#or maybe not less to say but i am picking up less so

[y2ksnowglobe]

People of the jury, I do not consider myself a Glenn apologist by any means, but today I present the following argument. "Glenn didn't teach Nick to smoke, provide him directly with weed, or particularly approve of Nick smoking." Snowglobe, you say...that's a bold stance, and to that I say fair, it is, but Glenn has always been a slippery bastard when it comes to pinning him down in canon, and while I don't think this is the only way to read Glenn, it is a canon-compliant way to interpret Glenn.

So now that you've clicked on the Read More to hear me out, you might be saying "Snowglobe, this is too easy. In Episode 51 Glenn admits to showing Nick how to smoke."

Or maybe you don't say that because you don't have an encyclopedic knowledge of this show, which in that case, good for you! I'm not proud of this accomplishment!

But, back to the evidence at hand. The canonicity of any of the "Freddie being contrarian to Jodie" Dad Facts I think is up for debate. From a Doyleist perspective, we as the audience can interpret these facts to be more about the sibling dynamic between Freddie and Jimmy, and less about being true to Glenn as a character.

However, I'm not completely satisfied with just a Doyleist argument, we're getting into the Watsonian as well.

So firstly we have the implication that Glenn actually doesn't smoke cigarettes, which is interesting and a bit unexpected to be honest. However, the main point I'd argue that after raising Nick with healthy skepticism for authority, Glenn telling Nick straight up not to smoke is not going to work.

"But Snowglobe," you say, "That's still teaching Nick to smoke, right?"

"Perhaps," I might admit, "If we didn't have canon evidence of Glenn teaching the Oak twins how to smoke.

That's right! Glenn purposefully instructed the twins on the incorrect form! So, people of the court, I argue, might Glenn have not done the same thing with Nick? And furthermore, when comparing the stories of Jodie and Glenn illustrating smoking to Nick, Jodie is the one who is specified to have taken a drag and nearly hacked up a lung.

Now being a weed smoker, Glenn would likely have been able to tolerate inhaling cigarette smoke without reacting as violently as Jodie, but it could also be that Glenn didn't end up choking because he wasn't inhaling.

"But what about his point that it was so Nick would look cool?" You may ask.

You know what isn't going to make Nick look cool? Hacking up a lung while trying to smoke for the first time in front of people he wants to impress.

I feel that what Glenn underestimates is just how perceptive and observant Nick is (possibly because Glenn himself is not the most perceptive and observant) so he doesn't quite make the jump that Nick is going to figure out how smoking works just from watching Glenn, leading to...

"Oh Snowglobe, how are you going to get around Nick saying he got the weed from Glenn," because you are unaware I am constructing this argument and wouldn't have brought this up without having already considered it.

FIrstly, this is a fairly clear reference to an old drug PSA

But that's again a Doyleist explanation.

However, with how much this weed knocks Glenn's socks of with dankness, we can put together that Nick isn't literally saying he got this weed from Glenn, if he had, Glenn would not be surprised by it. So yes, Anthony was making a reference, but it's also possible that Nick was making a reference as well, indicating that he picked up smoking weed from watching Glenn, rather than saying Glenn is the reason he has the specific weed he's smoking, or alternatively, Nick took some weed from a stash Glenn hadn't gotten into yet, and is just being very upfront and honest about getting it from Glenn as opposed to buying it illegally from somewhere or someone else.

Additionally, Nick states that he thought he'd try smoking because it's something that seems to make Glenn happy and appear cool. This feels like something that would be very odd for Nick to say if Glenn had been the one teaching/encouraging him to smoke weed, and also odd if Glenn had been aware of Nick smoking weed before this.

Taking a detour back to the "Glenn taught Nick how to smoke wrong" theory, it's commented on that despite being a Nat 20 dank level weed, Nick seems to be handling it much better than Glenn, which could suggest that maybe Nick isn't properly inhaling. This one is a little bit of a stretch but after all Glenn taught Nick to smoke so he would "look cool" and here Nick is trying to "look cool" so it is a possible interpretation, though I feel not the strongest point to be made here, and future evidence is going to make it a little more dicey of a call.

