#no i will eventually have a serious coherent response to this

[doloridis]

What's your meta about Aegon feeding Nyra to Sunfyre?

aegon my man. she was already mourning the loss of a grandkid, three kids, her father, and her brother, did u really need to make her ex-girlfriend dragon chum

[nevertheless-moving]

Considering the amount of emotional and moral nuance he managed to muster up immediately post Guanyin temple (despite having a terrible week and zero good role models) AND considering his front row seat to the dissection of Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian’s downfall, I think that in a time travel fix-it, Jin Ling would actually be pretty successful at brute forcing yunmeng family therapy.

I mean he'd probably cry, but even that would be good! Because 1) modeling negative male emotions beside anger, and 2) Oh shit that’s shije’s kid we made Shije’s son cry, fuck, fuck! Bam! Instant high ground! Also he has the most authority of any second gen character by virtue of the fact that he could pull “DO YOU WANT MY MOM TO DIE??? BECAUSE YOU TWO ACTING LIKE MORONS IS WHAT GOT MY MOM KILLED! NOW SIT DOWN AND SPIT OUT ALL YOUR FUCKING SECRETS OR MY MOM WILL DIE AND I’LL BREAK YOUR LEGS!!” It would work! Tell me it wouldn't work!

Not to mention once he gets a few sect leader years under his belt, he might be the best person to manage a fix-it, in general. He's got perspective. He's got political training. Others might get too caught up on the specifics of the Wen remnants or the Ying Tiger Tally or Vengeance against One Person or Another — Jin Ling is critiquing the basic structure of how Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are living their lives and he's getting away with it.

He would even be good at dealing with Jin Guangyao, the slipperiest motherfucker in the timeline. Jin Ling's got as good a handle as anyone on his motivations, and he has sincere (if messy) affection for him, which would hit Guangyao right in his weak spot. Depending on your headcanons it may or may not be in vain, but he's got a real chance of getting the man to set some more modest and less destructive life goals.

Similarly, I think he'd do a pretty decent job at a harsh-but-fair critique of Xichen's neutrality and Mingue's rigidity and Huissang's delibrate uselessness, though getting them to listen would be more of a crapshoot.

All of this makes it especially funny how badly he would handle Wangxian.

For context: Wei Ying and Hunguang-jun are not just the gayest people Jin Ling has ever met, they are the gayest people he's ever HEARD of.

He wouldn't want to bring it up. He wouldn't mean to. He doesn't want to talk about it. But when he inevitably calls Wei Ying a slur only to be met with genuine bafflement? Jin Ling would completely lose his shit.

Because I don't think Wei Ying is going to get offended, or defensive, or have a response that his nephew could coherently mock. Wei Wuxian thinks 'hey these time traveling guys are actually pretty funny!' Him and Whom? Not even a serious topic of contention. You got me for a second, haha.

Jin Ling would break. Wei Ying eventually says something the effect of "I'm straight? Obviously?" and Jin Ling would nod once, start screaming, then climb across the table to strangle him.

It's — look. How do you fucking explain that all of the worst moments of your life were, in someway or another, characterized by Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanjii being FLAMBOYANTLY into one another.

The man who saved his life also killed his father and Jin Ling stabs him but it feels awful and — ok Lan Wanjii is cradling Wei Wuxian tenderly. Ok they're just going to go. They're leaving like that. Hunguang Jun was — is — was the Yiling Patriarch's widow, so that's another layer to add onto everything else. Hunguang-Jun is visibly expressing emotions with his face and voice and Jin Ling is going to go throw up now

Jin Ling's kidnapped at the burial mounds and everyone’s lost their spiritual energy and all his friends and family are going to die and — those two are smiling at eachother. They're telling inside jokes. They're holding hands.

Jin disciples (his own clans disciples) just shot at him and and Xiao-shushu really is what people sa— WEI YING SHOUTS ABOUT WANTING TO FUCK LAN WANJII

THEY ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF BEING KIDNAPPED AND HE DOES THIS

Jujiu is bleeding from the stomach and crying he's bleeding and crying his jujiu is doing that and Xiao-shushu caused it and his whole life is a lie and Hunguang Jun and the Yiling Patriarch are visibly groping in a corner.

And then they never stop groping again. Forever.

So yeah, I'm quite confident that if Jin Ling had to be even peripherally involved with coaching Wei Wuxian through a bisexual awakening and homoerotic courtship, he would explode. He would black out with rage. He'd make an honest and embarrassingly unsuccessful attempt at killing Lan Zhan. He would walk into a lotus pond and stay there until he drowned. He'd start heavy drinking. He'd punch a random passerby in the dick.

In conclusion, Need More Jin Ling Time Travel Fics

[ddarker-dreams]

Scarlet ribbons but she is the one telling the boys how she thinks they are super pretty/handsome/etc.

(Ps love your writing sm, it cheered me up alot after i had a rough day yesterday uwu)

WAHH WHAT AN ADORABLE IDEA.... it's what they deserve tbh... my favs from part 5 are like the only people who get to be happy on this blog hrjktmger and i'm so glad that my writing helped cheer you up, i hope that the past few days have been treating you better!!

Reader is referred to as girlfriend here!

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno

He gets the cutest blush that he tries to hide by covering his face with his hand and clearing his throat. Passione's Don, who remains unwavering in the face of death, can't handle his beloved heaping praises upon him. No matter how suave he may act, your relationship is his first foray into romance. There's a slight shakiness to his voice when he returns your compliment. It doesn't help that there's this glint in your eye that tells him you'll be using this newfound knowledge to your advantage. He supposes it's only fair, considering his penchant for teasing you whenever possible, but maybe he'll go easy on you after learning how it feels. That isn't to say he dislikes your kind words — more so that the temporary loss in his composure is a strange sensation. Strange, yet not unwelcome.

Bruno

Your serious Capo melts on the spot at such ardent praise — he can feel Cupid's arrow piercing him in real time. He takes a moment to recollect himself, before wondering aloud what brought this on. When you point out that he compliments you all the time without any real reason, he puts his hands up in defense, conceding to your argument. If you're in public, he'll limit his response to a warm thank you. Should you be away from prying eyes, however, he'll pull you into an embrace. It serves a dual purpose. You won't be able to see the pink dusting his cheeks and he gets to wrap you up in his arms. You really are the light of his life, he'll tell you. As unconventional as the lifestyle you both lead is, it's moments like this where he delights in a shred of normalcy.

Fugo

His overactive brain temporarily short circuits. Fugo is the type to blush up to his ears, no matter how vehemently he denies it. This poor guy considers you infinitely out of his league and immediately assumes you broke the espresso machine or something and want to soften the blow by using flattery. He sputters for a few moments before his tongue recalls how to properly form coherent words. He'll downright ask what angle you're trying to use here. He isn't used to receiving compliments without the other person having an end goal in mind. Once it's clear you just felt like letting him know, he takes deep breaths to calm his heart, which he can hear thumping loudly. Fugo then starts saying that objectively speaking, you are far more aesthetically pleasing, and starts lifting off some mathematical terms that fly over your head.

Mista

Mista points at himself and says "Me?" just to make sure he heard you right. This is a big moment for him. It isn't that he doubts your physical attraction to him, but hearing it confirmed out loud in your sweet voice is a real treat. He'll sling an arm around your shoulder and drops the line, "You're not so bad yourself", because he thinks it sounds cool. Mista wants to maintain his laidback air, but when you say stuff like that, his stomach does soumersalts and his hands start sweating. He has this big goofy grin and confident gait the remainder of the day. The one trade off (in his opinion) is that the Pistols start swarming about, insisting that you pay them equal praise. Chaos ensues until you appease their neediness for your validation. It is his soul made manifest, after all.

Narancia

Narancia does a little fist pump and starts cheering internally. Although, if you called him pretty, he might pause and get petulant. He totally exudes machismo, he'll insist. He'll warm up to the compliment eventually, though, but he won't admit it. Regardless, he's hype about it. His energy skyrockets the rest of the day. He's all over you, peppering your face with kisses, picking you up and twirling you around, he's on cloud nine. He considers it his personal mission to shower you in praise and this only reaffirms the creed. He'll go up to random people in public, point at you, and say stuff like, "Isn't she so cute? That's my girlfriend, yeah, that pretty lady over there. Do you see her? Just look at her, she's amazing, the coolest ever, did you know she—" and on and on he'll go.

Abbacchio

Similar to Fugo, he initially assumes that you're trying to butter him up. He'll wryly ask what you intend to cajole him into doing. When you huff and insist that this is a no strings attached compliment, he'll study you, since he knows the many tells that signify you're lying. Upon realizing you're being genuine, he'll grumble a few words of gratitude and leave it at that. Don't let his composure fool you — his heart is pounding away like he's a hormonal teenager again. He will lie awake that night, your words repeating on a loop without his Stand's assistance, floating in this warm and fuzzy sensation. Abbacchio might not be the best with his words, but he swears an oath to compliment you properly the next time he sees you.

[variousqueerthings]

something i havent seen (im sure it's out there i just havent seen it) is that while a part of louis and claudia's relationship is of course very much framed by how claudia is constantly made to be in second place to louis' romantic partners (who are also not good to her or to louis) is the way that they're family, and it's complicated, but ultimately - i think - a positive family for one another, rather than the kind of family you leave and never speak to again if you can help it (that would be lestat...)

whether louis is father/mother/uncle/brother, he's not really "friend," (and vice versa, claudia as child/niece/sister) and so there's always going to be a specific dynamic that is complicated in the way the family you grow up with is complicated, and is even more complicated because using any of those words is technically incorrect and they fully had lives before they met, but for the sake of this particular read i think this fits closest. caretaker, perhaps

the point is - and it's not something i can make particularly coherently at the moment - related to how i feel about my siblings (esp my younger siblings) vs how i feel about other people in my life. my siblings simply are, whether or not we get on all the time, whether i feel sad or not that our lives have grown apart since adulthood, whether or not other people in their and my life take precedence during particular times (which can take many different forms -- for them more romantic, for me more community related, the language for where we're going in life just looks different than it did when we were kids)

when louis lets claudia down, but at the same time promises "you and me/me and you" those two things aren't paradoxical to one another, because there is a certain "taking for granted" that can happen -- claudia is always going to be there, just like louis assumes he will also simply be there, while at the same time having that jealousy and expectation that comes with his being older than her that she'll always depend on him to an extent (and she does, but he maybe doesn't take into account how much he depends on her, because being older/feeling like he has "the responsibility" while also suffering serious mental health issues... lotta mess he puts on her shoulders, as we can see)

when claudia joins the coven that takes away louis' feeling of being of use anymore, he doesn't define himself outside of claudia ("if there was no me...") -- and also outside of lestat/his romantic relationships but that's a different post -- and claudia is moving on, but look, armand is there, claudia's got what she wants, louis got something, and they're both still there (am also reminded of how when claudia comes back in s1, it's explicitly once she sees louis sobbing over his grave when his sister declares him dead)

the idea of claudia not being there terrifies louis, he experienced that loss twice in new orleans, once when she left and didn't come back for years, and once when lestat forced her back immediately, and then again the idea of it when she joins the coven (but then he pulls himself back from the edge of letting armand kill him when he fears for her life) and then in a big way when she goes with madeleine, and he knows they're better together than he could ever be for her, but she's still his in that sibling/parent/caretaker feeling kind of way, and this is a loss even though it's important, and also, with being a vampire, she possibly could have still eventually circled back every 100 years or so -- such is the nature of family. they're still there, even if you don't see them for a very long time

and now, finally, forever. claudia is no longer there

im just. yes, louis let her down. but he let her down like you let your family down, by assuming that no matter what, they were a given. claudia can't simply... not be there anymore... she's his family. you argue and you make up and you fuck up and you forgive and you're still there, no matter how messed up you feel or how much you grow apart

she's so right in asking that question: who is louis outside of her? but not just because louis has had the worst luck in life (human and vampire) and been unable to form himself specifically because of *waves hands at everything,* but also because when you see yourself as a caretaker (whether or not you're doing a good job of it), who are you when that person wants to move on from you, doesn't need you in the way you want to be needed, when that person perhaps leaves your life for good?

