#on the other hand source is kind of like the third sibling but also This Weird Dog We Found. Can We Keep Him

[cosmic-cd]

late night oc thoughts again!

[goldsbitch]

Light Roast Mosaic

Five stages of a relationship, little moments captured at a small café in Monte Carlo, one melting into another. Is it one story? That is for the universe to know and for us to wonder.

warnings: fluff, angst featuring: Franco, Lando, Oscar, Charles, Max

//

Franco's first sip

"Another espresso?" the not-so-polite waitress glanced over both of them, her thick French accent pushing through.

Franco needed to look confident. Third coffee was totally fine and probably on brand with him, so what that his fingers were shaking?

"Yes, exactly," he smiled at her, doubting whether he kept the eye contact for too long or not enough. He was trying not to let his composure down.

His palms were already sweating, they had been for the past hour. Part of him wanted to get up and run away, the other would do anything to make sure you were glued to the chair you were sitting on forever.

The waitress left, leaving her opinions to herself and you were back at the semi-awkward conversation break again. He looked back at you, you averted and blushed, missing the part where he blushed too. The French waitress had just interrupted you telling a story about your sibling, one that still made you laugh years later. Your heart was beating fast - because you managed to make him laugh too.

"I'm sorry, so what happened next?" Franco asked leaning forward towards you.

You fiddled with your fingers. "Um, nothing, that is it, I believe," you replied, regretting that the wind was taken out of your punch line. You were nervous, hell, nervous times seven. And yet, the conversation flew back and forth, as if you wanted to use up all of your words on him and choke on his.

"Sounds like a fun childhood," he remarked naturally. You could feel his gaze burning through you. For some reason, you dared not to look back. Was this a date? You had just met few days ago at random and he kind of asked for your contact. Few DM's and one post-poned meeting and now you were here. Across him. No idea why his presence felt so exhilarating. This was a coffee in the afternoon. Just talking. Why did it produce the same chemical reaction as a rollercoaster ride?

"It was, but definitely not as cool as Argentina must have been," you replied and nonchalantly grabbed a sugar packet of the table and broke it apart on your small plate. You just had to do something with your hands, it was getting riddicculous and he would notice unless you did something. "Tell me about Argentina."

"I will, one day," he responded and your stomach exploded with butterflies at the thought of him suggesting another date, "but, first you tell me what you're doing," he asked, hinting at your sugar creation. In the meantime, another coffee cup landed in front of Franco.

"Um, nothing. It's something I always do. A habit, I guess." Lies, lies, lies. You'd never done this. But it was either this, or staring into his incredible eyes and you were not ready for that yet. Freaking him out was not the plan.

"Looks like you're drawing something," he observed and took a sip of his third coffee. Not that he was such a big of a fan of the bevarage. He just wanted to keep sitting there with you. You smiled, mindlessly. Perhaps yes, it did appear like a drawing. A flash of the memory of your grandma, pretending to be a tea leaves fortune teller, when you went young, came to your mind. You looked at him with a challenging look.

"Do you want me to read your future?" you asked, gaining some confidence from unknown sources. It was as if your body wanted to tease him. To lure him in and then never let him go. But you were also scared of the attraction you felt, so you know, casual confusion going on there.

"Can you read the future from, em, sugar?" he raised his brows with an amused, skeptical look. Then he took a big gulp on his coffee and failing at keeping it cool, he choked like a little kid. You couldn't help but laugh at the sudden loss of his "suave" look.

"You ok there?" you said, trying to push in your laughter.

Took him few coughs and deep breaths to compose himself before he spoke. "Ay, don't worry. Three coffees might be just enough...But, guess what?" he spoke, quickly back at his irresistible self.

"What, Franco?" Oh, you were so doomed.

"I just saw the future," he challenged you and licked his lips. Not that you noticed, no. Definitely not.

"And what did you see?" you replied, keeping a firm eye contact.

"Next Tuesday."

"Hm, so not that strong coffee, I guess," you diverted.

"Strong enough," he countered, not letting his gaze of your face.

You took a breath and surrended. "So, what did you see?"

"You and me on another date."

//

Two sugars

A quick coffee run before going back to the safety and comfort of your apartment. You and Oscar had a good run of days lately. Maybe too good. Your core almost ached when you walked, but that was a fair price for the bliss he made you feel. How many times in one day is too much? It looked like you were about find out. But first, coffee and some carbs.

You two picked a quiet corner away from the window, trying to enjoy the privacy Monaco offered sometimes. Sitting next to each other rather than across and having a whole table dividing you provided you both with a clear view on the café. Oscar was about to give a cheeky kiss and pushing you further into his embrace when you lightly pushed back and nodded to door. Oscar let a loud sigh out when he finally spotted Colapinto and Bearman walking in to get a take out after their run.

"God, I hope they don't notice us. I am not in the mood for F1 bullshit today," he murmured and sunk deeper into the chair.

"Uuh, beware, the young ones are coming," you teased and watched them. It was a relief to see them walk away immediately, locked in their own conversation and not noticing the self-absorbed couple in the back corner.

Oscar looked at you, puzzled. "Young ones? They are our age."

"I'm not talking about me, but you! Age works differently in F1," you said lightly and put your hand back on his upper arm.

He brushed your cheek with his hand. "Sweetheart, two years ago, you had no idea racing existed. Look at you now, almost ready for your own podcast!"

"Uuh, what would I talk about? Interesting..." you pretended to be lost in the thought of it and he did not buy it at all.

With a smirk, he made a simple comment. "Knowing you, you will always find something."

"I could talk extensively about prep before a race," you replied and stole a quick kiss from him.

"Is that so," he said and pulled you even closer to him and locked your lips again.

"Yeah. You know," you whispered between kisses "..stroke first, the touch the balls before you take him in your mo-"

He pulled away and put his finger on your mouth, trying to hide his amusement and quickly stepping in to avoiding finishing so easily. A habit, one might say. "Ok, ok, stop, there are people here," he pointed out, observing the cafe again. He was not that keen on PDA, but you managed to break through that wall, especially if you managed to keep him comfortable for longer period of time.

"Fuck people," you hoped one day he's become less worried about other people.

"You wanna fuck people? " he frowned, mildly disgusted once he eyed the cafe again. "Not an impressive crowd, interesting choice on your part," he teased you with his dead pan expression.

You rolled your eyes, typical Oscar. "Well, maybe not people, a person."

"If you say Lando again, I swear to God.." he added without missing a beat.

Oscar smirked and you mirrored his action. Even after a year and a half of teasing each other 24/7 it still felt fresh, like a ripe strawberry, still warm from the sun. You had each and every of his freckle mapped, he could tell just by the way you did your hair in the morning what kind of mood you'd have throughout the day.

"Come to the next race with me. Please," he pleaded, changing the tone of the conversation to more of a serious one, as he fiddled with a random strain of your hair. Then he licked his lips, as he would always do when something bothered him.

During the time you'd dated you visited only two races. People kept constantly nagging him about it, but he tried to put as little pressure on you as possible. Remembered more than vividly how a crowd of fans surrounded over you the first time around, nearly causing you a panic attack. You were never a crowds person. There wasn't much of a choice during a Grand Prix. You loved supporting him, sent him videos of your reaction to the race whenever something happened, for him to watch on the plane ride home. His favorite one was the one where you went on a five minute rant after his dive bomb in Baku. Like a parent who is trying to explain to a child that jumping of a cliff might not be the best idea. He found it adorable. Just wished he could have you there in person.

"I'll think about it."

//

Cold Brew

"Lando, you're lost in your thoughts again."

At the beginning it was easy. No drama, hard conversations avoided. Just pure fun and light weight life. She was willing to drop everything for him, come out to races and twirl around him, without needing any extra care. She was easy. But she was not you.

Lando smiled apologetically and tried to push the train of intrusive thoughts back in and focus on what his current girlfriend was saying. But it was so hard, when a Taylor Swift song was playing and a raspberry macaroon was just brought to the table next to them. Punch to his guts came free with that. It's been months now since you last spoke together. First two months were fairly easy, he found distractions and one of them even made it to this cafe as well and was now sitting across from him. With seasons turning, it was like you started to creep back in from every corner of each room. Impossible to escape your ghosts.

Lando felt like a prey, trying to escape attacks from everywhere. But there was no one attacking him, apart from his own brain. It's not that you were suddenly all over any place he was at, it's that his brain searched for you.

Was that your car outside? Did he just smelled your perfume? He could have sworn he just heard your heels.

He fiddled with a spoon in his almond milk latte. You hated when he would order that and joked about never kissing him again. It should make him happy that the girl sitting across from him has ordered the same drink as he had. She was a good match on paper.

Just not you.

"Lando, can you please listen to me?"

//

Second batch

"Y/N?"

You turned around, nearly dropping your phone and purse. It was a middle of a busy day for you, emails popping off like crazy and your mind was anywhere but present. The plan was to get a quick coffee and get into the office and join the emergency online meeting your boss initiated.

His voice was something you could recognize under any circumstances. But maybe, just maybe you were mistaken. You turned around slowly, just to make sure that you were correct. As your eyes met, it became clear you made no mistake. For few seconds, you just stared at each other.

"Hey, Charles."

Time stopped. There he was, once again in his full casual glam. He was really good at that, always had been. You never felt like you could keep up, back when you used to date. But it was a long time ago, you both grew up and years added on seemed to suit him well. Just like you observed him, he did you. It was clear you were in a rush, but also rushing somewhere where you were important and needed.

"How are y-"

"Your coffee, madame," the rude waitress interrupted Charles, a signature move you were more than familiar with as a local customer. Unlike Charles. He would usually avoid this place.

"Thank you," you turned your attention briefly towards her and took your coffee, balanced your things and took few steps away from the counter, not to disturb the lady more. Charles ignored anyone, but you. When you regained your composure, he tried asking again.

"How are you?"

His piercing blue eyes were dawning on you, a painting of conflicting feelings locked in them, begging to be set free.

"Um, yeah. Very busy currently," you spoke in a muted tone, still not fully comprehending that you just randomly bumped into him on a day like that.