Now I don't want to get into it too much in this post (because I have this post that covers it instead) but Glenn can, and does push back on Nick's behavior but also is pretty conflict averse and is violently allergic to vulnerability.

So, is Glenn going to have a full discussion, in front of Darryl and Grant who are waiting on them to get in the car, about how even though Glenn smokes weed, Nick shouldn't? No, obviously. So what does he do instead? Sure Freddie phrases it as Glenn "persuading [Nick] to let [him] take a hit" but from the practical perspective he is getting the weed away from Nick. He frames it as being because of Darryl that they have to leave it behind, but given that at this point Glenn isn't willing to admit he's a DJ to Nick, it's a lot to expect him to own wanting Nick to leave the weed behind because Glenn doesn't want him to have it, and while it is pure speculation due to being such different from the path of the actual narrative, if they hadn't all been pulled into the realms, I don't think it's too far fetched to consider Glenn having a talk with Nick about it after they got home from the game. As mentioned in the linked post in the previous paragraph, Glenn addresses Nick's swearing and Nick is fairly receptive and corrects his behavior in response to it.

"But Snowglobe," you are unable to stop yourself from saying because the second person narration compels you to continue to engage with this discussion. "Swearing is one thing, Glenn talking to Nick about smoking is different."

Well, what if I told you that, because I'm controlling your dialogue, you have fallen into my clever trap! Because I was talking about Glenn discussing weed with Nick, we don't have to consider whether or not he would talk about smoking with Nick, because there's evidence he already has!

So if you didn't catch it, it's because I argue the transcript got this one wrong. I'm of the opinion that it is Glenn and not Freddie who says, "They said everyone vapes." Who is they in this sentence? I submit that it was Nick who told Glenn this when Glenn tried to broach the topic of vaping with him and Glenn was either fooled by Nick's bluff (kid has a record for being able to pull those off, made up a lie about a wizard cursing him so his head would fall off if he left the Watermice and got everyone to believe him) or wasn't willing to keep pushing when Nick put up the resistance of that excuse.

"Okay, Snowglobe, this has all been very clever, but the trial..."

Yes, yes, the trial. There are two segments of note here and we'll tackle the easiest one first, and that's from Nick's testimony.

Nick claims he would smoke weed if Glenn asked him to because it would make him a cool guy. This is different from saying he has done that. Now this might bring into question why Nick would have potentially lied to Glenn about everyone vaping, and for that it really comes down to a simple equation. [Glenn asking him to]+[Makes him a cool guy]=[Nick is gonna do the thing]. However, considering Nick likes Minions despite Glenn claiming to not like them and Nick not liking Disneyland, we can see that at this point in his life, Nick is starting to get a sense that Glenn asking him to do something does not by definition make it cool. So I don't think this counts as an admission of Glenn being one to actively pressure Nick into smoking.

Now onto Glenn's testimony.

Right off the bat we have Glenn denying he every purchased weed for Nick. Anthony doesn't make him roll deception and no one attempts to accuse him of perjury, so we kind of have to take him at his word there.

When asked how Nick learned how to smoke weed, Glenn doesn't take credit, and given how he's willing to credit his own dad for teaching him, there's room to believe that Glenn possibly would just straight up admit to teaching Nick, even in a court of law. Also worth noting is that Glenn pivots the topic from smoking weed to vaping, which since we can surmise he's had a conversation with Nick about that, we get a sense that it's also the behavior he's more familiar with Nick doing (also emphasized by how Nick talked about smoking weed with Nick in episode one).

And no, I didn't skip over Glenn proudly admitting that Nick knows how to smoke weed, and to be fair, this is possibly one of the biggest counterpoints to my thesis, but I think when we look at who Glenn is as a character, we can see him making the choice to answer this question the way he does without it contradicting my previous points.

