#look tagging things that i post but that other people make for me is a nightmare

[nebuliix]

​im very late to this but i’ve been reading the notes on this for a while and ive not really seen anyone talk about my favourite ship, temenos and hikari, so far so im gonna yap about them for a bit. (this is basically my first time formatting a tumblr post (it ended up being way too much to keep in the tags) and im scared so i hope the cut works)

i really like the parallels between temenos and hikari about how they both lost absolutely everyone and never had time to confront or process that. in their pasts, with hikari losing his mother and temenos losing his brother, roi; their first chapters, with hikari losing his father/king and temenos losing the pontiff (also a father figure and leader) but neither of them getting a chance to grieve because they’re both put on their journeys so quickly afterwards; then, later in their stories, hikari losing ritsu and a whole lot of other cherished people throughout the war, alongside temenos losing crick in stormhail because of a conspiracy he got him involved in. i personally subscribe to the headcanon that temenos is a descendant of the kal people, so to me his crackridge chapter contributes to that personal sense of loss too. then, later, when both of their stories are complete and things seem to be settling down for both of them, the endgame comes along and rips kazan (oboro) from hikari and sister mindt (arcanette) from temenos, both with no warning and a strong sense of betrayal that they never get closure for.

both of these characters simultaneously get their worlds torn from them in extremely similar ways again and again and again as the game goes on and, what with hikari fighting a war and taking on the leadership of his entire kingdom afterwards as well as temenos uncovering the church and the sacred guard’s corruption and working to stop a death cult from literally ending the world, neither of them ever truly sit down and take care of themselves or process their grief as it happens.

i love pairing them together for this because they both care enough about each other as fellow travelers that they’d help each other get through it all and hold each other accountable. temenos is ignoring his grief and pushing it down, but hikari won’t stop being so gentle with him and before you know it they’re having a heart to heart about it. hikari doesn’t think he deserves to treat himself to his favourite foods amidst his responsibilities, so temenos asks him to treat him instead and now they’re sharing. temenos is pulling ANOTHER all-nighter trying to piece together this cult situation, but hikari’s having night terrors so they cuddle and oh would you look at that now they’re both sleeping great. amazing gorgeous stunning you’re doing incredible i love you both.

this is already so long so i won’t go into details (and i don’t have the poetic language to do it justice anyway) but i haven’t even started on the ‘guy raised in divinity but kind of shuns it a little bit because its done nothing for him’ vs ‘guy with a bloodlust shadow curse that keeps making him kill people but still maintains his connection to the light’ themes like COME ONNN im obsessed with them. i like to imagine shadow hikari comes out with a vengeance only for temenos to say something so absolutely insane-yet-profound-yet-baffling that it just stops him in his tracks. then he gets put in shadow-timeout like a naughty cat. go think about your actions young man. also special mention to the endgame scene where they were the last ones back to the camp. its very funny to imagine they were late because they were making out but as an aroace i also like to imagine it was a petting session (since i played with hunter hikari please give this lad some ear scritches PLEASEE he deserves them)

ok. im done now. if anyone took the time to read it thank you. my other favourite ships, in no particular order, are primrose/h’aanit/ophilia, alfyn/therion, therion&h’aanit platonically (beast tamer vs feral cat vibes letsgo), therion/cyrus/olberic, therion/primrose (she is absolutely on top. throw h’aanit in there with her animal-trainer energy as well for maximum effectiveness. im begging for literally anyone to see my vision), throné/agnea, and the very specific dynamic of every ot1 traveler in a polycule except for tressa who makes fun of them for it

[holding up catboy hikari] you all will look at him and pet him

I miss octopath yapping with people so uh yknow what! We’re gonna play a game!!

Explain in the notes what y’all’s favorite ships are and why you like them!!!

Only rules are

1) do not explain why everyone should think your ship is canon, as that is not the point of this post 2) do not put any other ships down bc that is also not the point of this post 3) ALL games are included (yes including cotc) 4) ANY SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! GO NUTS!!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Man Called Danger 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You avoid drama, you avoid confrontation, and overall, you avoid men. But some men can’t be denied. ~ short!late 30s reader

Characters: biker!Bucky Barnes

Note: I didn't think I'd be writing rn but I had a pretty restless night despite my best efforts. Mostly just me fixating on noises and not being able to sleep.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You idle outside the corporate facade, fidgeting, looking side to side, mirror to mirror, listening for the thunderous engine. Your grip and ungrip the wheel, unable to slacken your jaw as you huff through your nose. Your heart hammers on your tender ribs and your foot wiggles incessantly. 

You replay the calamitous scene over and over in your head. Your mind sticks to the last vision; that grin. That's a promise. A man like that only smiles with good reason and you don't expect he gets his jollies from fuzzy kittens and butterflies. 

A tap on the window makes you jump. You look over as Eva waves through the glass. You check the clock. You've been there for half an hour. 

You unlock the door and she falls in with a sigh. "Hey, hey," she chimes. “What happened to your car?” 

“Huh, oh--” you sniff and look in the rear view again. Your little act of panicked defiance must have earned a few extra scratches. “Wasn’t paying attention backing out. Just hit a fence.” 

She cackles, “really? Well, not that it makes a difference with this old shitheap.” 

You give her a long look. “You're in a good mood. How was your first day?" 

"Pretty damn great," she snaps her seat belt into place. "Pretty chill job. I just kinda mess with the printer between endless lattes." 

You nod, "sounds like heaven." 

"Boss is super cool. He's really chatty," she preens. 

Right, you're sure that has nothing to do with her looks. You want to caution her but you also don't want to spoil this for her. You're sure it's nothing. Not that you could offer her much advice. You were never the type to draw any sort of office scandal. 

"Just make sure you do your work," you pull away from the curb, shifting in your seat. 

You teethe your lip and let it flick out. You keep up the nervous tick as you hunch behind the wheel. You focus on the road, trying not to think of everything else; that man and his motorcycle, the length of Eva's skirt, Mr. Walker's reminders. 

"I take it your day wasn't great," she scoffs. 

You squeeze the wheel, "huh?" 

"You gonna tear that thing off?" She asks. 

You exhale and push your shoulders down before they can touch your ears. You swallow, "usual, you know..." 

What do you do? You're not stupid, that man isn't going to play around. He's not going to be anything less than blunt. He had the gall to show up at your work. How he knew where to find you... well, you can't be certain he isn't waiting at your front door. 

You stop at the red sign and check the rear view, ears perked for any rumble. You tut and hiss out another breath.  

"Right, well, I know you're not really a fan but you need a glass of wine," she says. 

You shrug, "probably." 

She hums, "seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?" 

"Nothing, nothing," you lie. "Just... you wanna get dinner somewhere?" 

"Uh, what? Am I hearing you right? You want to eat out?" She chuckles, "alright, something's gotta be wrong." 

"No, I'm... you got through your first day, it'll be a celebration," the lie rolls out all too easy. You've never been challenged at that, but you found it easier to be quiet than deceitful. Lies are shields, not weapons. "Your choice." 

The car behind you honks. You turn just to get out of their way. 

"Oh, you like ramen? There's a place that does spicy noodles just right," she makes a ridiculous gesture with her hand, kissing her fingertips. 

"I can try it," you trawl down the street slowly, "is it down town?" 

"Yeah, back a few streets," she wiggles and claps her hands, "oh, I'm so excited." 

"Really?" You wonder. 

"Well, yeah! When's the last time we did anything fun? Together?" 

"Ha, yeah," you agree hollowly. 

She sits up, and you can see her smile in the mirror. You sense her brightness dim just a little. "Um, last night..." 

"Eva, we agreed to move past it," you scratch your cheek, keeping your other hand firmly on the wheel. You don't want to think about last night or that man. You're hoping the restaurant will be an escape from that. If he has found his way to your house, he might not want to wait around that long. "Let's start over. This job will help with that." 

"Sure," she agrees softly. "It's just... I do feel bad. That he pushed you like that." 

"Well, it's not the worst I've dealt with," you say without thinking. 

She wallows, "it's not?" 

She didn't know your dad. You're happy for that. You shrug. 

"It's nothing," you assure her. "Really." 

"Mom mentioned... you know, that he wasn't very nice--" 

"I can barely remember," you assure her as your skull itches. You remember the bad times; the blunt force, the stinging slaps, the screaming. Even after all those years. "So let's just not think about yesterday, let's enjoy tonight." 

She nods, "yeah, sure... I... I can do that." 

"Oh, you've always been much better at having fun than me," you snort. 

💀

The restaurant is nice enough but not too fancy to make you feel a slob. Eva fits anywhere she goes. She’s just that pretty.

You wonder if it’s just your own insecurity speaking. You’ve aged out of the years where clothes and makeup were your sole concern. You never really worried too much about the latter, you did just enough to be presentable. 