Soft smile crept on his face. "You look busy." His eyes were trying to catch yours, without much success. Then they flashed to the top of your head and you knew that your hair was probably all over the place.

"Oh, fuck, is it that bad?" you asked, hoping for an honest answer. At least this one time.

He nodded. "It's just the-em..bun?"

"Can you please hold this?" you sighed and started handing him your things.

Without questions, he took your bag, coffee, another bag, notepad and held all of that while watching you trying to fix your hair. It was shorted than it used to be when you dated, he observed. Curlier. He wondered what kind of person you grew into.

"Ok?" you checked geniuenly for his approval, first time you fully locked eyes with him. Stood there, waiting for what he had to say.

Wondered was an understatement. His curiosity was burning him from inside. You used to never leave a stone untouched when you dated together. A quality he searched for ever since with no luck.

"Yeah, perfect," he managed to get out of him and began handing you your things back.

"Listen, I really gotta rush, so..."

It was obvious you were not lying, so he figured trying to keep you there would just make you mad. "Yeah, of course."

"Uh, see you, I guess," you said, barely waited for his response and hopped off to where ever you were originally headed to.

So many things he never found the guts to say. Never apologized. He was ready now. The forgotten notepad he held in his hand served as a glimmer of hope he might get a chance to fix what he once fucked up.

//

The usual, thank you

"Lady, I am sorry, I am showing you on a map, what else do you want from me?" Max said with his signature dead pan annoyed tone and wiggled his phone in front of a poor lady, who barely spoke English. Originally, he thought she was a fan asking for a photo, instead he got stuck in trying to explain the concept of left and then long straight walk to whichever place the tourist was looking for.

You watched him struggle impatiently as you waited by the door with two coffees in hand, amused as usual. Whenever he was frantic like this, you just could not help yourself.

The two finally parted ways, Max waved her goodbye and then rubbed his face. Annoyed and tired, he was like that the past few weeks.

"Tough day the office?" you joked and handed him his coffee.

"I wish. Give a photo-hungry fan over this anytime, please."

You grabbed his hand, an subconscious gesture at that point. "Come on, we still have some time before we need to leave for the plane. Let's enjoy this walk."

He kissed you, not bothering to turn his head around and search for people with their phones ready to photograph. Max stopped doing that a long ago. His "not giving a fuck" attitude was a turn on for you in any shape or form.

The two of you walked for a few moment before you had your first sip of the coffee. A small frown escaped your face upon the first sip. "Never liked the coffee here, it's so bitter."

He had a different opinion, as per usual. "Yeah, but I like the place. They keep their bullshit levels on low. The staff is pleasant."

Max was always about getting to the point straight. Made it a very interesting quality when you fought. But you would not have it any other way.

"Is that why you wanted us to take the longer route and come here today?"

He calculated his response. "Hm, not really. Apparently they might be closing soon. Slow business."

"Ah, shame. Great location," you replied, not exactly affected by that new information.

"See, knew you'd like it," he said with a suspicious joy in his tone.

"Why are you so interested in me liking that place?"

"Well. I was thinking of buying it if they really go under," his response came with a tone suggesting he had already made that decision.

This time, you couldn't hide your shock. "Max Verstappen, what the fuck?"

He just chuckled. "Oh you'll love it. We'll have our cute little place."

"Is it because of Leclerc's ice cream? Are you jealous?" you asked, still baffled. This man will probably never stop surprising you.

He stopped and looked at you. "Good thinking, we can get his ice cream here. That'll dram crowds. I'm happy you're on board," he said and gave you a small kiss on the cheek.

"Never said that," you tried to protest, but knew it was a lost battle.

"But you'll be. For me, please? I'll make sure you always get free coffee?" he asked, with a hint of sarcasm, but you knew better than that.

So be it. You searched for a hint of doubt in his deep blue eyes, but only found determination and devotion. "Free bitter coffee, what a win!" you cheered sarcastically, but an honest smile formed on your lips.

"And a kiss with it," he bargained with a devious smile.

Was there ever any other choice than the magnificent man standing in front of you? The answer was clear to you. Where ever he went, you followed and vice versa.

"And a kiss with it."

[m1d-45]

Alright let me try this again.

What if Reader vented to Birb Xiao, not knowing that it was actually him?

They talk about their fears and frustrations, letting out all the words they've wanted to tell a person, but they have to settle for their pretty bird because no one will listen.

So Xiao is just sitting there, resting in the True Creator's hands, listening as he gets a glimpse of how they truly feel.

They say the milileth is like a raging stampede with their spears and swords. They say how the Qixing all seem so cold and unfeeling. They talk about how Zhongli genuinely terrifies them, because he acted so kind to others but was borderline cruel when hunting them.

They talk about Xiao, too, but they don't seem to have many complaints. They haven't seen him in a while, and the last time they crossed paths with him, he just... let them run. The adeptus had looked angry, but also a bit startled (and perhaps, a bit guilty?) at the sight of them. They even once overheard him leading milileth soldiers astray ("by mistake" says the creator, but Xiao knows the truth) by saying the creator had left a while ago, when really, they were still very nearby. While they say they are still a bit scared of him, they don't fear him as much as they fear the others.

All the while, Xiao sits, still as a stone. He takes in every word, every shaky breath and darting glance. He nuzzles into their hand, hoping to offer even the slightest bit of comfort.

He hopes that they continue to be unafraid of him in the future.

-Sibling Anon

he who is without sin

a/n: decided to make this one a full fic for no reason in particular (i don’t have an actual post shhhh)

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: imposter sagau things, minor blood mention, spoilers for xiao lore, some spoilers for liyue (like names and titles of people/places)

-> gn!reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay

< masterlist > (has context for bird!xiao if you’re lost)

from the moment that xiao was saved, when his new name was bestowed upon him and he signed his contract with morax, xiao had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

a pledge to stand by your side, a clause written in by the god that forged his original contract, releasing him from his duties to liyue to serve the one that had granted him life. a permanent extra sweep to his duties, always on the lookout for the highest god above all.

however, he was not the first to find… ‘you.’

‘you’ had landed in sumeru, nested in the large tree surrounding the akademiya. ‘you’ had climbed down, introduced ‘yourself’ to the sages with a smile. everybody was quick to give ‘you’ the glory rightly the creator’s, ushering ‘you’ atop a throne of silver and gold, offerings laid at ‘your’ feet with all the haste of those deprived of the divine.

xiao may have hung back at the beginning, unwilling to allow his karma to infect ‘your’ other worshippers, but he still did his duty. he still kept ‘your’ path clear of enemies, and was the first to pick up his blade when word broke of your imposter.

and yet, when he laid eyes upon the one he was supposed to hate, he was the first to repent.

xiao took a shaking breath, crossing his arms around himself. “morax?”

the elder god turned, amber eyes soft. “what is it, xiao?”

xiao marched through dihua marsh, polearm gripped tightly in his hand. a large hilichurl camp had been reported, which while not an issue normally, was the third in the last four days.

irritation was openly displayed on his face, the anemo around him simmering with his anger. why did the abyss have to act up now, when they were on a hunt? surely even they, as infected and riddled with darkness as they were, worshipped a god? or was that the source of their evil?

he kept marching north, only turning his head at the sound of a soft gasp.

“how will i know when the creator arrives?”

morax smiled, not upset like xiao had anticipated. “don’t worry about such things. when the time comes-“

you stood on the path branching west, eyes wide. you looked nearly exactly like the ’you’ on the throne, the same cool eyes that called for your death now wide and staring at him in fear.

“-you will know.”

you turned on your heel, your armful of sunsettias tumbling to the floor, but… xiao did not chase you.

instead he brought a hand to chest, under his necklace. he pressed, feeling the still-regular beat of his heart.

he pressed, searching for the place where his karma used to be.

from the moment that xiao realized the truth, when his new duty was bestowed upon him, he had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

he flew down from the sky, landing in your outstretched hand. he chirped a greeting, body relaxing under your gentle touch.

“hello there, friend,” you cooed, sitting straighter under the tree. your tree, the one you kept coming back to, the one he always directed other adepti away from because it was for you, not them. not him.

you fed him as usual, but stayed strangely silent. no stories of the kindness mitachurls showed you, no update on how close or far the people searching for you had gotten, none of the usual things he looked forward to. you just… sat. watching him in your hand, an emotion he didn’t know the name of drawing your brows close.

maybe you just didn’t want to talk today? but if something was troubling you, he wanted you to share, to allow him some of the weight off your shoulders. then again, he was just a bird to you…

“do you know ganyu, pretty bird?”

xiao froze, thankful he was facing your palm so you couldn’t see his eyes widening.

“i thought i did.”

he looked up, carefully, daring to meet your eyes. this time, he could pin down what you were feeling: betrayal.

his finch heart burned.

your thumb pet over his wings, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. not now.

“i thought she was kind.”

she was, he knew firsthand. how she worried over the tianquan, fretted over her skills both with a bow and with a pen, how her and the yuheng kept each other afloat in the sea of endless work assigned to the jade chamber.

you smiled. it was bitter. “i guess i should have known better regarding the adepti.”

xiao’s heartbeat raced in his ears, something hot burning a hole in his chest. he was an adeptus, he wanted to say, he could be trusted.

but you didn’t know him as an adeptus. you knew him as your little songbird, your friend, the one you continued to risk your life for, even if you didn’t know it.

he chirped once, somber. he wanted to apologize, to take up his blade against his own king on your behalf, to walk up to the fraud’s throne and watch them bleed red.

but you didn’t need that. so he sat in your hand, leaning into your fingers, and let you speak.

as it turned out, today had been a busy day for you. you had wandered into the path of a millelith patrol, which had happened before, but not with keqing at the head of it. not when she had darted forward in a flash of lighting, electro arcing along her sword. not when she’d pulled out and blew a special whistle even as you ran, one that you couldn’t hear but could feel under your skin, taunting you as you tried to navigate the maze of bishui plain.

when you told him of ganyu’s frostflake arrows, he wanted to cry. when you described the anger in zhongli’s eyes, he started to weep.

you didn’t deserve this pain. you didn’t deserve having to outrun planet befall, you didn’t deserve to fear your life being stolen by those who should protect you at all costs- he should have been there. he was south, too far south to hear the whistle, but he should have been called.

he should have protected you.

under the shifting leaves of a sandbearer tree, your songbird cried. and you, none the wiser, continued to spell out the cause of his torment.

