestly don’t know what she’d do during pride?? probably get up to the same mischief as always. nothing special, actually-- though she’d almost certainly take advantage of the crowds and the chaos to make extra trouble.

melanie king: my one lesbian character. she has a lot of strong opinions about pride (she has strong opinions about everything lol) that basically boil down to “ban cops and ban corporations” and she supports only buying pride merch from queer artists and creators. she’ll go to the parade, and she’ll probably fight a terf while she’s there if any cross her path. 

pippin took: my interpretation of pippin is definitely queer in some way, though i don’t think he’s interested in labels so idk what specifically he’d identify as, if you were to ask him. but he’s very supportive of any reason for people to have a good time and celebrate themselves. 100% gets sunburnt at the parade.

yuri plisetsky: he’s never been interested in women at all and has been attracted to fellow figure skaters who are men, so he’s pretty sure he’s queer, but also: he’s too busy with his training to really care much. he’ll go to pride events only if someone drags him there. otherwise, he’ll keep to his usual daily schedule and not bother with it much. 

noah czerny: he’s not strictly canonically queer but he’s not strictly canonically straight, either, so i actually like interpreting him as bi. anyway, he looks perpetually 18 despite being much older so he’ll never get into 21+ pride events, but i think he’d have a great time at pride hopping around the different concert stages in the park where people are performing their musical acts during the day & night (and actually, since he’s so ghostly cold all of the time, he’d be the perfect pride companion because of how ridiculously hot it always is)

(sidenote: my favorite thing that has ever happened to me at any pride event was when i happened to be in london during pride in like 2018 and i was suffering what i’m pretty sure was some form of heatstroke at the parade. and a glitter-covered stranger took one long look at me, like all teh way up and down, walked away-- then walked back a full five minutes later, HANDED ME A FAN, and walked away without a word. hero. why is pride in the middle of summer? it’s the worst. anyway, i owe that stranger my life and i think about them every year around this time. -ollie)

and then there’s also my small collection of heterosexuals, who i care less about in regards to describing their pride month activities specifically but who i’ll mention what they’d be doing anyway:

holland vosijk: straight and confused by pride month because it doesn’t exist where he’s from. on the day of the parades/festival etc in D.C. he’d stay home only because he’s annoyed that there are so many people out and about. not unsupportive, just apathetic. 

kaz brekker: he is straight; has literally only ever been interested in inej and at this point he doesn’t even remember her. he does not involve himself in pride month activities but kaz will let everyone working for him have take time off for pride, though. if they remember to ask.

[maneaterwithtail]

The politics are the cough. the disease is flooding to chase the trend of personal brand building. Events and confusing communities and arguably the arrangement of the direct market itself. No simplicity and lots of expense with shakeup one after the other.

And some transparently business or out of story disrupting existing (in humans versus mutants)

Starting Marvel, as an example, is harder than figuring out where to come in on the Fate series. I mention this because Comics are often compared to manga and yet however convoluted in silly may get for the most part you buy one collection, or let's not kid ourselves pirate, or wait until an animated adaptation comes out realize that it's pretty much faithful, go back to the core comic and so long as you start from the beginning you can follow to the end. Even if it's based off of a visual novel chances are everything will progress from beginning to end. It's usually when that models messed up with that something becomes destructive and difficult to follow or deal.

Unlike with manga where if you're having trouble following where to start with, like the Fate series, you can at least enjoy the latest Nasu verse offering. especially if you can turn your brain off and just engage with one example. Or if you don't want to deal with that you can just go to an entirely different property from a similar publisher that scratches a similar itch.

Like the premise of America Chavez buts I think she did it wrong? Well it's not like you can just switch over to Champions because that's a mess as well along with Miles Morales Spider-Man and ms. Marvel or spider woman.

it's expensive, patchy, filled with all sorts of weird continuity that you end up having to buy just to start. As such only the dedicated fanbase could possibly tolerate it but that also is exclusive in the sense that it's so to them with a history that it feels kind of off-putting.