You look at the menu, mulling chicken or shrimp. Eva takes the smaller menu from the middle of the table. 

“They’ve got saki. You should try some. I’ll drive home,” she offers. 

You look at her. She grins and giggles. You tilt your head. 

“I love that look,” she chimes. “You do it really good. It’s scary.” 

“What look?” 

“Oh, you know, mom called it the murder stare. As much as a mess as she is, you know, she used to say you were like grandma.” 

“Grandma?” You click your tongue and sigh. That old bitter hen. “Well, be glad that you can’t confirm that.” 

“Was she really that bad?” Eva asks. 

You shrug, “I was young for most of our... relationship. To a little girl, she was a villain.” 

Your sister nod and puts the menu down. She looks around. “I really appreciate this. And I did my best not to be too much today. You know? And Mr. Hansen...” she taps her nails on the table. “He’s so cool. I think it’ll be good. And if I stick around, maybe you could switch over. Since your job is so shitty.” 

“It’s not shitty. It’s just... a job,” you sit back as you close the menu and settle on chicken. “Won’t be much different either way. I don’t want you to stick around too long. This is to get you into school, right?” 

“Yeah. I know but... I can work and go to classes.” 

You smile, “I’m glad you’re thinking this out.” 

“Well, I’m still going to have fun. You know, Lindsay wants to get some sushi this weekend so...” 

“Ah, well, don’t spend all your money in one place,” you warn. 

“Yes, ma’am,” she snipes back. You meet her eye as she stares. “How did you ever grow up with mom?” 

You make a face, “I don’t know how i made it through either.” 

“Um, excuse me,” the server steps up to the table, setting down two glasses. “Ginger mojitos for the table.” 

You set the menu down and look at him, “oh, I think you’ve got the wrong one. But we’re ready to order.” 

“Ma’am, they’re from the gentleman.” He nods over his shoulder. You can’t see past him as Eva leans back to glance across. 

“Oh,” you swallow and look at your sister. Is this why she goes out? All the freebies from lecherous strangers? “Right. Well, I’ll have the spicy noodles with chicken dumplings, please.” 

Eva waves past the server. You shift awkwardly. It’s so embarrassing. You’re just the old hanger-on. 

“Shrimp, street-style for me, please and thanks,” Eva says. 

“Water too, if you don’t mind,” you add. You don’t know you’ll finish the cocktail. 

“Wow, that’s so sweet,” Eva sits back as she takes the tall glass and sips from the narrow straw. She hums. “Oh, it’s like... ginger ale-y.” 

She smiles and raises the glass in a gesture across the restaurant. You keep your head down. 

“You should try it,” she chirps. 

“Well, one of us needs to drive.” 

“Oh, one drink with dinner is under the limit.” She goads. “Huh, he looks familiar.” 

“You know more people than me.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t know where I’ve seen him,” she mutters and slurps again. 

The server returns with the water. You feel a pulse in your ears. Whoever it is, is staring. Likely not at you but your sister. Still, you’re ready to wilt. 

Mindlessly, your hand slips down to your blouse and you feel along your ribs. She exhales. 

“Does it hurt still?” 

You shrug and drop your hand. 

“Johnny’s such a dick.” 

“I agree,” you say tritely. “Tell me you’re not going to talk to him again.” 

“Not after that,” she pouts. 

You’re quiet. She traces her fingertips on the table top and she shifts. She looks around and leans forward. 

“So... are you ever going to start dating?” She asks. 

You blink and your lips part. She smirks. 

“The murder look, again,” she taunts. 

You sigh and lift your brows, trying to whittle away the tension in your jaw. “It’s not really a priority.” 

“Well, why not? I’m out of school, I’m grown. And you’re not that old.” 

“Wow, thanks, not that old,” you muse wryly. 

“And cute men are buying you drinks,” she trills. 

“I don’t think he sent them because of me,” you argue. 

“Well, he isn’t looking at me,” she retorts. 

“Eva,” you drawl flatly. 

“I think it’d be cute. I mean, I’ve never seen you with anyone. Mom never mentioned, or you...” 

“Yeah, well, men are more trouble than they’re worth.” 

“Oof, I really want to know who hurt you,” she teases. 

You resist another terse sneer. Aside from your father and the train of your mother’s bad decisions, no one worth thinking about. This dinner isn’t going to be spoiled by bad memories. 

“I’m not a people person,” you intone. 

“Oh, he’s really staring at you. We should send a drink back.” 

“No,” you say sharply. 

“He looks your age. And he’s not bad on the eye. Not exactly who I’d peg as your type. A bit too rough around the edges but oh, it’s cute.” 

“Eva,” you warm. You take the glass of water and dare a peek across. You nearly choke on your gulp of water. Shit. 

You quickly turn back to the table and put the water down. You press the napkin to your lips. The man in leather. His jacket is folded across the seat next to him, the gold medallion shining against his black shirt, his eyes gleaming. How... 

“You okay?” Eva asks. 

“Yes, I just... I forgot to file something at work.” 

“Right,” she squints. “You’re so jumpy tonight.” 

“I didn’t sleep well,” you say. It’s not a lie. 

You repress a shudder and tamp down the panic in your chest. He’s there, watching you. Those drinks were his signal. He’s not going away. He won’t forget what you did. If anything, you sealed your own fate. 

Why couldn’t you keep your head down like always? Why couldn’t you just be the rock they get bored of when you don’t react? Why did you do that to a man like him? 

You don’t know a thing about him but you can see clear enough he isn’t a man to walk away. You can only hope he’s only in need of your insurance information. You’ll take the added fees if it gets him out of your hair. 

[taylor-titmouse]

Hey! As an artist who posts NSFW here, I wanted to ask how you decide what posts to censor and redirect to your other socials like Bluesky/Patreon/etc, and which you leave unedited and maybe throw a mature label on? How do you choose to tag your posts? (particularly in fandoms, like your Harvest Moon series).

I feel as though I'm still trying to get a sense of what's both appropriate here and gives people the ability to hide stuff they don't want, while not just avoiding the tags that would let people find my work actually find it.

For example, I'm doing figure studies now with fandom characters to keep me motivated. I don't feel bad just posting artistic nudes, but what if the whole hog is out? How the hell do I decide?

Doesn't help certain tags on Tumblr that would accurately inform people like NSFW just keeps my work from showing up in tags at all. And I've had completely cropped smut with a sexual mature label get flagged and denied in appeal. I never know if I'm doing this right. Would love your thoughts on it!

so regarding what i do/don't censor, it's mostly vibe and my interpretation of the rules. nudity is allowed on tumblr nowadays, but graphic sex is not. so it's fine to post a naked woman with her tits out, but it's not fine to post her being penetrated. same goes for hog--if it's erect, i censor. if it's flaccid, it's fine. i also assume sexual fluids could get you in trouble, so i tend to remove cum or excessive wetness even if there's no sex happening in the image.

basically if you could make a "tasteful" argument, i think it's fine to post uncensored. i actually tend to use the mature content label only when i'm posting in a fandom tag, because that's not an audience that deliberately signed up to see my work. or i put it on when i think it's an edge case of whether something is allowed--it looks better to have made a good faith effort of properly labeling if you have to appeal it later. or, i'll label it when i intend to blaze an advertisement for my books. i mark those as mature to a) make that good faith effort for the person deciding to allow the blaze campaign and b) to make sure it's only shown to people who have that filter turned off. not out of fear it'd be shown to Innocent Eyes, but because the people who have that filter turned off are more likely to actually buy an adult book. it's a way to narrow the marketing down to more potentially interested customers.

i think i've only ever been flagged like, twice on this account? it's actually kind of wild how much i get away with. but i think making a good faith effort to crop and censor when appropriate has gone a long way.

also regarding the automatic filter, it's primed to select flesh colors and things that look like nipples and genitalia. but it expects those things to be shades of pink and brown. it's not so good at picking it up when, say, the image is bright blues and greens. and i do a lot of fucky palette stuff.

hope that's helpful. long story short it's just vibe.