.

[absolventiia]

THE IDEA OF AURANE BEING MISUNDERSTOOD THROUGHOUT TARGARYEN HISTORY is very interesting to me. consider, in the eyes of the historians century later, aurane's outward personality. a willful prince, arrogant and egotistical and selfish, a targaryen who gains his dragon at fifteen when all of his siblings had theirs for years before him. known as a womanizer and one who was more partial to drink than his own family, gladly sacrificing himself for that same family years later ? i like to think that for the historians, for those maesters with their eyes tuned to story, it seems almost a nonsensical jump, because a lot of aurane's character development is internal. only some of it heard in servant's halls, second or third hand accounts of what may have been said between aurane and his mother, his siblings.

AURANE IS CALLED THE PRINCE'S SHADOW not only due to his looks, his general attitude, but also because he is almost an enigma to those after him, to those studying the targaryen civil war. he's such a small player. he seems inconsequential until the very end, until the god's eye. he gains his spotlight, though begrudgingly, and far too late. sure, aurane is mentioned before his " grand death ", but only in sentence fragments. re: " king aegon and his twin brother ", " aemond one - eye rode vhagar and his elder brother rode a much younger dragon, syndor ". he is not given his own recognition except in small pieces. in shadow, alone. 

on top of his physical presence, aurane is never really shown to be anything other than selfish and angry and drunk and, in some circles, a horrible husband to his poor lannister wife. any fragments of aurane's true personality comes after his death. only years later do servants recount his kind nature towards his sister, the way he was cautious upon approaching his wife and only lay with her when she agrees ( as said by one of her handmaidens ) , the way, after rook's rest especially, aurane is soft - spoken and serious. the way aurane would always be with his brothers not out of obligation, but out of choice. a shadow is always loyal to their source of light, and for aurane, regardless of the way he himself was treated and found to be, that light source was his family, and in particular his siblings.

history views aurane as overall negative because they simply had no sources understanding him and his true self behind closed doors. i like to think aurane takes that as a compliment. a shadow should have some mystery, after all. 

[theheirofthesharingan]

Hello,

As someone who’s recently delved into the anime community, I’ve noticed a profound connection many fans have with characters like Itachi and Sasuke. Their stories are undeniably tragic, and it’s clear they hold a special place in the hearts of many.

I’m curious about the depth of affection and empathy for these characters, considering they are fictional. What is it about their journeys that resonates so deeply with you? Is it not challenging to experience heartache over their struggles and sacrifices on a daily basis?

From my perspective, anime is a source of enjoyment and escapism. While I understand the impact of these characters, I wonder if focusing on their sorrow might overshadow the joy and adventure that new anime series can bring.

Itachi’s tale has concluded, and Sasuke’s safety is assured within the narrative. Wouldn’t exploring new stories potentially enrich our lives with diverse experiences and emotions?

I hope this question comes across as sincere and not dismissive of your feelings. I’m genuinely interested in understanding the emotional bonds fans create with these characters.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

Any piece of media that explores emotions and emotional bonds between characters is likely to click with a lot of people and leave profound impact on them. I'm not into anime or TV in general either, so I haven't seen many shows except for a handful few I can count on the fingers of my one hand.

To me, personally, while both Itachi and Sasuke are special because they're well written, there's also a kind of relatablity factor.

Sasuke grew up being compared to Itachi, no matter how hard he tried he didn't get the acknowledgement he deserved, because his brother was considered better than him. Maybe Itachi was better than him in skills and knowledge, but Sasuke was a different person with a different personality who shouldn't have been compared with Itachi at all. I've been through the same. Being compared with my classmates, friends repeatedly no matter how hard I worked. It just wasn't enough for some reason. It poisons you from inside and leaves you feeling insecure with a lot of sell-esteem issues. We know Sasuke went through them.

It's the same with Itachi. Kids experience different versions of parents. Older kids meet more immature and flawed versions of their moms and dads. The mistakes parents made with them aren't repeated with the second and third-borns. That doesn't mean it doesn't damage the older children who didn't ask to be born and bear the brunt of their parents' traumas. They're older so no they're expected to take the burdens and the responsibility. They kind of become mother and father to their younger siblings but more tender ones.

That's how Itachi and Sasuke's relationship before the massacre was as well as Itachi's relationship with his parents. I find this very relatable. The way he's not allowed to voice his opinions yet he cares about his brother. His ideals aren't really considered relevant, and his feelings don't matter to any adult in his life. That is so, so, so relatable to me. I learned a lot about my relationship with my parents when I watched and analyzed Itachi's with his parents. I learned to forgive my own parents after that. This is getting a little personal, but yeah, it happened. I don't feel as angry and bitter with them as I did before I watched Naruto last year.

Other than that, there are people who watched Naruto and also other anime, and they love these two along with the characters from other anime. I'm just not all that interested in it even though, yes, more stories would mean more entertainment. But I'm not someone who moves on easily from things and people.

Plus, I like the 'flavour' of angst some characters provide. It's hard to explain in the words, but it's like seeing colours. And it doesn't happen with every character I read about or watch. With Itachi, I 'see' red colour, and yes, it's the colour of his susano'o as well, but I'd had this feeling about him before it was introduced. It's like his aura that has some kind of purity to it. It doesn't have anything to do with his morals or how I perceive them, but something else. With Sasuke, it was bluish-purple. Again similar to his susano'o, but I'd had this 'vision' about his aura from the beginning. A character from a show in my country made me think of transparent snowflakes - pure and unblemished, and when his character was ruined, I started to see the 'muddied static' and I lost the connect with him. It never happened with Itachi or Sasuke. I love them both so much.

And I don't think I'm missing out on anything by not watching other anime. They might have other well-written characters that I might fall in love with too, but I love what Sasuke and Itachi make me feel. They're my comfort characters and they're therapeutic to me too, and they both feel very personal to me. Their pain made me feel less lonely. I don't really have friends irl (not the ones I can talk to when I feel alone), okay, this is getting even more personal but yeah so I spend my time either reading or writing. And it's also probably because if you've been depressed for too long, this kind of pain becomes addictive. So I need something to latch on to because I don't want to go to therapy.

This whole answer probably hasn't made any sense, because I don't know.. I tried my best, I swear.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Okay Blanche being the youngest is kind of big brained because for some reason, I've been seeing him as the tallest of the brothers, and the younger siblings ALWAYS be growing the tallest

Also the sibling dynamic when it comes to three in my experience has been: Oldest-> most independent and matured faster than the others, usually the most jaded. Middle-> has the most disconnection with the parents, this could make them the problem child or neglected and forgotten. Youngest-> most optimistic of the three because the parents usually have more experience at this point and had allowed more freedom to this child in comparison to the previous children, usually the one to break the cycle or enforce it.

Bonus points if the first two children are closer in age than the third one.

Source: I have 5 siblings (I am the third, then my parents divorced and had more children separately)

Ou shit damn more supporting evidence from first hand experience, bunny anon u got like moar replicable results too omfg

Yves-> mommiest of them all, hyper independent to the point of being pampered and spoiled the way he does to you is uncomfortable

Leveret-> not a very established character yet, but he was set out to be the most unhinged around you

Blanche-> full of whimsy and love, soft and flowery, man is victorian cottagecore personified

Thank u anon, this was very tasty to read and damn 5 siblings, thats crazy u must feel like ripping ur hair out constantly having to deal with siblings warfights or something

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

How do you choose which POV to write from?

What fic do you wish you got more of a response on.

Something you hate to see in smut.

Something you love to see in smut.

I would ask more but I don't want to overwhelm you.

POV?

I usually start in a fandom by echoing the POV of its source material - so, in BG3, second person, Tav's POV. It’s typically an unconscious move though. 

After that, I might branch out. Second person is great for immediacy, and especially smut; if I’m writing second person POV, it’s always the person I want to project into (confident/strong woman fucking Rolan stupid, usually). However, the more detail and specificity an OC picks up, the harder it is to persuade a reader that they “are” them.

Writing third person allows you to play with the difference between what the character perceives, and what the reader perceives, in a way that’s not really separable in 2nd person POV because the reader is the character. So that leads me to write in 3rd person often too. POV-wise, I stick to the romance MCs, and write third person limited; I like being close to a character’s thoughts and immersed in them for long periods of time.

Picking a POV for third person then  gets more tailored to the story. In Planar Tears, Catrin has secrets and feelings that I wanted to unspool gradually, so it’s all Rolan’s POV. Plus, we’re all immersed in the modern world, so it’s much more fun to see it glimpses of it from Rolan’s perspective, rather than having it be the window through which all the story events are framed. 

I am kind of tempted to write an excerpt for it at some point that’s from Catrin’s POV though, because I think it would be fun! Maybe once it’s finished :) There have been a couple of times where I was frustrated by the limitations of Rolan’s POV - times where most of the story was the struggle going on in Catrin’s head, and I didn’t feel that dipping over randomly for one chapter was right for the story - but it was definitely then challenging to keep Rolan’s side of things engaging. I hope I succeeded!

In Service of Magic on the other hand, has a dual POV. Phaere has MAJOR secrets, but I’m enjoying leaving the breadcrumb trail within her POV and then we’ll be weaving in and out. The dual POV here is partly for smut reasons - I like imagining a whole load of deliciously subby thoughts and feelings in Rolan’s head, and seeing him horny for Phaere when she’s not around, but I ALSO like projecting myself into Phaere’s head as she thinks about how fucking hot he is and how good it feels to fuck him. (It’s also kind of humanising, hopefully; we’ll see she has her own issues and isn’t just some aloof, mysterious dominant. Don’t get me wrong, that’s fun too, but this is going to be a romance in the end so I want her to feel real and sympathetic!)

Rolan’s POV is just always a delight to write. He’s so opinionated and judgemental, and frequently misreads or assumes the worst in people. It gives you a lot of room to have fun!

Fic I wish I got more of a response on?