I like the comicsgate comics I have heard of. I can also understand why we try to move away from that. Such as very obvious p*** tracing. And so on. Yes supposed diversity has basically led to a similar story of we're here now we're going to f*** the status quo too strongly relating to the audience or the author's pandering.

But it's not just they're going to have a trans person in an announcement. Which is a pretty major character trait I imagine that they want to talk about that or include it in the announcement.

the discontinuity does not help you build upsetting characters characterization and Circumstance. This is what I mean you're following themes story and events building to something then a new author will come in and he or she will wreck all that up so that they can go in an entirely different direction. Okay maybe you don't like the homosexual overtones of Eddie Brock and Venom. Maybe you want to stick it to all the slash shippers on Tumblr. But they've been the people who been following the comic and there's been a multi-year build up with sleeper, Eddie Brock and Venom's son.

going no now Eddy has a son he doesn't know about. oh and he was in the car that killed a child and him and Venom hate each other? Basically says f*** that other story we're going back to this story because I liked it better when I was young and I like it this way. And this kind of hostility is constant with every Changing of the Guard which can happen almost every two to three years. This keeps happening right when things are starting to get good or conclusion is reached. this undermines any death any major event or twist especially when it's in the headlines as if it's going to be meaningful

we can't even engaged in the illusion that someone has a plan charting something out when it feels like it's always fly by the seat of the pants the slightest whim can blow off the direction. We know in our conscious nothing that happens matters or at the very least when things end and we don't move on to something else then realize that there was a change but it seems seamless. Or at the very least it's a damn good seem that makes a very likeable and unique and distinct quilt. Again comparing and contrasting with manga

basically constantly ragging on the Politics as if that's what's causing the problem as opposed to Poor practices is off. yeah the customer service is definitely a no-go. But let's not kid ourselves Fanboys started it

I can straight up say that if you had a book that was straight up gay. like it starred the gay couple that once was Rescued by Captain America including his childhood hero And they were joined by the gender-bending exiled courtesan. you know those girls that always hang around in the background of Thor comics and everybody talks about winching and all that stuff? What if we actually focus on one of them and we threw in some mythological deviant queerness with the idea that men who practiced a certain form of Witchcraft had to be ladies. Now in practice this often meant anything from cross-dressing to performing ceremonies with a freaking dildo. But this is Comics so instead I can just go with the idea that after he uses magic so much he can turn or does turn into a lady. At first it's inadvertent but then he Masters the power so much that can transform into any lady. So he can go from weak little nerdy witch man to a Vanir (super durable pretty strong) or she giant.

It gets even more so when apparently he can change not just to a generic woman but any specific one. so he can literally clone an individual lady alive or dead. If she's dead you can act as a vessel for her soul so effectively while he might be booted deep within he can resurrect anyone's female loved one. Until changes back. The Twist is that while he won a beauty contest to be one of Odin's many many side pieces due to the politics and sociology of the time and the setup Odin didn't like admitting that they were both men or equals. Now the crossdressing courtesan isnt necessarily the nicest person. In fact the number one thing that characterizes him is that he hates the alpha male warrior culture or at least what he perceives of the negatives of it of Asgard. But that doesn't necessarily mean that he provides a good alternative. This will be a total retcon. not only would this make Odin effectively bisexual -although it's long since established that it seems like he's banged about so much he has had a child with everyone but his wife- but the idea that Loki and Thor grew up exposed to this weird gender-bending courtesan who tried to compete with the affections of their Queen Mother just so that that way he could get ahead and hated showing the absolute loyalty and Devotion to Asgard seeking glory in battle and death as opposed to conniving Gatling favor and trolling for booty while having to serve drinks for the Warriors that came by and were celebrated in the castle Hall.