[echolynn13]

SFTH Chaotic Highlights (OMG Is This A Joke)

Alright, I'm finally starting to make these for the longforms! These are gonna be quite a bit longer than the other two I've made, since these videos are (typically) longer and I have a lot of thoughts about them lol (edit while writing, less than halfway through the video - yeah, I have way more to say than I thought I would)

Before I even get into the video itself, I just love the bold move of having their first Youtube longform be one about nazis, let's people know the kind of humor they'll be getting from these guys lmao

Also shout out to the not insignificant number of people who fully didn't recognize AJ with hair

Luke's executive decision to grab a prop gun and just stand there like 🧍🏼

"If he was only a foot and a half taller, he would be a perfect nazi!" Still one of my favorite Luke short jokes, because if I was him I genuinely wouldn't know how to take that observation-

Not sure why Sam chose the puffy purple jacket for his villain character, but at least we get to call him Ze Blackberry now

I'd like to imagine as Sam was introducing himself, he looked over to Luke like 'oh shit right, he's still just fucking standing there, I should probably include him somehow' and to Sam that ofc meant flirting with him

Which btw is the strangest flirting attempt I've ever seen- "Beautiful little pocket-sized Aryan" and "Sexy little ferret" ?? Guys I've never flirted with anyone but I don't think he's doing it right

"Guten Abend" Luke/Hans isn't good at this flirting thing either, but at least they're both having fun

Two French brothers casually parachuting over Berlin during World War II, nothing weird about that

"Ja- yes- er, oui! I'm trilingual, I'm sorry" Idk if it's the language confusion or the fact he apologized to the nazi, but this was a great line

"The plan is working perfectly, we're making them uncomfortable. Keep it up!" Luke, who has done very little in that regard except respond to Sam: "Okay!!" *just keeps standing there*

"Hard day being a nazi?" Considering you're currently giving him a backrub and are probably about to fuck him, I'd say he's having a pretty good day

Before Luke's BAFTA winning portrayals of grief in The Evil Make-A-Wish Kid and The Grape Depression, we had AJ's sobbing in OMGITAJ

So glad this play was set mainly in France so AJ could show off his French knowledge in the best ways (skipping across the stage and singing)

Sam characteristically entering briefly as an unspecified beast that for simplicity I'm going to call a ram

Genuinely one of my favorite and most underappreciated moments in the video is Katherine assigning Luke's character a feminine name, which he clearly didn't expect, and he just takes a moment to reevaluate life, while staring at the comedically placed banana in his hand. 10/10 fantastic bit

"My husband has been captured" "You know this for sure?" "Well he didn't come home and he's a French spy so" Fair logic that was 100% correct

"I already have a husband" "Well Xavier will have to wait until he's officially dead then" rip Jean-Luc man, at least Sarah seems to genuinely love him and be loyal though, good for them

Tag yourself, I'm AJ fangirling heavy over Xavier as he walks onstage

"I could have mimed it but I did not" has and forever will live in my brain rent free, bro had no reason to do that but took the fucking opportunity

Also Sarah's friend (did she ever get a name?) is simping for Xavier more than Sarah herself, they could've just fucked instead

"I don't know the French word for mice" "C'est une souris, une souris, une souris" French lessons with AJ

I've already made a whole post about my love for pre-reveal Xavier, but jesus, can you blame me? This character is the actual reason I started being attracted to Tom in the first place, why is he so SMOOTH-

Also the fact Luke didn't even flinch when Tom tilted his chair back and just nonchalantly crossed his legs- This whole scene is perfect istg

"I'm just going to take a few pictures-" That's so real of you girl

"I am a man" Gonna start saying this in front of the mirror as affirmations in the morning, same tone and everything

Tom launching himself across the stage before he even has the chance to rebutton his shirt lol

"Look out! It's the nazi-looking guy!" Saying this about the actual nazi is so funny

Not me being genuinely kinda sad about François getting killed

Katherine getting into Sam's carriage with a pumpkin (For some reason??) and Sam pausing not once, but twice, and eventually deciding to proceed as normal and not question it

Jean-Luc: *crying because trauma* Katherine: "Aw.. If you're thirsty you could drink it!" Katherine might've earned her place as my favorite 5th SFTH member they've had

Big Hans showing up with an entirely different vibe from the last time we saw him- Maybe because he's not busy being gay with Ze Blackberry

But really, why is this nazi boy so excited about the french language while he's taking over their country

"Les coqs :D" Sir what is this energy you're putting out, it's confusing me

I like that instead of just saying something like "It's a French horse, why do I care if I kicked it" he's just like "German horses wouldn't give a shit, your horses are just weak"

"Very hairy chickens you have here" A joke they couldn't have made now-

I'd just like to point out that Big Hans didn't get shot from what I could tell, so he could technically still be alive. Idk what to do with that information, I just wanted it out there

Tom pulling his classic sexy-character move: Foot dramatically placed on chair

The cleaner just being like "what a fucking mess, god I hate my job" as if Xavier and Sarah aren't currently having a whole plot-altering revelation in the same room

Oh yeah, and this is also the moment I was very relieved Sarah was a better person than me (/hj) and didn't sleep with Xavier

Also, mostly unrelated, but Katherine's voice specifically as the cleaner reminds me of DHMIS every single time and idk why

"Are you quite finished??" "... Honestly, no"

"But who would do that? Who would do- It was me" He tried to be mysterious but Xavier really wanted credit for what he did

Sam the Ram returns! Very cool that their first video had classics of all kinds: Sam being a chaotic animal, AJ getting to be French, Tom being a sexy German, and Luke being an equally-attractive-but-not-quite-as-played-up woman

"I was tortured by two men gettig with each other next to me" "They're always doing that, the nazis" If SFTH can make nazis gay af, they truly can do anything

Why does Ram-Sam look so offended on behalf of the French after Luke's "It's in my nature" line lmaoo

"Where did you get my dildo!?" Amazing line from Luke, but really what was that thing??

And ofc Xavier dies as he lived.. Shirtless. Sexy evil bastard-

[heavymedicshackerwife]

Under the cut for length but... Some musings on how the fandom treats Heavy. TW for fatphobia and discussion of life under the Soviet Union.

(BTW this is the stuff I posted on Discord a while ago. Somewhat ranty but... I just love that dude. I do complain about an artist in this fandom, but PLEASE do not harass them. I do not name them, this is my silly personal opinion.)

I hate how the fandom treats Heavy... He's got such deep lore but all the fans are like "SO FUNNI! STUPID FAT POOTIS COMMIE HUEHUE!"He's none of those things but they've turned him into the butt of the joke. He's a hardcore badass who gets so little appreciation at all. He has a PHD but he's constantly depicted as a dumbarse.

Heavy isn't a communist at all, and his father was killed by the regime. Sorry if I piss off any whiny tankies who get mad at me for dissing a nuclear military superpower that killed millions of people, but the Soviet Union was a brutal dictatorship and generally not a good place to live (shocking! I know!) . Heavy was sent to a GULAG. A work camp. He risked his life to break his family out and free the prisoners, but does anybody care? Nope! Let's make soviet themed cosmetic #283027192 because original funni joke!

The entire fandom on Tumblr seems to ignore Heavy too. He only really shows up in Tumblr tags as "Medic's boyfriend" and they're happy to give him depth... As long as he's just Medic's golden retriever BF. I see so much fanart where he's this big aggressive alpha-daddy but that's not him around Medic either. Heavy is fierce and will gladly tear someone's arms off, but he's not just a brute. He's an intellectual. He really does care for the people he loves. And for the rest of the fandom, he's the butt of a joke. Big, fat, stoopid pootis man.

Valve gave us this incredibly intelligent, deep, creative character and despite all the fat jokes in-game (then again all the Mercs talk shit about each other) he has so much character development that just gets overlooked unless he's either kissing someone else or getting memed. I'm used to SFMs and memes having him as "dumbass fatty" because half of them were made by teenage boys before the comics were made (and they probably didn't know about the Russian translation where Heavy talks like an academic at times), but having Nice Tolerant Tumblr treat him as just "someone's boyfriend" is just as insulting.

There's this one AU by this artist I blocked where he's literally a Mafia boss Alpha Daddy with a cigar, and Medic as his twink femboy boyfriend. That's not him. You're sticking two middle aged men onto the 🥺🗿generic yaoi template. He's not a soft ball of butter but he's not the cruel, brutal classic Heavy either. He really is like a bear like his description says, as people either see him as a funny toy or a big aggressive beast. He loves his family and does this job FOR them, but he's also strong and fierce.

I could go deeper. I could talk about fandom fatphobia and how the only way he's consistently sexualised is as a huge angry muscular dominant, rather than general sex appeal like the other mercs. Lots of NSFW fanart ignores his belly, and just makes him beefy. There are few fics he has (Him and Demo have so few good fics on AO3). He's left out of "Mercenary boyfriend" scenarios on Wattpad. Sure, a 57 year old, 300lb balding Siberian mercenary who's in love with his gun isn't to everyone's taste, but none of the Mercs are conventionally "handsome". I couldn't see any of them modelling underwear for Calvin Klein. I love Medic, I love the ship between him and Medic, but I hate how the fandom treats Heavy as just an extension of him.

He wrestled a bear bare-handed. Sure, he's big. He's overweight. But I'd bet he's in better health and fitness than any of us here. Some people in this fandom literally cannot turn their brains on and actually think of why Heavy night look how he does (appearance and fatness is not a moral failure btw), they just think he's uggo and thus just a joke.