I would never say no to more eyes on In Service of Magic! I know the kink tags, crack-taken-seriously concubine premise and “eventual mpreg” are not everyone’s cup of tea, so this is very much not whining - I’ve always known the audience would be limited. But honestly, I think I’m doing a good job of making it fun and sexy, keeping it in character for Rolan despite the crack premise, and also working in a wider storyline about kink and acceptance. (Lia in particular is not amused that Rolan dragged them all the way to Firgenstrame without being honest about why - but Rolan’s also got a lot of shame about what he secretly wants, and having his siblings react badly to the idea only further drives a wedge between them that has to be resolved). 

So if you** ever do fancy reading about a whole load of femdom filth and a surprising amount of plot, then check it out here ;) Chapter 5 is in the works at the moment; it’s hard balancing all my WIPs!

** “You” at large - I know you’ve read it Rev! 💜

Something I hate in smut

I answered this in Jessica’s ask, but I’ll add a silly one here, that YOU cursed me with knowledge of: “gummy walls”. Whoever invented this phrase should be burned at the stake. It conjures gummy bears, and the thing is they’re actually quite DRY?! Urgh! It’s such an evocative image… evocative of all the wrong things, that is.

(Also I gotta be real with you Americans: I like actual fisting in stories but if you’re writing about a character “fisting the sheets” or their jumper or whatever that is just going to crack me up and take me out of it, because then I’m picturing the character rolling it up into a tube to shove their arm inside. Utterly a personal issue, but the image is indelible).

Something I love in smut

Creative new ways of showing off how much one character needs or wants another. That’s a solid chunk of kink for me. 

I do love some conflict and stakes throughout the story. It’s not necessary, I enjoy PWP, but OH when they’re arguing and then they’re fucking, and through fucking/cuddling they work it out? S tier. Delicious.

[bluedalahorse]

Unsolicited August backstory headcanons (plus a bonus tangent about Blue’s undergraduate initiation)

Ahahaha well, I left my work laptop at work by accident. I guess that’s my subconscious is telling me to take a break and post the August headcanons I’ve been drafting on the bus each morning so…

There are a few posts floating around my dash right now that ask questions about what August would have done in certain hypothetical situations. The discussion has all been worthwhile to watch, but I’ve refrained from jumping in as of yet, in part because work has been busy and in part because of personal headcanon reasons. The thing with personal headcanons is that they just kind of live in my head and influence the way I write fic. They’re not really the kind of thing I can prove or argue for, they’re just… vibes? But vibes are still worth talking about in one’s fandom spaces so I may as well ramble.

One thing I believe as someone who spends too much time writing from this garbage boy’s POV is that August did not show up to his first year of Hillerska as exactly the person we see onscreen in 1.1. He was a full two years younger, which is significant for a teenager, and he would have been more recently impacted by the loss of his father. Moreover he would have been entering as a first year and would not have been immediately afforded all the at-school privileges the third year boys enjoy. Now, this does not mean he was a morally perfect angel—far from it, given that being landed gentry with generational wealth can still do a number on one’s psyche. However, if I assume that August came to Hillerska as the very same Full Titled Asswipe he is as a third year, I don’t get to explore systems of privilege and how they radicalize young men into toxic and harmful behavior. Which is something I’m interested in as a writer, both in my fanfic and my original fiction.

With that in mind, here are some of my personal headcanons for August’s pre-Hillerska and pre-season 1 life, with some Horn family headcanons mixed in…

August’s relationship to the royal family—or not—was a big source of conflict between his parents. Carl Johan wanted him hanging out with the royal family and getting to know his second cousins while Louise did not. For the most part, Louise won this argument when August was a child. In August’s early childhood, Carl Johan would frequently go off to visit the palace on his own, and came back with fun stories and various presents and the like. I base this on the fact that August doesn’t seem to have hung out with Wille or Erik as a child, and seems to have some seemingly “insider” knowledge of the royal family, but with like, weird gaps about things. He also tends to idealize royal life in a way Wilhelm doesn’t, given that Wilhelm has lived royal life. I feel like this is consistent with a backstory where August was mostly told about the royal life from his dad’s perspective. Like he’s got a lot of details but he doesn’t have all of them and he’s still got rose-colored glasses.

August before the age of twelve or so was one of those kids who was pretty bad at interacting with kids his own age, but was “better” at interacting with adults. He’s an only child, so he wouldn’t have grown up around siblings, and would have probably had to play alone a lot. I don’t know if I believe school or his local area would have been an easy place for him to make friends given what @sflow-er was saying about children of the nobility and what it’s like for them when they go to their local schools. I wouldn’t go so far as to say August was bullied. (I mean, maybe he was, I don’t know. From my experience of working with young people, it’s not uncommon for kids who are bullied at one school to become bullies at other schools they transfer to. On the other hand, I think we’ve seen enough of August’s personality to know he could potentially be prickly and arrogant and push other kids away. Regarding that question, I think I’d go with whatever the fic needs. Anyway!) I also feel like, with the growing tensions in his parents’ marriage, he potentially would have coped by trying to put up a mature facade at a young age, which would mean lots of convincing adults he can handle everything. By the time he gets to Hillerska that all comes crashing down on him.

Because I’m such a gothic lit weirdo I insist that there were rumors Årnäs was haunted. Young August probably got asked about that a lot.

Maternal backstory headcanons: Louise’s parents were diplomats or in international business or something similar, so she spent periods of her youth away from Sweden, and sometimes away from her parents, often in international schools or international boarding schools. I have nothing to go on here canon-wise, except there’s that line where August says Louise is off traveling when the Headmistress can’t reach her. It’s very much an excuse, of course, but I like to imagine a grain of truth to it. Louise’s youth abroad gave her a yearning for international travel, and it’s her favorite way to escape the pressures of life when they get too great.

Paternal backstory headcanons: perhaps one of my more… spicy? controversial? … whatever… headcanons is that Carl Johan and Kristina were one another’s Unfortunate Romances in their youth. But Blue, you say. They are cousins! Ew! Which, yes, but they are also royals, and that sort of thing isn’t completely unprecedented I guess. There’s also a neat little chiasmus in my head where Wilhelm’s “unfortunate romance” shakes up the royal court because they feel like he’s trying to pull the monarchy into the future too fast, whereas in Kristina’s day she was that the monarchy needed to modernize, and that sort of thing was less frowned upon centuries ago but these days it Isn’t Done. ANYWAY Carl Johan’s feelings for Kristina remained sort of unresolved for most of his life, and this was something he ruminated on as his addiction got worse. Louise and Carl Johan never spoke about this piece of his backstory, but it was sort of always hanging awkwardly in the air between them. This also fueled Louise’s desire to keep August away from the palace and the royal family stuff, and the fights between her and Carl John about that. None of the kids’ generation knows about the Unfortunate Romance. Well, maybe Erik did, but he’s dead.

You may be asking, if Louise was opposed to August going to the palace and hanging out with his second cousins, then why did she send him to Hillerska? That, my friends, was an act of resignation, and of her not knowing what to do. I imagine puberty was already making August pretty irritable and difficult to deal with. And, with things growing worse and worse between his parents and his father’s addiction growing more problematic, August was probably just… not in a good place. No one in the family was a good place. I don’t see his parents as fully divorced in the year or so leading up to his father’s death, but I do think they were separated—maybe in an obvious way, or  maybe they were pretending not to be. So, when Carl Johan took his own life, I imagine August’s anger and grief got even more explosive, and was often directed at his mother. Louise was not in a place where she knew how to deal with the situation, and sent him off to the school her husband had been pushing her to send August to. Sort of like she threw up her hands and went, “you know what? Fine. If this is his final wish, so be it.” And so August was sent away.

August showed up to his first year just sort of… quieter at first, with a lot of anger and grief simmering underneath. I mean why talk about feelings? He was also desperately, desperately in need of something that gave him a feeling of purpose. And then Erik found him. I think this was in part orchestrated a bit by Kristina behind the scenes; I imagine there was a call or text message where she nudged Erik to check up on her cousin’s kid, because even as complicated as the past was, Carl Johan was at one point Kristina’s favorite cousin. So what Erik did was appoint August as his first year lackey who takes care of everything for him—the one who knocks on his door in the morning, the one who pours the drinks at the party, and so on. Basically, August was in the Alexander role for Erik, and ended up taking it very seriously. This was the purpose he had been looking for, the sense of meaning.

I think August’s initiation would have played a role in helping him to feel a sense of purpose and community, too. Wait, what the fuck, Blue? That’s probably what you’re saying right now. Well… a lot of people talk about what the initiation sequence was or wasn’t for Wille, and how Wille’s initiation would have been worse than that of other students. And people usually only talk about that in terms of what Wille experienced. As someone who has attended a school with initiations (and who has even been initiated myself, albeit in a milder way because it was at a women’s college with traditions that differ from Hillerska’s) I actually don’t know if I think that’s true. I also think August’s initiation was probably a more… well, probably something he thought of as positive? Exciting? Seemingly helpful? (I mean, not helpful, but you know.)

EXTREME BONUS TANGENT: I can say that as someone who has been initiated myself, it’s certainly not a fun experience for everyone. That said, it was fun for me at the time, and remains important to me in a way. Speaking from the perspective of someone who enjoyed my initiation experience, it’s… well, it’s kind of weird. You’re in this strange state of torture for a while, like intense mental and physical discomfort, and everyone around you seems to be determined to contribute to that, and you feel very constrained and stretched to your limit. But then once you pass your initiation and you’re welcomed into your new community, it’s like this sudden switch over to an intense euphoria and a whole flood of endorphins. Like, I’m here, and they’re cheering me on, and I belong here, and these people are my family and I love them now. NOW, THAT SAID: initiations are not a good practice generally, because they are generally done en masse and there is a lot of potential for peer pressure and institutionalized abuse. I view my college’s initiation traditions differently now than I do when I was eighteen. That said, my college had also at least put some infrastructure in place as far as consent and contracts, to keep things from going wrong. You could opt out of any task at any time. Still—it’s not a perfect system, and Hillerska is far from perfect, so. You know. Personal memories I have complex feelings about.