Probably make up all sorts of relationships with other lesser-known Danny's that haven't been as much part of Marvel Thor but are important or at least well-known for the tradition. I would also shamelessly ripoff @gumon and her take on Norse mythology. With giants that just naturally produce children whether male or female. anyway ignoring all the continuity just so I could bring in the mythology that I want I would have it so that he was ultimately exiled because he got set up on a failure assignment. He got assigned to the Blue Mountain the traveling planet or set of rocks now that was the home of one of the Warriors Three the blue guy well the guy who wears blue and looks kind of like Angus Khan

The entire point of this is to get a different eye view of the Marvel Universe. What was it like to be one of those disposable pin-up girls. What is the gay population in gay culture and gay people been doing and light of the world that's been invaded from the ground been in a Perpetual fight with remnants of terrorists from World War II. And of course how they've been in for you property and making their lives and how are they responding to the fact that New York finally recognizes their marriage and of course life in the Twilight years as a gay couple that's constantly facing mortality. Also with the usual hey I'm an immortal mystical being who's having to relearn how to be human after having lived a life with a God's but neither being loyal to them nor a particular loyal to my own people. Along with the issues of the shapeshifter gender Dynamics and identity and all other sort of things. Pretty damn gay book. But I read it

Kids like imitating what they see so ripping the idea that someone's going to take some of the more iconic X-Men looks and style themselves after them when they know that their mutant doesn't seem wrong. I like the idea that we're going to open with someone who manages an online community for mutants. I like the idea of Trailblazer I like the ladies thick and I like the fact that she has a more utility power that she's going to have to work with and around hopefully being clever though that backpack does run the risk of becoming the Omnitrix and having the solution for every problem that you need.

Basically I like the children of the atom a bit more than the whole lineup of the new Warriors. I think people really should give the characters a chance so if you're turned off by yet another set of incest siblings in Marvel ya no problem or argument here.

[oselatra]

Looking for a hot and a cot in Little Rock

Winter weather in Central Arkansas means people experiencing homelessness have even fewer options for shelter.

As temperatures drop and Arkansas slinks toward winter weather, shelter options for the homeless in Little Rock are scarce. With the October closing of 40 emergency beds at Union Rescue Mission's Nehemiah House, many homeless people in Central Arkansas are left with two choices: staying at Little Rock Compassion Center or sleeping outside.

Choices are especially limited for single men. The Salvation Army once gave men a bed for the night but changed that practice in July 2016. Its beds are now restricted to women and children; men can stay only if they're part of a family unit. The cities of Little Rock and North Little Rock support a day center, but not beds for overnight stays for either men or women. Abba House is for women and children only; St. Francis House houses veterans only. Lucie's Place has a shelter with eight beds for LGBT young people. Our House provides housing to single men, but does not have enough beds to meet demand. The shelter also requires all residents to find a full-time job shortly after arriving and maintain it throughout their stay.  

The faith-based Compassion Center, at 3618 W. Roosevelt Road, has 150 beds. With the closing of the beds at Nehemiah House, however, Compassion is bedding up to 200 men and women a night, some of them sleeping on mats for lack of mattresses, pastor and CEO William Holloway said. The women sleep separately at Compassion's shelter at 4210 Asher Ave.

The Compassion Center is a "hot and a cot" shelter, offering a hot meal at night and breakfast in the morning. It also operates a 12-step program for people with drug and alcohol addictions and hosts worship services on Wednesdays and Sundays and daily prayer every morning and night.

The religious tenor of the Compassion Center has prompted allegations — denied by Holloway — that LGBT individuals are denied shelter there and those who are allowed to stay are subject to intense proselytization. There have also been complaints about overcrowding and a lack of hygiene products for those housed there.

Mandy Davis, director of Jericho Way Resource Center, the city's day center, says the Compassion Center provides an important service to Little Rock by allowing the homeless long-term stays, which makes it possible for Jericho's social workers to keep in touch. "I need stabilized people in order for social workers to be as effective as they can be here at Jericho Way," Davis said. "So I might have the professionals on staff; but, if we as a city don't have emergency shelter beds for people living on the streets, then how do you work those cases if they're living outside and struggling to meet their basic needs? Or freezing to death, or having to have limbs amputated? This gets complicated."