Thing is... He's not even "just" fat! He's overweight and plus-sized, but look at what he does all day. He runs around with a 150kg minigun and several rounds of ammo, alongside a bulletproof vest and TINY legs. He has a strongman's body type which is mostly thick muscle with a layer of fat. He's big, and he certainly has body fat, but he's arguably in great shape for someone over 50 who's most likely lived through several famines. Heavy being fat does not mean he is unhealthy in these circumstances.

He is arguably the best husband out of all the Mercs. Not a pyromaniac or a drunk, not immature, doesn't like his job TOO much, doesn't have lead poisoning or a god complex, doesn't love building killing machines and won't cheat on you with Scout's mama.

Oh mann... I love him. He needs so much more love. And I wish the fandom would love him too

[mizgnomer]

Time Crash - Behind the Scenes - Part Nine

Excerpts from Benjamin Cook’s interview with Peter Davison and David Tennant in DWM #389:

DWM: Famously, Peter, you were advised by Patrick Troughton to do three years in this role and then leave, which is what you did. David, you're coming up to three years. Is that the optimum tenure for a Doctor, do you think?

DT: That's a very leading question! [Laughs] When I think back to The Christmas Invasion, it does feel like a lifetime ago - not in a bad way, but so much has happened, and so much has moved on and changed. It's been an action-packed three years so far.

PD: I might as well have done another year, except in those days we were very pushed on budgets and time, so you were faced with stories that were a little substandard. That was part of the frustration. It's a different world now. You can go off and do other things without feeling that Doctor Who is going to stick with you. That's the biggest fear. It's not exactly typecasting, it's people just not employing you because you were the Doctor

DT: I would agree with that reading of events, but I suppose time will tell. I'll probably need to look back objectively in days to come

PD: I don't think it will be a problem for you, David. It wasn't so much a problem for me, because I was, like you, kind of known before I did Doctor Who. As long as you're enjoying yourself, there's no reason to worry about when or when not to leave.

DT: I'm still having a great time. In some ways, playing the Doctor will always feel like a novelty.

PD: One gets used to it.

DT: One does, I suppose. But I don't mean one gets blasé. Last year, I still felt a bit like the new boy, but now I'm positively an old hand, aren't I? [Chuckles] I'm not really a new boy now. It's funny how three years can change your perspective. It's an overused phrase in terms of film crews and stuff, but there's such a sense of family now, and so many people have been here for as long as I have, if not longer. Even people who are new just fall into the sort of bosom of it, which I'm really pleased about. It makes it a great thing to return to. It's nice when guests come in - like you, Peter, coming back to do this - and seem to get a sense of that, and kind of become part of that as well. It's a very happy place to be.

- - - - - -

Link to [ part one ] of the Time Crash Behind-the-scenes posts, or click the #whoBtsCrash tag, or the full episode list [ here ]

[joeloverture]

whist i get what you are saying about confederate flag, why is it deemed completely okay to write about joel saying that he would have fucked his 15 year old daughter given the chance. this isn’t trying to be hateful, i’m just genuinely curious

okay hi! thank you for being sane about this and actually approaching from a place of wanting to widen your scope. id direct you to @whataperfectwasteoftime for more on the confederate flag stuff. they made a well developed post on that for a much more aggressive version of this ask.

im sure u can guess what’s under the cut so heed any triggers you may have and put u first.

i want to make something clear here that i previously haven’t. i don’t think this fic belonged on tumblr. it’s ambiguous in its TOS whether its actually a violation or not, but since tumblr operates in areas where writing csa is illegal, it was never meant to be here in the first place. ao3? sure. whatever. but this is stirring things up because it was in an unexpected place. tumblr has more rules whereas ao3 is the scarcely contained Wild West of fanfic.

furthermore — i wouldn’t say it’s completely okay. these things have nuance. i read the fic, because I saw something like this coming from down the road considering the fandom climate. i do think the fic was stylistically written in a way that was self aware of the characters mutual destruction of each other. i also think it was intentionally inflammatory in some ways. however, everything was adequately tagged. people were free to move on if it caused discomfort, which i also want to make clear is a normal feeling. whether it be interacting with eroticized fanfiction or fiction in general, it is an inherently uncomfortable feeling sometimes! it’s up to us to determine what agitates our personal limits. i don’t think others should be held responsible for our consumption. what joel said in that fic was repulsive. it was meant to be! i also want to reiterate here that darkfic isn’t for me. dark fiction, though? that’s my shit — and i don’t mean dark romance or a little life, but the same theory can apply to those.

if we begin to crack down on eroticized fanfiction, the terminology they use will bleed into other areas of literature. suddenly the language used to describe a minor in an erotic work (and trust me, the thought of this does nauseate me — emphasis on this not being for me) is forbidden in a work that is raising awareness or telling a story. these may seem like far jumps, but loopholes like this exist everywhere in the law. it is why worries about rights to privacy emerged during roe v wade. especially with the right, famously laden with pedos and their enablers, they will pretend to be protecting people by silencing any dubious erotic work, then trans and queer voices (notice how they are constantly called pedos), and then real csa stories will be suppressed so they can get away with more.

id direct you to a pending law in tx, in which any obscene depiction of a minor or someone who looks like one. (senate bill 20)

big win, right?

nope. it’s far too up to interpretation at the prosecutorial level. scotus actually deemed this unconstitutional in 2003.

it is legal to marry a child in texas. these lawmakers use fiction as their scapegoat to avoid the moral consequences of actions they participate in. laws like this may start at the level of, say, anime or manga. but it very rapidly will spread to appropriate television, art, etc that depicts trans and queer people. and even beyond that.

i worry where this goes. if we don’t speak up now, who will speak up for us when they come for us? because they will.

additionally, fiction ≠ reality. this is an important distinction. fiction can be a powerful tool to explore what we fear, what we have experienced, and what we wish would happen. i cannot police what others do. only what i write and how i respond to their words.

[mongoosingisme]

Okay, hear me out, I'm sure this has probably been done a lot but, it's the 1st year of the flower dance and fem!farmer wooed shane up to 8 hearts. Farmer attends the festival in the proper attire (a pretty white dress and heels) and seeing shane all dressed up makes her all hot and flustered. She obviously asks Shane to dance and he begrudgingly agrees, but they instead sneak off into the forest for a little bit of "fun" instead. Protection? It wasn't planned soooo....oops. Pull out game? Weak. 🫣 They return to the festival afterwards for some sly comments from the others.

HELLO FRIEND!

I've tried to write this several different times, and then I got angst-pilled and wrote some other stuff and it all came together.

So... yes. A continuation of the couple other Shane fills I posted this week (here and here). Had to massage the ask a little bit (picturing it as being between 4 and 6 heart events), and it came out probably a little more dark/angsty than such a lighthearted ask would probably warrant so... uh, yeah.

(seriously, though, reach out if you want me to take another swing that isn't connected to other stuff and is maybe a little more light and bright).

Gonna be one more in this series that'll wrap it up.

Okay! No more housekeeping!

Title: (still don't know what to call these things - doc was named "Shane dance req")

Pairing: Shane x fem!farmer

Word Count: 4170

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only, if you would be so kind

Tags and fic under the cut!

Tags: Shane real real sad, alcoholism/depression stuff, blow jobs, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, super weak pullout game, not great examples of communication

When Shane was a kid Marnie had this dog. Ugly fucking thing, all drool and rough fur and this shit eating grin.

He loved that dog. He’d crawl into Shane’s bed at night, lay his head over his hip, all heavy and warm and stinking and love.

But then one summer the dog wasn’t there anymore. He had killed a chicken. Big teeth, thin neck, a mess of blood and feathers. You couldn’t have a dog that killed chickens around a farm, so he had to go live somewhere else.

Shane knew how that dog felt.

The farmer. He’d gotten a taste, and he wanted more.

Shane worked very hard not to want things.

Shane was failing.

It felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. 

“Are we gonna talk about all that?” She’d asked it a few days later at the saloon, voice quiet and soft, making sure Emily was elsewhere.

“Nope.” It was all that needed to be said. All that he could possibly say.

“Okayyyyy…” Her mouth was in a flat line. Another kind of honest look. Then she looked away, rested her cheek in her hand.

He wanted to be her hand.

He could still taste her.

He wanted more. It nagged at him. Made it all heavier. An unfinished task. Like if he did it maybe he could finally find some relief. Check the last box. 

He had a drink. It helped cover up the taste.

He should do with himself what Marnie did with the dog. Send himself off somewhere else, where there was less potential for pain.

That place didn’t exist, though. So he let himself sink.

Into drink, yes, of course, but also into the farmer. Because she was still there, somehow, still warm and real and honest and when he made her laugh he still felt like maybe there was a good reason for him to be on earth after all.