Glenn has a carefully constructed identity he presents to the world that he will cling to, even to his own detriment.

Some notable examples of this behavior include:

When he admits he got kicked out of the band, he claims it was because of his tour antics, however, in the episode right before this, Glenn's Dad Fact is this:

While we may not know exactly why Glenn was asked to leave the trio, we can be pretty sure it's not because of his tour antics, but he has to keep up that facade. (I'm of the belief that Glenn was missing to many rehearsals to pick up DJ gigs to help support Nick, but that's just my own headcanon)

When dared to lose his ability to play guitar and instead become a Linkin Park cover DJ, Glenn could have admitted to having already been a DJ and that pointlessly giving up one of his two marketable skills was a bad deal, but instead he trashes the very concept of being a DJ (despite being one) and makes it seem like his choice is solely based on a sense of guitar supremacy.

Argues with Nick about Minions during the trial, even though, according to the Dadturday Night Live bonus episode, Glenn secretly also likes the minions.

So could Glenn act less proud of Nick being able to smoke weed? Yes of course he could, as established, there's a possible reading where Glenn is not thrilled about Nick trying this, but is he going to break and show that while on trial? The same trial where the previously mentioned Minions incident happens? Also, in front of his dad? The dad who likely instilled all these maladaptive coping strategies in him? Of course he's not going to act like this is a thing he doesn't approve of or is ashamed of in these circumstances!

Now of course, none of this completely absolves Glenn of being, as Henry puts it, a mediocre father. There are still a whole ton of issues to unpack with the Glenn and Nick dynamic, but Glenn is a character who is left with so much room for nuance and differing interpretation, that it seems a waste not to explore the slightly less shitty possibilities, where it's clear he's trying, but his issues keep getting in the way because he's afraid that any introspection will lead to having to confront his own grief about Morgan. In a Talking Dad episode, Freddie talks about how the ending he pictured for Glenn was to have him go with Nick to Morgan's grave, with the indication that he'd been avoiding visiting it, and I think reading Glenn in the way presented in this argument is a solid base to get us to that ending, sure the dice may have gotten in the way, but I think it still shines some insight onto how Freddie was crafting the character.

[gerec]

Hello! Your fic recs have brought me so much joy and they were one of the things that made me really into cherik! Like I'm crazy about them now.

And I don't know if you're accepting request if not I'm sorry for disturbing please disregard this part of the message or this entire ask

But I wanted to ask what fics do you read whenever you need a pick-me-up or when you need a laugh.

Because I just watched this YouTube video about this horror novel penpal by dathan auerbach and it was really sad and disturbing but mostly tragically sad and I really wanted to read something sweet or funny as a pick-me-up.

Sorry for the long ask (I can't help but yap) and if its incoherent (English isn't my first language 😅). And thank you so much for your contribution to the x-men Fandom. Both your fic recs and fics brought me so much joy and made it really exciting for me when I was just starting to get into x-men and cherik ❤️💖

Hi Anon,

I'm sorry for the wait, but here's a (very long!) list of fics I go back to over and over whenever I need a laugh or I want to feel the warm fuzzies :D I hope this serves you as well it has served me all these years!!!

Protect, Serve, Troll by keire_ke

Erik’s fire department has a special relationship with the local university. They visit often. Sometimes, there even is a fire.

Erik Lehnsherr’s Guide to Parenting by keire_ke (series)

Alex disapproves of school car washes, despite the abundance of wet bikinis on pretty girls. Erik doesn’t approve of his son shirking money-making duties.

Humane Society by smilebackwards

Once Erik finally allows himself to decide that Charles is pretty much the best thing since sliced bread, he spends the next week being incredibly bitter that he’s Charles’ cat and not his boyfriend.

Other Life Challenges by professor (series)

“Why am I here again?” Erik groans.

“I need you to lift things and glower at people over my shoulder when I tell people that it’s not ‘politically correct’ or a ‘war on Christmas’ to have a non-denominational winter holiday festival,” says Theresa Pryde.