[fenharel-enaste]

The Calling of the Sea || Elendil x AFAB!Reader x Sail Master (Part 1)

Rating: +18 (smut)

Word count: 2.6k

Content/Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, semi-public fingering, dirty talk, prelude to eventual threesome.

Part 2

It’s also on AO3!

You've been eyeing your husband's best friend for some time now. Maybe they're both more perceptive than you thought, perceptive enough to have an idea of what you really want from them.

You always looked forward to meeting your husband at the end of a long day at work and going out for dinner or a drink. Sometimes, you would invite the Sail Master to join you as well, as, even if he wouldn't admit it, he needed some fun too from time to time, according to Elendil. He seemed like a rather serious man when you first met him, but being Elendil's best friend it was inevitable that you would meet him quite often, and as time went on, he opened up more and more to you. As it turned out, he was an excellent drinking partner and a wonderful company. 

You also had eyes; you knew he was a man almost as attractive as your husband. Tall, so tall, broad, tan skinned, and his dark brown eyes always had a deep, wild look in them. You didn't feel guilty about finding another man attractive, it was just an innocent thought, until one day you found yourself having fantasies about him. And those weren't innocent at all. 

It was an evening in your usual tavern. Elendil and his friend were talking about the day's events, but your mind wandered elsewhere. One moment you were looking into the Sail Master's eyes, and the next you were imagining them locked in yours as he ran his hardworking hands over your body, his strong body against yours. You remembered that time you saw him get off his ship with his torso exposed, how your gaze unconsciously went to the line of thick, dark hair on his abdomen, and you ran your eyes over it down to... your imagination was running wild before you knew it. Maybe you'd been drinking too much for the night. 

It wasn't until you heard Elendil's voice calling your name that you were brought back to reality. They were both staring at you as if they were waiting for some response. What were they even talking about? “I... sorry, what did you say?” 

The Sail Master repeated his question and you did the best you could to answer. Your voice trembled and you could barely speak clearly, aware that you were in the presence of the two most attractive men you knew, and they were both looking at you... intently. Gods, what would it be like to feel them both...? Ok fuck... You tried to keep up appearances, but the blush on your face and your quivering voice betrayed you, perhaps not to the Sail Master, but certainly to your husband. He could tell when you were horny from miles away. When you met his gaze, he had his eyes on yours and a playful smile on his face. He knows. You looked away and blushed even more, your heart pounding as if it would burst out of your chest. 

Elendil seemed to notice your discomfort and decided to break your awkward silence. "Well, my friend, it's getting late, I'm afraid. I think it would be best if we call it a night, don't you?" Finally. “Yes, of course!” He said before leaving the table with you and bidding farewell. “Till the next time, my lady.” He bowed his head and looked at you so piercingly it almost felt as if he could read your thoughts. You could barely think of anything coherent to respond with, so you merely returned the gesture, fixing your gaze on the floor before turning and rushing out of the tavern with your husband close behind you. 

“Are you feeling alright, love?” Elendil inquires as soon as you leave the establishment, the cold street air even colder on your heated skin. “Yes... it’s nothing, I just got a bit overwhelmed with all that noise inside. I’m better now.” It was the first thing that came to your mind, and you tried to sound as convincing as possible. And Elendil said nothing more about it, simply pulled you close to him, gently kissed your forehead, and held your hand as you made your way home. 

The walk back was not as uncomfortable as you anticipated, the streets were still full of people enjoying a drink with friends and nightly street performances, there was something to comment or shared memories on every corner. But the atmosphere was very different as soon as you entered your house. It was dead quiet all of a sudden. And you didn't know what to say to relieve the tension, so you went straight to your bedchamber and began to undress. You could think more clearly in the morning. 

Then, you felt warmth on your shoulder, a warmth that slowly moved up to your neck and hands that gently caressed your arms. Your eyes closed involuntarily as you felt your husband's kisses on your sensitive skin. "Elendil..." You sighed and turned to face him. "Let me ease your thoughts, my love." He said before pressing you against him and kissing you deeply. The warmth of his tongue against yours and his hands all over your body were enough to make you forget everything that had happened, you needed him. 

You brought your hands to his shirt and hastily removed it. You soon did the same with his trousers as you left wet kisses down his torso, lower and lower, until you knelt at the level of his already hard cock. But his hand cupped your face, stopping you before you could even have a taste of him. You looked at him, puzzled. “Not today, stars, I need you now.” He said grabbing you off the floor, turning you over and pushing you onto the bed. Ok fuck, this is going to be fun... And you gasped as you felt his lips travel up your back, giving you goosebumps, from your bottom to your shoulders, to your neck, moving closer to your ear. 

“Should we invite our friend to visit us sometime, love?” Your heart skipped a beat at his words and you froze. He definitely knows. You felt the world falling apart, was he angry with you? It didn't seem so, but... 

“Oh don't worry, my stars, it doesn't bother me in the least. I understand.” He whispered reassuringly and you sighed in relief, but you felt so very, very embarrassed. “I... I don’t know what to say...” You said in a trembling voice. “Easy... just tell me, what were you thinking at the tavern?” 

What!? You couldn't tell your husband about the fantasies you had with another man, you just couldn't.... "I'm sorry... Oh fuck!" You gasped as you felt his fingers sliding in through your entrance. “Shh, I’m not judging, my sweet... I’d love him to have a taste of you, actually...” You let out a shuddering sigh of pleasure, not only from his fingers stretching you open, but also from the thoughts his words planted in your mind. “Wouldn’t you want that, hmm?” 

Yes, yes yes... you really, really wanted that in fact. You trusted your husband, you knew that wasn’t a trick question, he really wanted you to say it. So you let go... 

“Yes... yes Elendil, I want it...” You admit in defeat. “Hmm it wasn’t that hard, was it not? Tell me, my love, what else would you want him to do to you?” He demanded as he quickened the speed of his fingers, curling them just where you needed them most. The words tumbled from your lips because of the overwhelming pleasure, not even thinking about them. “I need... I need him to fuck me, Elendil... please...” You were coating the captain’s fingers with your fluids now, you were so soaked you could hear the sinful sound his fingers made inside you. 

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, grabbed your hips and pulled them backwards, making you get on all fours and pressing your head against the mattress with his hand. “Do you imagine him doing this to you as well, hmm?” He asked in a deep voice just before entering you all the way in at once. You let out a loud and long whimper, unable to avoid the mental image of the Sail Master behind you, gripping your hips tightly with his strong hands and ramming into you, just as your husband was doing at that moment, without any warning, just fucking you roughly from the very beginning. You could barely speak, only moan and scream. “Yes... that’s what I thought, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Elendil growled. 

His hips kept slamming hard against you and you arched your back so he could reach deeper, your face still against the bed, drenching it with your tears of pleasure. “Look at you moaning like that, what would he say if he saw you like this, so desperate for him? Fuck, what I’d give to see that. Tell me love, would you want us to share you?” Just hearing those words, what they meant, that he was willing to do it, was enough to take you over the edge. And you came hard. And the loud cries coming out your lips gave Elendil the answer he sought. 

************************************** 

It was only a week before your next meeting in your favourite tavern. You had not really discussed the matter again since the night of your last meeting with your friend, except for the occasional small teasing from your husband, but never in earnest. You assumed it had remained a little fantasy you both shared in a night you drank too much. However, you couldn't but notice how your companion seemed closer to you than usual, and not just by being more talkative. You couldn't help but think the worst. 

When he offered to fetch more drinks, you took the chance to ask Elendil if he'd mentioned anything to him, and he grinned behind his tankard. “It wasn’t necessary, love. He’s well aware after that display of lust in your face last week.” Your mind went foggy, how were you supposed to look him in the eye now? How could you respond to that? This was too embarrassing to bear. 

“Oh, my dear, you shouldn’t worry about that.” He said promptly when he noticed your shocked expression. “In fact... maybe you’d like to know he’s interested.” By the Valar, you didn't know if you wanted to be swallowed up by the earth right there at that revelation or if it was the best thing you'd heard in a long time. Besides, Elendil had a mischievous grin on his face that confused you, didn't it bother him? He really was willing to... 

“But... are you sure?” 

“I barely could think about anything else these last days, love.” His eyes were full of arousal now. “Do you want this?” Oh stars, a voice inside you was begging you, imploring you to say yes, but this was.... huge, you weren't sure if you'd be ready. You were definitely going to need the drinks approaching your table in the Sail Master’s hands... those big hands. 

When your friend joined you, you hardly could think straight. The conversation with Elendil repeated itself over and over in your mind as the two of them went on talking as always. You just could sip at your beer, unable to get what might happen that night out of your mind. 

You weren't sure how it happened, but it was probably because of the alcohol that you unconsciously brushed your leg lightly against the Sail Master's through the slit of the dress you were wearing that night. You felt the urge to pull away, but something in you demanded that it remain there. So that you did. 

It took only a few seconds before a warm hand rested on your leg, and that same warmth ran through your body, making you lift your face to meet the Sail Master's eyes, dark, full of lust and promises of what he could do to you if you accepted him. 

“Is this alright, my lady?” Yes, of course, you thought. But your gaze turned to Elendil, who was watching you, amused, drinking from his jug. “He asked you a question, love, is that alright?” And that’s when you knew that he was really willing for this to happen. His question allowed your body to free itself from guilt, to relax, and you made your choice. 

“It is...” You sighed. 

“Good.” He said before his hand resumed its upward journey, slowly, painfully slowly. You closed your eyes to the sensation and let yourself go. All the warmth of your body gathered in your inner thighs, making you squirm on the bench and close your legs just to feel the friction you craved. But another hand, on you right leg this time, stopped you, and Elendil pull from it you keep you spread open for his friend’s hand. 

You couldn’t believe this was really happening. You felt yourself getting wet and they had barely touched you. You knew what kind of night was ahead of you. And you wanted it. “Please...” You whimpered. 

“There is it... Elendil already told me about your beautiful voice when you plea.” And he finally reached your underwear, barely touching you through it before slipping his hand underneath, gently stroking your clit. Your moans were muffled by the noise of the establishment, but not for your lovers. 

The Sail Master placed his free hand on your chin to turn your face towards his and kiss you. It wasn't a delicate kiss, he knew you weren't a lovesick young girl having her first kiss. He knew exactly what you wanted from him, so he led it, devouring your mouth and exploring it with his tongue, making your head spin with delight, he tasted so fucking good. 

Your kiss didn't stop him from caressing you, in fact, it didn't take long before you felt one of his calloused fingers playing with your entrance and sliding in, making you moan into his mouth and rock your hips towards him. At that moment, you were thankful that your table was in one of the more secluded corners of the tavern and that it hid what was going on underneath it. 

A hand different from your kisser's brushed a strand of hair away from your face to place it behind your ear, and you heard Elendil's irresistible voice mere inches away from you. “This is going to be a long night for you, my love.” He promised lewdly as he brought his hand to your now unused clit, playing with it as another man's fingers found your sensitive spot inside you, moving much faster now. 

It was so easy for them to make that familiar pressure build up in your belly. Gods, there were a couple of people standing too close. You'd been burying your face in Elendil's neck for a while now to hide your flushed face and watery eyes, but you weren't going to be able to hide your cries if you came. Yet your lovers' hands worked too well together, they were determined to make you cum right there. Seconds later, your walls inevitably closed around the fingers inside you and the pressure was released through every fibre of your body. The captain's mouth captured yours before your uncontainable screams gave you away. 

What... by all the stars in the sky, what have just happened? You didn't know how to begin to describe what you'd felt once your orgasm faded. You just knew you wanted to find out what else those two men could do to you in the privacy of a bedroom. They had you trapped in a state of mind where you'd be capable of doing anything they wished from you. So you looked into your husband's eyes, which were waiting for the answer he already knew you were about to give him. 

“Let’s go home. Now.” 

Taglist: @starlady66 @thesolarangel @grinkitty @lazymeriadoc @bananaphanta @nyctophilic0vitnir @wint3r-h3art @aamon47 @eremeldanin @shimichoko @hypermanga 💗

[fancoloredglasses]

Graduation Day (A season finale that had to wait 27 years for the next season)

[All images are owned by Marvel Disney and Saban Entertainment. Please don’t sue me]

With Disney+ reviving the 90s X-Men animated series (calling it X-Men ’97), I figured I would take a look at where the series left off so new viewers didn’t need to watch the entire series.