Back to Hillerska… August seems to be someone who responds to extreme sensations, so I think he probably was someone who would have felt that intense endorphin rush from his initiation. (We frequently see him chasing other highs in the show, too.) And he would have gone through this at a time when he’d just lost his father and was Achilles-level angry at his mother, when he desperately wanted to feel like he was part of something and belonged somewhere. He probably came out of the ordeal worshipping Erik and ready to die for him, and I imagine Erik responded to that loyalty in kind. I expect that they grew close, but it was also definitely a relationship where Erik called the shorts and August followed his lead. This is, in part, why I struggle to buy into fanfics where August betrays or harms Erik, and why I can’t really sign onto the idea that August would have released a video of Erik. Or at least—he wouldn’t get there without multiple steps leading up to it, and multiple perceived trusts being broken, the way things were with Wilhelm. One of the steps, too, in August betraying Wilhelm, is Erik’s death putting August into a state of volatile grief. So there’s that. Like I cannot stress enough how much I don’t think he’d randomly turn on Erik like a mustache-twirling villain.

One more innocuous headcanon: Erik taught August how to dress, because August showed up to school with no damn idea, his first year. To be fair, so few sixteen-year-old boys know how to dress themselves, even when they can afford nice wardrobes. Some of August’s clothes are his father’s old clothes. I mean, definitely the outfit he went shooting in feels like something that could have belonged to his dad.

One less innocuous headcanon: August kept some pretty serious secrets for Erik. I still kind of think this is true in canon and that we could get a big secret revealed in season 3.

That’s all for now! I hope you enjoyed reading if you got this far. I don’t expect too much engagement but I am making an effort to be more real and honest about my YR enthusiasms in these posts.

[silverloreley]

What are your headcanons about Anthony Tremaine?

Anthony is perhaps the secondary VK that was best outlined in the first book so I have a pretty complicated idea about him.

His father is the baker from the second Cinderella movie. The man (I call him Will, short for Willhelm) chose to move to the Isle with Anastasia when she was sentenced, the one big proof of love that was both a source of mockery and envy on the Isle (and also gained him Lady Tremaine's respect). Anthony is secretly proud of it, of being one of the few, if not the only, child of the Isle born out of genuine and lasting love. He'd deny it to death, though, it doesn't help his reputation, you see?

He's blonde, like his father, and has his grandmother's eyes, and overall he's a handsome boy. The whole thing is ruined by the eternal disdain painted on his face.

He should have been the third child but Anastasia had a miscarriage due to food poisoning and the other baby died during the first big wave of illness on the Isle before Anthony was born, leaving him the first Tremaine grandkid.

Anastasia had some serious postpartum depression, it got better only when Anthony was about four and she saw he was beginning to learn to read already. It never left for good, but Anthony knows the best ways to take her out of her spirals. Unfortunately, it also meant he spent more time with his grandmother than with his mother in his formative years, and it shows: Lady Tremaine focused on him the most out of all her grandkids as soon as she was sure he'd survive infancy and had great expectations for him to become the leader of the family. This is where his fixation with being called Lord Tremaine came from.

He's the smartest of his siblings (he has two younger sisters) and cousins (with Dizzy being his only competitor, although she would never do it on purpose, she's just smart in her own way). That isn't good for his superiority complex.

Actually, he has both an inferiority and a superiority complex. Yes, it's possible. He thinks he's the best in many ways, yet he's painfully aware there are more powerful and better-educated people than him even on the Isle, which makes him try to look his best in appearance and manners to overcompensate.

If he had grown in Auradon (as he should have!) he would have been a much nicer person. He'd still hate manual jobs and getting his hands dirty in general, so maybe he wouldn't have helped his father with the bakery any more than he does on the Isle (the bakery was the only thing that kept the Tremaines afloat before Lady T had the idea of the hair salon). He would have been able to steer Chad in a better direction too and the two of them would have been rather close in a kind of Anthony is the brain, Chad the muscles thing. Pity it didn't happen.

On the other hand, it's good for his cousins he was on the Isle, many of them benefited from his protective instinct. In fact, he's their main protector, as he considers it his duty as the future head of the family.

He's protective of his relatives in cruel ways, and although he hates getting his hands dirty, he can pull out a knife from his sleeve faster than anyone and isn't afraid of using it to spill blood, but only as a last resort, he's a gentleman, you see, gentlemen don't get bloody. Same with scissors, no one would dare to face Anthony Tremaine inside Curl Up and Dye where there are so many scissors. He has fun ruining the hair of his opponents, especially the vain ones, and keeps trinkets he steals during fights like trophies.

He loves his father a lot. Like a whole lot. He admires his grandmother the most, sure, and loves his mother too, but his father is his rock. He's the only one who never judges Anthony, who always has a nice word for all kids, and who works so hard to be there for them all. Will is a bit dumb at times and he can't fight that well (Anthony had to learn that on his own) but he's strong and can protect the family if needed (and it was needed, more than once), and that, on the Isle, means a lot.

As his father is considered among the Villains-by-association, he can't die as any other of them. But he did fall in the Sleep a few times, which led Anthony to be the "man of the house" for the moment being. Yes, his uncle was there too, but Anastasia's children listen more to Anthony than to anyone else.

He's actually afraid of the idea of going to Auradon and finding himself inferior to the kids there. He's aware of the poverty and lack of status he'd have outside the Isle and prefers to cling to the privileges he has already, as he knows he wouldn't have that kind of influence outside. That doesn't mean he's unhappy when Dizzy is invited to Auradon, he just doesn't want to go there himself.

[myfaveisfuckable]

Tournament v 2 is definitely going to have another sxf Ouran crossover au I just came up with

Another sxf crossover au but it's actually also an academy au and it just so happens that loid and Yor go to Ouran as third years

And Loid's committing various crimes such as identity theft and impersonation bc his legal guardian basically dumped him and their daughter to go off to who knows where so now he's essentially a 17yo single father (to Ouran elementary schooler Anya) and is lying on so much paperwork it's practically his day job and Yor is in on a sports scholarship

Yor and Mori are on the same kendo team and loooooove blossoms etc

Kyoya finds out about Loid's situation and so does tamaki, so they make him join the club bc he's pretty and they're lowkey blackmailing him (well kyoya is). Subsequently the clubs crossdressing is much better looking, thankfully

Loid and Haruhi are good buddies but she does think he's in dire need of coffee addiction counseling and also the school nurse agrees bc no 17yo should have an ulcer or whatever (he's got a lot on his plate ok??)

But back to Mori and Yor. We already know he likes adorable op goofballs, and he'd be such a steady source of support for Yor when she starts to get nervous about things or worries she isn't fitting in well enough... And the sparring matches! Amazing. Yor as like this vigilante crime buster within the school and Mori as the guy who like... Holds his girls earrings and keeps an emergency medical kit on hand and yeah. She's very kind and cute and strong as a person and also physically and I think he'd get a Lil crush on her

And because he's my favorite I obviously cannot conceive of someone not returning his honest affections, but even so, I really do think yor would enjoy spending time with him

As for Loid and Yor I think they meet at a host club thing when she's there looking for Mori for a kendo thing and they quickly became besties and then it turns out they live just down the street from each other, sort of. And also I think they should live near Haruhi so all three of them can be besties and Haruhi's very angry about these two teenage single parents of younger siblings not getting enough support from adults and anyway. Yeah

(⬆️ copied from my submission rant)

[jeffreystewart]

Norsery Rhymes from A to Z Fenrir, The Wolf of Expectation Fenrir Week - Day 1

Well here we are another Thor’s Day and another 20 min sketch of a Norse (and Germanic) mythological characters.  This week it’s Fenrir / Fenris / / Fenris-Wolf / Fenrisúlfr / Hróðvitnir / Vánagandr / Vanargand, the Giant Wolf. Mentioned on runestones, in the Heimskringla, the Prose Edda, and the Völuspá and Vafþrúðnismál in the Poetic Edda.

His name has been translated “fen dweller” from the Old Norse ‘fenrez’. Meaning "swamp", "marsh-land", or "wetlands dweller". His other names being 'Hróðvitnir' meaning "the famous wolf" and 'Vanargand' and 'Vánagandr' meaning "the monster of the Van river", as he is the source of it. He's also called “the creature”, or “wolf”, “of expectation” because of the prophesy around him ,and how that prophesy directly leads to all the events that happen to him. 

He is the child of Loki and the Jotun / Giant Witch Angrboda / Angrboða. Who along with it's siblings Jörmungandr, who would become the enormous Midgard Serpent, and Hel the eventual ruler of Hel or Niflhel the Lands of the Dead, all grew up in Jötunheimr together.

Given the mischeivious nature of both Loki and Angrboda, Odin was inclined to believe a prophesy that indicated that as the children got older they would cause untold trouble, eventually ending in many deaths including Odins.

So the Aesir went to see the children. Jörmungandr was growing so large that he would eventually take up all the land, so they sent him to the deepest sea that circles the earth. Hel who appeared half dead they gave her the lands of the the dead not claimed by the gods, Niflhel / Hel to see too. And Fenrir who was already large and frightening, they realized was not so terrible once Tyr bravely gave him some food. So they took Fenrir home to live with the Aesir. 

Fenrir lived peacfully there amongst the gods for a time. But eventually his ever growing size and memories of the prohesy that he would injure and kill so many of them led some of the gods to think to fetter him for their protection. 

The gods had three fetters created, each incedibly strong and each twice as strong as the one before it. Fenrir being an intelligent creature had to be tricked into trying them on, by saying they wanted to see how strong they were and he was the only one they could think of to try them, hoping to entice him with the fame of breaking such incredible bindings. The first Leyding, was easily kicked off. The second was Dromi, that he had more difficulty shaking and kicking off. The third was a magically crafted fetter called Gleipnir, made by Svartlheim dwarfs out of the 6 strongest and mythical materials. Smooth and soft as a silk ribbon.

Fenrir was brought down to the Lyngvi Island, on Amsvartnir Lake to see the latest achivement in the gods fetter. But he could see it looked like silk and was either too flimsy and there was no need to test it, or it was magical and he was uneasy in testing it. Fearing that he would be unable to free himself, and was afraid the gods would not free him. He agreed to be tied up if one of the gods would put their hand in it's mouth as insurance that they would free him afterwards.