Well, at least those are two things he’s good at.

Wednesday by Red

Getting confined to a nursing facility for a six-week course of iv antibiotics would have been dreadfully dull, had Charles not found a way to “occupy his time.”

In which Erik Lehnsherr, retired nazi hunter, becomes the latest victim of Charles Xavier’s charms.

drastic measures by goodmorningbeloved (3799steps)

Erik glowers.

“I can’t believe we’re back to this,” Charles says, like he wants to throw his hands in the air. He’s pouting a little bit. “Years of progress, and we’ve returned to you brooding. Don’t tell me I have to break out the terrible flirting again.”

Erik glowers a little less. “Flirting,” he repeats, bland but also maybe just very, very, very slightly, faintly, vaguely hopeful.

“Oh, yes,” Charles says absently, until something seems to strike him. “Don’t tell me you don’t…” He raises his left hand and brandishes the ring. “We promised ourselves to each other last week.”

–

Alternatively: Erik’s memory is swiped clean of his and Charles’s relationship.

One Hundred One Night Stands. by Sophia_Bee

Charles has a rule. Never fuck the same guy twice. When he refuses to see Erik again after a one night stand, Erik goes about trying to get Charles to violate that rule using accents and disguises.

Suddenly There’ll Be a Blizzard (Let It Snow Remix) by kianspo

Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn’t seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

All We Are We Are by kianspo 

Charles’s boyfriend breaks up with him days before the holidays. Not willing to ruin anyone else’s festive mood, Charles hides this fact from his sister and his friends, and retreats into the family mansion, letting the world move on without him. He’s flirting with depression when a one-time ex and a long-term friend surprises him. Long-kept secrets are revealed, and it turns out, Charles hasn’t been paying attention to the right things.

Your Heart Just Couldn't Wait by Pookaseraph

Charles and his BFF Tony Stark have the life - they're co-valedictorians at the most prestigious high school in the city, they have their own condo in Manhattan, and they get to go to all the awesome parties. Charles just wished he understood relationships and sex as well as Tony does. His theoretical bisexuality starts to feel a lot less theoretical when he and Tony end up in Professor Lehnsherr's Physics III course at Columbia University, but Charles' decision to take their relationship further leaves both student and professor with more than they bargained for.

this is only now (where do we go from here) by thebodyeclectic From this prompt on the 1stclass_kink meme: Modern AU, where an older Alex (in his mid twenties?) somehow figures out/recieves the news that, no, his younger brother didn't die in the crash like he'd been told, and then sets out to find him. The catch is, Scott's been adopted and adores his 'dad', who is incidentally the adorkable Hank McCoy.

Not So Much the Teacup by thehoyden

“Charles is basically the bride whisperer. It’s like he can read their minds.” (wedding planner AU)

Math Reasons by pearl_o, pocky_slash (series)

"Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

On a Beach, With You (The Tel Aviv Remix) by niniblack

Charles Xavier meets Erik Lehnsherr on a beach in Israel.

Growing Up Lehnsherr by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee (series)

For someone who hates feelings, Erik gets dragged into an alarming number of conversations about them. In which there are confessions, declarations, awkward first meetings, accidents, explanations, endings and beginnings.

Otherwise know as Five Conversations Erik Didn't Want to Have and One That He Did.

Got You Locked Down Like Police by brawlingdiscontent

Mob AU. Logan’s straightforward ‘retrieval’ job gets complicated. 

One big family by ximeria

There is a house in New York (no, only Charles calls it a house, and his perception of such is a little warped, so let's try that again)...

... There's a building in New York, owned by XavierMedCorp that caters to mutant tenants, their families and a handful of humans. You need to know someone who knows someone who knows someone to get an apartment there. Or maybe just be very lucky. Or have a mutant son who has the tenacity of a pit bull. Anyway, Edie Lehnsherr has moved in and she is slowly getting to know the other tenants, the superintendent and the owner.

