#like I have an itch in my mind I need go scratch about this particular subject

[musclesandhammering]

You guys if I made a big meta post about like the classifications of magic users & magic in the mcu would yall read it??

[elexuscal]

So just over a year ago, I made a resolution to myself to get better at Fitness, since I was getting older and i knew if i didn't, the Consequences would begin to manifest. One problem? Historically i have always hated working out.

i knew there were two main reasons why: 1. lingering trauma from the usual Fat/Neurodivergent Kid Mistreated In PE Class Experience 2. oh my god it's so so so boring i would rather do anything more entertaining.

So. I'm not an expert, and i'm definitely not a professional fitness instructor, BUT i have genuinely come to not just tolerate but actually enjoy exercise this past year. So if these are any problems you personally have contended with, these strategies May Help.

One: Remove Barriers

a lot of flavours of neurodivergence struggle with switching between tasks and executive function generally, especially towards something you don't find fun. So first you gotta identify any barriers keeping you from exercising, and removing or mitigating them.

For me, a hurdle i recognised is that if I could not easily access the equipment, I was unlikely to use it. honestly if i couldn't see it i would probably forget it was there. So my first order of business was making a Work Out Zone. I unrolled my yoga mat and gave it a near-permanent place in my room. my weights came out of the closet and placed on a low shelf where i could easily access them, as did my resistance band. now they were always Right there.

I also realised something I detested was the general feeling of sweaty clothes, and in particular, having to change out of them. So Gross. so i started scheduling my work outs for in the the morning after breakfast or right before my nightly showers, aka: when I am changing in and out of my PJs. I'll do my routine (mostly) naked and not have to contend with the extra steps and laundry that sweaty clothes bring.

two: secondary entertainment

like i said: i found exercise very boring. and while i've gotten better over the past year, and can find it meditative, i still prefer having something else to catch my attention.

i used to like to put on video essays. but then i realised i was so often pausing my work outs because the particular video ended, or the pace got slow, or the topic turned to something dark and depressing out of nowhere and killed the vibe, so then i had to stop to find something else--

No. You need something that will keep you in the zone, and won't knock you out of it. I didn't used to listen to music much, but this year i took advantage of a Spotify subscription my sister gifted me (😔) and started just putting on upbeat rock, hip-hop, and pop mixes. it doesn't need to be my favouirte music ever it just needs to Keep Going.

i do find the loud, rhythmic music is really good for keeping my pace up, but if music doesn't do it for you, you might find audiobooks or autoplaying favourite old tv shows/sitcoms might scratch that itch.

Three: Find Other Motivators

Or, "if you can't make your own motivation, store bought is fine"

Gameification is really good here. You might be someone who'll benefit from a pedometer or step-counter app. I have a friend who swears by the Switch Ring-Fit, and I've also heard of folks who use games like Just Dance, Zombies, Run! and Beat Saber to rely on the sweet sweet endorphins generated by hitting a high score.

(BUT: do beware the dark side of gameification, which is the risk of demotivation if you don't hit your goals. For example, after doing GREAT on exceeding my step goal for a month, I got hit with COVID. For about a week and a half I was barely moving beyond the kitchen and back. My step counts plummeted, there was no way to edit the record out, and that made it harder to get back into the groove. Be mindful relying too much on gameification!)

Even outside of literal games, there are ways to scratch this itch. I used secondary objectives as a way to encourage me to keep up with my daily walks. Walking my roommate's dog when he was working long days is an obvious one, but we don't always have a furry friend at our disposal. Then I would rely on mini-challenges like, "pick up 10 cool rocks to paint", "fill this bag with wood for the fireplace", "take 10 pretty pictures", or "get to the corner store to get more milk".

And of course, consider team sports! Many folks I've talked to feel having set training/play times with a team that relies on them crucial to keep them on track!

Four: Don't Measure Success By Weight Loss

I know. I know. Easier said than done. It does not help that like 80% of workout resources online are going to mention this. but above all else, you must resist the beast. (and while not as dicey, measuring success by visible muscle gain can fall into a similar trap).

The biggest benefits to exercise are invisible. it improves cardiovascular health, brain function, tissue regeneration, immune system function, lung capacity, energy levels, literally our whole body. no matter what external changes your body does or doesn't go through, you're still going to be benefitting from exercise, and you do not want to get demotivated chasing unrealistic/irrelevant goals.

Instead, to track your progress, focus on questions like these:

How is exercise impacting my mood? Do I feel less stressed or anxious?

Am I sleeping better?

Is my balance improving?

Is my stamina increasing?

Am I becoming more flexible?

Can I lift/carry heavier weights?

Is my breath control improving?

Over the last year, I've seen marked improvements in all of these. My joints don't hurt as much; it's easier for me to to get up and move; I don't get winded as easily; I generally feel more relaxed and cheerful. Those are all amazing outcomes, and I hope that everyone on their own fitness journey can find the same joy there as I have.

[roanofarcc]

SEE ME NOT

pairing: sasappis x alive!reader

summary: you never thought your ability to see ghosts would be useful until you stumbled upon a job at the Woodstone B&B. 

word count. 1.5k | masterlist

note: part 2 mayhaps?

Your mother had once said you had an overactive imagination; a child with vivid dreams even while awake. Your world was in technicolor, painted with characters so life-like that once you grew older and the adorable nature of imagery friends wore off, you couldn’t quite understand them. Talking to the old woman who occupied the old rocking chair on the porch or the little kid in odd clothing in the backyard became concerning instead of endearing. 

Instead of embracing the curious characters in your life, you ignored them, but they never left. Voices drifted through department stores and churches from people no one else could see beside you, all alike in bloody wounds or old age. 

It had scared you for the longest time once you had outgrown your youth, but as adulthood settled in your bones, you found it more taxing than anything. To go about life pretending that you couldn’t see a whole world hidden from normal people’s eyes got tiresome. There was an itch you refused to let yourself scratch. Conversing with ghosts would only solidify your fears and confirm the scary idea that your brain was vastly different than everyone else's. You did not need that, or, at least, you thought you didn’t. 

But one day, while browsing job listings, you came upon one for an up-and-coming bed and breakfast. The job seemed simple enough, working the front desk, resetting rooms, and helping out guests. Upon your interview at the mansion, you were instantly greeted by unknowing ghosts that inhabited the house. They were an interesting collection of ghosts, but certainly not the worst you had encountered in your lifetime. You believed it would be easy enough to ignore them and work there.  

It had for a while, too. You went about your daily duties with little trouble, hiding your smiles whenever one of the ghosts said something particularly funny and tuning them out when they were chatting away about new guests. 

One ghost in particular caught your eye, who you had learned was named Sasappis from the ghosts' conversations. He often hung around the front desk while you were working, watching the guests come and go or peering over your shoulder to see what you were gazing at on your laptop. You didn’t mind, having been around plenty of curious ghosts in your life. 

In fact, you found his presence nice. In what often sounded and looked like the chaos of the Woodstone mansion, he was more of an observer, only participating in the wildness from time to time as a means to probably keep himself entertained. 

For a while, as you worked, you believed it would always be that way. That was until you overheard a curious conversation Sam was having in the living room one evening. 

You had meant to leave, but your car was being fussy, as it always did when the weather turned cold. So, you had retreated inside to call your friend to come get you and you’d figure out your car troubles after a good night’s rest. 

“When are you gonna tell her?” A ghost’s voice sounded, who you recognized as Alberta. 

“I don’t know,” Sam replied. 

Sam. Living, breathing Sam. Confused, you crept your way through the front entrance to listen closer, thinking you were simply mishearing things. 

“She seems terribly nice; I doubt she’ll want you institutionalized,” said Hetty. 

You took another step forward, but the floorboards creaked under your feet and gave away your eavesdropping. 

“Hello?” Sam called out, causing you to wince before plastering on a fake smile as she rounded the corner to catch you. “Oh, you scared me.” 

“Sorry about that,” you breathed out, smoothing down the fabric of your jacket. “My car’s acting up, again. My friend’s on her way but it’s freezing out so I thought I’d, you know, wait in here.” 

Sam smiled sweetly, nodding in understanding before she glanced back at the living room. “I was just, uh, talking to myself.” 

You tilted your head to the side just slightly. “Were you?” The question was bold, but you were confused. From what it sounded like, Sam was talking to the ghosts that inhabited her home. Was it possible that someone else held the same oddity you did? Surely it wasn’t impossible considering you could see and speak to ghosts, but that person being your boss was more than unexpected. But also, what if you had misheard things? You couldn’t blurt out that you saw the ghosts in her home; what if she had been talking to herself and she thought you were insane and fired you? 

Sam hesitated and the ghosts walked out of the living room to see what was going on. You only looked at them for a brief moment, but it was enough for Sam to catch you. 

“Wait,” she said, shaking her head. “Did you hear…something else?” 

It was your turn to hesitate, chewing down on your lip as you contemplated biting the bullet. “More like someone else…” 

The ghosts gasped. “Can she hear us too?” Trevor asked. 

You sighed, “Yes.” 

The ghosts gasped again, and Sam’s face broke out in a wide grin and she rushed forward and grasped your shoulders. “You can see my ghosts!” 

“Your?” Alberta replied, scoffing. 

Sam seemed relieved, which was not the response you thought you’d receive when telling your boss you could see and hear ghosts. Instead of a disturbed gaze, she looked excited which caused some of your worry and apprehension to fall from your shoulders. 

“You see us whole time?” Thorfin asked, confused, and somewhat rightfully so. While you didn’t exactly understand what it was like to be a ghost, you could imagine someone pretending not to see or hear you a little off-putting, which is why you felt the need to explain yourself. 

“Yes,” you said, sheepishly smiling at the group. “I didn’t want you,” she glanced at Sam. “To think I was crazy. I like this job, a lot. But boasting about seeing ghosts isn’t exactly a great resume builder.” 

Sam’s smile didn’t leave her lips as she squeezed your shoulders once more before letting go. “Well, at Woodstone it is. I don’t feel like the only crazy lady here anymore.” She paused, scrunching her nose up at her own words. “Not that I’m calling you crazy, just that I felt crazy-” 

You laughed, cutting her off gently. “Believe me, I’ve felt crazy my whole life. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one.” 

“You’ve been able to see ghosts your whole life?” asked Issac. 

“Yep. Which was cute as a child but much less cute as an adult.” 

Sam hooked her arm with yours and started to pull you toward the kitchen. “We have so much to talk about!” 