Only brave Tyr who had shown Fenrir kindness was willing. Odin swore they would free him, and Fenrir agreed. Fenrir was bound and started to kick and pull at the binding, with Tyr's hand in it's mouth. The silken band grew stronger the more he struggled. The gods, all except Tyr, laughed and cheered. When Fenrir realized the bindings would not break, and he was being bound without being freed. Tyr lost his hand. 

The gods ran the cord through a magical stone slab called Gjöll (scream) that was placed deep into the ground. With an large magical stone call Thviti to anchor it down. When Fenrir howled, the gods placed a sword in it's mouth upright with the blade against the top oh his mouth. This caused the giant wolf to salivate so much that it would become the river Van. 

Fenrir will continue to grow with the fetters growing with him. In Ragnarok when all bindings will snap, the stones and slab will tear free of the earth and the bindings fail. Fenrir will be so large that his mouth will touch the ground and sky at the same time. And with Flames from his eyes and nose, he we seek his revenge. Reuniting with his Brother Jörmungandr and other Jotun. Swallowing Odin at least, before Odins son Víðarr, the giant God of Vengeance, armed with a magically strong boot that holds Fenrir in place by his jaw, fells Fenrir.

This one always feels like so many Norse myths, a tragedy, and a self fulfilling prophesy. A betrayal and deaths that likely would not have happened without the prophesy that they would.

I love drawing animals, and I’m off work this week. So I decided to sketch seven quick drawings of Fenrir to end this year with a short daily series. With Fenrir progressing in age as we go.

[watatsumiis]

https://www.tumblr.com/watatsumiis/716367819451809792?source=share

platonic ships: Bennett, Fischl, Wanderer, Venti, Childe (im thinking enemies to lovers but instead of lovers it's besties)

queerplatonic ships: Itto, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Albedo, Tighnari, Kokomi, Diluc (i think he would be good at Holding), Capitano, Cyno

romantic (??? kind of?? more like the more affectionate end of qp) ships: Miko, Ayato, Kazuha, Zhongli, Pantalone

WOAGH it looks like you put so much thought into this omg (/vpos) thank you so so so much !! it makes me !! rly happy to see aaaauu !!!

im !! fascinated by the first section, the only character there ive ever really thought about Much is Childe but i feel like id have a more enemies to like. still enemies but almost in an antagonistic sibling sort of way ? he ruffles my hair and i bite his arm so hard his sleeve rips. wanderer is like a kid who wouldve bullied me in elementary school ( meant lightheartedly and affectionately)

I feel like younger me definitely wouldve gotten along really well with Fischl (and definitely found a place for myself in her fantasy world, and made one for her in mine in return). Bennett is like. i dont know what id have in common with him outside of the fact we both have so much transmasc swag -- id LOVE to drink with venti though (only small amounts though i have the tolerance of an actual real life mouse) and listen to him sing !!

those queerplatonic ships are !!! veryvery good !! I think al haitham is in a similar subsection to childe but in a Slightly Different sort of way. he and i are really similar to the point where i think wed get each other on this whole other level but also wed clash a LOT (something something autism laser beam).

Ive never thought much about Cyno, but i like his puns and he does give off a very Comfy vibe. Kokomi i resonate with on this very high frequency that im not sure how to explain in an accessible way but like. shes an older sister to me. i love her. id love to learn from tighnari but also id love to bite him and pull his tail (/aff). albedo has a type of autism that i am familiar with and comforted by i love him.

kaveh is literally like my actual partner just in video game form so of course i adore him. diluc WOULD be good at holding definitely. i want to pat his hair.

i dont think i need to go into detail about how much i adore capitano - the way i feel for him isnt platonic or romantic its a secret third thing but also a fourth and fifth thing and like eighty more on top of that i dont know how to convey the depth of my feelings for him but im looking at him with SUCH big eyes and placing my hands on either side of his head and also playing with his hair

those romantic ships are like. thats it thats so on point. you know exactly what i like. all of those (except for kazuha) have about 15k+ words of fanfiction running around in my google docs <3

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Today and Yesterday

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist

“I was Robin during a very delicate time in Bruce’s life,” Stephanie was explaining to Jason, burying another yawn behind her hand as she jogged up the stairs towards the Batcomputer. “We were mutually responsible for each other in a way I don’t think any of the rest of you ever really were. I mean, I wasn’t his kid; he didn’t have that kind of authority over me. Not that him and Dick’s whole thing wasn’t also convoluted back in the day, but Dick was younger when he started, so Bruce still had more automatic authority.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, said mutual accountability had its downsides–”

“Like being the fourteen-year-old emotional support sidekick for a fully grown man who should have been in therapy instead of making his problems a teenager’s responsibility,” Tim muttered, and Stephanie rolled her eyes and flipped him off–

“But it also afforded me certain advantages.” She spread her hands as if indicating a broad vista in front of her.

Or: Bruce and Stephanie, in the universe where Stephanie Brown was the third Robin, and Tim Drake never became a vigilante.

Words: 6528, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 10 of Third Robin Tales

Fandoms: Robin (Comics), Batman (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Stephanie Brown, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Jason Todd

Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake

Additional Tags: the tim&steph role swap au, I almost put a Jason and Cass friendship tag but it's less Jason&Cass and more Jason vs Cass, in a ''we have diametrically opposed ideologies and we will defend them with violence'' way, but make it siblings

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48537115

[munsnz]

Hii hope you're having a great week! If you feel like writing it i was thinking of a steve h x wheeler!reader, where they're having a dinner at the wheeler's and reader is nervous thinking it's going to be awkward and all but it actually goes pretty well.

LOVELY MESS — STEVE HARRINGTON

WARNINGS: anxiety, language??

PAIRING: Steve Harrington x GN! Wheeler! Reader

PSYCHOIE RADIO: What You Like — Wallows

L: Tysm for requesting anon!! This is actually something I’ve been wanting to write for a long ass time, and I’m so sorry this is a month late, I was In a rut for the third time this year, but finally, here it is!!

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay!” The kind-hearted guy, leaned towards you by the metal, old lockers, while you switched your books, shaking your head side to side, “Come on, whatever happened to Nance and I is over.”

Your eyes shifted to meet Steve Harrington’s, your 6-month boyfriend, who was also your younger sister’s ex boyfriend, Nancy Wheeler. Although she may have been younger, Nancy had it all, popularity, the smarts, and the looks, except you, the shadowed sister. Even your brother Mike Wheeler knew that Nance had outshined you, still being younger than you. That terribly tumbled apart as soon as Nancy confessed that she no longer loved Steve, telling him it was all bullshit, the words that hurt Steve those past nights.

You somehow got ahold of him, to get over the breakup as the two of you fought for the fate of the world along the group of kids, Mike’s friends, bringing you guys closer, leading up to confessing their feelings for one another.

“Steve I’d think it would be a bad idea.”

”How would it be a bad idea if we never tried it?” Steve cheekily grins, placing a warm kiss on your thin lips, smiling between them. You pushed his chest away with your hands, making him whine, “One more kiss come on! Or else we’ll have to go to the dinner!!”

You placed a notebook to block his wildly handsome face from kissing you again, giggling hysterically, “No, that’s my final answer.”

Steve had always been so fond about your family, the Wheelers, he knew Mike due to the previous events with the Mind Flayer and has met your mom when he was together with Nancy. But you still think it’d be awkward, you were going to bring your boyfriend, not your friend, nor Nancy’s boyfriend, but yours.

In denial, you always tried to not touch the subject, scared of it going wrong. As you saw Steve pout and cross his arms like a child, he mumbled, “I promised it’ll be ok, just let me go for once.”

”You already went to their house!” You squeaked as your palm hit his shoulder, slapping him playfully.

Steve raises his eyebrows, straightening his face while he sternly stares at you, “Yeah but I went as Nancy’s boyfriend, not yours right? So give me a shot honey.”

“I don’t know,” You started pacing along the hallway to get to class, knowing you were five minutes late, the weirdest thoughts flooding in. What if your parents don’t like the fact you’re with Steve? What if they prefer Nancy with him instead? What if-

Clearing his throat and whispering in your ear, Steve mumbled jokingly, “I know you’re overthinking Y/N.”

“Stop it!” You move a strand of hair from your face, clutching your books tighter, strolling away from him to the hallway of lockers, “What if it gets awkward? What if my parents don’t like the fact you’re with me!?”

”Can you at least think about it?” He shouts from afar, leaving his arms in the air, trying to get your attention while you tried your best to ignore him.

Soon enough, a teacher peeped their head out of the corresponding room towards the hallway for the source of disruption to find Steve’s tall figure continuing to get your attention, “Harrington! Off to class, you’re late!”

”Right! I’m sorry m’am,” Steve rapidly nods, zooming away to his Basketball period, where he knew for sure he’d get in trouble with the couch for being late. Still awaiting for his proposal to be answered with his loving mess, for a one of a kind dinner with your family, the Wheelers.

”Mike I swear to god you better not embarrass me!” You rush down the rug stairs, fixing your hair as you tucked it behind your ear, chasing your younger brother down. After Steve’s persuasion driving you nuts for that same day you both talked, you finally gave in to bring him over on a Thursday night under one condition, he wasn’t allowed to embarrass you or himself, just to keep things proper, and not awkward between your family.

As the days grew closer to the date of the dinner, the more anxious you got to the point you couldn’t bare to see Steve, keeping you and your thoughts to yourself for the past weeks. It was simple, a simple gathering with your family and boyfriend.

What could go wrong?

Everything and anything. From your parents making you look like a fool to be going out with your sister’s ex to Steve making a terrible impression on them although he’s met them already. You weren’t so logical, you were scared, not nervous but scared. What if this whole dinner would be an awkward disaster full of embarrassment and inconvenience?

But here you were, getting ready for the small event taking place in your home, chasing your brother to shut him up due to his witty comments. Now shoving your little sister Holly softly on the side to clear Mike’s path, he taunted, “Well I’m not the one kissing the pillow thinking it’s Steve! Mwah mwah!”