Making perfect by aesc

As is the case with most trials in Erik's life, this one starts with Charles gazing beseechingly at him and asking him for a favor. Not that their going-on-three years relationship is a trial, even though it started with Charles giving Erik the full benefit of sad blue eyes and asking him if he wouldn't mind opening his car door since he'd locked his keys inside, but still.

love like toy trucks crashing by midrashic

Charles Xavier may be young, but he knows what it means to love.

Love Runs Out by ikeracity

Hammer Bay, one of the most mutant-friendly apartment buildings in all of Manhattan and affectionately nicknamed the Hub by its residents, is home to an eclectic mix of families, broke college students, scientists, artists, and high school dropouts. Charles Xavier, new arrival to apartment 3K, catches the attention of everyone on the third floor but he only has eyes for one: cranky author Erik Lehnsherr who lives directly across the hall in 3B.

A Nice Boy (The Family Matters Edition) by pocky_slash

Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

soul of my soul by ikeracity 

You can imprint on your soulmate anywhere — school, work, on the street, in a restaurant, on the subway.

Charles and Erik imprint on each other just in time for the holidays.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland by TurtleTotem 

Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

[awardenandacrow]

FANFIC SNIPPET 25

NOTE: this snippet falls chronologically directly after snippet 24, I’m just lazy and haven’t written the connecty transition part yet.

[After their fight, Naimeryn leaves Taash’s room to find Lucanis in the library. Before he can speak she tells him she has to meet Neve in Dock Town, but he counters he needs to go grocery shopping, so he’ll accompany her. Naimeryn is determined not to address the fight yet, and show up for Neve. Lucanis is determined to say his piece.]

CW/TW: SPICY? SPICE-ADJACENT? Steamy. Touching. SKIIIIIN. (No sex, waist up).

——————————————————————————

“Beautiful, Neve!” Lucanis acknowledged as the last Venatori guard fell.

“Oh, so you *do* know what that word means,” Naimeryn bit out under her breath. Apparently not quietly enough, because she heard Neve say,

“I’m not in a rush. You want to take a minute to tend to that?”

She turned to say no, he could leave to do his shopping now, but he was already upon her, Spite’s wings unfurling as he grabbed her around the waist. Naimeryn screamed as Lucanis jumped and Spite carried them both straight up into the air. The ground fell out beneath them as Spite swept them over the rooftops to hover high above the streets.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Lucanis said, his tone appropriately apologetic, considering the lengths he’d resorted to, “and we need to talk.”

*It’s literally been a couple of hours Lucanis, please.*

She wrapped her arms and legs around him and clung to him for dear life. She’d never thought of herself as afraid of heights — all the zip lines and shaky fallen boards and wall climbing and sitting on the edge of the courtyard she’d done, one would think, would proclude it — but pure terror clutched her in a chokehold now. Taash was absolutely wrong. She did not want Spite to fly her around with anything akin to regularity.

“Okay, you win!” Naimeryn buried her face in Lucanis’s neck rather than see how far they had to plummet if Spite wanted to play a prank. “I’ll let it go! When you want to call me something like that, I’ll blush, and giggle, and smile, and say thank you like I’m supposed to. I can do that. Just *please* put me down!”

Spite landed on the nearest rooftop as it began to rain.

“Is that what you think I want?” Lucanis asked into her ear. “For you to lie to me?”

Naimeryn extricated herself from him but didn’t look him in the face. He caught her hands before they left his shoulders, holding them there. *Maybe Lucanis likes paper lanterns.* Taash’s voice rang in her ear. *Please, PLEASE.*

“I— I don’t know what you want,” Naimeryn sniffed. *Instead of getting mad at him, why don’t you ask him?*

“*You,*” he said it so softly she almost didn’t hear him over the earnestly falling rain. Finally, she looked at him, and her heart ached. He looked like he was in pain. His hair was already sticking to his face as the rain picked up.

“I thought I’d been pretty clear on the matter.”