A quick note: The animation may seem a but different than the early seasons. This is due to the fact that Marvel was on the verge of bankruptcy (to try to generate enough revenue to keep the presses rolling, they started selling off the movie rights to several of their more popular franchises (including the X-Men), many of which have only recently returned to Marvel, and two of which are still in the hands of other studios (Hulk with Universal and Spider-Man with Sony) and are only allowed in the MCU thanks to some serious bargaining) As a result, the budget for X-Men was severely cut for season 5 (meaning the animation was lower quality and the season only had 10 episodes instead of 13)

Of course, if you want to watch the whole series (including this episode), it’s available on Disney+.

PREVIOUSLY ON…

While I’m not going to review the entire series, I will give you the bits that will be important for the episode:

Morph started the series as a member of the X-Men, but was mortally wounded in the first few episodes. They were saved and eventually came back (brainwashed into thinking they were betrayed) They spent most of the series following their return in a redemption arc, having returned to the X-men in the last few episodes.

Henry Gyrich (who looks VERY different than he did in previous seasons) is one of the primary voices calling for the eradication of all mutants. He was responsible for the majority of the funding that created the Sentinels.

Princess (now Empress) Lilandra is a member of the royal family in the Shi’ar Empire. She is an ally of the X-Men and has been romantically involved with Charles Xavier.

Magneto’s journey has been a long one fraught with triumphs and betrayals. At the time of this episode, he is gathering a mutant army to conquer the world on the island on Genosha.

That catches us up, so on with the episode!

We open to a hearing on mutant relations. Gyrich is doing his best to rile up the audience (and the committee members) with his anti-mutant rhetoric.

Off to the side, Xavier tries to be the voice of reason, but…

With that, Gyrich pulls out a device  and uses it on Xavier. Immediately, his mental powers go berserk and overload the minds of everyone in the chamber (including the X-Men, who were in attendance for support) before he collapses!

As the police take Gyrich away for assault, Beast collects the device to examine what it did to Xavier while Cyclops tells Wolverine to get Xavier to their plane to get back to the school, but...

Beast is doing his best to keep Xavier alive despite Wolverine’s senses saying otherwise.

Meanwhile in the island of Genosha, the mutants have seen the footage from the hearing and are calling for blood (much to the delight of Magneto)

Later at the school, the X-Men have brought in Dr. Moira MacTaggart, mutant expert and Xavier’s friend, via the 90s equivalent of Zoom.

Unfortunately, she’s not able to help much as Xavier’s condition worsens. Then Beast has an epiphany: the Shi’ar have technology far beyond what Earth can muster. Surely Empress Lilanda will come to their aid!

Hmmm…good point. Any message to the Shi’ar would take years to reach them, while Xavier likely has days at best. If Xavier was coherent, he could send an instant telepathic message through the bond they share, but…

Meanwhile in Genosha…

…Magneto rallies the troops.

Around the world, mutants rise up against the humans who would repress them. Of course, that means the humans strike back…with the military.

Meanwhile, Xavier appears on TV to reason with the mutants.

That’s pretty impressive, considering how close to death he is!

Ah, that explains it. Morph was impersonating Xavier. Regardless, their pleas fall on deaf ears.

In the War Room, Cyclops and Wolverine brainstorm a way to get through Magneto’s followers to put an end to his offensive before it starts. Jean offers to use her powers to keep the other mutants at bay.

So Cyclops, Jean, and Wolverine make plans to storm Genosha.

Later in the Blackbird (the X-men’s battle plane), the team approaches Genosha when Magneto uses his power to destroy it! Fortunately, the team is ready and bails out, with Jean using her powers to cushion the landing. Later, the team tries to infiltrate the army’s camp, but are confronted. Fortunately, Magneto takes that moment to make an appearance.

With the army distracted, the team slips away and sneaks into Magneto’s stronghold.

(Thanks to peanutsinspace)

Back at the school, Xavier is quickly losing his battle.

Fortunately, Magneto has agreed to try to help save Xavier’s life by augmenting Xavier’s brainwaves so he can contact Lilandra telepathically.

Well, he did something. And whatever he did was enough to bring Xavier to consciousness, at least for a while. After some friendly banter with Magneto, Xavier addresses the assembled X-Men.

(Thanks to FrogLicker8cP)

Just as all seems lost…

It seems that Xavier’s message was received and Lilandra has come. Sadly there is little she can do on Earth to stabilize him, but she offers to take him to the Shi’ar Empire to heal him (though it is unlikely he would be able to return to Earth)

With that, the final season of X-Men comes to a close…

Or rather, fifth season, even if season 6 had to wait for 27 years.

(Thanks to Marvel)

Now you are caught up. Enjoy X-Men ’97. I haven’t yet seen it (I’m binging the series throughout the summer before doing so), but I hope there is enough demand for another season in the future.

[agentravensong]

Good Omens: Humanity's Potential and What it Means to Save the World

...that title's kind of self-serious for what's essentially a word vomit, huh. ah well i'm keeping it.

to sum it up as best i can, this post analyzes how the set-up for good omens season 3 is positioning the show as being a different kind of story than the book, as it suggests that the ending of the book and season 1 was, at least for this version of these characters, not a complete triumph. and i tie that into the central role of earth/humanity in the story, and also the idea of (book!)crowley being an optimist. it's a lot of thoughts and tangents that maybe don't fully cohere, but... honestly, that feels appropriate, doesn't it?

so let's get to it :)

in my view, good omens — by which i mean the book and season 1 of the show — is a story that affirms the goodness of humanity — or, maybe more accurately, the potential of humanity and how that, despite all the rest, makes it worthy of existence. aziraphale and crowley's breaking away from heaven and hell, the thing that leads them to become heroes and also brings them together, is because of the appreciation and love they develop for earth and humanity. the heroes, human and supernatural, fight to assert that the earth has a right to keep existing as it is.

the thing is, because that's the kind of story the book and season 1 are — an affirming story about saving the earth as it is from a non-human-caused apocalypse — they are stories that affirm the status quo. not necessarily the status quo of our world, but the status quo of theirs. it by no means says that all people are good and all the systems they've created are beyond reproach. but it's not a story about radical change.

adam, for all his power, decides in the end not to use it (for anything major). and i agree with the book when it says that's a good thing: putting that power, responsibility, and pressure in the hands of / onto one person, especially a kid, is not how we should improve the world.

but, also, aziraphale and crowley don't have to change heaven and hell to save the world. they don't even try, really. the two of them take a stand against their plans, catch them on a technicality, and then (after one last trick in s1 to save their own hides) they get to escape them.

and, like, not every story has to be about radical change. i love the book and season 1 of the show for what they are.

but the set-up at the end of season 2 made me feel giddy, even more so than i felt sad about the aziracrow break-up (at least in the moment), because what it's essentially saying is that, in this iteration of the story, that wasn't good enough.

i think the thing i'm talking about is clearer in the book compared to the show, because the show gives aziraphale and crowley more of an arc. from what i remember of my recent reread, in the book, there's no big blow-up between aziraphale and crowley during the week of the apocalypse that forces them to reevaluate things. they start the story already on the right side, already being too human to be on board with armageddon, and so it's just a matter of them figuring out what they have to do to stop it.

but the show puts aziraphale in conversation with other angels, and has crowley genuinely suggest that the two of them run away and let the apocalypse take its course, and just generally makes their eventual arrival at the airstrip less of a given.

but even then, even after they do show up, as the end of season 2 makes clear, they still have a long way to go.

aziraphale sees over the course of the season that other angels have the capacity for change, for connecting with earthly, human things (though with the metatron it's a manipulation tactic). and that makes him start thinking bigger; makes him think that maybe they can change heaven as an institution. his heart is in the right place, but he still isn't thinking big enough.

crowley says it's impossible, that just the one or two of them can't fix heaven, that it and hell are rotten to the core. and he's right. but his alternative, knowing that humanity is again in danger, is a reprise of his failed suggestion from season 1: let's run away together. aziraphale refuses to run, and he's right.

as others have said, gabriel and beelzebub can nope out of there because, at this point, they don't care about anything other than each other. meaning that they personally don't care enough to stick around for hedonistic or altruistic reasons, but also that those above them in power know that means they aren't a threat to their plans. so it's fine (easier, really) to just let them go.

but aziraphale and crowley do care. it's the thing that makes them them. the angel who went against god to help out the first humans right after they'd committed the original sin, and the demon who goes easy on humans (because they can hurt themselves way worse than he ever could). the angel and demon who stood hand-in-hand with the human antichrist to save the earth.

they didn't just choose each other. they chose each other and humanity.

crowley, the one who suggests leaving, who before the beginning thought it stupid beyond belief that the universe should exist solely for some apes on one tiny planet, would miss earth, and humans, eventually (probably sooner rather than later). we know he would. and aziraphale obviously would too. between that and their evident literal power when they work together, they are a threat. heaven and hell would almost certainly not just let them go. and if they did? time and the world would end without them. and the consequences of that, even if only an unsoothable regret, would inevitably catch up with them.

earth will not be safe as long as the status quo persists. there will always be new calamities to prevent, news evils to thwart.

and earth especially won't be safe for as long as heaven and hell, the entities that put their all into trying to end it, the entities that have been screwing with it from the very beginning, persist as they are. there's no ignoring or running away from heaven or hell. not if you're an angel or a demon, and especially not if you're a human.

so it makes all the sense in the world that a story about an angel and a demon who chose earth over their sides' ideas of eternities doesn't settle with letting those eternities exist in the background. that it looks at an older version of itself that accepted that and says, no, that's not good enough. not this time.

in the book, crowley is described as an optimist. because when he's at his darkest moment, he recalls something:

"If there was one rock-hard certainty that had sustained him through the bad times ... then it was utter certainty that he would come out on top; that the universe would look after him. ... It was all a matter of being in the right time at the right place."

and the book, essentially, proves him right. he makes it to tadfield, and, miracle of all miracles, things work out.

here's the thing: when you're at your lowest moment, like crowley was, that optimism, that faith in things working themselves out, can be what saves you.

but that alone is not enough. and it cannot be the logic by which you operate on a day-to-day basis. because then it can justify ideas like, say, you and the person you love most running away together, because that way you'll be safe. nothing will reach you; nothing will be able to harm you. everything will work out. the universe will make sure of it.

you can't just trust the universe. you have to be there, at the right time and place. and you have to try. you have to know what to try (or at least what you want), and you have to give it everything you have.

it wasn't a heavenly or demonic miracle that saved humanity on the day of armageddon. it was a human one.

to be clear, i think the book understands this. but, again, the book is meant to be, ultimately, an affirming story. so of course it all works out. there was never a real reason to doubt it wouldn't.

and, from what we know of how the currently still hypothetical season 3 will end, it sounds like it's going to be something of a happily ever after too.

but you don't get there from how the show started without changing things.

the thing about earth, in comparison to heaven and hell, is that it's always changing. not just in subtle, artificial ways like heaven's dress code, but in all the ways, all the time.

to fully embrace earth for aziraphale and crowley will mean embracing the idea that things don't have to stay as they are, with the two of them on their own against heaven and hell. it will mean embracing change. and not the granular within-the-system kind of change aziraphale is aiming for, but radical change. it will mean either making heaven and hell unrecognizable, replacing them entirely, or maybe even going without any version of them.

the show is not just about crowley and aziraphale, even if it's much more about the two of them than the book was. it's about the many different ways to be a demon, or an angel, or a human. it's about the world they exist in.

this is not a story that will affirm its own status quo with a few loopholes for the few characters we really care about. this is not just a story that reaffirms the latent potential of humanity. it's a story about actively realizing the potential of humanity.

it's not a story about facing the apocalypse and saying "no, we'll keep things as they are, thank you." it's a story about saying, "no, and here's what we want instead."

at least, that's what i'm hoping for.

[graeadalicia]

12

After a delightful evening, discussions once more turn serious...

Adalicia felt as if she was in a dream.  Slaves weren't chosen by the Chancellor to be his Consort, and yet here she was wearing his mark, in his arms, laying in his bed, after spending the day with him.  There was a very real part of her that wondered if she was still unconscious from his first bite to mark her as his property and everything else was naught but fantasy.  The mere thought of that almost broke her heart.  To know a day and such affection as they had shared only to have it ripped away and have been a figment of her imagination was a cruelty that made her chest hurt to consider, even if it had only been one day.  It was one day unlike any she could have conceived of previously. 