”Thats not true, Mike!”

You tried to reach to stop Mike from speeding through the kitchen but before you could make any other move, Mrs. Wheeler scolds at you two, “No running inside the house!”

”Sorry mom!” Both you and Mike loudly shout, slowing down your pace, suddenly catching up to Mike by dragging the collar of his blue striped polo.

As he squealed in pain and angst, you tackle him to the couch, tickling his sides on the soft brown cushion, “I got you! Now say it! Surrender!”

”Never!” His high-pitched giggled filled the cozy room, squirming under you, trying to free from your grip. Another wave of the tingles on his ribs were coming back, your fingers moving on his back.

You continued to make him laugh hysterically, lowering your voice to mimicking a villain both of you once watched on tv during a weekend night, “You must proclaim yourself as a liar! Or ye shall face the consequences!”

“I will not surrender-“

Instantly after the sharing of laughter being held by the siblings, you heard the rhythmic chime from the doorbell, Holly was making a fuss about her lack of apple juice in her sippy cup as Nancy tried to leave the porcelain plates on the clothed table in the dining room. You and Mike frantically got up from the couch after your mother was pulling you away apart, “Hey, he’s here!”

Shit.

You knew for a fact your loved one was here, an awful feel of unease aroused, making you tense unlike the past few moments before you heard the doorbell. Steve Harrington was here, at your door, for dinner with your family.

Gulping nervously, you hurried to get the door, but surprisingly Mrs. Wheeler got there before you could stand up from the comfortable couch, your heart pacing at an unstoppable speed, ruffling your top. Mrs. Wheeler opened the wooden door to find that same familiar, attractive face, both Mike and you peering on the side, roses in his hands.

”Mrs. Wheeler!” Steve kindly greets, handing her the bouquet of roses at the door, making her receive them with a soft grin.

“Hey there Steve- oh!” Mrs. Wheeler yelps when Mike harshly shoved you next to your mother, bumping shoulders with her, goofily grinning in front of him.

”Hi Steve,” You childly mimicked, but realizing the fool you made yourself look like, regretting your stupid action you made in front of your boyfriend.

As your mom signaled the brunette to walk inside the welcoming room, Steve lightly pecked your cheek, slightly bringing you closer to himself from the side as both of you solemnly walked inside the warm room. Watching the two of you, Mike made smooching and kissing noises behind you, kicking him in the shin, squeaks of pain coming out of your younger brother’s mouth in order for him to shut up.

And right as you saw Nancy slightly wave at him while walking off rapidly to find Holly for dinnertime, a sense of insecurity rushed in you. You leisurely shifted away from him, his eyes darting towards you knowing that something was up while Mrs. Wheeler rushed to the kitchen for the home cooked meal. Only 5 minutes in of the gathering and you were an anxious mess already, quietly panicking if anything else so terrible would happen, your fingers tapping the side of your thighs where they stood upon you.

“You know you can sit down right?” A gentle voice, your sister’s voice perked in the silence telling Steve. Nancy holding the little one in her arms, moved to sit Holly down as Mike lounged in the wooden chair almost staring you down jokingly to see your funny expressions.

Steve whips his head around, chuckling softly, pulling out a chair for you to sit in, “Yeah, this is why this is a dinner Nancy. You know, for sitting down and eating?”

A silence formed between the five of you, later on creating an awkward melody of chuckles being shared between Nancy and Steve, then turning away from each other, leaving this pit in your stomach at such uncomfortable state. Thoughts. Terrible thoughts rolled in meanwhile you sat which Steve offered to give you, Mike’s eyes widening while drinking the glass of milk being on the top of the table to try his best not to giggle.

Afterwards, Mrs. Wheeler interrupted the awfully weird silence with a fake, cheerful tone you knew wouldn’t be her usual self, carrying in the large plate with roasted chicken. She strictly ushered you and Nancy to bring in the rest of the side dishes from the kitchen out to the dining room as Mike and Steve chatted a little before your father strolled in to greet your boyfriend.

“Chill out Y/N,” Nancy places her thin hand on your left arm calmly, you turned your head around you understand what she was saying, “You seem tense, it’s okay.”

You scoffed at her comment jokingly, placing the bowl of greens onto the table when Nancy put the dish with fresh mashed potatoes as well. All of you took a seat, ready to feast, Steve clearing his throat to speak up, “Thank you so much Mrs. Wheeler for inviting me and for this wonderful dinner.”

“No problem Steve, ever since we met you with Nancy, you’ve been a great guy,” Your mother softly smiled, but changed her expressions once you shot your eyes towards her, “Anyways, enjoy the meal.”

Mumbles of thank yous and your welcomes being shared between one another, beginning to eat the delicious food for the evening. Shakily, you grabbed onto the silver fork, stabbing it into the chicken to eat it, the sound of plates moving around and cups being sipped, you decided to speak up, “Steve has been hanging out with Mike lately, they’re getting alone quite well.”

Your mother’s eyes widened, “Oh really? That seems like fun, having an older brother figure must be pretty cool knowing that Mike has grown up with a house full of girls right?”

Caught off guard from his meal, Mike hesitantly nodded while he falsely smiled, peering over to Steve for an agreement, “Yeah, Mike might be a little trouble with the rest of the boys, but he’s fun to be with at times.”

”A little trouble,” Your brother repeated jokingly under his breath, applying a mischievous look on his face, leaning back onto his chair, “I don’t think Y/N and Steve studying their human anatomy is-“

Before any reactions were being made from the regrettable comment your annoying brother made, Nancy slapped her hand across his mouth to shut up before he said anymore weird nonsense about you and your significant other. Steve worriedly glanced towards you with a beet red tinted face, almost wishing your mom hadn’t heard him while you stuffed your face trying to hide your expression.

“Michael what was that?” Mrs. Wheeler shot up a look towards your brother, laying her fork down with a confused face, “Human anatomy?”

In a stuttering mess, you tried to bring up some lame excuse to cover up along with Steve, you were sick to your core, knowing the stupidity that Mike claimed to be. It could be that your parents would say something terrible, you were flushed in multiple shades of red. You knew this dinner was even more terrible than expected, now your brother was making you and Steve look like a couple of fools, your hands sweating. Nancy chimed in to help between your idiotic stumbling, “It was this code name Mike used with the party and them.”

“Mmm yeah totally!” Steve wearily smiled, readjusting the hem of his red blouse he wore, watching you nod in response, a wave of relief washing inside you, “It’s the most oblivious things that are the most secretive, right Mike?”

Both you and Nancy darted a death glare towards the black-haired boy, who nodded rapidly under the threat of the siblings, “Yeah, Dustin was the one who made it up.”

”Kids these days,” Your father, Mr. Wheeler mumbles, slicing his part of the chicken in half with the butter knife as he shook his head.

Mrs. Wheeler humbly agreed, you mouthed a silent “thank you” towards Nancy’s direction, giving you a kind thumbs up later to kick Mike’s shin under the table, a quiet yelp escaping his lips for the second time. Later, feeling your hands gripping ever so tightly onto Steve’s large ones, being placed on your shaky leg.

Nancy brought up a conversation about an upcoming school event for the seniors at Hawkins High, Steve being able to catch up on the conversation. The mood was slightly calmer than it were before, things lessened up a bit as your harsh grip softened, feeling more balmy. Your boyfriend smiled, while looking off to your mom and dad who were intrigued by the conversation you were all having. Peace at last, worries washed away, it was okay.

Giggles and words were filled the large home, dessert was already handed out, Steve was on a roll to making your parents life along with your siblings, everything had merrily turned out great except the part where your mother talked about your embarrassing stories when you were little. This wasn’t so bad after all, Steve was definitely correct for once.

“Okay I have one more joke,” Your boyfriend sighed happily after the amount of laughter shared, your cheeks almost hurt from smiling too much. Steve set down his spoon then proceeded, “What did the grape say when they squished it?”

Everyone on the table shrugged, waiting for the hilarious response from him, Mike being close to burst into laughter before he said anything until Steve cleared his throat to answer, “Nothing, it just whined a little, get it?”

Once the joke was heard, your family surrounded the room with laughter, Mrs. Wheeler happily sighed after catching her breath, getting up to take the dessert plates back to the kitchen, picking one up at a time. Meanwhile your father and sister chuckled, you smiled like a freak towards Steve who was sitting next to you, holding your hand.

“See? I told you you shouldn’t have worried about his,” He whispers softly, giving you a light kiss, smiling as well, “You’re a lovely mess.”

You smacked his shoulder, earning a laugh from him, “I know I know, but at least I’m your lovely mess right?”

”Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Both Nancy and Mike, your siblings chanted with cheeky smiles plastered on their face, being in front of you and overhearing your conversation. Steve leaned in and shut his eyes to peck your lips, suddenly you placed a napkin in front of you to avoid him, catching him off guard. Such small act brought your siblings to laugh at him, he shook his head playfully, sniggering along. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, this brought all of you together, it was okay, no, better than okay. I guess it was just Steve’s lovely mess.

tags — @samiyamuntaha @thepowerstoner @ughgclden

masterlist — request open

[essayofthoughts]

from the touch prompts, #29??

29: tickling the other one

Percy had generally avoided getting caught in ruckuses with his younger siblings when he was younger. He'd always wanted to be grown up, until he realised that being grown up came with responsibilities and by that point he was so thoroughly engaged in his studies that trying to become a child again would have rather defeated the point of all his lessons, he'd rather thought, so he'd rather missed a lot of childish things he thinks, looking back, he'd probably have rather enjoyed.

Thus he has resolved that he is not missing a single part of his children's childhoods if he can help it. From changing nappies and enduring bathtime, reading stories and helping wean them onto solid food, through the teething. The joy and terror of first steps and first words (or, in Vesper's specific case, her third word. He knew he shouldn't have let her down into his workshop even if he was working on entirely child-safe projects: he always swears when something goes wrong)...

He's watched Vesper climb Trinket more times than he can count, and had to chase her around after she's escaped her bath in order to get her into her pyjamas, you'll catch your death if you're not careful!