They spoke more. Sitting on the dock in the chilly early spring air. Or, most nights, at the Saloon. Slouching against the bar, lost in the way she managed to drag words out of him, circumventing the invisible boot that always felt like it was pressing into his throat. The teeth around his neck.

She saw more too. What he looked like when he was low. In his natural state, radiating spikes of pain that punctured the people closest to him.

It was okay. He had room for shame.

He didn’t have room for her, though, and the feelings she ignited in him. Feelings he could name (hope, joy, connection) but would not, would never, could never admit, because they were the feelings that didn’t stick around, and the holes they left behind were so much more painful than if they hadn’t been there at all.

The alcohol helped, for the most part.

It might be a problem.

———————

Shane was an atheist, but if he thought it would make the farmer stop showing up in dresses he could absolutely be convinced to pray.

Spring. Flower Dance. He was there. It made Jas and Marnie happy to see him there. He owed them that. Owed them the suit and the bow tie. Owed them the freshly shaved face and combed hair. Owed them the flask left at home.

Well. Two out of three wasn’t bad.

He spotted the farmer before she spotted him. This was a good thing - he’d probably have a stroke if he had to speak while processing what he was seeing. She was in a dress again. White this time. Light and floating around her knees. Pretty shoes that made her a little taller (his height exactly, if he figured correctly).

She looked radiant. That pure sun smile. Those warm, endless eyes. Hair done special and necklace on and bright and shining and kind and open and he wondered if he’d feel the same if she came up to him and took his hand in front of everyone and

(fuck no absolutely not, this was not what we are thinking about…)

Her shoes made her walk a little differently, back arched a bit, calves shapely. He could see the backs of her knees. She’d be soft and sensitive there. He could run his fingers back and forth over her skin, make her gasp and squirm.

(he knew what it sounded like when she gasped now, knew the sharpness of the intake, the gentle ‘hah’ that followed, knew a few ways to make her make that sound but there would be more, there would have to be more, so many ways to make her gasp that he hadn’t found yet…)

Her neckline wasn’t plunging, not exactly, but gathering, sleeves dropping off her shoulders in a way that insisted he trace his gaze across her chest.

(he’d touched her there, once, just the once, just his hands, he should have used his mouth, could have marked her, it would have faded by now but he’d know the spot, could look at her and remember how it’d felt to press his mouth there, but all he could do now is imagine and stare and…)

Shit. He was starting.

He focused quickly on the table in front of him.

Food was something to do, at least.

Take her taste out of his mouth.

He grabbed a macaron.

“Is that a bow tie?” She’d sidled up to him. 

He focused on the cookie, and the way his flask felt heavy in his pocket. “Don’t say a thing.”

She just smiled. “You look so perky! Like you’re about to round out a barbershop quartet!”

“Yoba’s Light, must you?”

“Or like you'll try to sell me a clarinet or something. Mr. Music Man!”

“Leave,” he said. “Go be somewhere else.”

“Only if you agree to dance with me!” Bright eyes. Sunshine smile.

“I would rather snort lead paint dust than dance at this thing,” he said. The cookie was dry in his mouth. Cloying and sweet.

The farmer’s sweetness was different. 

If she asked him to dance again he was going to say yes.

He needed a drink. 

“Hey kids!” Emily was there, sneaking the last macaron from under his fingers. “You dancing today?”

“Yes,” the farmer said.

“No,” Shane said.

Emily raised her eyebrows. “You two better get your stories straight.”

“Dance with me?” No bright eyes. No sunshine smile. Just her, sweet like a maple candy he’d had once, melting away on his tongue like it was never there in the first place, but the flavor remained.

“You’re not going to leave me alone until I say yes, are you?” 

“Nope!” She waved to someone over his shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Shane muttered, just to himself, then “fine.”

She smiled, small and controlled. There was a bit of impishness in her eyes. “Perfect. You’ll have to teach me the steps though.”

“Fuck,” he said, for her this time. 

She laughed. 

It all felt lighter, just for a moment. It made him feel like he was spinning up and up.

What goes up must come down.

“Show us how it’s done!” Emily was grinning over a madeleine.

Shane felt like he was losing control over the situation. 

As if he had any to begin with.

“I am not giving you a dance lesson in front of all these people.” He grabbed a fistful of meringues, popped a couple in his mouth. They dissolved instantly.

Not like her. She melted but she lingered.

“So go find a quiet spot and teach her!” Fucking Emily. She always knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Great idea! Come on!” And the farmer was holding his hand now, pulling on it, off towards the woods, and something was skipping in his mind, stuttering, trying to keep up because he absolutely felt the way he thought he would if he she did that, light shining through his body (hand to shoulder to heart to throat), a crushing weight lifted, and he could loosen if he wanted to, in the wake of it, but he tensed instead, because the holding of a hand implied a hand eventually letting go, and it all comes crashing back down so much harder when it gets lifted for a moment.

Emily winked, gave him a little wave as his feet moved without his approval.

The farmer’s hand was solid. Warm. Calloused. Strong. 

He wondered what the callouses would feel like if they rubbed against his lips. If they trailed over his stomach. If they wrapped around his -

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in something that didn’t have the word ‘Joja’ on it.” 

They were walking, just walking, hand in hand like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“How else am I supposed to feel like I’m thriving?”

The farmer snorted. Then, soft and sincere: “you look really good.”

What do you say to that?

“Thanks, you too,” he finally muttered.

“Don’t I?” She smiled at him. “Took me an hour to get my hair together. I used to take an hour on my hair every morning when I lived in the city. I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to have that much free time now.”

Shane made a sound of acknowledgement. 

One of the nice things about the farmer was that she rarely required him to have something to say.

“Think this spot is good?” They’d wandered off on a side trail, ended up in a little clearing.

Shane was struck by the fact that they were alone together. This was very rare.

Shane was struck by the fact that the farmer was absolutely beautiful, looking at him all gentle and at peace and like she was just where she wanted to be.

Shane was struck by the fact that he wanted her. He always wanted her, but it was suddenly so much more intense, so overwhelming, because she was right there, looking at him the way he looked at her, like she saw something she wanted, like she was looking at something worth wanting, and he wanted to drop to his knees.

“Yeah, this is fine,” he managed. 

“So how does it go?” She was looking at him expectantly.

“Huh?” 

“The dance. The one we’re supposed to be practicing. Is your tie restricting blood to your brain?” She reached out, fiddled with the bow.

Shane reached up and grabbed her wrists without thinking. They fit so nicely in his hands. “Don’t,” he said. “That took me twenty minutes to tie.”

He didn’t let go.

He could feel her pulse thrumming.

Her cheeks were a little flushed.

Her eyes dipped down to his mouth.

(It could happen it could happen he could check that box right now and be done with it and it would be fine, it would be okay, it was nothing to worry about because it’d be over and he’d know and the taste would be gone and he could finally finally move on…)

He rubbed his thumbs over her wrists. Slow.

“We’re going to have to talk about this at some point.” She sounded breathless. 

“Yeah,” Shane lied. Then he moved her.

There was a simplicity to bodies that Shane appreciated. A kinetic intelligence that had always been with him. Move this way and that will happen. Apply pressure here and see results there. It had made him a monster on the gridball field, taking down larger players with ease and precision.

Shane knew where his strengths lay.

He knew how to move a body. So he didn’t need to think about how to angle his grip to make the farmer take a step backwards. And it was easy to crowd into her space, press his forehead against hers, make her shift and stumble where he wanted her to go - up against a boulder that he knew would support her just where she needed it, on her shoulders, her hips, the arch of her back as he pressed her against it.

His mouth was on her skin, her neck, but only for a second because her hand was in his hair, pulling him up, making him look at her.

Her eyes.

He tried not to groan.

“Promise me,” she said. “Promise me we’ll talk about this.”

“I promise,” Shane lied.

(it was okay, he had infinite…)

“Okay,” she said, fingers loosening.

He wished they wouldn’t. He wished they’d stay right there, strong and harsh and demanding and showing him exactly what she needed, exactly what he could give her that wasn't a lie.

“Okay,” she said again, and his mouth was falling.

Dresses. Fucking dresses. So different from flannel and denim. So easy to move. Those sloping sleeves that dropped with the slightest nudge, baring curved shoulders and long neck and mounded flesh and skin and skin and skin and skin and skin.

And there it was. That gasp. She made it as he raked his lips across her chest.

(soft and warm, always, every part of her so soft and warm…)

She smelled incredible, like cedar and lavender and soap and just a little bit of sweat, and her chest was moving, heaving up under his mouth as he kissed her, mouth open and lax, chin and cheeks sliding, smooth for once (though part of him craved the friction, the resistance, the reddened skin that proved he was there).