In addition to case management, Jericho Way, at 3000 Springer Blvd., provides access to computers, internet and local phone service, showers and restrooms, laundry services, housing referrals and access to job counseling and training. Open from 7:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m., it serves breakfast and lunch and provides transportation to and from the day center. Jericho Way, which is run by the Catholic nonprofit DePaul USA, is jointly funded by the cities of Little Rock and North Little Rock.

Those who will suffer the most from the lack of beds are individuals who are not able-bodied, Davis said. The Compassion Center, which is not handicapped-accessible, plans to install a chair lift, but probably not before the weather gets more severe.

Pinning down how many people in Central Arkansas are homeless is difficult. The nonprofit Central Arkansas Team Care for the Homeless (CATCH) tallied 369 unsheltered men and 139 unsheltered women over a period of 24 hours in 2017. But Sandra Wilson, president of the Arkansas Homeless Coalition, said the count excludes many homeless people. It is tailored to those individuals targeted by the Department of Housing and Urban Development's specific homeless programs and is intended only to represent the number of people eligible for those programs.

Little Rock's 2018 annual operating budget lists $375,000 for Homelessness Outreach, up $25,000 from 2017 and 2016's annual budgets. The city of Little Rock also employs a homeless services advocate, Chris Porter, a former case manager at Jericho Way.

Despite the fact that the Compassion Center says it's so crowded it has people sleeping on mats rather than in beds, Porter said he isn't worried about the Compassion Center exceeding its bed capacity. He said Holloway has told him that the Compassion Center has an additional floor it could open up for more shelter.

"I've yet to see when the Compassion Center said it was overfull," Porter said. "There are beds available. People just don't choose to go to the beds. When I hear the Compassion Center say, 'We are overflowed and we don't have a bed,' then I'll say, we've got a big problem."

And until then?

"Until then, I live in the here and the now," Porter said. "I just have the confidence that right now, people don't have to be outside if they don't want to be," he said.

As for plans to expand available shelter options, Porter said the city "is not in the business of shelter. They rely primarily on people who have shelters. ... That's my understanding, because shelters are in the business of sheltering."

***

While Porter may be confident the Compassion Center can handle the need for beds in Little Rock this winter, other service providers are not so sure.

Roger Mauldin, who volunteers at The Van, an organization that brings supplies such as food, water, clothing and hygiene products to homeless folks where they're living, lived on the streets for about four years. He said he never stayed at the Compassion Center, even when his choice was between sleeping there or sleeping in the cold. He said his brother tried to stay there but was denied entry for carrying too many possessions with him.

Penelope Poppers, who founded Lucie's Place, said she's heard that those who run the Compassion Center "famously don't love LGBT people, and they openly deny housing to LGBT people." But Holloway said there's no policy to deny shelter to gay or lesbian or trans people. "I don't discriminate against anybody," he said.

Service providers told the Times that the Compassion Center's evangelical mission drives most of the complaints they hear.

If a resident rejects the Christian message, Holloway said, "I let them make up their own mind what they want to do. That's their answer to that problem, not mine. That don't stop me from housing them, that don't stop me from feeding them, and it don't stop me from preaching to them. And sooner or later, they will listen.

"That's what we do, that's what we were founded on. We based this whole center around Christ, so it's all spiritual, right? But also at the same time we don't turn people away because they don't believe like I do. I still go ahead and feed them. When Jesus fed the 5,000 on the mount, I don't think he went around and said, 'Do you believe in me? Do you trust me?' He just fed them all, and that's what I believe in."

***

Antonio, a full-time volunteer at Jericho Way, was staying at the Compassion Center when a reporter interviewed him. He asked the Arkansas Times not to include his last name in this story because some of his family doesn't know that he's homeless. Antonio, who says he left Pine Bluff on foot to escape the city's high crime rate, said he's glad the Center exists, and he understands the rules it has in place.