She may not have said anything, but Grae noticed the subtle changes in her face as the thoughts that she would wake up alone and back to being nothing more than a mere slave filled her mind.   Her sudden change of mood concerned him, as nothing had transpired that should have caused her to become upset.  He had be gentle and kind to her, so there had to be more.  

"Darling, what is troubling you?" He asked, gently stroking the side of her face with his fingertips.  Whatever it was, he would ensure it was resolved.  He was now quite fond of her and the thought of her upset troubled him. 

She was startled that he has somehow known something had bothered her, and her cheeks flushed a bright pink in response.   First, her eyes dropped to stare at the middle of his chest as she gathered the courage to be honest with him, then they rose to meet his.  When their eyes met, Adalicia could see he was concerned and that served to reassure her.

"Nothing like this has ever happened to me and I guess I'm just worried that it is not real.  That tomorrow I'll wake up and it will be a dream." There was a slight tremble in her voice as she spoke from her nerves, but it was clear that she was telling the truth as well.  

As soon as she had expressed what was on her mind, it made perfect sense to Grae.  He wished that he could tell her the truth of her lineage, if for no other reason than to reassure her that her place in his life was secure.  But as he considered that he realized that Kellen had removed his choice in the matter because of that as well.  They were essentially in an arranged marriage now.   For a moment Grae wasn't sure how he felt about that, but then he considered that he'd already made her his Consort before Kellen had dropped his bombshell, and she had refused to leave him when offered.   So, it was an arranged marriage they had freely chosen without knowing, since except for the King, Consort was the step before Betrothed. 

"Ada, sweetheart, I can assure you this is no dream.  When you wake up in the morning, you will still be my Consort and still be in my bed if that is what you wish." He leaned forward and gently brushed his lips over hers.  Grae was still letting her set the pace since it seemed to work best for him anyway.   

Then he leaned over her a bit more so that she rolled onto her back. "Tomorrow morning we spend together but I do have obligations in the afternoon.   The next day, your tutor will arrive.  The wife of the Chancellor must have all the social graces and education."  The way her eyes widened and her face lit up as she searched his face and saw he was serious, it made his heart swell.  

"You did know what came after Consort, didn't you?"  The corners of his mouth rose slightly and there was a hint of tease to his voice.  He was in no rush to propose.  She had many things to learn, but he also was not lying.  They also had much to learn about each other.

"Well, yes. I knew. I mean, I know what commonly does. But…you just…we just…this morning…" coherent sentences stopped being possible as her brain tried to wrap itself around what he was saying.   He would marry her eventually.  HER.  A decision reached after just a day.  "Are you sure you want me?  After a day? Rhys, I was a slave." The tremble was still in her voice and she felt even more like in a dream.

Grae rolled fully on top of her, caging her smaller body with his own and keeping his weight off of her.   Bringing his forehead to hers, their eyes met and he couldn’t help but smile.  He really was falling for this beautiful and intoxicating fae. His fae.  He also could not deny that the position that they were in was one that he was especially liking as well.

“Ada.” His voice was soft, his eyes understanding, and the expression on his face affectionate, something that was echoed as well in his voice.  “You are unlike any other female I have encountered in my long life, and I do mean that in the only the best and most enjoyable way.  I am looking forward to knowing you more, better and deeper.” Grae brushed his lips gently over hers, enjoying the little hum she made in response.  “Maybe I have decided that the ways that you are different and unique are what I have been searching for and I do not plan to allow you to escape and another male to steal you away.” Not a lie, just leaving out some information.  He would not deny that any male trying to take her from him would face his anger.

[omniscientwreck]

Tell me about your special little guy and his philosophy :3

Thank you so much for asking I've literally been thinking about this all day! The special little guy in question is Xaryl and he's a Knowledge Domain cleric I play in a game with some mutuals (oops!all party this probably isn't gonna contain serious spoilers for Xaryl but it isn't all stuff that he's fully laid out in campaign so i'm putting it under a cut. Do with that what you will) (sorry there's a lot, I created my own hyperfixation when I created Xaryl and I'm incapable of speaking about him briefly)

So this question is in regards to the ideas expressed in this post about the Luxon and the part about the Luxon that always stood out to me is the questions of Identity and how does one Know themself.

So Xaryl is a reader and a philosopher. He was isolated from his family as a teenager and taken away from most peer interaction his age to go assume a role in the Den he didn't want or ask for. His anamnesis didn't go correctly and his memories of his previous life are fragmented and have plagued him his entire life. He's hidden himself away and acted purely out of self preservation for decades, as long as he'd been with the dens.

So Xaryl's thoughts are essentially this: we cannot know ourselves devoid of each other. People (humanoids) are social creatures, we form groups and alliances and forge collective identities on various scopes (for example, being a Communist, being a nurse, being a particular person's brother, being a part of a certain family) and those add to, and inform our identites.

Further, we have different identites to and around different people. Then the question becomes something more like: which version of me is real? is every version of me real? do I have one identity or do I have many? does my identity exist as mine or is it a way for others to interpret me?

So with the Luxon, it created the primordials and then they were lost to the darkness as they warred within themselves, and so it scattered itself, hoping that eventually life would be refined and those that were bound to its light would live and live again and teach it about itself. It went dormant after that, it doesn't talk, so Luxon worshippers are left to determine "who am I and why am I?" for a being that hasn't really had any contact with it's followers.

So like, through all of this, lonely lost little Xaryl determines, in the middle of 80 years of isolating himself for his safety, that our purpose, and the Luxon's in turn, is to be known and to know. He works his way around to community and love as the meanings of life, and things to aspire to (despite not having those things for much of his life) so the way he prays turns into becoming the Luxon's friend. For decades instead of like "praying" he told the Luxon stories about his life, he tried to send it sensations of flavour or the smell of rain on cobblestone, or the sound and feeling of music. And he fought with the Luxon in his mind and said things he regretted in anger. He formed this totally one sided (until very recently but that's game canon) friendship and relationship and identity based entirely on something that, if he didn't literally get clerical powers from it, he might think existed only in his mind. So what does that make him? Xaryl, friend of the Luxon? Does that make it his friend in return? Is the true answer to "Who am I?" contained in the viewpoint of a single person? Is it responsible for the things its followers have done in its absence and silence? Is that its identity? What about the other side of the world, where surely there must be beacons? Do the people there think the same things? Could the same being's beacons elicit two completely different and opposed schools of worship? Much to consider.

Sorry this isn't as coherent as I'd like it to be and also sorry it's so long but thaaaaaaank you for asking I had a very tiring work day and it's nice to just talk about my oc's :3

[usurpernt]

so, i've been playing around with concepts and how i particularly want to write zant. we know that my son is quite unhinged. a lot of the time he remains rather cold, quiet, and as if he is of good composure but that's on the exterior. OF COURSE, we all know that's a lie. so roleplay scenarios will certainly vary on whether you're going to get a more " serious " zant, or his actual, truly insane unhinged self! getting him angry is certainly ONE way to have him show his true colours, or honestly any form of provoking / confronting him in a manner that may threaten his goals. because my god does he hate not getting what he wants, he hates losing. hates the mere idea of it. wolf and i were discussing and she's right on the fact that the moment zant gets any shred of control he will use it until he can no longer. he's scary in that he's extremely unpredictable in any scenario and how he'll proceed to react to it. he plays the role of coherent and composed well, and i primarily feel he uses his helmet to hide the truth / reality of his insanity. eventually i'm going to make my huge post on how ganon's influence has been nothing but horrible for zant's sanity ( which was on a steady decline prior to their meeting. ) and is responsible for making him so much worse.

[romanadvora]

The Daleks

season 001 : story 002 : episodes 005-011

21 DEC 1963 - 01 FEB 1964 || 19 DEC 2022 - 26 JAN 2023

This overall is definitely a better, more consistent story than An Unearthly Child, but it definitely never reaches the peak of that first episode. 

EPISODE ONE

This first episode is definitely the best of the lot; there’s so much ground covered, yet doesn’t feel overstuffed at all. 

The petrified forest set looks great, and I love the idea of a metallic life form; bizarre retro sci-fi vibes in spades. The jump-scare reveal of it was a bit naff though. RIP Susan’s fossilized flower yet.

The gang standing on the cliff face and looking down on the city with the binoculars is just such a.. cozy scene. The Dalek city set is amazing too. 

The conflict between Ian and the Doctor about going down to the city is really well done, and I love how mischievous the Doctor is; lying about how the fluid-link works to make some BS reason why they need to go down to the city.. 

Back in the TARDIS for the night before heading out, Ian sassing out the Doctor over his artificial bacon & eggs is pure gold, and then Ian’s so pure even he can’t feed up the attitude, and has to genuinely compliment the impresiveness of such a machine; the reasoning behind it, different foods having different chemical structures that could be intentionally manipulated and reshaped, is a simple and coherent idea which, although not a real technology, is a completely reasonable concept. 

The next morning in the city, the tension around Barbara is great; doors closing right behind her, security cameras following her, her silhouette being seen through the translucent doors – it’s got so much atmosphere and I love it. And… enter the Daleks…

The choice to not show the Daleks fully in episode one was definitely the better call in my opinion. The Daleks themselves are cold and menacing – monotone voices making everything they say even more eerie. 

When the gang’s taken prisoner and revealed to be dying of radiation poisoning, I’m glad the Doctor has the integrity to tell the group that he was lying about needing mercury for the fluid-link; he’s more than happy to lie about that to explore what they think is an abandoned alien city, but as soon as they’re shown to be in actual danger he’s completely capable of owning up to his mistakes. 

Susan being released to go get the medicine box they had unknowingly found earlier that morning makes sense, and while the final shot of Susan in the TARDIS as thunder and lightning boom around, the… three minute long sequence of her frightened and running through the forest is just… not very enjoyable. 

Alydon’s introduction is alright, but his first scene has the first thing in the whole show which just without question frustrates me; Susan tells him she’s getting the medicine so she and the rest of the gang don’t die, but she also mentions she’s suspicious about the Daleks potentially stealijng the meds. Then Alydon “helpfully” makes the concerned suggestion that perhaps the Daleks’ want the medicine for themselves - an idea that Susan “hadn’t thought of”. Like no Susan… you literally just did think about that. 

EPISODE TWO

The gang's taken prisoner and we get our very first reveal of the Daleks. They're cold, collected, alien looking (obviously), and completely willing to paralyze you for having the audacity to run away.

Once everyone's reunited and told they're dying of radiation poisoning, I like that the Doctor admits he was lying about the fluid link, and there's really nothing wrong with it. He's happy to lie when there's no negative consequences (other than perhaps pissing off two humans, their opinions of him he doesn't really care), but as soon as their situation becomes serious he has the maturity to accept blame and responsibility.

Eventually we have Susan running back to theTARDIS (In a three minute montage) to retrieve the mysterious box with medicine they found earlier that day. Despite that being pretty dragged out, the final shots of thunder flashing around Susan as she’s in the TARDIS looks really good. 

Episode Two is definitely a drop from the first, but mostly just because of things like the aforementioned running sequence, and that just as much stuff happens. The dialogue while everyone's imprisoned is pretty good though.

EPISODE THREE

Introducing… the Thals. 

Now this scene just frustrates me. You've got Susan meeting Alydon, where Susan explains she came back to get the medicine although she's suspicious that the Dalek's might want to steal it. Then Alydon "helpfully" suggests caution as the Dalek's might want the medicine for themselves; a situation Susan claims she hadn't considered… except no Susan you literally just did. Is Susan someone with Unearthly knowledge, intelligence, and caution, or is she a naive damsel in distress who needs a big strong smart man to help her out. The writers can't seem to decide.

At any rate, Susan gets back to the Dalek city with the medicine and the gang starts to get better, and starts developing an escape plan. I really like how everyone contributes to disabling the Dalek’s static electricity power source; even Susan is allowed to get involved by having Alydon’s cloak on hand. Plus Ian pretending to be a Dalek is just very enjoyable.