Your next shift at Woodstone was vastly different. Instead of ignoring the ghosts to save your thinly veiled sanity in front of your bosses, you were able to embrace the chaos of the ghostly group without fear of being fired. 

The ghosts were rather chatting, excited to have another living person to talk to while Sam was occupied with other work in her office. You stood at the front counter, the day slow but in a way that was nice. Most of the ghosts had come and gone throughout the day, stopping by for a light conversation before they went about the rest of their day, doing whatever ghosts enjoyed doing. 

But one ghost hadn’t paid a visit until it neared mid-afternoon, which was different than before. 

“Hello,” you greeted Sass as he stepped out of the living room. He offered you a small smile as he wandered toward the front desk. 

“Hey,” he greeted. 

You leaned on your elbows propped up on the counter across from him. “And what have you been up to today? Usually, you visit me first thing in the morning.” Your tone was light, maybe a bit teasing but all good-natured. 

He cringed, folding his arms across his chest. “That seemed a lot less creepy when I thought you couldn’t see me.” 

You laughed. “I don’t think it was creepy.” 

He narrowed his gaze, lingering a little ways in front of the counter like he was nervous to step any closer. “Really?” 

“Really,” you assured him. “I liked the company. Though, I think I may like it even more now that I don’t worry about being called crazy for talking to you.” 

Sass seemed to relax a bit at your words, stepping closer to the counter with a small smile on his lips. You were able to really look at him without having to pretend to look through him. Perhaps it was still a bit odd, but you did think he was rather handsome. Young ghosts were uncommon, but not nearly as common as old, horror movie-like ones. Sass was very far from horrifying. 

“You might not get called crazy for seeing us but listening to these other ghosts talk may drive you crazy,” he joked. 

“The other ghosts? Not you?” 

His smile was nice; it caused little crinkles in the corner of his eyes and his teeth to show. “Oh, no. Not me. I’m the only sensible one here. Totally cool compared to the other guys.” 

You matched his smile, wide and happy. “Hm, we’ll see about that.” 

[cryptidafter]

A Love Letter to GagaOoLala

If you, like me, have recently discovered (or rediscovered) the wonderful world of non-western queer media then I highly recommend you get a subscription to GagaOoLala (no I am not being paid for this. I love Gaga that much lol)

Look, I know what you’re thinking: “Why would I pay for another streaming service?” But, hear me out. Gaga offers a treasure trove of engaging, thoughtful, and unique queer media. Indie films, TV shows, old stuff, new stuff. AND IT’S ALL GAY! Whenever I want to watch something new, Gaga is the first place I go. I know I’m guaranteed to find something that suits my tastes or that scratches a particular itch. Gaga’s catalog puts Netflix to shame. 

I’ve seen so many posts and videos about people hungry for more queer media. They don’t like the little variety they’re given. I get it, it sucks when you can’t find any mainstream media representation…but here’s the thing. IT’S OUT THERE. Once you look past your own shores, you’ll find that so many other countries are putting out the queer shows you’re craving. I’m an American so I speak from a US perspective: PUSH PAST YOUR OWN BOUNDARIES AND OPEN YOUR MIND TO SOMETHING NEW. 

Gaga has shows from Korea, Japan, Thailand, France, Spain and more. I’ve learned so much about different cultures and regions from the writers and directors who make these shows/films. It’s a refreshing change of pace and a much needed reminder that the queer experience (despite a few societal or cultural differences) is universal. As Bong Joon Ho so eloquently stated: "Once you overcome the 1-inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films."

You want some examples of what Gaga has to offer? Here are just a small selection of some of my favorites: 

Fragrance of the First Flower (Taiwan)

A delightful short series (season two airs on February 18th!) about two women, Yi-Ming and Ting Ting, who reconnect years after high school and rekindle a relationship. Yi-Ming is in an unfulfilling marriage and afraid to live openly due to fear of judgment. Ting Ting is a free spirit who’s confident in herself and her desires (though she also has secrets of her own). I can’t recommend this show enough for those who enjoy high tension and drama with heartfelt moments of tenderness and vulnerability. 

Su Hee (Korea)

A short film about Su Hee, a young woman stifled by the overbearing presence of her devoutly religious mother, who finds solace and connection at church through the pastor’s daughter, Han-na. This one is beautifully filmed and acted. I’ve watched it probably five or six times at this point. Despite only having a runtime of only 25 minutes, the story manages to flow well and the emotional punches hit hard.

Yes Or No (and the sequels) (Thailand)

A movie that’s credited as the first lesbian film from Thailand that features a butch lead! Pie moves into a new college dorm and is shocked to find that her roommate, Kim, looks and dresses like a boy. Despite early bumps in the road, their relationship gradually develops until romance starts to bloom! This one is so wonderfully mid-2010s in presentation. I loved both of the main leads and it’s great to have a film with a more masculine presenting romantic interest! 

Honorable mentions (aka other stuff I really, really loved because this post is already too damn long): 

Sleep With Me

Chaser Game W 

Call Me By No Name (on-going)

Sipjangsaeng (did I understand this movie? No. Did it compel me? Yes.)

Candy Rain 

As lesbian media is my obsession right now, I asked my friends and fellow Gaga enthusiasts @technicallyverycowboy & @lugarn to give me some of their personal recommendations that cover other shades of the queer spectrum: 

Shadow (Thailand)

Set in 1999, it's about a teenager named Dan who transfers to an all-boys Catholic high school and becomes entangled in the mystery of a former student, Trin, who vanished the year before. As Dan delves deeper into who Trin was and what secrets he and the school were hiding, he beings to uncover more unsettling things about his own life. It’s a show that really deftly weaves together mystery and horror and history, complex relationships, and what it means to live with the ever expanding consequences of your choices.

End of the World With You/Bokura no Micro na Shuumatsu (Japan)

As an apocalyptic meteor heads toward Earth, a guy who has been stuck in a dead-end job with little joy in his life named Masumi accidentally reconnects with wealthy and successful Ritsu, who broke Masumi’s heart in college. The two of them set out to help two other strangers get back to family before it all ends, while realizing how much they meant to each other and maybe still do. This show uses the premise of “if you only had ten days left to live, what would you do with them?” so, so well. The characters are so vivid in their strengths and flaws and in the ways they come through for each other. The way Masumi and Ritsu’s relationship, from the moment they meet to the last moment of the show, is a particularly nuanced take on how important a second chance, even a brief one, can be.

Beyond the Green Mountain (China)

The official blurb for this movie is "One summer, in a little fishing village in China, a teenage boy's quiet life is interrupted by the return of a childhood friend. A story about youth, friendship, and blossoming love in the summer breeze." And honestly, that's perfect! It's a very short (15 minute) film that is gorgeous and captures a lot of the longing of youth. The majority of the film is shot after beautiful shot of where these boys live with them included in it. The way the visual language grounds the film in the place where it's set is just wonderful and once again, the longing. Such longing! 

Honorable mentions (some that I have also seen): 

Playboyy

4 Minutes

Kiseki Dear To Me 

My Personal Weatherman

Bed Friend 

Meet You at the Blossom

Pornographer

The Heart Killers

Caged Again

I hope you’ve been thoroughly convinced to give Gaga a try! It’s worth every penny. 

[aelirus]

✭RULES & MUN✭

For dash-only, while I'm still working on the blog.

I'm Mildew (he/it 25+), welcome to my RP blog! I had a Cyrus blog before around 2018 by the same name. Remnants of it can still be found through other blogs, but the main one was deleted. I still LOVE Cyrus, though, and decided to return to writing him to scratch that particular Pokemon Villain Autism Itch. I'm a pretty friendly person, I try to write with and befriend a broad range of people... with exceptions for the usual suspects (don't be a pos and dont be a creep. I'm looking at you, people-who-write-nsfw-with-protags.) However, I can be shy when reaching out first! And after I have reached out first, I can be too chatty. Never worry about annoying me or telling me off, I've dealt with it all and I can establish boundaries if needed, and respect others'. Thanks for reading.

✭RULES:

First, more serious stuff.

Number one is pretty simple: If you're an asshole, I don't want you around. If you roll your eyes when someone brings up their experience as bipoc, or at pronouns or neopronouns or real shit going on in the world, get lost.

You can consider this rule 1a: If you delight in annoying people who don't want to see certain things, you're also not welcome. this includes anyone who calls themselves "proship". I'm not here for any of that.

Now the more simple/given rules:

Cyrus isn't the worst of the Evil Team Leaders... but he's still an "Evil Team Leader". Keep this in mind when interacting. Your muse might be the friendliest, sweetest soul... and he will still respond as though they're just another misguided nobody in his way.

Blog might be suggestive at times, and usually in joking fashion, but anything explicit will not take place here.

Related, but if I follow a blog whose Mun/Writer is under 18 and interacts with mature posts, I will reach out and warn them or block/unfollow depending on what it is.

Non-RP blogs can absolutely follow and interact with me! I'm chill. But please be mindful of interacting with threads that include other roleplayers, as their stance can be different.

When writing with me, don't assume what my muse will do unless previously discussed. AKA: no godmodding.

Don't be too pushy for responses. I'm an adult, I've got typically low motivation, stuff happens. However, if we both really like an idea and neither of us can get through a whole thread in order to pull it off, we can totally chat in DMs about the scenario and bring it to life that way!

Go wild with Asks, have fun. I'll pick and choose what I can and can't/don't want to do, whether because of my motivation or whatever other reason. If I truly have a problem with anything, I'll message or respond with the request to stop.

I might have more rules eventually, but this is a good starting place. Talk to me if you've got any questions or concerns!

[theclaravoyant]

love your d/s aos fic vibes but i haaaate d*ddy k*nk so i was wondering if you'd do 'rough kiss' or 'kiss after a bite' + bucktommy? *please emoji*

AN ~ it would be my pleasure! honestly the d*ddy thing squicks me super hard too so i'm happy to contribute to the pool of kinky goodness that doesn't involve that particular part. however! and this won't be a surprise if you've enjoyed my aos smut lmao but i got sidetracked by snuggles so this fic actually ends up filling 'kiss to the top of the head' instead of those other two... but will it be a series? don't tempt me haha prompt list

Relationships: BuckTommy Content: Oral Sex, Established Relationship, Praise Kink, sub!Buck, Dom!Tommy

Read on AO3 (1300wd)

take me by the tongue (Rated E)

Buck had always had a bit of a thing for Strong Independent Women in the bedroom. Sure he'd enjoyed broadening the odd horizon and showing them things their shitty boyfriends never did and all that, and he wasn't immune to the fawning groupie type either, but there was something to be said for the ones who knew what they wanted, stated it, took it. Save a horse, ride a cowboy. It was one of his favourite shirts.