"It's been different than having your own place, your own house," he said. "I'm not gonna say they have a bunch of rules, because the rules they've got are for people's safety. They actually try to help people all they can. ... I mean, all and all, I'm grateful that the place is there. If it wasn't there, I'd be sleeping on the street, which I've never tried, and I don't want to, either."

Asked about the complaint that the Compassion Center doesn't provide enough hygiene products for the people staying there, Antonio said churches and other organizations often give out hygiene products on the weekends, so people have access to them for free. And anything the Compassion Center gets, he said, it'll put out for shelter residents to use.

Antonio also said that anything he collects he has to carry around with him, so he often chooses to donate the deodorant or toothpaste he picks up from those churches to others in need. "Even though you're in this position, you can still help somebody. ... It kinda builds you up a little bit, lets you know that you ain't just all the way down and out. You still have the ability to help somebody."

Antonio said he gets up around 3:30 every morning — early to rise at the Compassion Center means one might have the bathroom to himself — and takes three different buses to arrive at Jericho Way and mop up before it opens.

"I look at homelessness as, I've found trials and tribulations, and the Bible says we're going to have those, but they'll pass," he said. "It's not like nobody is going to pull up on the road and say, 'Here's a house and a car, I put you some money in the bank.' You've got to work for it, you've got to get out and do what you've got to do."

***

The Compassion Center's men's shelter and thrift store is housed in a former Salvation Army building. Its entrance is manned by staff members who speak to new arrivals from behind a Plexiglas wall. Holloway showed a reporter around the facility and introduced many of the organization's success stories, calling over some of the individuals working at the shelter with variations of "Hey, brother! How long have you been with us?"

When people arrive at the shelter, they're given a clean set of clothes and a voucher to pick out items they need from the Compassion Center's thrift store, which raises funds for the shelter.

Jimmy Townsend, head of housekeeping at the Compassion Center, has been at the center for three years. Originally from California, he and Holloway said the homeless often abandon suitcases and belongings when they become too heavy to continue carrying.

"Dragging that suitcase behind you gets heavy," Townsend said. "Especially when it's raining, with nowhere to go. Just throw it down."

Holloway pointed out their nurse's station, where he said a nurse volunteers six or seven times a month. The nurses provide basic medical services such as checking blood pressure and body temperature. Holloway said the Compassion Center was in the beginning stages of renovating the nurse's station, classrooms and meeting rooms in the facility when Nehemiah House's 40 emergency beds closed.  

Most of those who come to the Compassion Center "are happy to be in out of the weather," Holloway said. "If you're out there sleeping under a tree and it's raining on you all night long, this is a dry, safe place. We have security here, and we have a full-time night watchman here, and a residential manager."

That takes money. With extra people sheltering there, the Compassion Center is focused on housing and feeding all who walk through their doors. The recent increase in residents has put a particular strain on food supplies. According to Antonio, residents have been eating a lot of beans and rice.

The kitchen staff includes folks participating in the drug and alcohol recovery programs and some performing community service. Diana Warden, who's been at the facility for five months and works in the kitchen, said she came there "to get my life together so the Lord could help me better myself. My life was unmanageable, I was on drugs for 30 years, and it really has helped my life. I'm so grateful for this program. ... I want to spend the rest of my days sober, the rest of my life on this earth is going to be sober. I take my sobriety very seriously. ... That's the good part about the program, it helps you change your life. The 12-step program is close to my heart, and I'm very grateful to the pastor and his wife for starting the program. I am."

Kitchen worker Larry Thomas came to the center in 2008 while struggling with drug and alcohol abuse. "I came to find Jesus. I knew where he was, but I just couldn't get there the way I was going," Thomas said. Thomas completed the eight-month 12-step program and was then offered a job in the kitchen. He's now married. "He was planning on leaving, so I had to go out and find him a wife," Holloway said. Thomas added, "The pastor's been holding me here under lock and key for the last 10 years and 10 months."  