EPISODE FOUR

Ian's a Dalek, and Susan gets to use her annoying screamy persona as a ruse. 

Ian being left behind to escape the Dalek casing while the others take the elevator away from the oncoming group of Daleks was another genuinely tense moment. Their reunion at the top of the building, looking out across the city, has that same comfy feeling as when they were all on top of the cliff in episode one. 

Temmosus waltzing into the Dalek city and just thinking their age-old nemeses will be interested in peace is perhaps a bit naive, but him getting dismissively exterminated nicely shows the psychopathic nature of the Daleks.

Once the TARDIS team has grouped up with the Thals outside, having the Doctor look at star charts is another way of grounding this very out-there show in science and reason, and the history lessons gives a nice sense of worldbuilding in fleshing out Skaro (even if Terry would completely revamp it in years to come).

The story could have just ended here, the fate of the Thals post Temmosus' death left ambiguous, the whole story just being a simple capture and escape plot. But to keep the Doctor, Susan, Ian, and Barbara stuck on Skaro, forced to get involved in one way or another, it's revealed the fluid link has been left in the city.

EPISODE FIVE

This TARDIS team is just so good at having well constructed, interesting arguments that don’t just boil down to petty bickering (primarily Ian & Barbara v. the Doctor, Susan ain’t the arguing type). That being said, in their debate on whether to coerce the Thals into fighting the Daleks in order for them to recover the fluid link, I am surprised that Barbara sided with the Doctor in egging the Thals on. 

The eventual conclusion that the Thals need to learn to defend themselves, or else be wiped out by the Daleks makes enough sense, but is still a bit dodgy since it has all the main characters ask a pacifist society to fight and die (with the minor ulterior motive of the TARDIS team trying to leave Skaro). 

EPISODE SIX

With this we have the all the pieces in place for an assault on the Dalek city; while things like jamming the Daleks' radio tower with concentrated reflected sunlight, and having to travel through the mountains to descend on the city from an unexpected angle are both interesting ideas, The Ordeal is indeed.. an ordeal. It's incredibly slow and brings the otherwise medium paced story to a standstill. 25 minutes of crawling through caves and jumping over crevasses is just so very unengaging. The occasional good dynamic between Barbara and *Thal Four*, or a tense moment of Ian nearly getting dragged off a cliff unfortunately do not redeem the sixth episode. The would-increased stakes of a neutron bomb gets killed in the cradle, only for a virtually identical (yet somehow less intimidating) threat of releasing nuclear waste to immediately take its place.

EPISODE SEVEN

Eventually everyone is able to sneak inside and there's the big battle with the Daleks– Thals are victorious and the gang gets the fluid-link back; everyone’s all ready to leave Skaro. 

In all, it's still a good story. The Daleks are introduced effectively as creepy and vicious villains, and the consistent theme of scientific ideas, from the metallic animals, neutron-bombed atmosphere, thwarting the static electricity powered Daleks with cloth insulators.. it's great. The story could've had some major trimming; if this was five episodes instead of seven it would flow much better, and have been much more engaging instead of having the meandering latter episodes. (This isn't a modern watchers' take on classic having longer stories by the way, there are plenty of serialised stories that feel very well stuffed, and deliberate with every episode).

Ian's passionate, the Doctor's sneaky, Barbara's passionate in the other direction, and Susan's there too, to occasionally make decisions of her own. 

Good second story, and obligatory thanks given for literally allowing Doctor Who to have a 14th (and 15th, and 16th, and 871st episode). Without the popularity of these "bug eyed aliens", Doctor Who itself would've been killed in the cradle.

I just love how much of an unhelpful and dismissive guy the Doctor is; "we should probably leave this planet for our own safety" - "lol idc im gonna lie about how the ship works to give you some bs reason why we NEED to go down that city that I, and I alone in the group, really want to explore". Despite this, he's also completely capable of acknowledging his selfishness and disregard to Ian & Barbara's concerns, and the writers are not at all afraid to have Ian absolutely GRILL this dude (Barbara gets her big shot next story). 

★★★★☆

[consequencesofargentdawn]

More goodies we had in our backlog. The PCU fragility is such at this point any questioning of their narrative, of their tactics or presence is immediately leapt upon with such rancour and rage that any single post is enough to trigger a cascade of clownery.

Pumapunku - likely a throwaway alt who knew this fact asked some very hard hitting questions. Hard for the PCU at least. Like ants to honey they all came marching in making fools of themselves, as usual.

Starting perhaps with the most coherent response from Waldenberg here. “active players from active guilds” of course being a complete lie. Look at who posts on the PCU threads, only PCU players. They also only post to bump or otherwise advertise themselves, hardly taking part in the discussions amongst the community.

Everyone does however have a right to ignore any RP on the server. Unless it’s PCU RP. You’re not allowed to ignore PCU rp or you’re somehow a bad person. “ERPer” “Nonce” “Bad Roleplayer” “Weirdo” “Grudgebearer” or a slew of other slurs thrown at you.

The Orgrimmar RP scene was killed by the PCU trying to monopolize all activity in the zone, monitoring and trying to bully out any elements they disliked. The Hand of Conquest acted during BFA as the Orgrimmar Gestapo, trying to start fights with any guilds and players they didn’t like. The Vulpera caravan controversy was merely the crowning icing on a bad cake. All other statements in that post are nonsense. Orgrimmar before the PCU, as in before mid-Legion when it came up, was thriving.

Of course they can’t even see the problem in front of them and flatly lie. There is no “live and let live” approach. If you say a bad thing about the PCU you are forever put onto a blacklist (as seen with the Hordeculler incident) and you are chilled out from anything they gain influence over. Everyone RPing just wants to rp, man. Its your people who want to control what others do.

The inverse can also be said, the PCU try so hard to make it seem as if they’re not the boogeyman (while at the same time doing everything a boogeyman would do too) it has to make one think there is something fundamentally flawed in their thinking. Because surely “Yes we’re the greatest rpers ever known to man and all of our events/rp are superior to everyone else” is a completely healthy and normal way to approach your fellow players. They are the ones who started the “us vs them” narrative, and now they are starting to dislike when “them” (as in, the great majority of Argent Dawn) bite back.

Sadly not a lot else worth addressing back in a serious manner was put up on this particular forum thread. Just the usual washed out players posting non-comments, some of which we thought to share.

The clown duumvirate themselves also waded in, because of course they do. It’s not a certified official PCU thread if the minister of propaganda and the minister of recruitment are not present.

However the most lucid of the posters appears to be (yet again) our resident forum gnome Speedwagone (who isn’t even afraid this time).

I guess they all felt a bit “silly” after realising they were being baited. But this is the same group of players who consider all attention to be good attention. The problem with that line of thinking is eventually the negative will build to the point most are not willing to interact with them. Which is what we’ve been seeing unfolding from the latter half of Shadowlands until now.

[theravenkin]

the foxes and social media pt. 2:

so most college sports teams, if they have social media like tiktok, post edits of really good plays, some boring game day hype stuff, etc; some of the teams that get less publicity have some more relaxed, easy going content. now in my head, exy is culturally equivalent to college football--so exy teams usually have pretty tame social media, countdowns to big games and clips of nice plays.

but the thing i find hilarious about the foxes is that there are only two staff members, wymack and abby. most high school teams have at least three or four coaches, big college sports like football will have a lot more, and teams which receive a lot of publicity will have PR people and social media coordinators. but the foxes? nah. guess who their PR/social media coordinator is? nicky hemmick, everyone.

nicky (and dan, since they already make a bunch of tiktoks together) make a team account (and somehow it gets verified eventually??? who is in charge here)

they aren't too careful about what they post--there are already plenty of rumors and criticism surrounding them, so who cares? what could be worse than neil on press duty? wymack also doesn't really give a fuck--when they ask him for permission he just wants them to stop talking to him asap so he's like yeah whatever sure (without knowing what the consequences of this might be)

the first tiktok on the account is a "full house"- style introduction of all the foxes, many of them looking beyond irritated and uncomfortable--but nicky and dan make sure they get everyone's consent to post it; they won't post anything without the consent of the people that are in it. somehow, everyone says yes--none of them really care, and/or don't think anybody will see it.

it blows up. the foxes' fanbase is way bigger than they think it is, especially after their victory against the ravens and all the publicity around neil's past. everyone on campus who has tiktok sees it. it makes its way to exy fan accounts on instagram and twitter. nicky and dan are kinda scared, because agh we put andrew minyard all over the internet will he murder us?? but they're also super excited because people care???? people like them that much????

unfortunately, the debut post causes a bit of a stir in the ever-present exy/palmetto state discourse. people start up the criticism and the rumors and the hate. so in response, the second tiktok on the team account is dan and nicky strutting around the locker room lip syncing "rumors" by lizzo and cardi b with some flawless transitions, it looks so professional. they address some of the rumors (some of them true) that have plagued the foxes for years: dan was a stripper? yep. kevin day has never been skiing? you bet. this video gets them featured in the Palmetto State student-run news/gossip accounts, and then it's featured on certain exy blogs--it of course causes more of a stir than the last one.

one of the hate comments on the second video says something homophobic in response to nicky's flamboyance in the videos. he responds to the comments with a video he and dan convinced matt to star in:

nicky: nah, all of us foxes are straight, super straight, no gay shit. right matt?

matt: yeah, bro, super hetero.

*intense eye contact*

*pretend to lean in for a kiss*

(also, side note: i have another hc nicky's flirting is completely returned by matt because he knows it's not serious, that he would never come between matt and dan, and they all think it's hilarious)

the exy dude bros are Not Happy--so everything is going according to plan

that video's comments are filled with an equal amount of both raging homophobia and wild support from fans who are queer or allies. by now, the other foxes are having fun with this account, too.

to be continued, this already got WAY too long but trust me there's more (lmk if y'all even want more, this took me way too long to put in coherent words 😭)

[wearywinchester]

Not Going Anywhere

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When he nearly loses you, Dean finds he can’t stand the thought of that happening.

Requested by Anonymous: “May I please request a one shot of dean and reader with her having an internal bleeding. You know when the character seems fine but then boom they collapse and turns out they're not fine at all?? I LIIIVE for that shit... The shock, the realization, the worry....”

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: angst, injury, bleeding, shock, anxiety, mentions of alcohol, guilt, fluff

You sat slumped in the backseat of the Impala, exhausted from the hunt. Fortunately, it’d been close to the bunker, close enough that you didn’t need a motel room overnight. Close enough that the drive hadn’t been terribly long like most cases were. You felt like you’d been run over by a semi two times over, a certain weakness running through you that left you feeling less than okay.

You watched quietly as the rain came down and trickled against the chilled windows of the car, falling into each other as they raced down the glass before fresh ones took their place in an instant. It was gloomy weather, something you could have found yourself seeking comfort in on any given day, something that otherwise would have been cozy had you not felt the way you did.

But you did, and it wasn’t leaving any time soon.

Dean had the heat cranked up because he could see that you were cold, could tell by the way you wrapped your arms around yourself. The ache and burn in your stomach had yet to subside, Dean having cleaned your wound before setting off to go home earlier that day, but that didn’t stop it from hurting.

You were less than comfortable, as far from it as you could be as you sat behind Sam. You missed the way Dean had glanced at you in the rear view more often than not, his concern evident in the crease between his brows, deepening each and every time he looked. He saw your agitation, the way your face contorted in discomfort as you slumped against the seat. You couldn’t sit still even if your life depended on it, constantly moving in your seat despite the way the hurt in your abdomen is screaming at you otherwise.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so restless in your life more than you were in that moment, anxiety settling in heavily the more you sat stuck in that car. There wasn’t anything in particular for you to feel this way over—you’d ridden in this car more times than you could count for years, having sat in the very same spot for far longer than this trip has been before. You’d done it all before without fail, without a problem, but this time was different.

It was different and he knew it.

Any other time you’d start a conversation about any and everything, singing along with him to nearly any song that came on the radio for the sake of getting on Sam’s nerves. Any other time you’d take a nap if you were tired, especially on a day like that where the clouds and rain offered ample comfort to allow you to do so, but this wasn’t any other time. This time you looked like you were two seconds from hopping out at the next red light, and it didn’t sit right with him.

“Sweetheart, you okay back there?” He calls out over his shoulder.