So, suffice to say, he was having a great time with Tommy. A great time. He loved to learn. He loved to please. And both of those things were going, again, great. There was a give and take, there was a learning curve, there was the way his heart grew a few sizes when he could get Tommy panting and calling his name in the throes of it all but there was also an... itch, he needed scratching.

A raised eyebrow.

“It would be, 'okay'?” Tommy pushed back.

“Yeah. You know. If you wanted. To treat me a little... rougher.”

The trouble with being the fit hot and yeah, highly sexual guy in those relationships, is that being good at it was kind of all that mattered. None of them had been long or intimate enough for him to get much practice actually verbalising the specifics of what he wanted; their bodies usually did the talking, and there wasn't this getting-to-know-each-other, please-don't-think-I'm-a-freak period. The freak was laid out right there on the table, take it or leave it. Swipe left or swipe right. Plus, if you wanted to get sad about it, Buck hadn't been in much of a place to speak up for himself back then. If anyone had wanted more from him than he was comfortable giving he probably would have given it anyway. He tried not to think about that part too much.

But Tommy – Tommy wanted to an a frankly frustrating degree to make sure he felt happy and respected and comfortable, and as much as he hated to admit it, that was still kind of new for Buck.

“Is that something you want, Evan?”

Tommy's eyes, rock-steady, scanned Buck's face for any signs of what he wasn't saying. He sidled closer with the slightest salacious whisper of a smile and Buck wondered if maybe his eyes were giving him away. Screaming what his throat wouldn't. Fuck me, bruise me, pull my hair. Pin me down. Make me beg. As if Tommy could see right through to the visions playing in his mind, he pulled their hips together with a rougher yank than usual, and pinched Buck's quivering chin between calloused fingers. Buck took a deep breath, and it stuck to his tongue, and Tommy gently, firmly refused to let him look away as he read him like a book.

“Don't be nervous, baby,” Tommy purred. “Tell me. How rough do you want it? Just a little shove-me-against-a-wall action? Or... how about I pull your hair while you suck me off and I don't let you up til you're gagging for it-”

“Jesus, Tommy.” Buck's knees shuddered and his eyelids fluttered closed for a moment. Tommy made a deep, approving sound in his throat.

“That bad, huh? Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Hell yeah, it is. Tommy bit his lip, smiling; his eyes dark pools of desire that Buck wanted nothing more than to throw himself into and surrender. Slowly, torturously slowly, Tommy leaned for another kiss, and his fingers moved from Buck's chin to the back of his head, and he brushed gently at the hair there. His lips were just about to touch...

Then he grabbed. And shoved.

“Knees.”

“Yes!”

Buck let his knees fold. His heart thumped. Damn, but Mr Chivalry was good at this. Good at this, and turned the fuck on if the shape in his pants was anything to go by. Tommy yanked at his belt, his pants, his underwear, his own enthusiasm bleeding through in his desperation to take advantage of Buck's waiting lips. He didn't need the hand in Buck's hair to get the kid to take him as deep as the primal need for oxygen would allow. He was always an enthusiastic lover, but Christ, Tommy thought. This was next level. So he pulled his hair anyway, steering him, pushing him. He did love a challenge, and he rose to it – and he rose to it. And then, before Tommy could even make his mouth form the words to order him not to touch himself, he clasped his own hands together behind his back and just went even harder with his mouth. It gave Tommy all sorts of ideas.

“God, Evan, you're beautiful,” he growled. Buck moaned at the praise, and it sang through him. He knotted his fingers tighter at the back of Buck's head and thrust into his mouth. “Thank you – for telling me what you wanted. There's so much more I want to do to you. You're so good for me.”

Buck moaned in drunken, desperate pleasure. Tommy had to give the man's desire addled brain some credit. He knew what he was doing. Lord, did he. And to think he'd prepared himself at the beginning of all this to talk a baby bi through things. Now that they'd gotten to know each other a little better, he was pretty sure Buck knew and enjoyed things he'd never even heard of. Christ, but this kid was going to be the death of him.

“If it's too much,” he instructed, “say Maverick. Or tap out like I showed you in Muay Thai, remember?”

Buck hummed his affirmative, but he was so far from tapping out. His hands unclasped themselves and flailed in the air either side of them but it was only in search of friction – to grab his own swollen cock, maybe or Tommy's thighs to pull himself deeper, and Tommy growled - “No.”

And they went back, and Buck whimpered, but he did it, and the vibration in his throat was almost enough to send Tommy over the edge. He felt full to bursting and he knew Buck could take it – even if he was starting to shake and plead against him. He was making little hitching gagging sounds, wet and sucking sounds, and he refused to give up. And Tommy was only a man, and his hips were starting to shudder like bad brakes. The both of them were getting so close it was hard to harness his words.

“You- you like being told how good you are, don't you?” Tommy teased. “And I bet you'd make the most gorgeous little rope bunny for me. We should- We should talk about- ”

Buck made a sound that Tommy was pretty sure was something along the lines of Tommy, please!

He was so fucking full of cock and love and helpless base need that tears were starting to leak from his eyes. His own hips shivered and jerked and he was going to struggle to stay upright much longer.

“I hear you, baby,” Tommy assured him. “You're so ready for me, aren't you? Come with me, Evan. Take it, baby, take it. It's all yours. I'm all yours.”

He let go, and Buck did indeed take it and lapped him up like the fountain of youth until his own orgasm overcame him too and turned his hips and his knees into jelly. The only thing holding him up after that was Tommy's hand in his hair and eventually the man had to take mercy and let that go too. Buck melted into a puddle of bliss on the floor, beaming; his pupils blown wide and every muscle twitching with pleasure. He has the right idea, Tommy thought, and let himself flop down right next to him and pull him into the best semblance of a spoon he could manage with uncooperative cum-drunk muscles and a hard floor.

“Wow,” Buck mumbled. “This whole communicating thing is really hot.”

“No, baby,” Tommy replied, and planted a kiss on top of his wild hair. He'd really done a number on it, and it made him smile. “Pretty sure that's all you.”

[deceit-and-knowledge]

yeah I um might have uh been a little fast on that yeah sorry but I mean it’s pretty obvious you have feelings for him with how much you’ve been blushing around him even if it is just you awakened a degradation kink it takes a very healthy relationship with a person to get into that kind of kink in a healthy manner and well clearly truthless is ticking all your boxes because you know pure vanilla is not going to be able to scratch that particular itch you have learned you have he doesn’t have a mean bone left in him of course he’s entirely made of freak but mean not really truthless gives just enough zero fucks and still cares about you to be able to strike a good balance for that though so yeah maybe talk to sage about it and if you are ever feeling adventurous maybe a bit of a clothes swap with a little shape shifting mixed in although sage likes choking and with you that’s um yeah never mind that won’t work

-phoenix spice anon

s: yeaaaah wouldn't work. Though once my powers are back turning into sage WOULD be funny~ I just need to get better at being him.. my acting skills are rusty...... Tch..

[pumpkinspicenietzsche]

The Amazing Digital Circus has been the only thing I've been able to think about for the past few days, so I NEED to talk about it real quick

First off, the animation is already some of the best from any indie project I've seen in a while, and I adore how varied each character is in both design and personality.

Speaking of characters, caine is easily the best one. He's EASILY got the best jokes in the pilot (although Kinger is a close second who I've grown to adore a lot more than I did on my first viewing) and also the best voice acting.

That's nothing against any of the other voice actors, though. Absolutely everyone SMASHED it in their roles. Michael Kovach as Jax is great, mainly because it's MICHAEL FUCKIN KOVACH, and Zooble's voice scratches a particular itch. I'm glad she's voicing the me-core character (I'm lover you Zooble) because it makes it MORE me-core.

The animation itself shines the most in Pomni. She's got the most expressive design by far as the defacto main character, so she gets most of the best shots, and her eyes, dear GOD her eyes.

Unfortunately, despite all of that, Pomni is one of the show's main weak points. She's losing her mind in just about every frame, and while that's fun, it drags her scenes down quite a bit. It doesn't feel like she has any other characterization, bringing her down as a main character and making her hard to root for. Since Digital Circus is just a pilot currently, this could very well be fixed in the finished show, but I'm staying cautious.

I assume Jax is the fan favorite (although I don't know much of anything about the fandom so I could be wrong) and it's not hard to see why. I love how much of a dick he is. It makes him really enjoyable to watch. Although his jokes don't land half of the time, the other half is FANTASTIC. I also have a soft spot for his design, I am a SUCKER for how this guy emotes. The square pupils, that weird mouth that doesn't actually open, all of it.

And while I don't have much to say about Ragatha, I do appreciate and like what they're trying to do with her as the defacto voice of reason. I also just really like her voice actor. Her design reminds me of a Moral Orel character and I can't for the life of me think of why.

overall, Digital Circus is a very strong indie project with a solid premise and a solid cast! I love the way it plays on structure, and the horror elements are very well done. I love the style it's going for, where it's not very horror-driven driven but there are still those existential elements to it, giving a very unique feel. It's laid back enough for you to shut your brain off, but the moment you fully let your guard down something happens, and I LOVE that. this show made me burst out laughing so many times it is unreal. go give it a watch! this is a threat.

this post is a call for someone to talk to me about Amazing Digital Circus because I love The Amazing Digital Circus and you should too please i beg

[prpfz]

🦅🎖️Hello everyone! Going to keep it as short and sweet as possible as people like to say around here.

21 + | mxm | OCs with real faceclaims | NSFW | Discord

Looking for someone capable of taking part in a realistic military-themed RP.

Realistic meaning taking place in homophobic settings and with just as narrow-minded influences all around, closeted characters wearing masks of tough, straight men and sleeping recklessly with random women to convince themselves that they can't be attracted to another male, talks about and acts of violence, combat trauma, you get the vibe...

Someone who can put in the effort when creating and later playing their OC:

No one-layered prick who sees red all the time, but even more so, not an anxious softie who doesn't belong to the military.

I want characteristically colorful, strong-minded characters with interesting backgrounds and motivations who can be just as convincingly vulnerable and emotional.

No clear dynamics of top and bottom - switches, topping from the bottom, a constant fight for the upper hand, that sort of dynamics.