“You *have*,” she nodded, rain dripping off of her nose and into her eyes. She flexed her fingers on his shoulders. “I can wrap my head around you liking me for me. I *have.* I accept that *somehow*, the person I am is enough for you.”

Thankful it was now pouring and hoping he couldn’t detect what was tears and what was rain, she shook her head.

“I don’t *need* more than that. I don’t need you to pretend I’m *pretty*, much less…”

His hand cupped her cheek, and she leaned into it on impulse. He shook his head, ever so slightly.

“I am not pretending,” he said, firmly. She opened her mouth to protest, but he slid his thumb across her lower lip, and she froze.

“It’s the way that, under your lipstick, this lip is always chapped, because you chew it when you worry about those who matter to you — and you always worry about us.”

Naimeryn fought the urge to bite it now. His hand slid around the back of her head, tugging gently to pull her forward and press his lips to her forehead.

“It’s the little crinkle you get here when you’re lost in thought, or planning your next move, or getting riled up on behalf of someone else.”

He pressed a soft kiss into her skin, then tilted his head down, and she closed her eyes as his next one was placed at the corner of her left eye.

“It’s the color of your eyes — the same color as the sky where it meets the canals in Treviso at sunrise. The way that, when you’re excited, or happy, they sparkle like jewels more valuable than *any* found in the earth.”

He ran his hand slowly down the length of one of her braids, worrying the ends of her hair between his fingers. “It’s the softness of your hair. The way it frames your face when you let it be loose, the way the color you make it is like the river on a moonless night. The way the color always makes me think of *that* night.”

His hand returned to the side of her neck, and a little sigh escaped her resolve as he kissed the scar cutting across the bridge of her nose.

“It’s the way *every* scar you bear, that I am aware of, was earned to protect someone else. A village of strangers —“

A kiss to her right cheek.

“—- the dignity of fallen Shadow Dragons —“

A kiss to her right shoulder.

“—- members of this team —“

A kiss to her left. He met her eyes and slid his other hand down her right side, where there was no scar, but her ribs sometimes still ached from their first encounter with the blighted dragon in Treviso. It seemed so long ago, now.

“—- *me.*”

He kissed her lips then, and she let him, her own hands cupping his face as she cried and trembled under his words. He pulled away just enough to whisper,

“Naimeryn, you are the most beautiful thing - *person* - I have *ever* seen.”

She nodded, just barely managing to get out around a sob, “I believe you.”

She kissed him softly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t before.”

“Damn everyone who ever made you feel you could not,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. Her eyes flicked up to his, burning intensely into her. His lips, too, were fire, crashing back into hers desperately. She clung to him as tightly as their wet clothes clung to their flesh. His gloved hand hooked into her belt, tugging her with him as he backed them under a nearby scaffolding, out of the downpour. Naimeryn gripped the front of Lucanis’s cloak in both fists, her whole body burning up under his attentions as he gently pressed her against the side of the building. She sighed into his mouth, and he rewarded her with a trail of kisses along her chin, down her neck. She tilted her head back, feeling him tug the collar of her coat open for better access to her throat.

“I want to touch you again,” he told her. He must have surprised them both, as color spread across his cheeks as well as hers. He met her gaze with his chin against her her heaving chest. Naimeryn slid one hand under his cloak to his shoulder, pulling the other up to his head, feeling his soaking hair beneath her fingers. She hoped it was enough to comfort him that this was not too bold, not unwanted.

“I’d like that,” she told him breathlessly. She’d barely gotten the words out, and Lucanis had eagerly reclaimed her mouth with his.