You’re not even sure if the words came out of his mouth, not even sure if you heard him as you shifted your gaze. When he didn’t get a response he looked in his mirror at you, calling out your name once more with more concern than the last.

You sat up a little straighter, glancing at him with eyes squinted slightly in confusion. “‘M fine, De.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced of that, not even a little bit as you blinked, trying to gather yourself a bit more than in that moment as he turned down the road that led to the bunker. You had a habit of saying you’re fine when you’re not, and you’re so clearly the opposite and he finds himself grateful he’s home, you’re home. But that doesn’t soothe the worry boiling over in the pit of his stomach, clouding his mind of anything and everything revolving around you.

Your words were merely words as they fell from your lips, that feeling simmering within you feeling awfully bad as you sit there, as the impala descended down into the bunker’s garage. The fluorescent lights were harsh on your eyes, your wince inevitable as you fought the groan sitting in the back of your throat. Dean didn’t need to be worrying over you, though he surely already was.

You think you just need a rest, a few hours sleeping in your own bed would do you some good. It had to.

You hadn’t fully registered the fact that the car had come to a stop, put in park in its usual spot and it gave Dean enough time to round the back end of it before you tried to get out on your own. When he pulls the door open you’ve got that look, one that tugs at his heart because you look so miserable, so tired and defeated. He crouches down closer to your level as you sit there, watches as you take a deep breath to try and steady the race of your heart. To try and calm the queasy feeling in your stomach.

“Sweetheart?” He asks, eyes on you in search of any indication that you’d been listening. You were, you really were, but you were trying to get a handle on how you felt. “Baby, we’re home.”

You nod then, turning your head to look at him with a soft smile in an attempt to assure him you’d heard him. He stood to his feet and held his hand out, gentle as he helped out of the car. You tried to ignore the rush that came down over you the moment you got up, tried to swallow down the intensifying nausea that’d swirled around in your stomach just begging to come up. You tried your hardest and it was proving to be a challenge.

You were dizzy when you stood to your feet, almost overwhelming, but you were quick to balance yourself and you brushed it off. You’d been in the car for the past two hours, doing nothing but sit in the same position for the majority of that time and you’d yet to eat or drink anything. A little dizziness seemed reasonable upon standing in your mind, not to mention the way your head had been hurting for nearly the same amount of time as the drive home.

You felt his hand slip from yours in favor of wrapping around you to steady you, to help you as you walked but you shrugged him off just as quickly, flashing him a look.

“De, I’m fine. You don’t need to fuss over me,” you say, and the look on his face shows just how much he disagrees with you. You could see it with the dimples forming by the very corners of his mouth and the raise of his eyebrow.

“Y/n—”

“I’m serious. I just need a little sleep and I’ll be fine,” you say, smiling once more in hopes he’d settle down, but you knew he wouldn’t.

It took a few moments, but eventually he dropped his hand to his side reluctantly and eyed you carefully, cautious as he watched you walk ahead into the bunker’s hallway towards your shared room. He knew you better than you thought, better than you knew yourself. He knew you like the back of his hand, but you were just as stubborn as he was and that’s the problem.

You flickered between bouts of nausea and none at all, between feeling fine, like you said you were, and feeling like you’d been drug all the way home tied to the trunk of the Impala. It was something that worsened the more you dwelled on the feeling, something you wished would subside.

You felt a beat of relief upon seeing the golden eleven mounted on that familiar wooden door come into view just down the hall, could smell the faint scent of Dean’s cologne wafting over you as he walked by towards Sam.

You were almost there, then you could lay down for a good long while, tuck yourself into that memory foam bed that was unbelievably comfortable and smelled every bit like Dean, and rest like you’d been longing to do since the moment you left to come home that day. You could rest in the comfort of your shared space for as long as you needed to get better. You were almost there.

But you weren’t.

In that moment, you felt like you were miles away from your destination, you felt like the conversation the two of them were having just a few feet away had been miles away from you, their voices muffled far more than they should be for how close they’d really been to you.

You slowed yourself to a wavering stop for a minute just to gather yourself a little more than you were then and there, reaching out for the wall that was just a little farther than you anticipated it to be. Your ears began to ring slightly, gradually, as that same nausea made its unpleasant return in your stomach, eyes squeezing shut just for a moment. You weren’t aware of just how awful you looked in that moment, but you knew it couldn’t have been too good if it was a reflection of how you were feeling in that very same moment. To be quite honest you felt like you’d just run a marathon with the way you couldn’t catch your breath, with the way your heart had been hammering within your chest at a faster than normal pace.

You felt like a walking, breathing disaster, and sure enough, you looked like it too.

Dean’s brows furrowed when he followed Sam’s gaze, to you, to you who stood there unsure of yourself as a flurry of emotions flashed over your face within a second’s time. A number of emotions, none of anything positive being displayed and it intensified the worries he’d had running through him. A sheen of sweat had glistened over your skin despite the chill that ran through you, your vision doubled as you opened your eyes once more to try and give Dean a glance.

“Y/n?” Your name fell from his lips, soft and hesitant at first as the initial confusion took over, his mouth going dry as he approached you.

“I’m…” you start, nodding your head as you swallow thickly. “I’m fine, Dean. I just…"

Your words were failing you, your ability to form a coherent thought failing you in that moment as you lost all means of balance, teetering on the edge of collapsing before you’d gone and done it. The shout of your name had come off as an echo to you, the impact of the floor having been cold and unforgiving as you fell, too weak to catch yourself.

He hated just how limp you felt in his arms as he knelt beside you, the pain jolting through him from dropping to his knees on the concrete floor having been the very least of his concerns as he watched you. Panic had lanced through him as your head lulled, caught in the crook of his arm as his other hand grabbed your face. Despite the sweat gleaming across your skin, your cheeks were void of any heat that you’d expect to feel and it only added to his upset.

“Y/n!” He called out, your brows furrowing as you felt yourself go from bad to worse, a steady declining feeling blanketing you. “Sweetheart, stay with me.”

His voice was loud, carrying through the winding hall in an echoing display of his fear, the sound taunting him as it bounced off the walls. You nodded weakly, despite the way your heartbeat hammered loudly in your ears enough to muffle what he’d been saying to Sam, or the way you couldn’t hold yourself up if it weren’t for the way he held you. Despite that, you nodded for him.

That ache from the wound you’d walked away from that hunt with was still very much there, that you knew. You knew things didn’t look good for you in that moment, not with the way Dean looked at you as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, or the fear in his eyes when he’d pressed his fingers to the side of your neck, your pulse faint but bounding beneath his fingertips. Things were continuing to go from bad to worse, to far beyond that and you knew that wasn’t a good sign.

You knew it the moment that feeling hit you in the car an hour earlier and the panic you felt was only increasing the more you thought things over.

You should have said something then, you know that now. You should have stopped saying you were fine when you so clearly weren’t, should have stopped doing what you always do and downplay a situation in fear of thinking about the outcome. You should have known better than to think it’d be as easy as Dean patching you up, not after what that spirit did to you. Nothing in hunting is ever as good as it seems, as easy as it seems, and you should have said something earlier.

Because now, now you were quite sure you were facing your fate when you didn’t have time to prepare for it. And that’s what scared you the most. It could have been something trivial, that’s what you’d been longing for it to be, but you knew it was just your own denial telling you that.

“Dean,” you say, taking a breath as you look up at him. The green eyes you loved so much were filled with a kind of emotion you never liked to see. “I—I just want you to know—”

“No, no c’mon. We’re not doing this sweetheart, okay?”

Nausea hit him like a ton of bricks at the sight of the crimson that slowly began to stain your teeth when you coughed, rage bursting through him in waves over the situation he doesn’t know how to control the ending of. Over the fact that he doesn’t think he can control the outcome for the love of his life in his very arms. He knows nothing in this life is guaranteed, not for the life of someone who hunts the world’s worst monsters.

He’s lost so much in his life, but damn does this one hurt.

“I don’t feel so good,” you murmur instead, watching the expressions flicker across his face through half closed eyes as you groan, brows furrowing at the expression he’d been looking at you with. “What is it?”

He couldn’t tell you what he saw, he wouldn’t do it.

“I know you don’t,” he says softly, chuckling despite it being void of humor, running his hand over your head. “I know you don’t but you’re gonna be okay, you hear me?”

All you could do was hum and nod, a soft noise you can’t quite tell had left your lips as the weight of your eyelids grew heavier and heavier. You were tired, that much was true. But he tapped your cheek with his hand lightly, grabbing ahold of your face.

“Don’t do that,” he urged, “please, don’t do that.”

He looked to Sam, a mirrored look of panic looking back at him that didn’t do much to soothe his stresses.

He feels near paralyzed when his gaze drops to you again, your eyes closed. He’d grabbed your face and called your name till his throat felt like sandpaper, till it felt like he swallowed a thousand knives he shouted your name. He held you tight in his arms as his mind worried in a frenzy of fear, calling out desperately for the one person that could help.

Cas.

If there was one thing that Dean Winchester knew how to do, it was worry. He’d worry himself to death over the ones he loved, in fact, there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to keep them safe. But worry is what he’d done for the last two and a half hours and nothing else.

If it was possible, one might think he’d wear a hole in the floor from his pacing at the foot of the bed in the bunkers infirmary. Cas had come in a moment’s notice much to Dean’s relief, had swooped in quite literally and healed you the way he hoped you could be.

It turns out that spirit had done more than just graze you, had gone a little deeper than either of you had thought. It turns out you’d been bleeding more than just on the surface, and that it hadn’t actually slowed to a stop once he’d patched you up back there. You were bleeding this whole time, you just didn’t know it until it almost became too late.

It all made sense now, the way you were acting in the car. The restlessness, the agitation and the way you couldn’t sit still. He knew there was something wrong even when you refused to admit it, and he hated it when you did that. Hated it when you kept your pain to yourself when you really didn’t need to, in favor of staving his worry and trying to be independent, and that’s something he knew well.

But that wasn’t the point, the point was you were lying there in that bed almost within an inch of your life had Cas not come. The point was he nearly lost you in his arms and he couldn’t help the blame that sparked and burst within him that maybe he shouldn’t have believed you when you said you were fine. He didn’t, but he felt he should have kept pushing, kept prying to get you to admit it. Thinking that maybe he should have known there was more to that injury by the way your face crinkled up when it happened, by the way you fell to the floor for a moment or two before you stood back on your feet.

He felt like this was on him, and it was tearing him up from the inside out.

Dean ran through a myriad of emotions that night, each one hitting harder than the last. He was scared, the mere thought of losing someone he found himself rapidly not being able to see himself living without having scared him more than he’d care to even admit. He was angry, his fear masked behind clenched jaws and hands running through hair, chairs kicked and chest heaving. Angry at himself for not having gotten to you sooner back there.

It was a never ending cycle of fear and anger and guilt, a cycle he felt he’d always feel in one way or another so long as the ones he loves keep getting hurt when he feels he has the means to prevent it somehow.

For the better part of that two hours, apart from the anxious pacing, he sat at your side as you rested. He was reluctant to leave your side should something happen again. He couldn’t handle that and he knew it. He sat there with his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. He held your hand for a while, thumb absentmindedly brushing over your knuckles as his foot tapped and his knee bounced subconsciously.

For the better part of that two hours, the events of what lead up to that point had replayed in his mind over and over in a taunting loop, having worsened the feeling he held each and every time it restarted. Each time he recalled something more in the way you’d looked in the car, in the way you acted, in the way you felt in his arms.

Cas had to tell him a million times over that you’d be okay. That wound on your stomach had been healed, everything had been healed as though it was never there. He told him a thousand times over that you were stable, you were okay. You were okay, but he couldn’t find it in himself to get over it just yet.

The last time Cas had said it was when he believed it, it was when he couldn’t be in that room another second otherwise he just might crack. He couldn’t bear to see you laying there like that, no matter the fact that you were just fine. It made his stomach churn and twist in knots.

He left, the stack of lore books swept off the table in the library in his wake, a string of curses leaving his lips. He went to your shared room first, the door slamming roughly behind him. He was angry at no one else but himself despite the fact that he shouldn’t be, but he’ll beg to differ on that a thousand times over.