No freshly enlisted, clueless officers. I would like it to be interesting even career-wise so feel free to create a character of a higher rank with notable achievements and esteemed mastery of a particular skill who has a reputation in the military.

It can be a modern-time military, but we can also make a trip to the past and one of the world wars.

I'm particularly knowledgeable in history so if someone desperately needs to scratch their historical itch, definitely feel free to reach out as well.

As you may have already guessed by the length of this post, you should be an elaborate writer - a few lines long, empty replies that don't push the plot anywhere and don't have any character development are my biggest pet peeve.

give a like and anon will get back to you

[fallowhearth]

David Graeber and David Wengrow, The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity, 2021

This is not a review. It will probably be a bit of a ramble about my approach to reading history and thinking through why I bounced off this so many times. This is also about letting myself off the hook - I'm going to let this one remain unfinished. I don't need to finish reading it.

After I dropped out of grad school (highly recommended), it took me a good few years to be able to stomach picking up a history book again. But, I do really enjoy the discipline. There's a reason I wanted to do it as a career. I eventually found a way back in - from YouTube video essays, to a few podcasts, to reading history from outside my field. I had the most success with ancient/pre-modern histories; obligatory Tides of History plug as I've loved all the deep dives into genetic history and archaeology (and gotten quite a few great book recommendations). I don't have any particular knowledge in these fields, I don't have the language skills or context to interpret sources myself, I've never even taken an ancient history course. So reading these I have no option but to basically rely on the expertise of the historian, to see what they say about various topics and about each other. It's the opportunity to read history like a layperson, and hey, it's pretty interesting!

On the one hand, Dawn is engagingly written - I'd call it kind of magazine style? - and tells a compelling story. But, the whole time I'm wondering, but is any of it true?

My impulse when reading something from within my area of academic expertise is to go and take a look at some of the sources myself. It's always a useful sense-check; it's due diligence. History is by its nature kind of subjective. Historians don't just deal in lonely facts (to paraphrase someone whose name escapes me), but in interpretation and argumentation. Everything has been passed through several human filters before a historian even looks at it. So, in a room full of historians you respect, you can have a lively, contentious discussion where no two people have quite the same reading of the source. There's a skill you pick up after a while - you get a sense for the range of defensible interpretations of a particular piece of evidence. You'll feel more affinity for part of that range, based on the things you believe about how the world works, your particular axe to grind, other things you've read, niche academic beef, etc.

I'm confident I've read at least a few of the sources Dawn uses, and I've definitely read within adjacent bodies of sources. So, I have an incredibly strong need to go and take a look at the specific things they're basing their argument on. I trust my own judgement; I want to establish that range of defensible interpretations, I want to see what readings I'd pull out first, I want to see what the distance is between Dawn's point on that range and mine. The problem is that I can't. Even if I wanted to dive back into the archive, I literally don't have any of the institutional accesses that would allow me to. Also I really don't want to. So I'm constantly feeling this itch I can't scratch at the back of my mind while reading Graeber and Wengrow's work.

The broad version of Dawn's thesis is something like: 'humans have experimented with diverse ways to live and organise their societies across space and time, in ways that are not accommodated by the teleological models developed within the colonial context'. I'd say, yeah, I pretty much agree with that! (In fact it's a thesis I'd love to nail to the doors of many popular history writers.) But I get the same sense reading Dawn as I did reading various provocative works of global history (many of which I really like): the broad thesis is generally defensible, but it falls apart on the page-to-page level. Of course I can't actually confirm this since, well, I haven't done my due diligence!

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Rated: Teen and Up

Pairing: General, hint of Dean/OFC

Tags: Witchcraft, Animal Transformations, Angst, Fluff (and Fur)

Word Count: 5500

Hello, and welcome to my very first foray into a big bang! Of course, if I’m going to give one a try, Dean Winchester will be the focus. This particular one was also much less intimidating as it was the 2023 Dean Winchester Big Bang: Mini Edition. So, the word count wasn’t high, and we had a couple of months to work on the project with our artists. My artist is TwinOne. I had such a fun time sending over suggestions and watching their artwork come to life through the process.

I hope you enjoy and please let TwinOne know how sweet and lovely the artwork is. I’m over the moon with the results, and it was so satisfying to see someone’s interpretation of my story! It scratched that itch (wink, wink).

Thank you to the mods @deanwbigbang for hosting and running such a fun challenge! Your time and effort is appreciated!

Summary - Set pre-series, Stanford Era: Dean has been sent on a solo hunt in New Orleans. He meets up with an ingenue witch, Selina, who needs his help to save her mentor from a voodoo priestess. The plan doesn’t go as expected; when does it ever? Dean, though, gets a little breather in the aftermath, and it turns out to be just the thing to scratch that itch.

Prequel to "Oh, I'll Be Anything You Want"

Tendrils of smoke. It swirls, radiating bright white, pulsing with life in an empty void. Growls. Incessant barks. Distant at first. With every passing second, the panic rises as the sound pounds closer. Suddenly, hot and foul breath chases out the smoke.

Dean’s lids popped open from the nightmare. His head tilted from side to side, inspecting the area.

He’d hoped the entire thing had been a self-constructed comedy of errors in his mind. A bad dream from which he’d blessedly awakened.

Unfortunately, the current situation he found himself in was very, very real.

There was no way Dean Winchester would ever tell his dad about this.

If he somehow managed to escape this debacle, he might die of humiliation if someone found out.

New Orleans had been a disappointment in so many ways. No booze. No beads. No boobs.

He whined at the unexpected stab of pain emanating from his shoulder. He’d been lucky to win the fight in one piece. The sparring partner’s fangs had sunk into Dean’s flesh like malleable clay.

But before the ambush, he’d at least accomplished what he’d set out to do. The hex bag had been buried in the priestess’s backyard. Selina had provided specific instructions. Dean’s sense of direction easily found the northernmost corner of the parcel lot. The muslin-wrapped ingredients he’d been charged with rested beneath a half foot of dirt. All his tasks were completed well before midnight under the brightest full moon he’d seen in ages. He hoped Selina had gone ahead with the spellwork even if he hadn’t gotten back to her in time.

He stared out between the steel bars into the pitch-black. The absence of light left him bereft of shadows to discern as friend or foe.

An itch tap-danced over his neck. Skin rippled at the sensation while he fought the temptation to scratch. Discomfort from the wounded limb took priority for a short spell. 

He hadn’t thought things could get worse but turned out jail time was the worst thing that could have happened on top of everything else. Getting caught, literally, in this condition left him vulnerable.

Dean’s nostrils flared and twitched at the overpowering stench of pungent piss and stale shit. He got a whiff of cat dander and sneezed.

The cell block buddy to his right barked to keep it down. It was lights out, after all. Just because he’d been brought in late last night, he was told with a fierce growl, didn’t mean he couldn’t acclimate himself to the way things ran around here right quick. Dean rose only to circle the middle of the floor again. He eventually flopped back down, forced by the pulsing throb of his barely treated and badly bandaged wound. He curled like a ball atop the hard surface. The bone-cold of the place sent a shiver through his body. He closed his eyes again and prayed for sleep.

A fluorescent electric buzz hummed into his ear canal. The flicker of light flashed over closed lids. Tapping into all his senses, something alien swept left to right along the surface of his eyeballs, lazy and slow, as his sight focused.

A languid yawn escaped. The clink-clack of a door unlocking bolted him upright. He scampered to the front of the cell closest to the hallway floor. Nose stuck between bars, Dean tilted his head in vain to glimpse who entered.

Whines. Barks. They echoed off the walls. The instinctual urge to join in added his voice to the chorus.

“I found one that fits the bill a few hours ago.” A raspy elderly voice mixed in with all the noise. Dean recognized it. It belonged to the dog catcher that had entangled him in what looked like a big ass butterfly net. He was the reason Dean was here. He’d done the bare minimum caring for the Pitbull bite. Dean transferred most of the front weight to his left paw. The ache of his right shoulder thrummed in sync with the beating of his little heart. Dean had to be the one to fit the bill.

All Dean could view in his line of sight were soiled, grass-stained tan pants from the knees down and dirty brown combat boots. Pride filled his lungs. The tug of war he’d put up in the net brought the dog catcher to the ground. Their scrap amidst dirt and weeds and a flounce in a mud puddle had left his mark on the human.

Human. Christ, it has to be her coming to claim me. Please.

Hope soared in Dean’s chest when his gaze clamped on the blue (which would be violet if he was looking through his human eyes) leather of a familiar pair of high-heeled ankle boots. A crepe skirt rivaling Joseph’s technicolor dreamcoat covered the boot tops and swished in time with the steps.

“I hope it’s him.” A barely audible female voice floated above, drowned out by the pound puppies’ cacophony.

Selina! Thank Christ! A tinny, high-pitched bark erupted from his throat. Down here! Down here!

Both pairs of boots stopped in front of him. “That’s him there,” the catcher added. A wrinkled finger pointed in his direction.

Selina’s figure descended. Hands gathered the skirt up as she settled into a squat.

Her big almond-shaped eyes, a tad oversized for the heart-shaped face, blinked in relief. Dean halted his bark in mid-yip. Instead of her usual deep purple irises - a breathtaking sight in and of themselves on any given day - he was met with equally captivating dark blue saucers, swirled with golden flecks. The sight of her large frame stirred up amazement.

She grinned. “Yep, that’s him!” 

The dog catcher huffed and fumbled with the key into the padlock. “You should take better care of the mutt. No collar or chip. He’s lucky I found him.”

Lucky, my ass!

“He’s not a mutt,” Selina responded in her typical curt fashion. “Purebred beagle.”

“Aint never seen a beagle with green eyes ‘fore,” the dog catcher mumbled. He fished the padlock from out of the loop. “Or one with paws that damn big.” The cage door squeaked with Dean’s nose nudging it open. Dean bounced off his hind legs into Selina’s lap. 

Selina slammed a hand on the concrete to remain upright. “Oh, thank God! Scooby!” She wrapped her free arm around Dean. 

“Scooby, huh?” The old man removed his cap to smooth down the ten wiry hairs on his head.

Dean’s pulse began to slow, nestled tight and secure in Selina’s embrace. The scent he’d connected with her, spicy incense and pink bubblegum, enveloped his now small and furrier frame.

One back paw reared up and swatted repeatedly at one of his floppy ears.

“What happened to him?” Selina’s tender touch caressed the gauze bandage.

“Got ‘imself in some trouble. Looked to be an animal bite.”