Past the kitchen, a large warehouse divided into metal cages is filled with donations, including a large walk-in freezer the center was given and a veritable wall of bags containing donated clothes. Most of the clothes are donated through blue Compassion Center donation boxes located around town, according to Holloway. The clothes are sorted into three categories: clothes used by the center for new arrivals, clothes designated to sell in the thrift store, and clothes that are bundled and sent to a recycling center in Houston, a transaction for which the center is paid.

As the CEO of the center, Holloway said he relies heavily on the center's donor base for funding; a recent gift from a donor allowed them to order a stack of new beds. Despite the strain the emergency bed scarcity is putting on their resources, Holloway said he and his staff make it work.

"We know most of the homeless people who come through, or we learn to know them," he said. "We try to help them out as much as we possibly can, but the only ones we can't help out are the ones who are violent. If you've got a bad temper or anger and are wanting to fight all the time, you can't do much for that person."

Holloway said some of the policies in place — like requiring that new arrivals check-in their cell phones overnight before they're given back in the morning — are to combat issues they've had with residents fighting. "We keep them from doing any drug dealing or prostitution or anything like that for safeguard," he said. People in the drug and alcohol programs aren't allowed to have their phones for the first two months of the program. "They're here for a reason, they're trying to get their life together. ... We're trying to build up strength to say no and get them back to thinking again," he said.

***

Even with the message of the Gospel attached to the services the Compassion Center provides, it's still the only shelter in Little Rock with emergency beds available without stipulation, like having to pass a drug test or joining a long-term program. Aaron Reddin, the founder of The Van and a longtime homeless advocate in Little Rock, said the key problem for those serving homeless folks is this skewed ratio of people to services.

"There's more people than there are services available," he said. "We see [this] every year this time of year. We're a rural state. This is what we can't seem to get through to anyone that should be looking at the big picture of it all ... . There's an influx every year, about this time when the temps drop, from folks in rural Arkansas who come here thinking they're going to get some help, they're going to get inside. And then everyone here ends up overloaded."

Reddin said the navigation of bureaucratic red tape, like zoning issues and time delays, by those who have the authority to work through them, would be crucial in opening more emergency shelters for the winter months and in creating long-term solutions after that. Reddin said he's encoutered problems with city code enforcement kicking people out of camps in the woods but offering no alternative place to stay, aside from shelters located miles away.

So what would Reddin call for from those in positions of power to create change? "Acknowledge that you have screwed your own citizens and apologize for it, for one," he said. "That would be a really great first step. You're the leaders of this city, and I know you have to have codes, and all of these things. I understand that. But when you have a public health crisis, such as hundreds of people sleeping in this crap on your streets and in any patch of woods you can find, then you have to pull your big person britches up."

Davis said remedying the recent loss of those 40 beds would be the first step to stabilization. "I think that one solution would be partners, including the city partnering with a nonprofit or a church, and opening 40 beds," she said. "We lost 40 at the [Union Rescue] Mission, so start there, because we can't implement new interventions to reduce the number of people living on the streets if we can't hold the interventions that we have. So, we need to pivot at this point and not try to do more. Instead, we need to back up and say, we've lost these beds, how can we fill them?"

Holloway believes the most pressing need for people experiencing homelessness in Little Rock is Jesus. "Christ in the life is what's most needed, and the rest will kind of take place. I know you can't print that."

He also said he's working to develop a crisis center or hotline for people experiencing homelessness to call to help figure out their next steps. Teaching home economics, shop and mechanics classes in high school again would be an important step for teaching people trades early on in their careers.

Asked what the city is doing to improve conditions for the homeless, Porter referenced the recent efforts of city-funded Jericho Way to create more affordable housing for people exiting homelessness, as well as their case management services, but said that help is available there only for those that want it.

"If you've been over there [at Jericho Way], you know that there are some people who don't want it," he said. He noted that Jesus had been homeless and had told his disciples, " 'Well, I'm getting ready to leave you guys, but the poor are going to be with you always.'

"And so it is. Not that we should be all right with that, but we should have compassion for that. They're gonna be with us. We need to always try to help them. Always be concerned about them but, at the same time, respect that that is a truth that won't change."

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