Sometimes, yelling such things, he feels terribly like his mother, which was not a comparison he'd ever thought he'd be making, and it makes him wistful and sad and nostalgic all at once. He thinks his mother would have loved Vex and would have loved his and Vex's daughter and he can't help but be sad that the chance to do so was taken from her.

Still. He refuses to let Vesper's life - or the lives of any of his children, given Vex is expecting again, though at least they'd planned for this time unlike with Vesper, surprise child as she'd been - be only a source of sadness. He adores his daughter as he adores Vex, and thus it is that, with Trinket and Vex off for a last patrol around the town, he's left helping their daughter re-enact her earlier playfight with the bear.

(The playfights are always terribly unfair: Trinket always lets her win.)

"And then I pushed him and he fell down, so I climbed on top of him and he's ticklish - did you know he's ticklish, Daddy? - and he curled up with his paws over his eyes, so I won again!"

He tries desperately not to wheeze at the sudden jab of tiny hands into his armpits, nor her entirely unintentional poorly placed foot as she clambered off him. He stays put, hands over his eyes, because until Vesper says and that's EVERYTHING she's usually got more to tell and he hears her little feet stomping around him.

"AND," she says, because he was right and he knows his daughter very well, "Did you know Trinket's paws are ticklish, Daddy? If you poke them right here-"

And Percy kind of fails to pay attention for the next moment because it turns out he's ticklish too, in the arch of his foot and oh god he can't breathe.

"I think you've defeated your father, darling," is the next thing he hears, followed by the heavy footsteps of Trinket and Vesper's elated, "MUMMY!"

Looking up, Percy can see that Vesper's already been lifted up, balanced on Vex's hip, and is receiving the little nose-nuzzle the pair always do when Vex gets in, no matter how cold it is and how chilly Vex's nose has become.

"Well," Vex says, smiling, "I see you were re-enacting the ticklefight with Trinket from earlier."

"I beat him again!" Vesper crows, and Vex's grin is wide.

"Yes you did," Vex agrees. "I see you were showing your father how you finally defeated him?"

"Ticklish feet!"

Vesper, Percy has known for some time, has either got a very good memory or an outstanding imagination. He's still not entirely sure which is more concerning.

There's also the option that she has both, which given Vex is not unlikely, and that is frankly terrifying.

"Down you go, sweetheart," Vex says, finally setting Vesper down. "Why don't you go and wash up for dinner, hm? I got fairy cakes from the Slayers Cake; if you're good you can have one for dessert."

Vesper bolts off immediately, of course: she has an incredible sweet tooth and will do anything to indulge it. In that respect, Percy muses, hauling himself to his feet, she's more like Whitney than her namesake.

"Have fun?" Vex says, still smiling, "You seemed quite incapacitated when I came in."

"Tickling," Percy manages with some dignity, "is effective on multiple targets."

"I didn't know you were ticklish." Vex's eyes have lit up with something terrible, it's a mischievous look he hasn't seen in far too long and oh it spells terrible things for him, he just knows it.

And yet his traitorous mouth opens and goes, "Only the soles of my feet."

"Only?"

Which is a fair point, because Percy doesn't think he's been purposefully tickled ever in his life until this day, and so is entirely unprepared for Vex's hand just below his ribcage and he folds immediately, laughing and out of breath.

"DINNER!" Vesper cries, re-emerging in the doorway. She pauses when she sees Percy straightening. "Daddy?"

Well. Such an attack can only be met with equal force.

"Your mother," he says, unable to hide his smile. "Has decided that we should have a pre-dinner family ticklefight."

The chaos that ensues leaves Percy with a laugh-induced stitch that lasts through dinner, but he doesn't think they've all had quite as much fun with something so simple in some time.

1. Pick a prompt. 2. Send me the number. 3. I’ll write a Perc'ahlia snippet. Other Ficlets From This Ask Game // Now Crossposted to AO3!

[googledocsdyke]

Do you have any thoughts/recommended texts for Cas analysis? I genuinely love the dean gender studies and I just wanna know what people might apply to Cas.

yes absolutely!! while dean studies is my first love i also deeply love cas analysis (casnalysis?) and wanna strive to do more of it. here’s some stuff off the top of my head:

1. gender, sexuality, heavenly embodiment

this is much more theological and less psychological than dean’s whole Deal because there’s so much fascinating stuff around how the angels in general experience express and conceptualise gender (@autisticandroids has a good post about angel gender & lily sunder has some regrets) but for cas in particular there’s this fascinating kind of collective fandom agreement (which i DO also agree with) that cas’ own gender kind of is gay man, that he actively chose gay manhood, but also that he’s kind of..... lacking the Insane Genderishness that dean exhibits at all times, even though he actively chose to engage in male gendering and became so comfortable housed Within Jimmy that he, as some post i saw the other day that i can’t find anymore said, “became his own body” when jimmy died. 

like on the one hand there’s an almost-canonical transness to the whole process but it also never feels fully written-into because 1) the supernatural writers for all their insanity are sometimes very boring and *most* of the time only feel interested in narratively expressing angels As Their Vessels anyways and just like leaving convenient spaces around these questions (boldest thing they ever did was hot girl cas which i WISH i had the range to unpack) 2) there’s a vague inevitabilist shrug to the whole thing since they obviously weren’t gonna recast misha collins (though they HAVE tried to get rid of him) and 3) something amorphous about cas’ entire..... personhood? makes him Empty Of Gender as a contrast to dean’s Full Of Gender (i believe it was @deanwinchestergender who said this) and like is it just the juxtaposition to dean/jensen’s whole insane Deal? or something else? 

like he actively chooses the terms of his own embodiment and yet narratively it feels like a shrug. and we’re all like “well obviously even though he’s a celestial being he was always a gay man” and like WHY. i love it idk idk much to think about! and yeah just in general the theological questions of possession and cas genuinely Becoming a man as he iterates himself consciously towards humanity it almost feels like. by doing the most boring things possible with his gender they made it interesting? idk if that makes sense.

2. discipline, free will, metanarratives

cas is like a tool (“i am not a hammer, as you say”) held in constant discipline and surveillance by the system that enmeshes him and it’s really, really fascinating to watch the way the angels hold each other to conformity. especially pre-god they kind of produce each other as foucauldian disciplinary subjects (which i posted about here) in perpetual visibility through angel radio, generating their own and each other’s conformity rather than being directly ruled through like a single centralised source of power. only the spectre of a god. and obviously cas’ whole thing is that he has ALWAYS disobeyed and the narrative affords him this psychological interiority never given to the foucauldian subject, an internal will and desire for freedom in a way that fits more with the liberal subject (super roughly and not with the same pro-capitalist implications but he has this internal drive for self-liberation. 

and that’s also where the metanarrative comes in ofc! i think it was @dykecas who said that cas is a real person written by people who hate him, and there’s this crack in the narrative (mirroring the crack in his chassis) where cas gets in, over and over, despite all the order imposed by the show’s authorfathergod. like we’ve all seen the analysis about how it was Never supposed to be this way they DID try to fire misha collins in 2012 and yet this gay man literally cannot be stopped! i think actually his appearance in scoobynatural is a neat little distillation of this — he drops into this animated world originally with a singular purpose (Save Sam And Dean) the same way he dropped into lazarus rising with a single 3-episode arc (Save Dean). huge hammer behaviour. his “utility” diminishes within the narrative (he finds that he can’t fly in the scooby doo universe) and so he is no longer a tool/means to an end that salvation moves Through. and in the process (and huge creds to @lesbianyuugi for this) he does something ENTIRELY unrelated to his original cas-as-tool aim, and learns, like, the meaning of laughter from shaggy and scooby. WHICH brings me onto the third point

3. love, queer kinship, family-making

HE’S GAY AND HE’S A DAD! i feel like a lot of tumblr throws around the term “found family” in a very flat and tropey way (which is fine it’s cute and fun no matter what!) but like . GOD there’s so much specific stuff going on here. like the way that cas (unintentionally) obliterates the midwestern white christian nuclear family (made incarnate in the novaks) which like could be uniformly portrayed as an act of deep malice and villainy but instead grows to serve as a surrogate (if imperfect/complex, but DEEPLY loving) father figure for the gay daughter who has now escaped that nuclear family/seen it destroyed depending on how you read it? like he remasters the entire concept of fatherhood and it’s a very interesting (if DEEPLY) unintentional subversion of the homewrecking non-nuclear gay trope. cas is so good because his character arc doesn’t say “look, gay people can be normal and have perfect settled families just like you” it says “gay people DON’T have normal settled families actually and they are full of love anyways! or Because of the abnormalcy itself!) 

to cite ziz lesbianyuugi again he DOES queer fatherhood in his parenting of jack particularly because it really is one of the ONLY parent-child relationships in the show that breaks the incessant cycle of abuse and control and cold indifference perpetuated by the authorfathergod (a cycle reified in 15x20 lol). like god’s treatment of cas and his siblings mirrors john’s treatment of sam and dean (particularly dean) mirrors victor’s treatment of krissy and her crew mirrors dean’s later treatment of jack. there is a CONSTANT reiteration of the story of authorfathergod (often a father tightly entwined in biological kinship) treating a child as a mechanism or a tool or a means to an end. and cas looks at ALL that he has suffered and all that he is ever known and chooses constantly to reject it with every piece of love he expresses for his child. and not to sound like the kind of academic people make fun of on twitter but there is an INHERENT queerness to that. gay love will pierce through [the veil of death/the thick silence of abuse/the mechanism of godly control/hegemonic american masculinity] and save the day

anyways here are some very haphazard recs on everything above for further reading:

angels in america (tony kushner)

histrionics of the pulpit: trans tonalities of religious enthusiasm

the public universal friend: religious enthusiasm in revolutionary america

discipline and punish (michel foucault)

friendship as a way of life (michel foucault)

the genesis of blame (recommended by @pietacastiel who has GREAT theology content in general

all about love (bell hooks)

the chapter “when hated characters talk back” in anti-fandom: dislike and hate in the digital age (is actually explicitly about cas)

also cannot recommend enough following the ppl i tagged above!! most of the unlinked stuff is available through http://libgen.li/ and bookshop is a good alternative to amazon if ur american and want physical copies