Dean’s lids clamped tight. He cocked his head and continued to flick and dig his paw into the spot behind his ears. Maybe if he used his claws.

“Does he… have fleas?” Selina asked in a tone that regrettably already knew the answer.

Fleas? Dean whined, still scratching. Why the fuck not? On top of everything else.

“We’re gonna take care of this, Dean. Promise.” Selina white-knuckled the steering wheel, hands at ten and two. Her lithe, petite frame perched on the edge of the bench. It was the only way she could reach the Impala’s gas pedal.

Dean languished on the passenger side and sunk into the center of the seat. It was still dark out. Street lamps popped overhead in a rhythmic pattern and spilled light through the windshield. Cobblestone-paved streets jostled the chassis. His baby usually drove like a tank with barely a hiccup; all smooth sailing. He wondered how much the bumpy ride had to do with the road condition under the tires or the person driving his car. 

He sighed, closed his eyes, and shivered at the pinprick, itchy tingle of his skin. 

Apparently, the spell Selina had cast didn’t include telepathy. No matter how much he wished for her to reach under the seat, feel for the damn bar to pull the bench forward to close the distance between her and the wheel, she wasn’t tuned into his mental signals.

Dean straightened his front legs and stiffened his elbows at the sudden screech of tires. His paws dug into the leather. He lurched forward with the momentum, watching Selina do the same from the driver’s seat. Once they settled to a stop, she stared over at him with a regretful frown. “Sorry. I haven’t driven in a while.”

Dean slitted his lids and yipped.

“It’s not much farther to the shop.” The pointy toe of her boot met the gas pedal and the car sputtered along again. “Once I got a lock on your location and saw how far away you were, I didn’t have a choice but to take your car. But don’t worry, we’re gonna take care of this, Dean.”

You already said that. Dean’s little barks echoed in the Impala’s interior.

“I know you’re trying to tell me something. But I can’t read your mind.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“Man, you’ve got a powerful set of puppy lungs. Want some good news? I was able to lift the hoodoo trance off Esme. All thanks to you.”

Well, at least something good came out of this mess.

It was very good news. He was in New Orleans because his father sent him on a case to help out an old friend. The old friend happened to be a witch doctor named Esmerelda. Esme for short. 

Dean’s boots had hit Danneel Street and crossed the threshold of “Step on a Crack” Magical Notions Shop, which Esme owned, one day too late to prevent the inevitable escalation. Esme had been cursed and was unsure when the fallout would take full effect. She hadn’t stepped on a crack but the toes of a powerful voodoo priestess in the French Quarter. That’s why he and Selina had partnered up. To save her teacher, who’d been rendered catatonic. Esme was currently being watched and cared for by the coven, whose members were taking shifts at her bedside.  

Glad your mentor is on the mend. That’s even better for me. She can probably zap me back quicker than you. Why aren’t we heading there?

“She’s still pretty weak, though, from what Harold told me over the phone.”

Dean huffed.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know you wanted to turn into a German Shepherd. But I did say I couldn’t guarantee what kind of dog breed the spell would transform you into. That’s not in my control.” Selina tangled her hands one over the other along the steering wheel column in a clumsy fashion. Dean swayed to the right with Selina’s left turn. “I’m pretty sure, though, the shop’s got some things that will take care of your fleas while we wait out the magic.”

It was true. Selina hadn’t guaranteed much about the spell. And it had been his idea to try it when they rifled through the pages of an ancient grimoire. The voodoo priestess had stitched some warding around her property, only permitting certain humans to cross. An animal transformation made perfect sense. 

Dean groaned and rubbed the side of his head into the backrest to ease the itch. Fleas better not have been part of Selina’s witchcraft.

Dean scrabbled paws along the slippery marble floor, trying in vain to sit upright. Every time he thought he’d achieved a precarious balance, his body toppled. He’d starfished, even done a few Bambi-on-ice skating maneuvers waiting for Selina in the tiny bathroom. Claustrophobia settled in, though it’d only been a few minutes since she promised to return and closed the door behind her.

How old was this puppy skin he inhabited? All of Dean - his mind, sensibilities, and humanity - wrapped up tight in this fur burrito felt like him, except when it didn’t. Curious instinct made its presence known. Once he relented on the sitting still attempt, his nose glued to the floor and led the inspecting. He tried to zone in on something interesting to escape the fear. And the endless itching he’d been ordered not to scratch. When Dean thought about it, it wasn’t that different from any given human day. 

Overhead, water poured out of the claw foot tub’s red copper faucet. Steam plumed over the deep basin. The impending bath temperature also drew concern. Being a beagle was terrible enough. A boiled beagle? Hell no!

Flared nostrils filled with the overwhelming scent of Selina. A sense of calm broke through the nagging flight response. He’d been in the small apartment only once since arriving in Louisiana. Perched over the magic shop, his first step into her home had flooded his sight. It was a treasure trove of textiles and trinkets blazing with gemstone brilliance. Shelves stuffed with books. Glass jars of unidentifiable powders. Vials of transparent or opaque liquids. Everything a young witch needed to learn the craft.

She smelled nice before. He’d caught whiffs of her here and there when he passed her frame on his human feet. But his canine senses were picking up every atomized particle now. He spotted a forgotten hairbrush hiding in the corner and catapulted forward to claim it. His speed and the slick marble took away any ability to stop in a semblance of elegance. He face-palmed into the rubber tines of the brush. Tangled hair in the brush tickled his nose, and rapid inhales took more of her into his lungs. Yeah. This was nice. It felt good. Safe. He debated chewing.  

The door creaked. Dean spun in a flash and let out a pathetic growl of defense, having painted himself into a corner with no way out. Selina stepped inside, paying him no attention. The giantess silenced him with only her presence. 

“Apple cider vinegar.” She held up a bottle in victory, clutching a few small droppers in the other hand. They clattered from her grip into the pedestal sink. Sitting on the tub edge, she uncapped the vinegar and emptied the contents with a rhythmic glug into the water. 

Drops splattered up and out of the tub, landing near Dean. He flinched. Doggie brain told him this was not going to be pleasant. 

“Okay.” Fingers twisted first one faucet knob, then the other, shutting off the flow. Her arm dipped into the water. Dean’s ear perked up at the sloshes. “Not too bad.”

Says you.

“Come on, Dean.” Her wet hand gestured with a come hither.

You know, I might be able to hang on until the spell wears off. I’m good.

Selina sighed. “You’re gonna make me come over there, aren’t you?” She slinked on the floor, knees stretching the fabric of her skirt as she crawled towards him on all fours.

Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse.

His insistence fell on deaf ears. She snatched him up in a second. The next, he dangled above the water. Her hands cupped him under whatever a dog’s version of armpits were. He kicked and wriggled. Whined and whimpered.

“It’s okay.” She submerged his hind quarters like a tea bag in and out three times until he gave in and went limp in her arms to steep. “Not gonna hurt you, no matter what you think of witches.” She leaned him forward with care. “Good boy.” When she let him go, he stood in warm water that rose up to just meet his back.  

He shivered, puppy heartbeat racing. His nose twitched at the acidity of the vinegar additive. The sound of skin rubbing together crept up behind him. “Next ingredient we need is peppermint.” A soap bar popped into his peripheral vision. It smelled of candy mints left atop a restaurant check, then absentmindedly stuffed in a jacket pocket. “Okay?” she asked.

You gonna stop if I say no? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Okay, so Dean had to admit to himself - even if he’d never cop to Selina - the bath hadn’t been that bad. Selina had a gentle but firm touch. She’d sudsed all of his coat, lifting him first from the front and then the back end. She apologized for getting a little more intimate than Dean had expected with his little puppy prick and ass. The fleas could be anywhere, she reminded him. As the tub drained, she sprayed water from the shower wand and rinsed him clean. 

Once he was taken out of the tub and laid atop one towel, another enveloped and rubbed until his fur was damp and not dripping. She communicated all of her actions beforehand. The dropper bottles contained various oils to help rid Dean of the dreaded fleas. With fabric under his paws, he sat tall and tilted his head to study Selina while she worked. She smiled at him, patiently naming each essential or botanical oil she squeezed into a water bottle: Almond, Cedar, Eucalyptus, Lavender. 

The concoction soothed immediately on contact. The mix of smells dispelled the last remnants of his anxiety. Delicate, soft fingers caressed his coat and threaded through the fur to find the skin. The blissful massage helped chase away the panic. Yet another thing he’d never admit to Selina. If he ever got the chance to admit anything to her with his human voice again. Weirdly, he seemed perfectly willing to accept such a fate. Maybe things could be much, much worse after all. 

After tidying some of the bathroom mess, Selina opened the door and ushered him forth. Dean’s legs scampered toward the makeshift doggie water bowl beside the bank of kitchen cabinets. One would have thought he’d never want to dip his snout in water again. But he gobbled and slurped with his tongue like he hadn’t drank a drop in days. He didn’t know how much time had passed before a plate of cut-up deli ham had been deposited alongside the bowl. He was greedy for that as well. Fangs hooked into the meat. He hitched his head upwards to encourage the food down his throat.

“I know human food isn’t the best for you… like this. But let’s hope we don’t have to experience the results and the spell wears off before then.” Selina commented, leaning against the countertop. “Do you need to go outside and do some business?”

Again, without any say in the matter, Dean’s head sprung upright to lock his gaze on the sweet human caretaker at the words “go outside.” He mulled it over. He’d pissed in the nearest grass as soon as they’d left the pound. An impressively long and satisfying leak. He wanted to shake his head “No” but couldn’t do it. Instead, his eyes tracked a small rug by a chair. His claws clicked along the hardwood - thank god the entire floor wasn’t marble - to what he decided would make a perfect resting spot. He corkscrewed his frame into a compact fur ball atop the cushy velvet and let out a deep, well-earned sigh.

“Good idea. I’m beat, too.” She pointed somewhere behind Dean. “Can get a few hours of sleep before sunrise. I’ll be able to find out how long the spell will last with a clearer head in the morning.” She shrugged. The motion appeared to loosen a yawn from her throat. “But, maybe you’ll wake up all back to normal.”

Dean yawned in return, finishing it with a high-pitched squeak.

Selina giggled. “You are adorable, Dean Winchester. Night.”

Too exhausted to be any more humiliated, Dean’s tail thumped softly in response. He closed his eyes. Clean. Warm. Cozy. Well fed. Watched over.

He drifted off, hard-pressed to recall the last time he’d ever been all those things.   