Dresses. Fucking dresses. With tiny zippers in the back that were a bitch to get a good grip on, but once you did they came down so easy, and fuck, the farmer, so put together with a pretty strapless bra that he could pull down like it was nothing. 

Her breasts were warm and heavy as he cupped them. She sighed, pressed up into him.

A sigh was good.

A gasp was better.

He squeezed, observed the indentations his hands made in her flesh. She gasped, arching her back against the boulder.

“There you go.” He wasn’t sure if he said it or thought it. 

Her nipples had tightened, two pebbled tips, and it felt right and good and needed to pinch at them, thumbs and the sides of his forefingers.

(fuck, just like he thought, just like he dreamed, those sounds, sounds like “yes,” like “more,” like his name all broken and gaspy because she loved it, loved his fingers and his hands and his voice…)

“There you go.” He was definitely saying it out loud, and she was whimpering in return. 

His mouth wanted to say more. 

He filled it with her instead. Sucked. Grabbed at her hips as she arched again. Memorized the way she moaned. The way she tasted. Felt her tremble as his teeth scraped over her. Tried not to groan as her hands made their way back to his hair.

He failed.

"That feels so good," she was whispering, and it went straight to his cock. “So fucking good, Shane.”

(His name his name his name his name…)

The other side now. Sucking and scraping and groaning, he couldn’t help it, the sound ripping out of his throat because her hands kept holding him there. 

But then they were pulling, and he was letting her go, and she was saying “I owe you” with the cutest fucking little smile. He didn’t know what she meant until she lowered herself to her knees in front of him, and then he knew exactly what she meant.

Her hands. On his belt. His pants. Pulling. Tracing over his hips. Wrapping around his cock. She was gentle, looking up at him with eyes that were happy and present and just a little mischievous and she looked good, so fucking good down there

.

(So good, such a good fucking girl for him, down on her knees like that with her dress pulled down for anyone to walk by and see her, see her like that, all undone for him, all down on her knees with that smile that felt like a kiss, hot and dirty and intimate and he wanted to kiss her, drag her back up by her hair and…)

She flicked her tongue against the head of his cock, then took it into her mouth. 

He groaned.

Her lips stretched around him, warm, hot, so hot he was dying. 

He needed more.

He reached for her head, her hair, but she slapped his hands away, drew back to say “you mess up my hair and I’m ripping out your bow tie.”

Of course she’d make him laugh like that. 

“Noted,” he said. He realized his voice sounded warm.

And then she was on him for real, mouth stretching down, enveloping him, soft and suction and heat and wet and perfect. So perfect. He wanted to tell her, to unlock his throat, to let the words fall out

(So good so good so fucking good for me sucking my cock like this out in the open, so pretty for me on your knees, fucking made for me aren’t you, fucking made for this…)

But he pressed his lips tight. Closed his eyes. Let the entirety of all that was him rest at the point where her mouth stroked his skin.

It felt like light. Like letting go.

He wanted to let go.

But not yet. 

Now or never, he realized. 

He had to see. Had to check that box. Put it behind him.

He grabbed her hair, pulled her face back. She went easily, looked up at him. Her lipstick was smudged, her eyes a little wet.

He was going to make a mess of her, wasn’t he?

“Are you fucking kidding me?” It was the hair, he realized. 

Well. In for a penny, in for a pound. He kept one hand on her head, used the other to rip out his bow tie, and then he was pulling, something deep in him filling at the way she gasped, different this time, excited, anticipating, an edge of pain.

(Gonna make a mess of her, make a mess of this…)

She was easy to move, so pliant, goosebumps pricking up her arms as he settled her stomach and chest against the rock. He leaned against her, let her feel his weight. His mouth was by her ear. He let his lips touch it. Not a kiss, just a touch. Like his hand that had come around to cup her neck. Just a touch. Just a touch.

She was moving. Hips hitching back, rubbing against him. Throat flexing as she spoke: “Shane, fuck, I need you… Yoba, just fuck me, please.”

Her light. From her throat through his hand to his shoulder to his mouth. Filling it with her taste, too much, too full to keep the words inside, so as he reached up under her dress, pulled her underwear down, pressed his fingers against her he started to speak.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking wet for me, look at you.”

The words made her moan, or maybe it was his fingers working up inside of her. 

“You’re gonna feel so good, aren’t you? Gonna be good for me?”

He barely knew what he was saying, but she was agreeing with it, nodding, whining, moving her hips.

“That’s my girl. That’s my fucking girl.” He had to let go of her neck to get his hand around his cock, to rub it against her, so wet and welcoming, so warm, so fucking warm, all the time, like sunlight, pulling him in, (“I’ll pull out” “fuck, just do it”) deep, deeper, and he could feel her shift around him, making room, making space with a whimper and a whine and a groan (though maybe that was him) and he was enveloped and it was all lifting, lifting off of him, the weight, and fuck if there was space, if there was room in his life for good he could enjoy it, live in this moment, let it fill him and brace him and fix him like some idiot part of his brain still thought was possible.

But there wasn’t space.

So this had to be it.

She was looking over her shoulder at him. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes soft and hazy. Beautiful. So beautiful she couldn’t possibly be for him. “You feel good,” she said. 

If only there were space.

“Baby…” It fell out, looking in her eyes, and it made her smile, and it was fucked, it was all fucked, wasn’t it, because he couldn’t go back, couldn’t unfeel her, couldn’t unsee her, couldn’t let go of her taste.

There was nothing left to do but what his body was screaming for. 

To move.

An arm around her waist. A hand around her neck. Lips fastened on her shoulder. Hips shifting, ears listening, and yes, a gasp, a tightening, and so he did it again, felt her groan reverberate through his hand (hand to shoulder to heart), and then there was rhythm, something to follow, to fall into, to finally finally shut his mind off for one damn minute and feel.

Cool stone seeping in through his elbow.

Soft skin so easy to mold and move.

The farmer. Tight around him. Squeezing and taking. Giving back movement and sound and if he weren’t so far gone, so caught up in her he’d worry that they might carry, that someone might hear, but there was nothing on his mind, a merciful blank, a space, there was space, space that he could fill with her, like he was filling her.

(fuck fuck fuck he was doing it he was doing it he was here and she was here and they were moving together and it was like floating it was like falling it was like waking up it was like going to sleep it was like climbing it was like slipping it was nothing and everything and)

He wanted her to want this like him. Remember this like he would. He dropped his hand from her throat, found her clit, all wet and swollen and (fuck fuck fuck) her sounds were changing, breathier, rising in tenor and tension and he needed it, needed her to feel it too, how the weight could lift.

“Yes,” she was saying, over and over. Voice tight and shaking, trembling under him, hitching and tightening in a way that made his stomach drop, his hips tighten, his mind go blank and 

(oh shit oh shit oh shit too much too much can’t move can’t think can’t breathe can’t fucking…)

He was making a mess of her.

Like he made a mess of everything.

For a moment it all lifted.

In an instant it all came crashing back down.

“Fuck, did you…?” She was looking over her shoulder as he was pulling out, pulling away. Eyes (those eyes, those pretty pretty pretty eyes) still blown dark. Hair unkept. Lips swollen, like she’d been biting at them.

He wanted to push right back into her again. 

He wanted to run. 

“I… shit…” What the fuck do you say to that?

She was turning, rearranging her clothes, and there were things he was supposed to say, feelings he was supposed to be having, but there was no room for them, none, (only shame, infinite room for shame) but still she was there, and her hand was on his cheek. “We have to talk about this, Shane.”

“I know.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t a promise either.

“They’re going to miss us at the dance. We need to get back but…” She sighed. Stoked a thumb over his cheek.

(How? How? How did she have space for him, still, with all that was falling and all that was crushing and all that was him?)

The words were all caught up in his throat.

He needed a drink.

She was fixing his tie. Smoothing her hair. Swiping at her lips. Undoing the mess he made.

He wanted to fall to his knees.

“Come on.” She held onto his hand, led him back to the festival.

She had an infinite capacity for love, he realized. He could bask in it. Photosynthesize. Wrap that vine around her and let it grow and grow and grow until eventually it choked out everything around it. Thick and thorny and invasive, winding around her neck, impossible to remove once those roots got deep.

“Your bow tie’s a little crooked.” Emily. Back at the dance. The farmer was off making her rounds. 

He wondered if she could still feel him inside of her. 

“Did you two have fun dancing? You missed the big show.” Em was futzing with his tie, and his arms felt too heavy to bat her away. 

“Fucking hate this festival,” he said. 

“There’s always next year.” She ruffled his hair. 

Shane said nothing. Watched the farmer. Tried to decide if her walk was different. If her shoulders sloped. If she could feel his weight. 

He could feel it.

What he carried.

What pressed in on him.

Like a boulder on his back.

Like teeth sharp on a throat.