The wind shifted, driving the rain into their shelter. It grew cold for a moment, then Spite’s wings unfurled, blocking the weather. She felt Lucanis’s fingers working her belt, and she gripped his shoulder and his hair. Naimeryn wanted nothing more than to touch him, too. Would it be all right? As he peeled her belt from around her waist, she brought her hands together at the clasps of his cloak, then hesitated.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, kissing over to her ear. Naimeryn *whimpered* at the feeling of his facial hair against her sensitive skin, simultaneously releasing the clasps so his cloak fell around his feet. Lucanis’s lips closed around her earlobe, and he *sucked*, and Naimeryn let out a needy sound she’d never heard herself make before. How could she be so desperate? His hands tugged her shirt up out of the waistband of her pants. Cold, wet air covered her in goose flesh, but then those warm hands were against her skin, chasing it away. When had he taken off his gloves?

His hands closed around her waist, his lips crashing into hers again as he lifted her up, pressing her more firmly between himself and the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. Lucanis groaned into her mouth, and, emboldened, Naimeryn left her own trail of kisses across his face, ducking her head to press her lips against the side of his neck, her fingers working his collar away from his skin.

“Naimy,” he murmured, sending a tremor down her spine.

“Do you want me to stop?” She panted, stilling. But he shook his head, the hot kiss he planted on the side of her neck suddenly soft, gentle. Beneath her shirt, he moved slowly, one hand grazing along her skin. Hesitated. Then.

Naimeryn accidentally nipped his neck as she bit her lip against the sensation of his hand cupping her breast, against the sound it pulled from her. He sucked in a seething breath, but before she could worry, he kissed back up her neck to greedily recapture her mouth. Lucanis squeezed gently, and Naimeryn fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, sliding her hands inside of it as soon as she was able. She drank in the warmth of him, gripping his shoulders as his other hand joined the first on her chest.

Thought was distant in the wake of sensation. Naimeryn was never sure how long they stayed there, intertwined, hands and lips and tongues and *skin,* bolder even than that night in the gondola, when touches had been soft and cautious and chaste. This was desperation and something else, something Naimeryn already knew the word for but was afraid to allow herself to think again. When they finally had had their fill of one another, gasping and disheveled and barely dressed from the waist up, Lucanis resting his head in the crook of her neck, her arms and legs wrapped firmly around his frame, the rain had passed, and the sun was beginning to set. Naimeryn played absentmindedly with his hair. She could feel the words she was afraid to say bubbling up in her throat, so she quickly found something else to say instead.

“Neve wanted to buy me supper,” she told him sheepishly. *Coward.*

“There is still time,” he said softly, squeezing her lightly. “Hopefully she will forgive me for detaining you just a little bit longer.”

[wellnoe]

Hey! I adore following your art and it so inspires me to draw as well. So thank you for your work. I wanted to ask how you imagine Magneto in your style and what impact he has on your Scott's story or character, if any. The Uncanny X-Men Comics around the Nation X era where the two develop a super interlinked dynamic have always been super interesting so I was wondering.

thank you!!

hmm well i have posted magneto i think exactly twice, as part of a commission (x) and as part of a gift (x). the gift was done this year so its probably more indicative of how he'd look in my style, but also i think my art has been changing a lot in the last couple of months. i like magneto, but he is not one of the characters infesting my brain and motivating longer projects, so i just draw him more rarely. even in stuff i don't post.

tbh the nation x stuff (as w a lot of stuff post-2000s) is kind of a big blind spot w me. i just kind of bounce off superhero nation stuff i think no matter who's involved. but i do like the bit of stuff i have read concerning magneto and scott.

i think earlier magneto spends a lot of time thinking of scott (and the original five x-men) as like. extensions of xavier. like he cares about his relationship to xavier and his philosophical and political opposition to xavier and anything scott says politically doesn't get filtered through as scott's position so much as xavier's position as stated by a particularly rigid and kind of harsh student. i think this basically bc magneto has a tendency to talk through the other x-men to charles when he's in villain mode, and also bc in my mind stuff like god loves man kills does position scott as an extension of xavier. like. scott's the true believer here. he doesn't doubt, even when charles himself does. the way magneto comes to see scott as his own person with his own political ideas is really cool to me, and i enjoy seeing the like. backing magneto has for scott? it feels like it is founded on this decades long non-relationship of seeing scott and the x-men continue, which is then helped along by a new closer relationship.

ig my thinking on how magneto impacted scott is like...not very much on an interpersonal level, for a long time. like they just didn't actually know each other that well at all, and scott's really into adopting some of xavier's position as pretty like. rigid rules. like scott is more uptight than charles is. i think magneto largely operates not as a person but as an idea for him to orient himself against and also a threat that sometimes tries to kill him/ kill other people/ make scott's day worse in some other way.

i think in general scott is kind of confused by magneto?? on an interpersonal level?? which is part of what makes their later dynamic fun to me. the idea that scott can continue to be confused and frustrated w magneto even as they become much closer and be like oh ok. this isn't an x-men vs magneto thing, you are just kind of annoying and confusing on purpose. he's just kind of like that. i think after you get into utopia and afterward scott clearly comes to value magneto's opinion more, but before that magneto's not even a guy to scott he's just this like. nebulous idea of what scott is against and also scott does not like him.

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[giantkillerjack]

Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

You need to show the world that you KNOW you are bad by punishing yourself constantly! After all, think of all the people who BENEFIT from you punishing yourself! - No, really! Think about it! Think about who benefits from your pain.

Think of alllllll the definitely-good people that your definitely-necessary self-torment definitely helps! I mean, you can't just cut off their definitely-life-sustaining supply of your suffering, right?? Sure, everyone else has a breaking point, but you're probably the only person in human history who doesn't, right? Best not to question it probably. Sure, it's a symptom that billions of people with trauma have had, but who knows? You could be a one-in-seven-billion exception. Anything's possible!

Instead, better just accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues deserve to suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you until you drop. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things if you're not careful!

If you start giving yourself even the tiniest amount of grace at a time, you will find that you've accessed a gateway drug with extreme long-term side effects:

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might come to know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to start granting your awkward self free pardons for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

[triaelf9]

ugh I reallllyyyyy didn’t want to get in on this but like

The assumption that all atheists are people who’ve “never touched a religious text in their life” basically says to me you have a specific view of atheists and have probably not known many.

Most of them grew up IN the system and DO know the text and THAT’S why they walk away. 

If you’re gonna make a whole post on ppl not using nuance with CR stuff right now the least you can do is use nuance yourself and not paint an entire group of people with a brush that TV taught you, or a bunch of white men into power *cough* Dawkins *cough* coopted a movement in a society where to not believe in god is synonymous with being immoral.

So just keep in mind, the representation of people without faith that you see on TV or twitter isn’t the majority and 9 times out of 10 isn’t correct at all.

thanks ^_^

[icewindandboringhorror]

Lineup of all of the characters that appear long enough to need a visual representation of them in the game lol

[espytalks]

I just spent like 15-20 minutes looking for a book i ultimately decided i didn't even wanna take with me to the beach this tuesday, only to find it was on my desk the whole time.

[summerlycoris]

Guess whos potentially working a triple tomorrow?????????

Im going to transform into my final form if this shit keeps up i swear to god.

[ghostickle]

Love having to help hold everyone else’s lives together but the second I’m struggling and need help then I’m too needy and being a problem

[pebblezone]

succumbing to the illness. becoming a hater. anyway look at this building they’re fucking destroying

[dentist-brainsurgeon]

So fuckin pissed rn

[tardis--dreams]

I should call the doctor's office *calls, in tears* *they don't pick up* oh thank GOD above- i should call the doctor's office *shaking and throwing up while calling* *they don't pick up* oh hell yeah! I should call the doctor's office *calling* please don't pick up please don't pick up please don't pick up ple *they don't pick up* I'm so happy rn! Aw fuck i still need to call the doctor's office though ㅠㅠ *they don't pick up* ah well i tried my best I'll just ask in person on friday when I'm there anyway (((:

My mother: *shakes head disappointedly*

[alphalesbian]

.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

My dads finally going out of town

I get 4 days of unimpeded dog training