Dean’s running. His puppy paws gallop atop the soft, giving earth of a field. He’s darting through the wheat. His snout cuts through the crops, scraped by wispy stalks. 

He can hear how heavy he’s panting. The exertion and speed has his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

But he’s not running from something.

Dean’s just running. Because he can.

He breaks through and into a clearing. The sun’s rays warm his furry coat. He spots a quintessential farmhouse in the distance. He can see the large wrap-around porch. A pair of rocking chairs. Off to one side is a laundry line studded with freshly washed clothes, flapping in the breeze. An oak tree, taller than the two-story home, stands guard along the other side. A tire swing dangles from one of its sturdy branches. A few white cotton candy clouds rest above it all in the bluest of skies. 

He feels the farmhouse calling to him. He just knows. It’s home.

All the colors of the rainbow that his human eyes normally detect fill his vision. He zig zags between a row of apple trees, closing the distance. A fallen apple halts him. He sniffs; the sweetness is too good to pass up. He gnashes into the mealy flesh, attacking it from all angles. He tongues the juices into his welcoming throat.

“Deeaaan!”

His head snaps up. That voice beckons him home. He resumes his sprint. That voice. He hasn’t heard it in ages.

He cuts through a tall patch of sunflowers to find the voice's owner waiting for him, seated on the porch steps.

“There you are!” Sam calls out. He tosses a tennis ball a few feet in the air above his head, catching it without having to glance at his palm. This Sam is young. Thirteen or so. He’s spindly, a toothpick with knobby joints, and a smile that takes up half his face.

Just like he remembers.

“Mom said we’ve got time before dinner.” Sam juggles the ball from one hand to the other.

Mom. Mom’s here.

“Ready?” Sam asks, winding his arm back for a killer pitch.

Dean yips.

Dean yipped himself awake. 

It’s morning. 

He’s still a beagle.

Selina watched as Dean did his business in the backyard of the Magic Shop. Unlucky, she had to experience the results of feeding puppy Dean human food. But she didn’t complain, picking up after him. “All done? How about some breakfast? Eggs and bacon sound good?”

That sounds amazing to Dean. But he’s beginning to think Selina is a glutton for punishment.

The bacon sizzled in the cast iron pan. Selina explained why Dean was still walking on four legs instead of two. “So, even though the magic worked and Esme’s on the mend, I should probably have bound your reversal spell in with that enchantment to speed things along. You would have been human by the time the full moon set this morning.” She fished a couple pieces of bacon out of the pan with a fork and laid them atop some paper towels. “I’m pretty sure it’ll wear off by tomorrow. If it doesn’t, Harold said he’ll come by and see what he can do. He doesn’t want to leave Esme yet. I’ll ask one of the other witches if you can’t wait, though.”

Dean knew that Selina trusted Harold almost as much as Esme. The other witches in the group were fickle and not the kindest to Selina, from what Dean saw firsthand. Witches, man. Dean trotted over and sat by one of Selina’s legs. He rubbed his face along her smooth calf. She looked even younger in her sleep shorts and t-shirt. Still massive, though.

“I will, Dean. I’ll eat crow for my mistake. You’ve done more than anyone would’ve for someone they don’t even know.”

A friend of Dad’s doesn’t get left behind. It’s cool, Selina. How about some bacon to smooth things over?

“What does that whine mean?”

He raised up onto his haunches and leaned front paws on the oven door.

“Oh, bacon. Right.”

The rest of the day is easy, lazy. A day he hasn’t felt in a while. Not since Sammy left him.

The days without his brother have brought out more of the hard lines and jagged points in John’s countenance. Deep down, Dean wants to hope it’s not him bringing that out in their father. That it’s the void, the empty spot that used to contain Sam that no longer filters out the hate and hurt; that used to misdirect all that drill sergeant behavior. His little shit of a sibling was all of John’s fervent focus of protection for so long. Dean sees it plain as day. John doesn’t know what to do with all his feelings. So he bottles them up. Drinks them away. Or spats them out at Dean, chipping away at him.

Dean has been coping with his feelings as best as John. Realizing he’s handling the broken compass in his core the same way. Nose down. Find a job. Work the case. Kill the monster. Fill the despair with a win. Fill the despair with booze. Inflict rage on any other to empty out the despair. Stoke passion in any other to empty out the despair.

Anything and everything to kick the can down the line. Because he’s realized - Sam was his hope and lifeline as much as he was dad’s. And, without him, well, he doesn’t really know what’s left.

He’s been tossed a lifeline here and there when he’s built up the nerve to call Sam at Stanford—only a handful of times over the past couple of years. The knots and twists in his stomach unfurled when Sam picked up the phone. Accepted and acknowledged his presence. That he’s still here, he remembers he has a brother. Even when that brother had to risk the wrath of John if he ever found out a connection was made.

But this day, wrapped in fur, small, and defenseless, he’s reminded of what could be left for him. Selina softened around him in his puppy form. Her smiles widened. She shined sweet and gentle. 

They holed up in the apartment for safety. Scampered out to the backyard for potty breaks and played fetched with a tennis ball. It’s the sunniest day he’s felt in years. Warm. Light. Clear. Fresh.

It’s the snuggles at the end of that day that he loved the best. Allowed entry into Selina’s bedroom. Allowed to hop onto the mattress and curl atop the crushed velvet comforter. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, Dean. No one gets to spend the night in my bed.”

He pushed in close, nuzzled into the layers that separated their bodies. Her energy - different, charged, holding what he thinks is potential magic - gives him comfort.

He slept like a baby.

“Oh! Dean!” Selina screamed. 

Dean eyes popped open. 

He’s chilly. 

Bigger.

He’s back.

He’s naked.

“Shit!” Dean barked out in his human voice. He glanced at Selina's side of the bed. An upheld hand shielded her view. A racing heart matched the speed of his legs swinging off the bed, standing up.

But he doesn’t have a fucking clue where his clothes are.

Selina pointed to the bedroom door, still not daring to look at him. “Living room. Side table, by the chair.” She squeaked.

He fled the scene, spotted his folded clothes. Faster than a cowboy caught fooling around with a farmer’s daughter, he donned his underwear, t-shirt, and jeans. He called out, “All clear. Nothing more to see here!” His cheeks blazed with humiliation under his attempt at nonchalance.

Selina crept through the doorway. Cheeks red and flamed. Excited, amused, and happy. Remnants of the smiles bestowed upon him yesterday in his canine form. “You’re back,” she sighed.

Dean outstretched his arms for display purposes. “I’m back.”

“How do you feel? Any different? Weird?”

He stopped to actually think, taking a moment to process. “Um, kind of hungover.”

Selina nodded, exhaled. “Okay. That’s normal, from what I’ve been told.”

Dean chuckled. “Nothing normal about this.”

“For us, it is.” Selina corrected.

Selina doesn’t skimp on the bacon for breakfast.

The celebratory feast tasted sublime, well-earned. He was starving.

Sat around the small bistro table, they talked as they ate. Their conversations before the spell had been curt, filled with sass. Selina had snapped at him with every one of her responses. He’d understood, of course. Even if he hadn’t given her an inch of understanding in his smart-ass attitude. She’d been under immense pressure. The stakes were high, and the outcome relied heavily on her ability not to screw up.

Man, did he understand.

Now, they’d both mellowed with the shared experience. Relief. Success. Dean cataloged every inch of her. Human eyes took in all the vibrant colors hidden from his doggie view. Her purple eyes and porcelain skin held an ethereal quality. A tad punk with violet highlights and a nose ring. She was beautiful.

“What was it like?” Selina dolloped more scrambled eggs on his plate. She leaned in, hanging on his every morsel of information.

“Man,” Dean snorted. “Trapped in a funhouse mirror, with none of the fun.”

“But, you still felt like you?”

“Yep.” He chomped away on a strip of bacon.

“You understood me,” she stated. “I could tell.”

He tilted his head in question.

Selina giggled. “Yeah, you’d give me one of those expressions like you were thinking things over. Wanting to communicate.”

“Hmmm,” Dean nodded. Lips smacked. He wanted to ask in a way that didn’t make it seem like he was overly concerned about the answer. “I know you said there wasn’t any telepathic stuff going on… you couldn’t read any of my thoughts?”

Her head shook, matter of fact. “Not a one. Which would have been super helpful if I could’ve. You typically can’t get that kind of bond or connection at my level. And, more often than not, that’s pretty rare. A familiar type situation.”

He chewed his thoughts down.

“I wouldn’t have pulled off the reversal spell that cured Esme if it hadn’t been for your plan.” Selina sipped her coffee.

Dean cocked his head, emphasizing the ridiculousness of that statement. “You would’ve figured something out.”

“Not as quick as I needed to.” Selina shook her head. “Not without your help. Making it so that the reversal spell had to be performed by the greenest of Esme’s students and without any coven assistance… the priestess wanted it to be next to impossible.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”

Selina grinned. “Even with fleas?”

Dean shivered. “Yeah, that I could’ve done without.”

“I’m glad you came back all in one piece. I was really worried there would be some pet residue. Like a tail or floppy ears.”

“I don’t know,” Dean contemplated. “A tail might come in handy.”

The thought had them both laughing.

“So,” Selina began, “any chance that brother you mentioned, Sam, is gonna find out about any of this?”

“No way. Not ever.” Dean shook his head.

“Well, I hope you get to see him soon. The way you talk about him. He seems like a pretty great guy. I don’t think he’d tease you too much about being a beagle.”

“You don’t know, Sam.” Dean almost added he probably didn’t know him anymore, either, but pursed his lips shut. 

“I owe you, big time.” Selina offered.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I should get dressed and we should go out. Let me take you on a proper tour of New-or-lins.” Selina drawled, “Laissez les bons temps rouler.”

Dean swallowed hard and locked eyes with her. “I don’t know. We could probably just stay in and find some ways to let the good times roll.”

Selina side-eyed him, but Dean sensed the interest brewing underneath the show. “Didn’t you say you’d rather roll around in the mud with a pig than ingratiate yourself with a witch when we first met?”

He shrugged. “I think I can make an exception for you.”

Selina held a hand to her chest. “I’m honored.”

He grinned. “You should be.”

The moment was perfect for Dean to lean over and kiss her.

Of course, that’s when John called.

John needed him. There was no time for a tour of the French Quarter or even a half hour of good times in Selina’s apartment.

Dean stood at the door and waited as Selina packed him a breakfast sandwich for the road. “Don’t you think you’ve fed me enough?”

She waved a hand in the air, walking towards him. “Hard to tell. You never stop eating.”

He grabbed the bag she presented. “Thanks.”

“It’s the very least I could do. Thank you again, Dean.”

Instinctively, he wrapped her up in a hug. “Anytime.”

She whispered in his ear. “Next time you swing by, look me up.”

He breathed in the scent of her - wanting something else to remember her by - and placed a kiss atop her forehead. Anything more and he knew he’d never leave. “Absolutely.”

It wasn’t until he descended the stairs and was out the back door, away from Selina’s view, that he gave into the urge to paw at his ear like a dog.

Yeah, the next time he called Sam - which he felt would be soon - there was no way he was telling him about any of this.

Well, he might mention the beautiful witch he met in New Orleans with the purple eyes. And how she had been just the thing he needed to scratch that itch.

[good-wine-and-cheese]

Hirouma for the meme uwu

Thankyu uwu and to the anon who sent the same ask<3 ship ask game

who’s the cuddler: 

Ochan moreso than Tenma I feel. I don't see Tenma being superrrr cuddly, but in moments of vulnerability he might initiate. And then just not acknowledge it

who makes the bed:

I would say because Ochan is the only one here who probably has a regular ish sleep schedule he likely ends up doing it. I feel like he's the kind of person who is a little precise, he needs his pillow a certain way if he's going to be able to sleep, whereas Tenma would just sleep on the floor if you let him so Ochan makes the more sense

who wakes up first:

Tenma probably gets like 3 hours of sleep most of the time so definitely him. I feel though like he has intervals of massively oversleeping if he's exhausted himself too much. Ochan is trying to get him to sleep a normal amount so this stops happening

who has the weird taste in music:

Okay I would say Tenma, but I'm not sure that he listens to very much music outside of whatever he was already listening to however long ago, like he's not going out of his way to go deeper into the weeds of a genre y'know? Whereas I think Ochan will be more willing to try new music and see where that takes him. Tenma probably started with the weirder taste in music but Ochan went further and has more breadth of music that he listens to so it's definitely him. He also definitely listened to Tenma's music and then found weirder cooler stuff in that same vein and I feel like Tenma haaates that lol

who is more protective:

If it's specifically of each other I would say Ochan most of the time. I feel Tenma has more of a sense that Ochan is able to take care of himself and trusts him to be fine; mind you if something does happen to him, any manner of response is on the table including murder. Ochanomizu I think tends to worry more about Tenma because of his.....everything. He is volatile and easily hurt and quick to temper and Ochan hovers a bit.

who sings in the shower:

I feel like both a bit. Tenma can sing, whereas I feel Ochan has more fun singing in the shower even though he's not very good.

who cries during movies:

Tenma. I feel like he would be the type to project more onto tv and movies so gets more emotionally involved. However he's the quiet cry, wet-eyed-not-quite-crying type and he hates if it gets pointed out and will deny it. IMO Ochan is more likely to cry from like, a documentary. Something affecting in the real world.

who spends the most while out shopping:

This specifies going out which Tenma does not do if he can help it. If Tenma has to "go out" shopping he's going to go get exactly what he needs and leave. Ochan is liable to pick up little gifty things Atom, Uran or Tenma might like.

who kisses more roughly:

Tenma. He feels the more needful and quick to fire up of the two as a default and a kiss is an outlet to his intense feelings. It's also probably how he communicates what he wants from Ochan.

who is more domineering:

One would think Tenma because it's in his nature to be, but Ochan does not have a very long fuse for his bullshit and will shut him down quite easily and put Tenma in his place. He has the stronger will and bigger fight of the two of them so it's Ochan.

my rating of the ship from 1-10: 

100/10 it scratches a lot of particular itches I have in ship dynamics and general character interrelationships.

[bringmefoxgloves]

i am now actually sitting down and listening to the downward spiral in full tonight (surprising i haven't) cause i'm in a music mood. so witness my live track by track filled with a lot of imagery. that's just how my mind works. okay here we go:

damn. mr. self destruct already has my entire attention and has me by the throat. the electric guitar breakdown at the end...... just jfc that song feels like my heart is a misshapen record with scratches and it's being played with an icepick.

piggy makes me feel like i'm in the middle of the summer and walking through one of those massive drainage pipes until about minute two. and then a summer storm rolls in and i'm about to drown. and listening to trent reznor inhale in the play out is doing something to me.

heresy HOLY SHIT feels like i'm driving at night in a car that has a conversation in the front that you really want to hear but the bass boosted speakers against your back are rattling your teeth in your head so hard you can't hear anything but your bones clicking. but then you're in a car crash. also the lyrics are so wes-core i feel like this is just my brain draining out of my ears after said car crash.

march of the pigs is like you're playing a mario or sonic level from hell in the middle of a berlin nightclub while on a mixture of drugs that will have you raving for weeks. i fucking love it. the switch that feels as sudden as a tapedeck clicking on the lyrics of 'now doesn't it make you feel better?' with the piano.... if there is a way to make audio moments physical so i could fit them inside my mouth and chew? yes, that is one i would like to have.

closer.... need I say more. this is one i have heard before (you would have to be dead to not have heard closer) but now that it's in the atmosphere of the entirety of the downward spiral, it's only better. yes i want you to fuck me like an animal mr reznor. this lava lamp type of electric sound & marriage of bass is a physical presence and it is perhaps fucking me.

that transition into ruiner WAS CLEAN!!! i feel like i'm in the middle of a mosh pit that is somehow in like. idk dracula's castle. that entire section (you know the one in this) is indeed a dick metaphor. and then when the tortured guitar that sounds like it’s about to snap every one of its strings played by a resurrected jimi hendrix that really hates you in particular comes in it just is. so much. hearing the wetness of reznor's mouth as he breathes in and out is.... i shan't say.

oh WOW that cut off from ruiner to the becoming had me pausing and going wait. that's insane. anyways the becoming. teheheh i beat my machine. ALRIGHT ALRIGHT. i'm in the middle of the nightclub featured in the collection (2012). and i'm absolutely jamming to the screams while reznor's voice is carrying me by puppet strings. the switchup after the line 'but it's all clear' feels like i'm now on the floor slowly bleeding out, and then i'm being torn apart by dogs. goddamn this noise inside my head, indeed.

i do not wait this, but yes, yes, i really do want this. please keep speaking directly into my head yes. the music is scratching an itch i didn’t know i had. the entire last minute of the lyrics is #mood. hearing trent pronouncing 'fuck' in that way makes you think about the meaning of the word.

ooooo funky noise and drumbeat that has me immediately bouncing my leg. yessss big man with a gun. this is pure machismo and makes a gun the tool of sex. (meme voice) oh wow.

a warm place. just. is me floating facedown in a saltwater pool filled with water from the dead sea. i feel so cradled and light. glorious. completely immersed in this instrumental like few instrumentals ever make me.

eraser at the beginning makes me think i'm driving through some godforsaken part of the american west and the radio is on and the people in the car are making funny noises over the radio static. then that drum kicks in and the bass layers like i'm about to enter a boss battle. it's a cobra with those cartoon eyes that are swirls and it wants me to kiss it. then it all snaps apart for trent to swoop in riding a hurricane screaming: kill me.

reptile, the start has me thinking i'm back in the backroom of an empty grocery store trying to sneak away from a killer. the sudden smash in at the one minute mark is me hitting the ground. dead. the rest of the song i feel like i'm overhearing sex between an angel and a devil while i'm tied like a dog on the floor at the end of the bed.

the title track!!! the downward spiral at the start of it has me feeling like a fly buzzing against a broken glass window after escaping a dish of honey, too drunk to find my way out from the gap directly in front of me. once trent's voice comes in, with those screams in the background.... i feel like he's leaning into my ear and confessing to this in a darken movie theater watching a goresplattering flick.

and goddamn. hurt. i had heard the johnny cash cover of this before i ever heard this one, and then i listened to the original shortly after and it's the only other song i've heard before (closer was the other). but once again, with it in context of this album..... it feels like a baptism in wine you're not quite sure isn't just blood that trent reznor poured out for you from his own wrists. just. goddamn. godamn. it sounds like he has salvation right in his trembling hands and is asking you to take its heavy burden from him, please, but instead it’s a knife he guts you like a fish with, and you still say thank you.

conclusion: if i had heard this album in middle or high school i would have become a very different person i think. i might have burned down the catholic church i grew up in. i might have had sex even. that's how powerful and solid and sensual this album is. it has its reputation for a reason, and i can't believe i hadn't heard this album in full before this. but i have now. also robin finck i need your gender NOW

[stesierra]

@pluvia-b tagged me! Sorry to be so slow! I'm finally getting my brain back in gear after some med changes.

Rules: Look back on your work, both past and present, finished and unfinished. What are five to ten narrative elements or tropes that continuously pop up in your work?

This is a hard one for me because I've written so much and I don't like to write the same thing in all my books. So the tropes listed are those that appear in at least three books, rather than all eighteen.

1. Ghosts

I love me some ghosts. The Bone Queen is about ghosts. School of Souls is about ghosts. Court Phoenix is about ghosts. Mind you, these are vastly DIFFERENT ghosts and plots and couldn't exist in each other's worlds. But the theme exists.

2. Asexual characters

I got plenty of these but in particular Court Phoenix has my beloved Chujulan and The Many-faced Princess is about two asexual princesses (one sex-repulsed and the other sex-neutral.) The others are less obvious to the reader.

3. Female main/POV characters

Uh, all but Triangle Park have a female main character. Sorry boys.

4. Strong female characters who don't use weapons

I love a female character who kicks ass even if she's not physically strong. Examples: Elise in the Bone Queen, Antea in Stitches and Memories, Mindral in The Halfway Revenant, Zisha in Cast Out. These ladies may decide the fate of the world, but they use their brain to do it.

5. Strong female characters who can fight

We have to have some of those too of course. Nelone in As Immortality Fades, Chujulan in Court Phoenix, Ameryi in the Many-faced Princess, etc. These ladies know how to fight and kill but it doesn't define them completely.

6. Romance that doesn't focus on physical attraction

As an ace who doesn't fall in love easily, I love to write romance but not the lusty kind you find in a romance novel. It's all about connecting, baby. I do a mix of F/F (As Immortality Fades, Cast Out) and F/M (The Bone Queen, Stitches and Memories, The Halfway Revenant) romance.

7. No romance at all

Sometimes an ace doesn't want romance. I gotcha. The Court Phoenix and the Many-faced Princess have zero.

8. Dragons

Look, I don't always have dragons but sometimes a girl needs a big lizard, okay? Stitches and Memories and Court Phoenix will scratch that itch. I'm going to include this point even though it's only in two books because dragons are cool.

I hope that's enough things! I'm leaving an open tag and also tagging @aziz-reads and @mysticstarlightduck.

Tag list for everything

@anonymousfoz

@moremysteriesthantragedies

@elizababie

@sm-writes-chaos

@bellascarousel

@palebdot

@macabremoons

@the-dragon-chronicler

@teacupsandstarlight

@vorskra

@wrenofthewords

@amostdelectablescribbler

@savvy-minnow

@mysticstarlightduck

@phantommill

@gracewritesbooks

@aziz-reads

@owlsandwich

@symbioticsimplicity

@squarebracket-trick

@fishythewriter

@koala2all

@rmgrey-author

@atomatowriter

[cinematicnomad]

If you're still doing the Ship/Don't Ship ask game, and since I'm teeteringen on the edge of a Stranger Things rewatch: Steddie? Your blog definitly introduced me to the concept, and ST is a show that used to be in a very non-ship zone for me but I did find myself wandering a bit more during the last season and I'm interested in rewatching with some different perspectives on my mind. Also, if you want to, other Stranger Things ships? I used to think Joyce&Hopper were cute but S3 killed that and S4 buried it. How do you feel about them? Any opinion on Steve's other canon & fanon common ships, like with Nancy & Billy Hargrove?

i am always still doing an ask game so long as someone points me in the right direction 😅

so for steddie: i ship it!! 01. what made you ship it? first things first, v sweet to hear that my blog introduced you to the conecpt of steddie haha. the show as v much ALSO a non-ship zone for me for several years, and i only randomly got into steddie a year or so ago. i remember when the season aired and i saw people shipping them, i was mostly just like "what?? really??" but i live and let live. the way i ended up getting into the ship is that steve is my favorite character and so i would occassionally seek out gen fics about him, usually looking for some hurt/comfort whump fics about his many concussions that canon never seems to address lol. i ended up coming across a steddie fic and deciding i'd give it a chance just to scratch that particular steve-whump itch and then...the rest, as we say, is history lol

02. what are your favorite things about the ship? i mean, i'm definitely a fan of the whole opposites attract trope with them. such a sucker for any fic that has steve showing up to noe of eddie's gigs in his light wash jeans and tucked in polos and eddie going absolutely feral over him lol. and then alos there's something about seeing steve through eddie's eyes, their shared history that canon really only ever hints at—steve as the high school jock asshole and eddie as the freak—and eddie coming to know this new mature version of steve and seeing how much he's changed. i'm a sucker for any fic that delves into what their interactions were like when they were both in high school at the same time. and then of course there's always the classic hits of like, eddie's poor in things (he sells drugs to help make ends meet, he lives in trailer park, etc etc) but rich in spirit (he accepts who he is! he's got a close group of friends that accept his weirdness! he has a father-figure who took him in and loves him and believes in his goodness no matter what!), while steve is the opposite (big house that's always empty, parents who don't seem to care, etc etc). it does things to me!

03. is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? not sure about unpopular opinions about the ship specifically but, like, i tend to avoid modern era fics about them bc it never quite hits the same.

joyce/hopper: i ship it 01. what made you ship it? i ship it but not in any way other than just like. accepting canon. like, i'm not going and seeking out fics about their relationship, but if they're not together in the background of fics i read i do feel like the author needs to justify/explain it lol. i would say that their whole arc in s4 was like, the WORST part of the season for me but that had less to do with joyce/hopper specifically and more to do with how much i hated the overall plot.

02. what are your favorite things about the ship? you know, the obvious trope. big/small! hopper as the figure of authority who defers to this smarter woman who he loves! the hints at their shared history—they went to high school together, hopper potentially pined for a little, they both went on and had full lives and experienced traumas and then the events of the narrative helped them find their way back to each other etc etc.

03. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? this is less them as a ship and more: i fucking hate murray bauman as a character and i haaaaate that he has gotten roped into their dynamic and i feel like he makes all their scenes worse. i wouldn't be surprised if murray's presence is what's impacted some of your enjoyment of their ship in s3 and s4. i wish the show would just handwave him away and be like "oh oops murray can't help bc he's in! canada! sorry!" but i know that'll never happen

steve/nancy: i don't ship it 01. why don’t you ship it? a couple reasons. for one, nancy just isn't a character i particularly find compelling. that's mainly a me thing, her inner motivations just do not scratch any sort of itch for me, though i can totally see why she does for other people. second, i feel like the show did solidly set up jonathan and nancy as endgame, all the way back in s1, so the weird doubling back in s4 mainly felt like a reaction to the writers/showrunners realizing how popular steve is. like it doesn't feel character-motivated and it felt like steve had mainly moved on s3.

02. what would have made you like it? i feel like a LOT of things would need to be different. jonathan and nancy's storylines would need to have never seriously crossed paths in s1 and, if steve and nancy were going to break up in s2, the break up would need to be clearly defined instead of the muddled way jonathan/nancy overlapped with steve/nancy. also steve just would have had to have been more involved/invested in the barb of it all in s2. and he would need to have ambitions—nancy is such a driven character, i cannot see her with someone who didn't get into a single college and is happy coasting by on entry level customer service bullshit.

03. despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it? nancy is the catalyst for steve becoming a better person and without their relationship in the first place he would not be part of the narrative so. kudos for that? they both work as compelling narrative foils for what's NOT good for their futures/happy endings, i think. oh, also: i like that her curly brown hair + big doe eyes provides a roadmap for deciphering steve's type especially when you add in robin's counter-culture/sarcastic/neurotic personality traits from steve's crush on her in s2—together that really does set up eddie as perfect for steve lol.

billy/steve: i don't ship it and in fact, actively cannot stand it 01. why don’t you ship it? billy is EXPLICITLY racist. like, sorry, no amount of retconning him or fantasizing about him is going to change that. no amount of sad dead mom backstories will make up for it, no amount of last minute sacrifices will redeem him for me, and i just am not interested in stories that try that.

02. what would have made you like it? billy would have to be an entirely different character.

03. despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it? the fans of the ship are talented and make wonderful art, gifsets, and fic!

send me a ship and i’ll answer 3 questions if i do or don’t ship it

[project-sour-grapes]

Vices, again

I'm thinking of some of my friends who have problems with substance abuse. Of all the quirks about myself, feeling the need to ingest a mind-altering thing has never been one of them (besides coffee). Thankfully, I have never felt the itch of coke or heroin or any of the other big hitters in the drug scene.

In my head though, when I think of the problems that these friends have with their drug(s) of choice, I get kind of confused and have trouble relating. I don't know what it feels like to need to hit up "my dealer" and then go get the drug and then go do the drug. When I think of what (extremely lame) advice my brain wants to give to them, it kind of goes like, "Just don't do the substance? Yeah, it sucks, but wouldn't it be better to just deal with whatever pain or confusion is on other side of not doing that habit once again?"

Any of you who deal with substance abuse that are reading this are probably like, "Wow, GREAT ADVICE, fuckface. I'm cured now." I acknowledge that if this advice were to leave my mouth, I would rightfully be slapped in it.

But then I look at my own problems. I look at the ways in which I distract and numb myself. Hell, one of my problems many years ago was actually binge eating (with about 1 episode per week), so that relentless drive to consume something actually isn't all that foreign to me. These days, the things that I turn to in order to distract myself (including normie shit, like watching porn until 1am), are not that different from the vices that my friends choose. We all have that thing that we binge weekly or harm ourselves with daily in order to scratch some existential itch or distract us from life. We just happen to use different vehicles for getting that done.

So with that same advice as above, I look at my own problems, where I tell myself that it is too difficult and uncomfortable to stop them. I know on the other side of discontinuing them is a vacuum of uncertainty. (Except it is also not, because I already have experience with that kind of life being way better?). But if I'm going to look at my friends and say, "Why don't you just stop those habits and deal with the consequences?" Then, why don't I just do that? If it's "so simple" and "logical" to me, then I should put my money where my mouth is.

I supposed the thing is that it is simple, but it's not easy. One thing I'm wondering if I can do is to stoke curiosity in myself about the type of life that is on the other side if I really discontinue my worst habits? At the very least, I'm fucking BORED of the version of me that keeps doing the same shit with the same attitude every day. It's just safe, and I keep doing it because I know it kind of guarantees at least average life enjoyment on a particular day. If I have live the past 999 days of my life in an average manner that gets me okay results, then why risk making changes the 1000th day and possibly having things go worse? The brain would rather avoid possible pain than expend energy for pleasure that is not even guaranteed.

On the other side of that coin, why live the 1000th day the same as the previous 999 days, if one, there is clearly something seriously wrong with this mode of being, and two, who cares if I accidentally get the 1000th day "wrong"? If those previous 999 days were so great by comparison, then clearly I have a track record of living in that manner and could easily go back it with zero effort.

Alright, I think the steps to tackling these crappy habits and moving toward a better life are as follows:

Acknowledge that I "like" the crappy habit, at least partially. There is clearly some pleasure that I get out of it.

Figure out what need I have that the habit (tries to) fulfill. This will take some thinking.

Find out how I can meet that need in a more wholesome and real way (e.g. if porn makes me feel temporarily desired in my head, then the replacement for that is clearly dating real people who actually like me).

Deal with the discomfort of not doing the old habit, and channel it into something more productive.

This is going to some uncomfortable alone time with myself to actually accomplish. With the dating/porn example, I expect that having a fulfilling relationship is going to necessitate simply making myself a better partner and better option for people. I mean, when it comes to dating, I feel like I have to just exist and say hello if I want to date men. Dating women is way harder. It requires upping my game, which honestly hurts to think about lmao. Lot of effort. But a fulfilling relationship with a cool girl is what I really want. The easy out for scratching the relationship itch is just to open a gay dating app and match with some guy in like 30 seconds flat. I don't want to do that. That's ultimately not what I want. Come to think of it, if dating men was as difficult as dating women, I straight up wouldn't do it. Would lose my interest. It would be like if McDonald's cost $200 a meal. The value is just not there for me personally. Men are great. Men are awesome. But they're not going to be my romantic life partners. And yet, the apps are easy. It's just the discount version of the kind of relationship I really need.

Anyway, I'm going to go to the gym. This has been a ramble™.