When you woke up, the infirmary was empty. You’d seen the chair at your bedside that hadn’t normally been there. And if it wasn’t telling enough of Dean’s presence, the weight of his jacket splaying warmly overtop of you was sure to make it all the more obvious he’d been there.

You were sore as you sat up, stiff from having been laying in the same position for an amount of time you were sure of. But, when you lifted the hem of your shirt, that burning wound had no longer resided where it’d been. That nausea had since dissolved, that headache had gone away for the most part, and the weakness you felt, the dizziness, it’d all gone away. You knew it was done with the help of no one other than Cas.

You were sure Dean had been there with you for quite some time, but you also knew Dean better than to think he’d handle it well. You knew by the way you’d woken up by yourself that he’d handled it horribly. He gets worked up over injuries that are on a smaller scale, but this, this was far different than that. Inches from meeting your fate had been much too different than that and you knew he’d disappeared to sulk by himself.

You sighed when you pushed yourself off the bed, leaving the empty infirmary before navigating the bunker. The sight of the books splaying messily across the floor had been an indication of something you already suspected, the quiet in the air having added to the tension only followed when one of the three of you had been angry.

Your bedroom was empty, the blankets stretching over to his side of the bed having been wrinkled some from where he’d been sitting. A photo of the two of you had been sitting there on the nightstand, half-tucked under the base of the lamp sitting lit atop it, the drawer not closed all the way.

The Impala was still in the garage where he’d parked it hours ago, a frown tugging at your lips at the sight of the very hallway everything had taken place.

You knew where he’d be at this hour, at one where everyone should be asleep. Sam had been, you were sure of that, but if Dean hadn’t been in either of those places, you knew where he’d be.

A knowing sigh left your lips as you stepped down into the kitchen, the very one you’d been looking for sitting at the table. You saw the bottle of whiskey on the table and you saw the glass in his hand. You saw the way his hair had been a ruffled mess and you saw the ivory of his knuckles as he held that very same glass. You knew that all too well, you knew he’d been all sorts of torn up inside. He was.

“Knew I’d find you here,” you say, his head turning at the sound of your voice.

You could see the relief flooding his expression as he looked up at you, at the way his eyes widened and the way his face lit up just a little bit more than before, though it didn’t take long for the crease between his brows to deepen once more as you sat down next to him. He’s quiet for a moment before he presses a lingering kiss to your temple, and another as his next words are murmured against your skin.

“Sweetheart, you should be in bed, you’ve been through it today.”

You could hear the fatigue in the softness of his tone, could feel his nose brush against your temple before he turned away.

“Without you?” Your words are lighter as a soft smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles, half-humorous as he shakes his head, swirling the whiskey around in his glass. He swallows thickly, thoughts weighing heavy on his mind as a million words sit on the tip of his tongue. You knew a little humor didn’t do much to stave off that feeling he held.

“‘M fine, Dean.”

“Don’t say that,” he says, head shaking before he brings the glass up to his mouth and swallows the rest of his drink, pouring himself another.

You saw the way his eyes were rimmed a pale shade of pink. Dean Winchester wasn’t one to cry too often, but you could always tell when he had been. His eyes were red and so was the very tip of his nose, flushed a soft pink and the quiver in his lip hadn’t quite left just yet.

“I’m serious, Dean. I’m okay.”

“Well you weren’t a few hours ago, Y/n. You were damn near dead,” he says, louder than before as his jaw tenses.

“Well I’m not,” you counter, the huff that puffs through his nose an indication of his frustration.

“I’m glad this is just another day to you, Y/n.”

He brings his hands up to his face, rubbing over it in frustration as he sniffs. You saw that quiver just a little more now, one he hid behind his glass as he tipped his head back and drank it.

“For cryin’ out loud you still got blood on your teeth, Y/n,” he says, softer this time as the tension in his jaw loosens.

You sigh softly, more so to yourself as you stay quiet for a moment or two, your tongue swiping over your teeth before you bite the inside of your cheek. You can see the emotions flicker and roll through him, can see the guilt written clear across his face to match the feeling simmering in the pit of his stomach. When you got up, he’d expected you to just walk away, though instead you find yourself leaning atop the wooden table.

You snag the glass from the loose grip he had on it, setting it aside as he drug his hands down his face.

Your shoulders drop a fraction as you look down at your hands for a moment, foot tapping quietly against the floor. When you looked at him, his gaze was on the table, the inside of his cheek between his teeth. You bring your hand up to smooth over his hair before your palm settles on his cheek, thumb brushing over his chin. His eyes lift to yours, weary and upset.

You don’t fail to miss the way he leans into your touch no matter how subtle, or the way the clench in his jaw dissipates the rest of the way before your hand drops to your lap.

“There was nothing you could’ve done differently back there, De. No matter how much you think otherwise,” you say, watching that tension return as he looks away. “I know that’s what you’re thinking right now, but I’m still here. Now you don’t have to believe me on this, and I know you won’t, but you were there when I needed you the most. And that’s the only thing that matters to me. So you can be mad at yourself all you want, you can blame yourself all you want, but I’m not blaming this on you.”

He sat quietly, simmering in his own silence with closed eyes as his chest heaves a bit more than normal. You swipe your thumb across the crease between his brows, smoothing it softly as you watch the way he bites the inside of his cheek. Dean Winchester’s got a whole lot of stubbornness in him, but a whole lot of softness no matter how many layers of anger and frustration and worry sit atop it.

You move from the table after a beat of silence, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He relaxed under your embrace, more so when you dipped down from behind him and pressed a kiss on his cheek, one more for good measure.

You don’t know what to say for a little while as your head rests against his, arms dangling over his shoulders as you clasp your hands together loosely. You know for a fact he’s still beating himself up for this, that was something you knew was unavoidable. But that was something you could handle.

“Come to bed, De, it’s late,” you murmur, kissing his cheek once, twice, three times.

He hums at first, nodding his head. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You let him go with a soft squeeze to his shoulders, spinning on your heel as you sigh softly. But it doesn’t take more than a mere few seconds before you hear him move around.

“Sweetheart, wait.”

You turn around once more, brow raised in curiosity.

He’s hesitant for a moment before he crosses the room in a couple of steps, arms around you in an instant. You wrap yours around his neck, his embrace near bone crushing as his face tucks into your neck. His stubble is rough against your skin, the softness of your smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. He’s got fistfuls of your shirt in his palms, holding you close as you stand up on your toes.

“What do you say we ditch hunting for a little while?” He mumbles into your neck, your soft laughter immediate as you lean back to look at him. “Don’t want you dyin’ on me again, sweetheart.”

You bit your cheek for a moment as you shook your head, fighting a smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Winchester.”

He rolls his eyes, looking to the side as he fights the beginnings of his smile. “Yeah, well, I’m good with that.”

The tension he held minutes ago lessened some, his expression softer as he looked down at you. You lean on your toes and kiss him softly, lingering just over his lips for a few seconds before kissing him once more with a smile as you speak up.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @campingmonkey @agalliasi @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath

[dead-boys-club]

38 w/ takeomi 🥰🥰🥰

38: "So, I'm not allowed to be upset that they were all over you?"

done for the night ♡

Standing in the small kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish, you blinked a few times trying to wake yourself up further. It was five a.m and you weren't exactly in the mood or prepared for a meeting. You were spacing out, head tilted and staring at the wall, not even aware your mouth was slightly open; you weren't really a morning person.

'You're alone?' The voice belonged to Takeomi and it took a moment to register, watching him walk around the corner. 'Thought you'd be with your new boyfriend.'

It was too early for his shit. 'I have no idea what you're talking about,' you grumbled in response, hands coming up to rub your face as you leaned forward against the counter, elbows unhappy with the angle.

'Don't pretend like you didn't come out of Ran's bedroom this morning,' he pointed out, moving to lean his hip on the opposite side of the counter. You could feel him staring at you but what you didn't know, was that he was searching for any marks.

'Oh please. I had a rough night and he knows how to help with my migraines. Fuck off.'

Turning around at the beep of the coffee pot, you busied yourself with getting a mug to pour some in, muttering something coherent under your breath. You could still feel his gaze on you and eventually your eyebrows pulled together, looking back at him. 'What's your problem, Takeomi? It's five in the morning and you're already pulling this. So, what? What is it? You obviously have something to say.'

His jaw clenched and he recalled the past week. You'd fallen asleep on Kakucho's lap. Sanzu was all over you at one of their clubs. You were practically glued to Rindou when he was around and Ran, you seemed to run to him for everything. They were always touching you, holding you; they were too close.

"So, I'm not allowed to be upset that they were all over you?"

Coffee nearly went all over the counter as you snorted, coughing a little bit at the fact you had to laugh. 'Are you kidding me? No! You aren't allowed to be upset! For being the brains around here, you're not very bright, huh?'

You could see the anger wash over his usually pretty calm features and you knew his jaw had to ache with how hard he was clenching it. 'Why not? We talked about it. I told you how I felt.'

Eyeing him as if to see if he was being serious, you started taking your leave towards the meeting room, stopping to drop your hand on his shoulder. 'You did.. but when you confessed, maybe you should have had the balls to actually ask me out, not tell me how bad you were for me. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't be waking up in Ran's bed. This is all on you.'

Patting him a few times, you disappeared down the hall.

[omg-imagine]

Distraction

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: Johnny distracts V the best way he knows how.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: language, smut (oral + rough sex, choking)

A/N: Please don’t mind the weak plot, this was just an excuse to write p*rn featuring the only character I want to romance in the game but can’t. Also, for the sake of this fic, let’s just say he can touch V and vice versa :)) Hope you enjoy!

V was pissed.

No, she was beyond pissed.

And when V’s beyond pissed, she’s sure to let the whole fucking world know.

“Tone it down, princess,” Johnny cuts in once he’s heard enough of her long-winded rant.

V stops her relentless pacing around the apartment and shoots a menacing glare towards the rocker.

“I warned you not to take that job from the start. Now, look at you, bruised up from head to toe, and cheated out of your eddies.”

“That son of a bitch promised me half the cut,” V recalls bitterly, her chest heaving from the fierce anger spreading all throughout. “I’m gonna make sure Cruz regrets asking me for help.”

The merc stalks off to her stash, muttering low under her breath how she plans on raising hell the next time she crosses paths with him. As V polishes her guns (something she typically does to calm herself), Johnny approaches the small room to the side with the same cocky attitude that would surely piss her off even more.

He can’t help himself at times; he sure does love pushing V’s buttons.

“You done whining or what?”

Rolling her eyes, V turns her head to see Johnny standing there as he takes a drag on his cigarette. Normally, she doesn’t mind him smoking around her, but after an exhausting night where things didn’t work out in her favor, she was quickly reaching her boiling point. “You better clean up all that ash on the floor when you’re done.”

“Since when did you start caring about this shithole of an apartment being neat?” Johnny comments, more so as a tease, and this earns him another scowl. “Don’t waste your energy on Cruz. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“Didn’t know you believed in karma,” V adds, narrowing her eyes.

Devilishly, he smirks at her, tossing the cigarette butt to the floor then crushing it with his shoe. “Hon, there’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me.”

“Yeah,” she agrees before brushing past Johnny. “I’m heading out.”

His figure glitches momentarily, reminding V that he was nothing but a ghost residing in her mind, despite how real he feels. Even if she wants to leave this “shithole of an apartment” for some semblance of peace and quiet, she knows Johnny will only follow. He’s tethered to her for what could possibly be the rest of her life.

And yet, no matter how big of an asshole Silverhand was, she’s grown fond of his presence.

Not that she would mention it out loud. Ever.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” V simply states, wondering what the point in Johnny asking her that question when he could easily find it out for himself was.

It’s truly unfair how he can read her thoughts, but she can’t read any of his.

He chuckles low. “Gon’ pay a joy toy to fuck tonight?”

“No, I’m going out for a drive, distract myself from that shitshow earlier. You better leave me alone.”

“Well, I’m a little insulted,” Johnny snorts, feigning offense. “I thought you liked my company.”

“I’m tired of your company. You never shut that mouth of yours.”