Her taste was still there.

It wouldn’t go away.

And Shane had to decide if he could live with the consequences.

[aq2003]

archive dive #3: romeo and juliet (2000)

i fucking loved this so so much. ohhhhh it was so good. i am fond of the baz luhrmann movie but my one gripe w it is the portrayal of the titular characters feels too boring and here it's like. i can't even joke david tennant and alex gilbreath are perfect for the roles and i'm obsessed. i feel like this production really nails the tone most of all; when i was reading the play again i found it kinda fucked up and dark, like while it was funny at times (like any shakespeare play is) it very much wasn't this light fantastical sweeping romance, even at the beginning before the deaths start happening...and it feels like michael boyd thought the same when approaching the story. it feels slightly unconventional but also the original felt like that to me too, if that makes sense. anyway i loved the music and choreography in this soooo much and the seperate curved walls symbolizing the two families is just [chefs kiss]. it's a great production all around and i'm forever jealous of the people who got to watch it live

prev / archive dive tag / next

david wrote about it in his romeo essay of course but i love the choice to have romeo narrate the prologue in the middle of the big brawl between the families at the beginning. the fact that it's a romeo after his death looking back on the tragedy with a sense of resignation but also serenity like yessss yessssssss <- sicko. he was doomed from the start because of the world he lived in etc etc

you can feel the teenage angst dripping off romeo the minute he walks onto the stage (after the prologue during his actual first scene). his back is to the camera as benvolio hugs him but the angst is still so palpable. it's coming off of him in waves. just the way that he walks. so real

"in sadness, cousin, i do love...........................a woman" why did he pause like that. this is so funny. what is the implication here.

david plays romeo's self-dramatizing lovesickness perfectly but also this was the exact energy i expected he would also bring to berowne and he surprisingly did not! i will talk about this in the LLL post but i will leave this note here for now

i love alex's voice an inordinate amount and i think it is just a perfect fit for juliet. i think a big thing with juliet is that she sort of acts/imagines herself as much older than she actually is (bc that's how her family sees her too) and her having that kind of raspy, deeper voice lends itself well to that

mercutio is a really interesting bit of this production because it's the one element i feel like is the least faithful to the text (or at least, whatever my reading of the text is). he's very clearly jealous, and a lot of his lines poking fun at romeo's love life feel way less humorous than they were originally written to be. like of course this mercutio is witty and fun which goes for basically any good mercutio but he's also a bit vindictive here! he's cynical about love specifically because of romeo's rejection of him! it's not bad and it def feeds into the tone the production is going for but it is still very Different to me

like by comparison you look at harold perrineau's mercutio (bombastic and campy and fun with this undercurrent of past tragedy to him) or dt's audio drama mercutio (filled w a lust for life without the actual lust. he's just here for a good time) and adrian's mercutio just feels like a whole different character. he even gets aggressive with romeo and pins him down for half of the queen mab speech and it's like mercutio we can find you another twink for you to make heart eyes at it's okay.

i wonder if the familiarity between mercutio and romeo + that line reading on "i do love a woman" a while back implies that they had some kind of history together? is that why mercutio feels so possessive and jealous over romeo? much to think about

the whole stage changing color back to blue during the dance when juliet and romeo first lay eyes on each other. Oh baby

the curved line the capulets form as they hold hands and walk off the stage after the dance imitating the curve of the wall <33

i'm obsessed with how alex delivers the "you kiss by the book" line. it's so funny. i think in general juliet is so interesting because she's less sensitive and "romantic" than romeo is, like if he's this emotional misunderstood poet than she's more of a grounded realist and is almost surprised by how her feelings bloom out of her. in her head it's like she's aware of romeo's unimpressive aspects (like his cookie cutter pickup lines and his mediocre kissing) but she's still enchanted with him anyway because (to steal a line from doctor who) he's the first person she's met who is remotely like her

i love the song the chorus does at the start of act 2, originally i kind of imagined it being done in the same way as the prologue but it would not make as much sense for ghost romeo to come back in now that the story is rolling along lol

the balcony scene... ahhh the balcony scene. i love how romeo starts off with his back pressed against the wall representing the montagues and then when he works up the courage, makes his way over to the capulet wall where juliet is standing at the top of. symbolism!

juliet hitting her head on the wall to punctuate every word of "wherefore art thou romeo" a) is a great way of approaching the text without over-sentimentality + the baggage of "oh these are some of shakespeare's most famous lines" and b) makes the line a lot more easy to understand for a random audience member watching it (like how she's not asking "where" but "why" and is frustrated by the situation she's found herself in)

the two of them reaching for each other over the wall during the "i would i were thy bird" bit made me go "awww :("

mercutio pushing romeo away when he screams "a plague o' both your houses" (while letting himself get carried away by benvolio)... like Oh yeah it's not even actually about the montagues and the capulets at this point he is blaming romeo specifically and i'm positively sure romeo is looking at him with the sad_wet_david_tennant_eyes.gif

the way romeo's voice breaks when he says "but mercutio's soul is a little way above our heads" someone hug him please. oh my god?

3.3 was done so well and i am so [screams loudly] abt it. just in general i think this scene is VERY important to romeo's character, bc this is basically where you understand his turmoil and why he feels like he can't live in a world without juliet. he's traumatized by his friend's death and thinks his soulmate hates him forever and that his life is over. and you get the sense maybe he was always teetering on the edge of a cliff too. it needs to be given the right amount of weight, it can't shy away from this horrible meltdown he's having. and i think david really does it justice in his portrayal of it. the way he paces around in this uncomfortable and frantic way like he doesn't want to be in his own body n how he screams and lashes out and tries to claw at his skin. it is so heartbreaking thank u david i'm so fucked up now

and like the way that friar lawrence takes the dagger from romeo and goes on his whole spiel about how he needs to man up and stop crying and this just makes romeo start crying harder like oh my god. Ohhhhhhhh my god i actually need to be shot

somewhat delving into hc territory but i think romeo (dt's version especially) is very sensitive and seeks out love and affection wherever he can find it bc his parents were emotionally neglectful towards him (while friar lawrence was far more understanding and attentive by comparison, and generally much more of an actual father figure towards him). but even then friar lawrence has his moments of "stop having those stupid girly feelings romeo". i feel like juliet is the only person in the play who doesn't see romeo's emotions as unseemly or ridiculous

i was reading the prompt book alongside watching this and they changed juliet's line "love, lord, ay husband, friend" to "love, lord, my husband, friend" as if that line couldn't get more tragic. my husband. my friend. fuck!!

also. guys i need lord capulet DEAD and GONE. clean shot. ok anyways

one of, if not my favorite scene in the play is in 4.3 where juliet monologues about what could go wrong before drinking the sleeping potion. it's like... she has to be incredibly brave to even get by in her life, whether that be her relationship with romeo or her father threatening her or her accepting the potion from friar lawrence in the first place. her life is actively scary in a way that romeo's isn't and obeying her family would be so much easier but she still doesn't give in and stop fighting. bc her life is hers and she won't let her one choice she made for herself be taken away from her. but here all of that bravery falls away because she basically has to give up and surrender. she's just left with herself and a drink that will basically kill her and it's so genuinely fucking terrifying for her and it makes me want to eat rocks. she is just so young and scared and she has to look death in the face for a chance of freedom and it's so fucking sad because you know it's not going to work and she's doomed by the narrative

AND THE STAGE TURNS BLUE WHEN JULIET HALLUCINATES TYBALT'S GHOST. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. SHE'S SO TERRIFIED AND RIGHTFULLY SO. SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING COULD GO WRONG BUT SHE DOES IT ANYWAY. BUT WE KNOW SHE'S DEAD. SHE'S BEEN DEAD FROM THE BEGINNING.

anyway that scene was cut out in the baz luhrmann movie but it's here in this production which makes me very happy, as happy as i can be about this very upsetting scene where this young girl is finally overwhelmed by her fear of death

mentioning another thing david wrote about in his essay but romeo in act 5 isn't overindulgent and emotional anymore just determined and driven towards his end. but also actually watching it, for me it's just so so sad because it's like. you want that overemotional romeo back, the romeo that was coming up with love poetry on the spot or crying over being separated from juliet. at that point he still wanted to live for her but now it's like he's filled with this cold finality of "oh, i can only be together with her in death. and there is nothing i have left to do but to make that happen"

romeo's final speech to juliet. david tennant i'm in your walls

juliet's dying gasps/sobs as she sinks into the grave with romeo in her arms. alex gilbreath i'm in your walls

the light of the stage turning blue as the ghosts of juliet and romeo come out of the grave and exit the stage together as their parents agree to resolve the conflict between the families... (the only other times it turned blue were when ghost romeo came out to narrate the prologue, when romeo and juliet first meet each other, and right before juliet drinks the sleeping potion). i am sick

the music at the end of the play/during the curtain call is so melancholy and beautiful I AM SICK

such a good production. fuck

[cuppajj]

Beast Ancients AU Askbox Thoughts

Hey! This is just to clear up my thought process revolving around BAAU related asks. Please consider reading everything so you know for later!

When is the askbox open?: Whenever I feel like it, mostly. I usually leave it open, but I close it when I'm not in the mood to receive any.

CJJ's BAAU askbox notes:

I answer whatever ask I feel like! I do not operate on a schedule, and I do not guarantee everyone's ask will be answered, especially with factors like the amount I get, motivation to answer, and other things like if the question has been asked and answered before. Please do not feel entitled to hearing from me!

You are less likely to have your question answered if it has already been answered. This means if I said an answer in a previous ask or if a lore post answered it, I'm less likely to respond. There are some instances where I'll have new information to answer a previously asked question, which is why I'm only saying I'm less likely to answer, not ignore repeated questions outright

You might notice that I'm vague with some responses. This is usually because I want to leave things up to speculation! I don't want to share all of BAAU's story and lore from beginning to end immediately, especially when not everything is planned. So with this in mind, I won't (yet) answer endgame questions, or what happens in certain climactic scenes, etc. That is not to know so early on in baau's development! I like sharing things in a sorta linear format. If I get past the introductory part of the AU then I'd be more open to sharing the deeper heavier moments in detail.

Questions that have very subjective/speculative answers (such as the neobeasts reacting to mundane situations, questions that speculate what happens to a certain character not yet talked about, general headcanon posts that aren't super story focused) are also less likely to be answered, or at least answered vaguely. This is because I want to, again, leave room for people's own theories. I like fostering an environment of discussion!

Please do not expect me to take drawing requests! I know I have drawn for some, but it is not a guarantee nor should it be seen as a likely thing.

"Is it ok if my OC is in the au? ... can we write fanfiction?" etc - yes, it's why the tags exist!

I might answer some questions, but I'm no actual answering machine. I'm just an artist who has motivation highs and lows and answers whatever question jumps out at me in the moment. If I were to make answering everything an obligation, I would burn out real fast - and that's not fun for anyone here!

While it might look like I'm trying to bar people from asking certain things in my inbox, I don't intend for that to be the case. I don't want to undervalue the interest a lot of you have in my au. It means a lot that you have all of these questions and thoughts, and I'm very happy you enjoy what I have so far! This post is mostly just me explaining my thought process when I receive asks. For BAAU, I approach things in a mostly question-answer basis with emphasis on story clarification, and some sillies here and there! If you want to take anything from this, it's that I'd highly recommend scouring the #beast ancients au ask and general #beast ancients au tags (and the masterpost). You might find the answer to the question you were looking for, or at least find something that makes you think!

(I'll add more to this if I think of any)

Hope you understand and thanks!

[notacyborg]

Screenshot: I’m not even going to hide this person’s handle. Because this is their whole ass account.

Posting hate to our tag is A+.

But I did put it under the cut to spare people.

Look, you want to not ship BuckTommt, fine; you want to ship Buddie also cool.

Saying crash that helicopter? We've been saying that. Thing is we’ll write fix it fics if it doesn't go our way.

But calling people ugly souls over a ship is wild.

Making a hate post tagged with the ship is fucking wild.

You folks got pissed there was a block list going around; well, this shit is why.

Who takes fandom this seriously? Who takes a ship this seriously that they harass actors under the name of Buddie canon? You lot sent Lou and every other LI death threats.

Like when the breakup happened so much hate was spread from your side it was wild when you could have easily just gone about your days.

But you didn't.

We have nice events, fan fic, art, fundraisers, just have a good time with each other it’s how fandom is supposed to be.

But you’re just so filled with hate that it’s like you don't enjoy the show anymore. Do you even watch the show anymore?

Look when you do shit like this and ** to censor your fucking swears… which okay you censored ugly which is wild given the venom you spew. But it tells me what I need to know.

You're probably a small lonely person without a creative bone in your body, so consumed by hate you can't help but bother people who just want to be left alone to enjoy the gay firefighter show, with beenados, freeway sharks, and a billion other totally believable things.

Get some fresh friends and a day job, baby cakes.

Also just write some fan fic make some art participate in the joyful part of fandom and get out of our tag.

[owlstro]

Thank you for the great stuff you been posting so far.

2. tw astro x gn reader? We couldn't escape in time and now we gotta deal with the guy, fluff or angst I am alr with either :b.

3. I think you forgot to tag the shrimpo one?

TWISTED ASTRO X GN READER , fluff

note: 1. UR WELCOME!! im glad thst people have been enjoying my works!! havent seen alot of dw x reader soo i decided to take matters into my own hands!

2. i decided fluff since im better at writing it!! Altho the entire thing isn't very long so my bad lolsies..

3. OOPS!! i was pretty tired when i made that one, ill be sure to fix it, thank you for letting me know!

art: @ samwichtheunforgettable on Pinterest

Well this is a doozy, despite all the adrenaline you felt you couldn't get close enough to make it into the elevator. You were understandably freaking out and panicking.

Once you sorta calm down to actually think logically, you decide to hide. You don't know what to do, all you can do is just hide and hope no Twisted finds you.

Well, technically those hopes DID work, all of the Twisteds wandered the area like zombies, except one. Of course, you were gonna die eventually.

Although after some chasing and hiding, the Twisted kept following you, even almost slowing down when you ran out of stamina.

You were quite confused about why they didn't hurt you when you slipped and fell over.

Till you noticed who was chasing you, or well.. more accurately, following you. It was Astro, Twisted Astro.

You didn't know what he wanted, but it definitely wasn't something malicious. He looked lonely, sad even.

You stared at him, he stared at you. It was awkward for the two of you to say the least.

You suppose, if you're gonna find out how to communicate with him.. It would preferably be somewhere safe than a random hallway.

You lead him to the hiding spot he first found you in. Still feeling uneasy about a literal Twisted following you and the fact you haven't died yet is a miracle.

Astro looked at you curiously, wondering what you'll do next. You were just observing his body language. His arms and legs twitched quite often, most likely due to an absurd amount of Ichor he had to.. consume?

You tried communicating with him with words, while he could vaguely understand, it wasn't all too helpful.

You tried conveying your thoughts and MANY questions, on why he isn't attacking you like the others are, through body language but it seemed it confused him more. Man, being a Twisted sucks.

You tried all sorts of things, all of them ending up him confused or the both of you confused by what you were doing.

You just sighed and sat down, never-mind all of this.. How are you gonna return to the group? This is a mess.

Your eyes hovered over every small or big object you could see in your sight, not really making a single coherent thought.

You knew Astro was still there with you, probably staring but you didn't pay too much attention. You DID appreciate his presence, because Astro always gave off that calming aura of his.

But you didn't know how to feel about his corrupted.. or well, 'Twisted' version of him.

You could hear him shuffle a little closer to you as your thoughts spiraled into madness.

Then, his nightcap (that weirdly acted like it had a mind of its own.) wrapped around your torso.

Oh, well this brought you out of... whatever your brain was on.

You heard him mutter something or at least you saw him try to say something, due to all of the Ichor he consumes.

"It's fine, you don't need to speak." You eventually say, not wanting to make his throat hoarse. Seriously it must hurt drinking the Ichor.

Twisted Astro weakly nods, seemingly figuring out whether or not to lean on you or wait for you to lean on him.

You answer his thoughts by leaning on Astro. Your head on his shoulders.

"These circumstances aren't ideal, no far from it, but at least you're here." You say, almost feeling sleepy but your anxiety about the other Twisteds forced you to wake up.

final note: SORRY IF THIS IS MESSY. i couldnt think of many headcanons for him MY BAD GANGG. i might edit this but yea.. sorry this took so long! school had me swamped, HOPE U STILL ENNJOYED UR REQUEST!!!!!!

[monkesupreme]

ref

a satisfactory answer for Selina

[stealingyourbones]

Never will I stop with the steadfast notion that folks in the DPXDC fandom should interact with at least some form of canon DC media.

There are comics, tv shows, radio dramas both old and new, podcasts, movies, magazines, so much shit that intentionally avoiding the media is simply preventing yourself from spawning new ideas and gaining a new appreciation for a fandom that you’re already in.

The Superman Radio Show has episodes 11 minutes long. A lot of the TV shows don’t have episodes that surpass 30 minutes and most are nearly fully clipped on the official DC YouTube channel. The amount of fan made motion comics is astounding. The amount of fanmade animations is equally as incredible.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

drawing your favorite guys being silly is very effective at keeping The Horrors at bay

bonus doc from a different canvas:

[serotonin-dose]

AsaDen x Metaphor Re:Fantazio