Before V could head to the door, she feels a metal hand encircling her wrist, holding her in place. She glances behind her, meeting Johnny’s deep, dark eyes, which hid a multitude of secrets. It’s been a while since she has felt a touch that wasn’t full of malice. Though his palm is cold from the material it’s made out of, a distinct heat spreads through her body—

It was a familiar warmth, one that radiates from V at his mere touch.

And when Johnny’s lips curl into a shit-eating grin, she knows that he has sensed it too.

“Shut my mouth? I think I can do something else much better than that.”

Johnny’s gravelly voice fuels the desire burning deep within V as he pulls her closer, her feet moving at their own accord. “God, I wish you came with an off-switch.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this little game we’ve been playing.”

V doesn’t respond, her pulse quickening with anticipation. She lets out a shuddering moan when Johnny leans in, his hot breath grazing her silky skin before his lips crash against hers, possessively. He floods V’s senses all at once as he hungrily kisses her, letting him take the reins.

It would be a lie for V to say she’s never pictured a moment like this. A moment where she finally succumbs to Johnny’s charm and allows him to lay claim on her. It’s always been a constant dance between the two, a chemistry disguised as indifference, a craving left unspoken. Amidst the degrading insults and the snarky attitudes, deep down, they have always wanted the same thing—

To fuck each other’s brains out.

“Still tired of my company, V?”

“Just shut the fuck up for once and take off your pants.”

The grin on his face hasn’t disappeared. It only grows broader. “Ask, and you shall receive.”

Johnny roughly grabs V at the waist, his fingers curling underneath the hem of her shirt as he pushes her towards the bed. His mouth latches onto her neck, no doubt marking her for all of Night City to see.

They fell onto the mattress without finesse, similar to how V kisses Johnny feverishly, all tongue and teeth. Void of tenderness and only driven by the urgency of lust. She was too distracted by her want to care for the taste of tobacco from his last smoke. The hands traveling every inch of V’s frame lights up a fire in her, bringing a high that no drug on the black market could ever do.

Surprisingly, Johnny allows her to take the lead for a bit when she straddles him, his hardening cock pressing up against her aching cunt. She gages his reaction as she grinds on his clothed erection, a wicked smile forming to the sight of him being teased.

“You like that, huh? Fuck, I can’t wait to have you inside of me.” She feels herself growing wetter and wetter, losing patience just as swiftly as the man under her.

Without warning, Johnny flips them both over, the length of his body now pressed against hers from above. He wastes no time peeling V’s shirt and bra off, pausing for the briefest of seconds to admire her bare breasts. His cybernetic hand squeezes one soft mound as his lips descend on the other. She moans, and they were pure music to his ears, sounds that were so beautiful he could write endless songs about them.

“J-Johnny,” V stutters out his name, unable to contain herself anymore. She doesn’t remember the last time someone has quickly reduced her into a mess, and desperately she wanted, needed more.

The way his name trembles from her mouth drives Johnny into a frenzy, simpering at the fact he really hasn’t done much yet, but it was enough to leave V quivering. She looks too sinful beneath Johnny, too delectable. He’s well-aware of how long she’s gone without sex, and he’s now bent on ending that sad streak of hers.

Hastily, Johnny removes V’s pants and underwear in one quick go, his gaze devouring her beauty like a starved man staring at his meal. “Wow, you’re fucking drenched down there.”

“Fuck,” she gasps, one hand reaching forward to grip at his lengthy locks as soon as he delves in to taste her dripping nectar for the first time.

“You enjoying yourself there, baby?” Johnny’s inquiry needs no response. He could already tell she is solely by the way her eyes flutter shut, her head lolling to the side.

One lick. Two licks. Three. He surely knew how to work that deft tongue of his.

Johnny’s cock continues to throb in the confines of his trousers as his lips encircle V’s swollen bud, but he doesn’t end there. She wants more, and he’s willing to give her just that.

More.

V squirms when two chrome fingers enter her heat, stretching out her walls to prepare her for the serious pounding coming up. She’s lost in the sensations, unable to form a coherent thought or word. Johnny’s tempo was slow at first; tantalizing, nearly torturous. But once he starts moving faster, pumping even harder and reaching that sweet, sweet spot of hers, she begins to pant wildly as she fucks herself on his hand to get more friction.

“Holy shit, you’re a goddess,” he croaks after pulling back to study the needy woman looking back at him through half-lidded eyes. V is tight around his fingers, and he could only imagine how it would be like with his cock buried deep inside her instead.

Each rough stroke of Johnny’s digits against her wet walls brought V closer and closer to the brink of orgasm, her moans increasing in both volume and frequency. He urges her to let go, whispering into her ear how he wants to see and feel her coming. The gruffness in his tone turned her on even more, and V soon finds herself falling over the precipice, flushing hot with euphoria as Johnny watches, awestruck.

Satisfied, he beams at his work, which was only half of what he intends to do this evening. Being gracious, Johnny gives V an ample minute to recover, using the downtime to wipe the glistening wetness coating his beard before tasting the juices he’s collected.

Delicious, he thinks. She tastes as good as she looks.

V eventually comes back to her senses, propping herself up on her elbows as she gazes at Johnny with an almost dazed expression. “Perhaps the rumors are actually true.”

“Which one?” Silverhand asks, ridding himself of his clothes at the foot of her bed.

V pauses prior to answering, the sound of metal clinking filling the air as he unbuckles his belt, stripping off his leather pants afterwards.

“That you’re the best pussy eater in town,” she then reveals, glancing up briefly to see the smug look on his face before her gaze falls to his groin again.

Of course, Johnny chooses to go commando, and no, she wasn’t shocked at all.  

Silently, she marvels at the dick nestled in a thick bush of dark hair. Girthy and long with a slight curve upwards, the thought of it being inside her, barely fitting, made her mouth water. He wasn’t lying when he casually mentioned having an impressive cock.

It definitely did not disappoint.

“Oh sweetheart, that was nothing,” Johnny declares before climbing back on top of V, settling in between her legs. “The main act is just beginning.”

She doesn’t wait for Johnny to kiss her. In an instant, V’s lips were on his, her tongue pushing into his mouth, faintly tasting herself at the same time. Meanwhile, Johnny grips the base of his leaking cock, rubbing its engorged head against her slick folds that had her breathing heavily. V cants her hips impatiently, and through their kiss, he chuckles at her eagerness.

“So desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” Johnny husks mockingly. “How badly do you want me, slut? I wanna hear you say it.”

A moan escapes her throat at his words as he rubs his tip against her clit. V wants him so, so bad that she’s begging incessantly, something she never does in any of her past fucks. Usually, she was in complete control, never the one to relinquish her power.

Maybe that was the reason why V was utterly drunk with pleasure from this steamy session with Johnny. It’s good not to be in control for once.

“Shit, Johnny. Please, just fuck me already. Fill me up,” V pleads, now helpless at this point. She has to come again, this time around his cock. She repeats her keening over and over again, hoping that it was enough to feed into Johnny’s ego and finally show her mercy.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Tugging at his cock, Johnny forces V’s legs to spread wider as she waits for him, mesmerized. Her pussy was soaked from his ministrations, but when he starts pushing into V, the burning stretch of her walls trying to accommodate his thick length leaves her in tears.

Those tears, however, weren’t entirely from the pain. V was also shedding tears because of how full Johnny makes her feel.

“Fucking hell, V,” he groans as she clamps down on him. “You’re so fucking tight. Damn, why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“We were too busy pretending to hate each other,” V replies, digging her nails into Johnny’s back when he begins to move.

His thrusts are slow but rough— as if he’s getting accustomed to the wondrous feeling of being inside of V. It doesn’t last long, though. Johnny has always been a hard and fast kind of guy, the one that does two or three more rounds before passing out. He’s bragged about his amazing stamina as well, and despite V believing she could match it, she probably won’t be able to tonight.

Not when he’s fucking her into the mattress like this for their very first time together.

Johnny’s brutal pace doesn’t falter. He pounds into V harder, faster, rougher; as if his life depends on it, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh bouncing off every corner of the room. His slick pre-come mixes with her honeyed essence, allowing him to seamlessly reach the depths of her center. Sweat drips down the side of his face as he maneuvers his mechanical hand to wrap around V’s delicate neck, adding pressure when she doesn’t resist.

“That’s it, baby,” Johnny growls next to her ear, rolling his hips as he squeezes her throat tighter. “You’re making me feel so good. I’ve always known you were a dirty whore.”

V’s gasping and thrashing, but she doesn’t want him to stop. She loves the rush of blood through her head far too much, especially with Johnny slamming harshly into her. It gives her a thrill she has never experienced with anyone else. Pretty sure he’s ruining her for others.

But whether this was part of his intentions or not, V doesn’t know. Nor she cares enough to figure it out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, V. Look at you, taking all of my cock like the fucking slut you are. You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? You practically dream about me every night, and don’t you deny it.”

She doesn’t. Johnny was right, though it doesn’t really matter at this very second. His hold on V loosens for her to speak, and she inhales as much air her lungs could possibly take. She could feel it again, the ultimate high she’s been chasing once more. Johnny’s shaft dragging against her pulsing walls brings her even closer to it, building up the pleasure rising in the pit of her stomach.

“I-I’m close,” V warns, the pressure inside her threatening to break free. “Shit, Johnny, I’m gonna come soon.”

Johnny’s hips jerked harder, causing V to cry out. “Yeah? You’re gonna come? Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure you come on my cock.”

Halting, he drapes her left leg over his shoulder, allowing him to slide in deeper than he has before. Johnny then pushes his metallic thumb into V’s mouth, and without prompt, she swirls her tongue around it, coating it with her saliva. Not missing a beat, his movement resumes, all bruising and all punishing. He brings his wetted finger on her sensitive pearl, stroking it as if he’s playing his guitar on stage.

The change in angle proves to be the final straw for V, who’s litany of high-pitch moans spurs Johnny to fuck her even more forcefully. Again and again, she takes everything he gives her, and in turn, she encourages him to follow her into the abyss. Her pussy caresses his cock with every frantic push and pull, and she notices how he’s gradually picking up speed, losing his rhythm in the process.

“Your cunt belongs to mine now,” Johnny mutters, gritting his teeth, and it’s becoming clear to V that he’s holding back just for her. “Come on, V. Let go, let go for me.”

Lust-blown eyes lock with V’s own, wordlessly urging her one last time to come undone. Several sharp thrusts later, she finds herself clenching around Johnny’s cock, her orgasm shooting through her like a rain of bullets. Unabashedly, V shouts as her vision whitens, intense waves of ecstasy washing over her shaking body. She’s too absorbed in bliss to realize right away that Johnny was still in her, dick hard and ready for a similar release.

Once she finds her bearings, V grinds her hips against Johnny’s, and immediately, his nails dig into her as he begins to move inside her yet again.

“Don’t stop, Johnny,” she purrs, watching him fuck her with both fast and long strokes. “I want you to cum deep inside me, baby. Shit, I want it so badly. Please, give it to me. Please…”

With a strained moan, Johnny suddenly climaxes, snarling as he shoots searing ropes of his thick, creamy cum into V, painting her inner walls with white. His features contort with pleasure as he throws his head back, his breathing shallow and ragged. When his heart rate returns somewhat back to normal, he slowly pulls his softening cock out, smirking at the sight of his load dripping out of her.

Afterwards, he flops down beside V with a huff, joining her as she stares blankly up at the ceiling. Johnny clears his throat as he shifts closer to V, who instinctively rests her head on his chest. His cyber arm curls around her, and she sighs deeply, seemingly content.

“How about that for a fucking distraction?” He says, recalling how the two of them got here in the place. “Don’t even have to go on a ride to clear your mind. Feel free to ride me instead.”

V laughs at his jest. “It was a great fuck, the best one I’ve ever had if I’m honest. But I’m still going after Cruz.”

Johnny hums in response, seeing V’s weary eyes growing heavier. “Fine, but just to let you know, what happened between us isn’t a one-time thing.”

“Fuck, I hope not. You’re stuck with me till the end of the world, buddy.”

“It’s a good thing you have an amazing pussy then.”

V smacks him lightly as exhaustion begins to take over. Sure, she was still pissed she didn’t get her eddies, but at least now she knows the prick named Johnny Silverhand was surprisingly a cuddler.

And that piece of information was worth gold.

Permanent Tags:   @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein​ @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​ @breakthenight​ @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx