#regular blackouts by the end also

[berryblu-soda]

i think the most annoying thing abt loving urban fantasy and school settings and having a lot o my blorbos in them is, like, i´m *HOMESCHOOLED????* have been since 4th grade, but still the school i went to probably isnt a good frame of refference. so im lest just completely lost and looking for refferences is practically impossible, bc *WHO DIDNT GO TO SCHOOL??* amirite???

so i´m low key scared i´ll write something just completely uninformed which will be noticed inmediately by everyone, and i´ll be put in a cage in the plaza and get tomatos thrown at me :((

[sxcret-garden]

Ateez when they're jealous ღ NSFW Edition [M]

ღ Ateez all members x fem-bodied!reader ღ genre: smut, headcanons (dom-sub dynamics in some parts, semi-public sex in some parts, most of them get more or less possessive) ღ warnings: alcohol consumption in some parts

Author's note: Maybe I went a liiiittle overboard with this.... maybe I'm also very tempted to turn one of these into a full fic....

Hongjoong:

He's usually one to deal with his jealousy in a very adult manner and simply talk it out with you. However, after coming home jealous one day and having what was probably the best sex in your relationship up until that point, you've made an arrangement to deal with your jealousy in the bedroom. So it's really become more of a game to him than a pestering feeling to get rid of asap. And today as well, after you've spent a little too much time (in his opinion) having a very engaged conversation with the cute waiter of your regular place to get dinner, Hongjoong can't wait to get home and to drag you off to his bed. And that's exactly what he does, as you're filled with expectation because you didn't exactly miss the evil smirks he's been giving you throughout dinner, and you could guess what would be coming once you're home. He's moving slowly as he crawls on top of you, brushing his lips against yours in teasing kisses, and then telling you to strip naked for him. Will be the biggest little shit ever as he touches you in all the ways he knows will rile you up, and has you cursing underneath him when he pulls his fingers out of you just as you're about to cum. "You're gonna have to beg for it, babe," he whispers, licking his fingers clean. "I'm not gonna let you cum until I know you can't take it anymore."

Seonghwa:

Is so shocked when after weeks of suffering he finally figures out that seeing you with your male best friend makes him jealous, that he impulsively decides to get (almost blackout) drunk. What he forgot to consider was that you were scheduled to make dinner with him at his place, and so when you walk in on him having downed what's probably his third bottle of soju you're definitely mad at him. Wondering whether it'd even make sense to try to reason with your drunk boyfriend, you do eventually end up scolding him, but the second you're within reach he pulls you down onto his sofa, crawling on top of you. He's blushing from the alcohol, and usually you'd have found that cute, but today the cold stare he gives you makes you shiver. Worriedly, you ask what's wrong with him, and finally he explains. "I'm jealous. Like really jealous of your best friend. And drinking it away wasn't the best choice but right now I just need to make you mine." You're not sure if you should be impressed how in control he is for the amount he drank or if you should just be insanely turned on by his words, but when you give him permission with a nod it's not like he leaves you any time to think about this further anyway. Has you both naked in no time and pins you down as he fucks you rough, and if you think he'll be satisfied with giving you just one or two orgasms that night, you couldn't be more wrong.

Yunho:

Doesn't get jealous ever, except for that one time when you had only just started dating and were still in a bit of an awkward phase of figuring everything out together. Now usually he doesn't mind you going out to see your other guy friends, he has no reason to worry about that because he trusts you to never betray him. However, who he doesn't trust is that one guy who very obviously has a crush on you and he wouldn't put it past him to try to steal you away. And so he even went so far as to warn you about it, but you just brushed it off, defending the other guy and saying he's just a friend. And well, when one night your boyfriend witnesses how that guy drops you off at Yunho's place and he's being just a little too touchy before he hugs you goodbye, that's when the jealousy sets in. Needless to say he's upset when you walk inside, and not knowing what to do with that feeling, he simply kisses you. And it's a passionate kiss filled with need, the kind of kiss you've never received from your boyfriend up until that point. Yet he takes the lead, and soon he pushes you up against a wall, hands roaming your body and his lips nipping at your throat. "I don't ever want to see that guy touching you like that again," he mutters, rolling his clothed hard on against your hips, making you throw your head back. "You're mine and nobody else's." When he feels you going limp in his hold and all you can do is agree and whine at his touch, he takes you right then and there, proving to you that nobody could ever make you feel as good as he can.

Yeosang:

When he's jealous he needs reassurance above all else, especially towards the beginning of your relationship. The only problem is that he's kinda slow at figuring out that he's jealous, and so it's often you who picks up the cues before he does. And you know he tends to get sulky and avoidant when he feels bad but can't quite put his finger on why, so one day you decide to try to help him out of that. And so you approach him, telling him straightforward that you want to have sex with him. And pulling him out of his bubble takes a while of hesitation from his side, but when you take him by the hand to walk him to your bedroom, he doesn't protest. Crawling on top of him and making out with him, you wait until you can feel him somewhat relax underneath you. Your fingers of one hand tangled in his hair while the other roams his toned upper body has him melting underneath you, and just then you ask him whether he's jealous, in the sweetest tone you can muster. "I... I think so," he mumbles. "Do you need me to prove to you that I only want you?" you ask, and Yeosang nods. And you'd be surprised how quickly he can go from desperately clinging to you as you get him off slowly, humming praises for your boyfriend, to him flipping your positions around and with a "Sorry, I need this now" he starts thrusting into you, hard and slow. The pace as well as him suddenly taking charge of the situation makes you see stars, and his desperate but possessive groans could make you cum right then and there.

San:

Seems more helpless than anything else the second he comes back from picking up some takeout coffee for the both of you when he sees a complete stranger flirting with you, and you doing nothing to ward the guy off. And of course he'd be jealous at the sight, but he decides to play the tough guy for now, telling the guy off as he approaches. "Dude, what are you doing flirting with my girlfriend?" He puts an emphasis on his last word, and his voice sounds darker than usual. And though the stranger leaves immediately and you two continue your date as usual, something's off about San once you arrive home. Dragging you off to the bedroom by the sleeve of your shirt, he doesn't say anything and doesn't let you see his face right until he has you pinned to the bed, hovering above you and pressing a fiery kiss to your lips. Clothes don't stay on for long, and when he finally has his hips snapping into you, you have to slow him down from how rough he's being. "Fuck, that guy pissed me off," he mutters as he buries his face in your neck, leaving his mark there. When he has you coming undone underneath him, he doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you towards your next high, and your head starts to spin when you hear his next words, growled into your ear, "Don't ever flirt with another man again. Don't even look at someone else, or do you think anyone else could ever fuck you this good?"

Mingi:

Well if he isn't a wild card idk what. Gets jealous rather easily, and from him sulking like a kid to him taking charge and dragging you off to the nearest secluded space, anything could happen. It entirely depends on his mood that day, and a bit on the situation too. Mingi definitely needs you to comfort him if it's the former option, but the good news is that he'll be fine rather quickly after you assure him he has nothing to worry about. However, after you've been dating for a while and he's internalized that you're not gonna let someone else take you away from him, that helplessness soon turns into anger at whatever guy is flirting with you. And so one night when you're out with friends, all being a bit tipsy and this one guy just won't stop giving you all of his attention, Mingi eventually shoots up from his seat and drags you to the restrooms without an explanation. Kisses you feverishly after locking up the stall he entered with you, and only when you ask him what's wrong he gives you an explanation. "I don't like the way that guy looks at you. It pisses me off," he hisses, before going right back to kissing you. His hand finding your core underneath your clothes in no time, he starts fingering you, even teasing you about how you're already wet for him, and eventually he'll flip you around so he can grind his clothed bulge against your ass as he gets you off, relishing in the way you're desperately trying to suppress all noises.

Wooyoung:

Big switch energy so this can go one of two ways, but after the initial deep conversation you had about jealousy and how you can trust each other despite that feeling sometimes arising, the one thing that's for sure is that you're gonna resolve it with sex.  Even when the jealousy is barely even there, just like earlier today when you had commented to your boyfriend on how handsome one of Wooyoung's friends looks in his latest insta post, he doesn't miss the opportunity to seek proof that at the end of the day you only have eyes for him.  "And what about me?" he'll asks as he walks up to you from behind, hands put on your waist and his lips ghosting above your neck. The tone of his voice gives his intentions away immediately, and it doesn't take long for him to spin you around in his hold so he could kiss you, dragging you off to the nearest surface to have sex with you on (whether that's the bed, the sofa, or the dining table he doesn't care). And it really all depends on your mood whether he'll pin you against it, making you beg for him until he's satisfied, or put all the power into your hands and let you have his way with him until he's the one whining for your touch. One way or the other, the reason for his jealousy will soon be forgotten, because now all that matters is you and him chasing pleasure together.

Jongho:

You're at a party hosted by a mutual friend of yours, and from the moment you dressed up at home you've known that your outfit choice today is doing something to your boyfriend from the looks he's been giving you. You like the attention, you're not gonna lie, and you can imagine what this night will lead to once you're back in the comfort of your own home, after making him stare at you all evening. However, what you didn't expect were the death glares he's been giving one of your male childhood friends who's been occupying you ever since you walked into that party. You know Jongho isn't the type to get jealous easily, but when he does he usually struggles with expressing it. However, you also know your boyfriend will usually do the right thing anyway, and so when he pulls you into the empty kitchen and locks the door behind himself, you expect him to simply tell you about his feelings. What you certainly do not expect is him backing you up against a counter with a possessive stare glued to your lips. "What's wrong...?" Kisses you instead of answering your question and makes your head spin from the way he runs his hands down your body alone. There's need and anger behind his actions, and in no time he has you pressed up against the kitchen counter, facing the wall now, both your pants and underwear pulled down just enough so he could fuck you from behind, teasing you with just his tip until he has you begging for more, and this really is just what he needed to alleviate his unnecessary feelings of jealousy...

[starry-bi-sky]

okay so i was thinking of a joke earlier about how in DPDC Amity Park's slogan "a great place to live" is not only city propaganda but also the city lording it over the rest of America for being normal. But then I remembered that, despite how many DCU Cities with heroes in it there are, the amount of cities in America without heroes still far outnumber the amount of cities in America WITH heroes.

So I did a little digging so the joke would still land. Something most heroes have in common is that they operate in major cities. What makes a major city? I found that the general consensus is that the population is roughly over or around a million. THEN I looked up the populations of cities in the DCU that I thought of off the top of my head. So Gotham, Metropolis, Starling City, Central City, Jump City. All of them ranked up to millions in population (most of them were in the tens of millions).

Amity Park's wikipedia describes it as being similar to specifically Philadelphia, Chicago, and San Francisco.

Philadelphia's Population: 1.576 million as of 2021 Chicago's Population: 2.697 million as of 2021 San Francisco: 815,201 as of 2021

Whiiich means that Amity Park if we take that from canon, is probably a major city. There are approximately 19,000 cities in America with probably less than a hundred that are major cities. Adding the DCU major cities wouldn't skew the data too much.

Which MEANS that I can make the joke that Amity Park's "great place to live" is not only just typical city propaganda, but also its Amity Park lording it over the other major cities for being one of the only major cities that doesn't have problems bad enough to warrant a superhero or a vigilante. Cue stage left the Fentons and Phantom :)

Amity Parkers were probably SO proud that they didn't need a superhero. They didn't have to worry about things like 'world ending threats' and 'super-powered individuals' and 'staggering property damage'. And then enter Fentons.

It also could be used as an excuse for why nobody took notice to Amity Park getting ghosts if folks like me aren't huge fans of the notion of a media blackout via Tucker, Technus, or the US Government. Or if you want to keep Amity Park as its urban city self. Amity Park's news on ghosts gets drowned out in a week because there's news on more popular, well-known cities going on every other day. The shit going on in Amity Park is every other major city's regular Tuesday and it gets filtered as such.

[zvaigzdelasas]

Sorry if this is a bad question, but do you think the Palestinians can keep their gains? I know this is an important win psychologically no matter what happens next, but is there any chance for changing the borders on the map?

Sorry if this naive or not relevant to the actual events

no its very relevant! Really too early to tell I think, at the absolute minimum I think this conflict could last several weeks, wouldn't be surprised if longer though. Either way the entire regional politic has already been changed forever, and I'm sure there will be defacto territorial change one way or another

Main factors/possibilities (rougly sorted in terms of my perceived importance/likeliness) imo:

A) level of coordination that Al-Qassam & other militants taking part have (idk what comms they'd really have available at this point, particularly with the blackout) as well as how robust logistical supply chains are for deliveries of weapons, personnel, and ammo, but to start out w 5,000 missiles in 20 minutes (though israel claims 2,500) definitely indicates a major degree of planning & coordination, probably months in advance if not more - so many contingencies were probably accounted for

B) how much Hezb'ullah enters the offensive, even pinning down a couple battalions around Sheba farm or the broader Golan heights can be a pretty pivotal, but if they actually are able to take territory that changes things significantly

B-2) how much non-muslim groups in lebanon accept hezb'ullah joining the offensive - israel can escalate here & potentially fracture the offensive by staging a ground invasion/aerial attack into Lebanon, as long as non-muslim groups read that as "because hezb'ullah instigated it" instead of as israeli aggression on them. I have no read on lebanese public opinion here so idk.

C) Whether the Syrian SAF steps up strikes against israeli occupational military targets in the Golan Heights in the next couple days

C-2) amount of explicit coordination between Hezb'ullah & SAF

D) how the situation develops in the West Bank - expect a lot of retributional violence by Israeli civilians here.

D-2) Abbas & his govt have already taken quite a strong stance where they dont quite endorse hamas' operation, but put blame squarely on Israel - if West Bank escalates decisively they might take a much stronger stance.

E) How many israeli political prisoners Hamas has taken (israel has admitted to 130, hamas says "more than dozens") - PIJ also claims 30, how important they are, & how many of their own civilians Israel is willing to potentially kill in order to achieve broader military objectives.

E-2) If Israel arent willing to do that, then that also means a lot of their vaunted air force is largely useless here & combat will largely take the form of urban street battles, which tend to favor irregular insurgent combatants (esp when the regular army is used to unquestioned aerial supremacy)

E-3) what happens during the land invasion of Gaza (said to happen in about 24 hours, and something that would be surprising if wasnt expected by hamas), which is likely prompted by the large number of detained political prisoners. If this ends without something that can be spun as a clear victory for IDF, then this will be a major demotivating factor against their international perceived strength & massively increase morale among palestinian militants & civilians

F) If gazans are able to make a land bridge to the West Bank, then things are going to escalate in a significant way. Sderot is right now the frontline here, about 20 mile straight shot

G) how much more of the barrier around the Gaza strip is able to be destroyed, particularly at checkpoints

I) if the Saudis officially announce a pause in normalization talks

I-2) if other factions in the House of Saud take advantage of the mass-unpopularity of normalization with israel among saudi citizen (ie not immigrant labor) population (~2% support support among saudi youth according to Arab Youth Survey 2023 https://arabyouthsurvey.com/wp-content/uploads/whitepaper/AYS-2023-WP_123_English.pdf - seems like a fair assumption this isn't limited to the young). Even absolute monarchies have limits in terms of unpopular choices.

H) how much of a united front palestinian refugees (across the region but in Egypt & Jordan in particular) are able to mount & what political ends they're able to force pressure on - Sisi has rhetorically genuflected to Israel being the one to provoke escalation while also condemning both sides, but Jordan's Abd'allah has pretty much stuck to both sides so far

H-2) If the youth survey is a good proxy, Jordan would likely be the one where the governing regime would have most difficulty avoiding taking a stand against israel (~6% in favor of normalization)

J) if Israel officially declares military operations against Iran, then that's going to be a major escalation path.

J-2) More likely imo will just step up operations particularly in Iraq against shi'a militants, not sure they'd really want to escalate in Syria at this exact moment

K) how long the Netanyahu-centered Unity Govt takes to form, especially how much Gantz tries to push himself into the center

L) How much the US/european politicians publicly supports israel rhetorically & with guns without public pushback (that's where posting can actually help, particularly politicians). Right now the political class has basically all fallen in line in support of Israel, so normalizing discourse in support of palestine does do something, particularly if it has quantifiable achievement like BDS (particularly S)

M) Now is also when israeli civilians protesting against the corruption of their government would make the most difference. Strangely the recurring protests have been canceled. lol.

Z (wildcard)) Ansar Allah (houthis) or other non-coalition yemeni militant groups start an offensive against the Israeli-UAE occupation of Socotra. UAE alone is still militarily powerful and islands have obvious defensive advantages but scrambling to coordinate a rebuff of Israeli military positions all that way away would definitely start to strain logistics

[shallowseeker]

But see… I really do think that hunters recognizing the signs of psychological “overkilling” is important!

In this genre, it serves as shorthand for instability in the field. Mary recognizing this in Jack… indicated he was psychologically unfit to fight.

///

Overkilling shows up in various characters.

Cas mentions this when assessing Lucifer’s kills in season 12:

Sam and Castiel are in the library at the bunker. Castiel is looking at pictures of the carnage at the archbishop’s house on a cell phone, zooming in and out)

CASTIEL: Ugh. These pictures...The level of violence, it's completely unnecessary.

SAM: Lucifer doesn't like to get messed with.

///

And of course, his own hypocrisy aside, Sam is hypervigilant for assessing this in MOC!Dean. (And all things considered, Sam and Cas aren’t exactly incorrect in their assessment. The issues became more about Dean’s blackouts and lack of control, rather than the immorality of his targets.)

///

Killing is killing, but in this genre, the signature yields vital information.

Jack’s signature was unstable, and Mary correctly recognized this.

///

I can think of good examples for Dean and Cas too, becoming disorganized psychologically, particularly towards the terminal ends of the Mark and Godstiel arcs.

But even soulless, Sam tends towards frighteningly cold and efficient.

Sam with Jake Talley, maybe?

There’s also Dean with the Adam and Kate wraiths. That sticks out in my head.

It comes in lighter flavors, too, like when Claire was not being able to stop kicking her assailant. The fear took over.

Something I want to pay more attention to… just thinking aloud.

EDIT: I think blood-addicted Sam was the closest to disorganized and overkill on the regular, like… as he became ruled by the blood addiction, season 15 shows us a Sam terminating with a demon-Dean-style of arc, a demon Sam with black eyes who kills Jody and Bobby.

SAM: You know, I knew you’d come looking for me. After Sioux Falls… I suppose you had to.

DEAN: What you did to them… what you did to Bobby… to Jody…

SAM: They tried to stop me. But I will not be stopped.

DEAN: Sammy, listen to me. This is the demon blood. You have to fight it!

SAM: Why would I do that?

[The bald man from earlier approaches behind SAM. SAM turns his head slightly and the man’s neck snaps as he falls to the ground. SAM looks back at DEAN with an evil smile.]

DEAN: Sammy, please. Please.

[SAM smirks. His eyes flash to black. He cocks his head to the side. Dean’s neck snaps as he falls to the ground. He’s dead.]

[regionalcinnabonmanager]

“You wouldn’t have a key to this random door, would you?” 

Flufftober 14: locked in/trapped

You and Leon are stuck in a storage closet at the DSO's headquarters. One problem: You're claustrophobic.

fluff, (obvi) second person pov, gn reader, idiots in love, mutual pining, leon is awkward at feelings, he is also a major simp for you, written with re4 leon in mind but can be read as any, let me know if i need more tags. i don’t think it needs much? NOT PROOFREAD.

word count: 2.1k

i fell in love with leon and subsequently hopped on the fluff train, now i'm writing this nonsense fic. rationale is,, not optimum rn but thats fine, uhh enjoy, simps.

--

“Ow-!” Leon winced in response to you stepping on his foot by accident. 

“Sorry!” You took your foot off of Leon’s as you tried to look for that damn battery pack Hunnigan told you and Leon to look for, struggling greatly to find it as you shined your flashlight in various directions, trying to find it. 

A blackout had happened at the DSO. Those usually never happen at HQ, due to there being backup generators during city-wide blackouts, but apparently, some idiot electrician fixing something down there had screwed up and caused all the lights at HQ to go bye-bye.

So now you were stuck in a dark, small, storage room only big enough for two people to freely move around in, looking for a spare battery pack for people’s flashlights. 

“Found it yet?” Leon asked, shining his flashlight at the storage racks filled with various chemicals and cleaning supplies. You scoffed in response.

“If I did, I’d be grabbing the thing and getting out of this damn room ASAP. Starting to get really uncomfortable here..” You replied with snark, spotting the battery pack a little bit after. With a feeling of accomplishment, you took it. “Found it.” You turned around and held it up, shining your flashlight upwards.

“Good, let’s get out of here and get it to Hunnigan. Still don’t know why she made us do this..” He sighs, hand reaching out to turn the lever door knob. 

As he does so, the door knob falls to the floor with a clatter. Leon picks it back up and tries to reattach the piece of metal, but fails; and it falls to the floor again. 

Silence envelops the room as the two of you stare at the door knob for a few seconds… and then slowly, your eyes meet each other’s. 

Shit.

“What did you do!?” You were the first to break the silence with an exasperated remark, questioning how the fuck Leon managed to break the doorknob.

“I didn’t do anything! The knob just.. broke.” He replies, equally as confused as you are. 

Oh shit, this was your worst nightmare put into words. Which was ironic, considering you worked at an organisation that dealt with nightmarish monstrosities on the regular. 

Of all the things you could be afraid of, somehow small spaces were one of those great fears.

You felt yourself begin to panic. The room felt suffocating. 

“Okay, relax, I’ll just call Hunnigan and tell her we’re stuck in the storage closet. She’ll get us out.” Leon pulled out his phone and flipped it open, dialling Hunnigan. Shortly after, she picked up, and he explained what had happened to the both of you. 

As Leon was on the phone with her, you bit the inside of your cheek and began to zone out, trying to keep yourself together. You could barely hear their conversation as a high-pitched ringing drowned out their voices.

“..Thanks Hunnigan. Bye.” He ended the call, flipping his phone closed with a sigh. “Hunnigan called facilities. ETA is in an hour, so we might as well get comfy.” He pocketed the device as he turned to your still form staring at the wall. “Hey, you good?” He reached over to pat you on the shoulder, snapping you out of your trance.

That seemed to work, as your head immediately turned to him. “Huh? What?”

Leon sighed, repeating what he just said to you. “Are you okay?” He added at the end. “You were kinda.. zoning out.”

You shook your head and sighed, your face twisted into a frown. “No- yeah, I’m uh..” 

Leon raised a brow. “Are you okay or not?” 

Figuring that you can’t hide the truth forever, especially not in a room as small as this, you decided to tell him your fear. “I’m claustrophobic. And I’m kinda, y’know, freakin’ out right now-” You laughed in an attempt to stop yourself from spiralling, but it just made you look sad. 

A look of realisation crossed Leon’s face as he tried to think of what to do to help you calm down. He had experienced panic attacks before, and he knew how to deal with them. Maybe that can help?

“Alright, deep breaths right now, okay?” Leon took your hands and sat you down on the cold floor in an attempt to ground you back to reality. He gently took your face and made you look at him, his blue eyes meeting yours. “Tell me five things you can see.” He took your shining flashlight and pointed it up, letting you see your surroundings.

You looked around momentarily, your eyes landing on a plastic container filled with an orange liquid. “Floor cleaner,” Your eyes trailed over to other spots, “Rat poison, white floor, mop, mop bucket.”  

“Good.” Leon tried to remember the next step. “Four things you can touch.” 

You raised a hand and felt around the place, landing on the cold floor. “Floor..” You touched your arm, fabric balled into your grip. “Clothes,” you reached behind you to feel the cold metal of the storage rack. “Storage rack..” 

You then looked down at Leon’s hand on yours, turning your wrist to intertwine your fingers with his. “Your hand..” You mumbled with a little warmth in your cheeks. Leon seemed to share the same heat on his face as well, but you both chose to ignore it.

Clearing his throat, Leon let your hand stay with his as he ran you through the last three steps of the grounding technique. 

“You feel better?” He asks softly, rubbing the skin of your hand with his thumb. 

You nodded, looking up at him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m.. feeling better now..” 

There was a kind of tension in the room as the two of you sat on the floor of the supply closet in silence, hand in hand. Neither of you had ever done this before, so there was a definite awkwardness.

He was just trying to help you calm down, You thought to yourself, rationalising his actions. Nothing more to it. 

Your eyes shifted over to Leon, glancing at his face for a second before looking away.

Shit, they’re probably uncomfortable right now, Leon silently thought to himself. But, they’re not pulling their hand away.. Maybe they don’t mind it?

“How- how much time did Hunnigan say facilities would get here?” You broke the silence with a question.

“An hour, she said. Although, they might get here a bit later because they’re still dealing with the electricity problem. Then they’ll get us out.” He replied with a sigh, leaning back into the metal storage rack behind the two of you. “Don’t worry. It probably won’t be too long.” 

You nodded in response. An hour, huh? Well fuck. What’s two people to do ‘til then?

The two of you sat in more silence as you quietly waited for time to pass by, the occasional clicking of shoes together the only source of sound in the room. Leon’s flashlight was propped up and acted as the singular light source that illuminated everything just enough for it to be visible. With which, you decided to admire your best friend’s arms.

Everyone with eyes knew Leon was a catch. He was blessed with good looks, and a body that looked like it was chiselled by the Gods. Whether he knew it or not, he was dashing. You knew that, everyone did. 

Fortunately, (or unfortunately,) you had the pleasure of knowing what was behind that physical layer and found the treasure underneath. He was kind, endearing, always fought for what was right, and was overall, a really good guy.

And thus, the crush began. You’ve been hiding it pretty well, you’d think. He didn’t seem to notice anything. Besides, if he did, it’s not like you could do anything about it. He probably doesn’t feel the same..

As you went on your little thought train, your mind wandered deeper into the brainrot, thinking about how his arms would feel wrapped around you and embracing you in a warm hug..

“Can you like, hug me?”

Leon turned to you, giving you a look of confusion. “What?” 

Shit, did you say that out loud? FUCK.

Well, no turning back now.

“Uh- can you.. give me a hug?” You asked again, a little more embarrassed this time.

He was a little bit hesitant, but you reassured him that it was fine. And so he finally put his arms around you, gently pulling you towards him and resting your head on his shoulder. The position was not innocent at all. You were facing him, your chest against his as his arms wrapped around your waist and your head rested on his shoulder. 

 A little intimate for ‘best friends’, there. A little voice in your head spoke up, but you quickly shut it down, deciding to ignore it in favour of feeling the comfort of Leon’s arms around you.

Even if he doesn’t like you in the same way, then at least… you can still enjoy the feeling of being his best friend. Enjoy this hug. 

Your shoulders slumped a little at that thought. 

--

Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, the holiest of fucks. What in the actual hell am I doing?

Leon silently panicked to himself as he held you in his arms. Was he really doing this? Was this real? Did he or did he really not have his best friend/long-time crush in his arms right now? And you’re the one that asked for the hug? This was a dream come true. 

Maybe… this is a hint that they like me? He thought to himself, before dismissing the thoughts. No.. they probably don’t feel the same way. 

He heard a little yawn from you, betraying your fatigue. “You wanna sleep?” He asked, to which you nod in response to. “Alright..” Acknowledgement comes from him in the form of a soft whisper.

Fuck, they’re so cute when they’re tired.. He raised a hand from your waist to your back, drawing circles to help you fall asleep. He knew you deserved this. You’ve been running around settling the technical things since the blackout, no wonder you’d be just about ready to collapse. 

After about 20 minutes, he eventually feels you relax in his arms, your breathing slowing down to a calmer, more peaceful pace. A tell-tale sign that you’re asleep.

He sighs quietly, deciding to talk to himself as you sleep. “Why did I have to fall for you?” He whispers as he continues to draw circles on your back. “Why did it have to be you?” 

“You’re way out of my league. Stunning, smart, funny… God, I knew I’d never have a chance, but I just couldn’t help falling for you.”

It was really no wonder how he fell for you. You were everything he wanted, but he knew he’d never have you for a multitude of reasons.

“You’re much better off without me. You shouldn’t have to worry about someone who’ll die on you anytime I’m away. But fuck, I want you so bad.”

That was the truth. His job made it hard to maintain a relationship, he knew that, you knew that. In fact, every agent in the building knew it. Though there were no restrictions on having a family, most were either too busy to find love or chose not to for obvious reasons.

Leon held you tighter in his arms, being careful not to crush you. “I love you. So much. I know I can’t have you, but that’s fine. I’ll keep loving you from afar.” 

He sighed, thinking about why he was even spilling his heart out like this. “What am I saying? You can’t even hear me..” He chuckled mirthlessly.  His hand gently cradled the back of your head, a small smile on his face as he played with the hair on the nape of your neck. 

Unbeknownst to him, you were still awake. Half-asleep, but you heard everything.

Bonus:

The lights flickered back on, waking Leon up from his sleep. The power was back, and there was a clattering of the lock on the other side of the door.

“You two okay in there?” Hunnigan’s muffled voice called from the other side of the door. “We almost got the lock opened, just hold on.”

A few minutes later, the door opened, revealing a guy from facilities and Hunnigan standing in the doorway. “Oh, thank God you two are fine-” 

She stops in her tracks, spotting you in Leon’s arms, sitting on the floor. She blinks a few times, trying to connect the dots. “Did you two-” 

“Nothing happened.” Leon got up, carrying you with ease and walking out of the door. He did not want to speak of what happened, lest it caused a gossip storm among the employees. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

Hunnigan just followed along, kind of having this ‘whatever’ mindset. 

[bagopucks]

Masterlist

You can find all of my works listed here with a summary! I’ll also list my AU’s when I begin forming them.

By default, I write the reader as female. So if you want a different sex/gender, you need to clarify it in your request!

You can find a link to my post on requests, here!

Silly Love Songs AU Masterlist, here!

Out of Place Masterlist, here!

Elton John Masterlist, here!

Singlereaderfic Masterlist, here!

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras

It’s An Off Day - Trevor and the reader both have their own stressors in their lives, and it causes a tiff. But there’s nothing a little playful make-up can’t fix.

Defend My Honor - Somebody has to defend my honor. Somebody has to defend your honor. Enemies to lovers.

Disheveled Duckling - Trevor’s always hidden his feelings behind a locked door, but when everything becomes too much, he reluctantly turns to who he trusts the most.

Stand By Me - The reader and Trevor struggle but ultimately deal with the diagnosis of an autoimmune disease. And they deal with it together.

You And Me - The reader, Jack’s ex, is now dating Trevor. After they’ve been outed, the couple deals with new hate, and it’s overbearing in more ways than one.

Getcha Back- The reader cracks under the pressure of media and her relationship with Trevor. It’s up to him to win her back.

Family Reunion - Trevor’s meeting the reader’s family. Both are a little nervous, but he ends up fitting right in.

Bad Idea, Right? - SongFic, he’s just an ex.. nothing more, right?

Can He Sing? - The reader and Trevor accept the request of a local recording studio to do an interview while they’re in town, revealing to the audience a bit of their relationship, and an upcoming album.

Jack Hughes

Sally Forth - The Hughes brothers and Jack’s hockey team going to support the reader in dance nationals.

Need You Now - The reader is paired up with an injured boy for a group dance. She needs a new partner, so she calls on Jack. A lot of fluff in between.

It’s Out There - The reader is a university student. That’s all she’s supposed to be to the public. Until they find out of her secret relationship with Jack Hughes. Then it’s another story.

Blackouts - When everybody is stuck at the lake house during a storm, and the power goes out, there’s only so much they can do to pass the time.

A Little Funky - The reader struggles with OCD, and Jack is still learning how to handle it.

Home Alone - Jack invites the reader over because his parents are out, but an oncoming blizzard has them returning sooner than expected.

And I, You - The reader and Jack get a moment alone in the lake house to discuss their future plans.

Record Breaker - Jack finally breaks the regular season point record, and of course he has to celebrate.

So Fine - Sequel to “Home Alone.” The reader’s parents are out of town on a business trip. Nobody’s passing up on this chance to give their day together another shot.

As Sure As It Gets - The reader and Jack have been best friends since they can remember. One day the reader confesses to feelings harbored for a while, and Jack hesitates before deciding not to tell the truth, for the sake of their friendship.

Late Night Drives - The reader finally discovers why Jack is called Rowdy, after accepting an invite to go on a drive with the Hughes brothers and a few friends.

More Than I Do Now - SongFic, Jack and the reader spend the evening with his family and a few friends, but the reader’s stuck in another world, fantasizing about their relationship.

ATTHNGVBD - It’s Valentine’s Day, and Jack puts himself under a lot of pressure to start a new tradition.

Can’t Break Up Now - SongFic, Jack and the reader have had a vicious fight.. and it’s time to decide what’s best for their relationship.

Mine All Mine - They’re polar opposites, and everybody has something to say about it. She just wants to be good enough, but never feels like she is.

Quinn Hughes

Wildest Storms - The reader’s anxiety levels are through the roof, and when Quinn comes home, he’s there to distract and comfort in the ways he knows best.

Softly, Sweetly - Quinn’s home alone one night, and decides to invite the reader over for a bit of fun. Only it doesn’t go as planned.

Plus One - The reader needs a date to a friend’s wedding. Quinn’s the lucky man.

Gingerbread Houses - The reader’s boyfriend drops a bomb on her during Christmas, and Quinn is the first person she turns to for comfort.

Fast Car - Coming Soon!✨

Jamie Drysdale

Drago-nita - Jamie’s left to take care of Trevor’s lizard while the forward is on a road trip. Things don’t go as planned, so he calls the reader for assistance.

Island Of Love - Jamie falls head over heels for a girl he never expected to love. But they’re from two different worlds, and he can’t stay away from his forever.

Lady May - SongFic, a recollection of the times the reader was Jamie’s rock, leading him to one fateful decision.

The Ugly Duckling - being written, angst and fluff, title’s kinda self explanatory.. gonna make you guys wait for it anyway.

Orange, Orange, Orange - The reader visits Jamie and Trevor during playoffs only to receive a rather startling surprise.

Blind Dating - Jamie is new in town and managed to get himself set up on a blind date. The reader isn’t too sure about him. At least not at first.

Nico Hischier

Smile Again - Nico’s injured and the reader has to leave town for a week. She returns to her lover in a horrible state, and there’s not much she can do but comfort him back to contentment.

It’s My Footwork - Knee surgery leaves Nico’s leg a bit weak, so he seeks out creative conditioning to get him back on track.

Soulmates ‘N All That - SongFic, a summary of the meeting, the dating, and the marriage.

Dearest Nico, - Two strangers falling in love over the exchange of letters and phone calls. Loosely based off of the song “Travelin’ Soldier” by the Dixie Chicks. But at the same time it’s really not.

Comfy - Nico comes home from a hockey game ready to relax, and though the reader isn’t in a bath mood, they’ll gladly sit outside the tub and talk all evening with him.

Too Much To Drink - The reader went to a simple bachelorette party and took part in the festivities, especially the drinking. And of course, Nico comes to the rescue.

Sun Days - Enjoying a perfect day on the New Jersey beaches with Nico and the team.

When you Wake - Nico went out with the boys, and the reader is left with a surprise when the Hughes brothers bring him home far less than sober.

Wishing For Angels - The reader comes home from work one evening and spends the night watching early Christmas movies with Nico.

Mitch Marner

Light My Love - SongFic, An art major and a hockey player who’s mind works a mile a minute. He’s her inspiration.

The Best Recovery - The reader’s overwhelmed, and slips into a nonverbal state for the night. Mitch is waiting at home to provide comfort and reassurance.

Noise Cancelling - The reader can’t hide their Amazon Wishlist from Mitch for forever, but this is by far the best gift.

Depths Of Love - Loss and grief. Acceptance and moving on. Mitch lost the love of his life, only to realize he doesn’t have to continue alone.

Auston Matthews

Felix and Missy - A dog is a man’s best wingman.

Cole Caufield

College Despair - The reader is overwhelmed with assignments, and needs a break. Cole just got back from a roadie, and needs quality time.

Misunderstand Us - The reader is invited out to the lake house. Quinn forgets to mention that he told Cole about them, and Cole’s rather forward introduction causes a feud between himself and the reader. Until the truth comes out. Enemies to lovers.

She’s Taller - Cole fell for the girl across the street. There’s just one thing that held him back. His height. Turns out, that might not be an issue for her at all.

Linear Progress - Cole has just returned from an injury, and can’t get out of his own head about the fact that he’s struggling.

She’s Taller Pt. 2 ✨ - coming soon!

Reality - SongFic, broken trust leads to a messy breakup. Cole simply can’t let her go.

Young!Pens

My experimental additions! If you didn’t see the poll, I’ll be writing for Crosby, Malkin, Zucker -tho he’d technically be on the Wild when I write for him but I’m classifying him as a Penguin in this post- and maybe Jarry.

—————————————

Highlight Reels

Adventures in house sitting - Jamie and Trevor

Country reader - Jack Hughes

Little!Hughes Brothers - Quinn, Jack, and Luke

Spa Days - Jamie Drysdale

Minecraft Servers - Various Players

Snowboarding - Jack Hughes

—————————————

Blurbs and Edits

“Before sunrise, he’s your rookie.” - Nico Hischier

Cuddling and Trip Planning - Trevor Zegras

Cancelled Games - Trevor Zegras and Jamie Drysdale

“The Lean” - Trevor Zegras

Vacation to Switz - Nico Hischier

Sick Days - Any Player

Dancing In The Rain - Quinn Hughes, SongFic

Little Interruptions - Nico Hischier and Jack Hughes

Rainy Mornings - Cole Caufield

First Time Fighter - Jack Hughes, platonic Luke

Tornado Watch - Jamie Drysdale

Tea Cups - Young!HughesBrothers

Soft Launch - Nico Hischier

[smytherines]

Fuck it, here's an Owen Carvour dissertation

We don't have canon ages for Curt & Owen, but personally I headcanon Owen as being born in 1928, making him 29 when the banana incident happens. This leads to a lot of thoughts that are fascinating to me, because growing up in London during WWII could inform so much of his character.

Personally, I believe DMA's accent is much closer to Owen's natural accent. I think the Owen Carvour accent is something he puts on to make himself sound neutrally British while working abroad, because he grew up working class. RP is how most people (at least in the US) assume British people speak. This also works with the Texan agent mega headcanon, like they both have to put on an act to be spies, just like they have to put on an act with their relationship.

And class is really really important to how you conceptualize this character, because your experience of the war could be radically different depending on how much money you had. Food rationing began in 1940, which in this case would make Owen 12. Rationing isn't fully lifted until 1954.

At Elizabeth II's wedding in 1947, the palace made a big deal about how she was saving ration coupons for the material for her wedding- a full two years after WWII ended.

Here's WWII London:

This is the city Owen would've grown up in. This is a war zone. A city where food is tightly rationed, where sirens were constantly going off and you had to draw down the blackout curtains and go sleep in the tube station with bombs dropping constantly overhead:

If Owen were upper middle class, he might have had a shelter at home, some people did. But I imagine him sleeping in dark, cramped, noisy stations. And he learns to keep his cool. He starts to enjoy the danger because he has to to survive it.

Maybe he has lost loved ones to the bombings. Maybe one morning he comes home from the tube station and half of his house is in rubble on the ground. Maybe he's used to hand me down clothes and simple homemade toys and not having enough to eat. He's used to having nothing, having nobody. That's a headcanon a lot of folks have, and I think it makes a lot of sense for his character.

Even if Owen were one of the kids evacuated to the countryside, maybe that happens when he's 15 or so, it wasn't a Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe situation. For a lot of those kids they were leaving their parents behind in a war zone, sleeping in barns or basements, and most importantly working almost non-stop on British farms because all the regular farmhands were fighting.

I think, if this happened, Owen would be itching to go off and fight in the war. My personal headcanon is that he's an intelligent guy, and he figures out how to forge some basic paperwork to claim he is older than he actually is, so he can go fight in WWII.

But by some fluke he couldn't account for, he gets discovered. And because of his skill and his ability to keep his cool under interrogation, he gets recruited to MI6. A lot of MI6 operatives are upper class men, recruited young from the top schools. He mimicks them.

I think many years later, when he and Curt are escaping a Russian weapons facility, Owen loves Curt and trusts in his capabilities (maybe a bit too much- especially when he's been drinking), but he also feels frustrated that Curt is impulsive and cocky and thinks he is untouchable.

Because Curt didn't grow up the way Owen did. He didn't grow up waiting for the bottom to fall out over and over again. He's certainly got his own shit from adolescence, but he doesn't have that survival impulse hardwired into him the way Owen does. So Owen is careful and cautious for the both of them, trying to keep them both safe and alive.

I think about Owen being trapped in the rubble a lot. He would almost certainly be critically injured. Maybe he has PTSD from the WWII bombings, and he's just trapped in an exploded building, trapped with his own memories of childhood until he's almost feral from it.

This also, btw, is why the AU of Owen as Eurydice from Hadestown is so so poignant to me. Someone who grew up cold and hungry and turned their collar to the world, and then suddenly they fall in love and everything is sunlight all around them. All I've Ever Known is such an important owen!Eurydice song to me

I could keep going from here, but I'll stop for now. This isn't as neat and concise as I wanted to present these thoughts, but I can't stop thinking them

[askdrunkbillcipher]

HELLO, HELLSITE! THE NAME’S BILL CIPHER. I MADE THIS BLOG ON A DYING WEBSITE TO KEEP MYSELF OFF ANY OF MY REGULAR ACCOUNTS WHEN I END UP GETTING BLACKOUT DRUNK. NOT THAT I EVER SAY ANYTHING DUMB OR REGRET ANYTHING! YOU SHORT-LIVED FLESHBAGS SHOULD COUNT YOURSELF LUCKY TO BEHOLD EVEN MY DRUNKEN RAMBLINGS!

BUT IF ANY OF YOU SHOW THIS BLOG TO STANFORD PINES, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND REARRANGE YOUR MOLECULES

SHOOT ME AN ASK AND HOPE I’M COHERENT ENOUGH TO GIVE YOU A GOOD ANSWER!

NOT AFFILIATED WITH ANY OTHER BILL CIPHER RP BLOGS - this Bill is his own version who only goes on Tumblr when he’s drunk!

We’re operating on the pre-Weirdmageddon timeline as of starting this blog, so no Bill doesn’t know anything about the theraprism - yet!

Also don’t forget, this is not just Bill Cipher but a drunken Bill Cipher. You should really not take anything he says too seriously.

I’ll update this as needed

UPDATE 10/04/2024: WELL, this whole thing spun into something I never planned for! My initial thought was I’d just show up when I felt like it and the in universe lore was gonna be Bill was sober then. And I quickly found myself checking this more than my main. So now drunk!Bill is an alcoholic I guess. Read between the lines and you may find hints on the other AU thoughts I’ve had regarding this blog but at this stage I can’t say I’m fully committed to turning this into a bigger AU. It’s whatever! As long as I and everyone joining me here are having fun!

[unhingedpolycule]

Pookies your works are amazing honestly. But how would the boys drink their alcohol. Tell me i need your thoughts right neow.

OHHHHHH I have thoughts! Nikto and Krueger are going hard! I will answer this for my general headcanons! NSFW for drug use / sexual content under the cut

Krueger: A social drinker but in the “what is even the point if you cant use your inebriated state to act more drunk than you are and fuck with people” kind of way. He is either borderline sober or REALLY drunk on purpose. He prefers vodka, due to being socialised in a Russian friend group in his teens/early 20s. He really likes Russia and everything associated with it (especially the men and the language!) but he will drink pretty much everything and isn’t too good to drink directly from the bottle. But he will probably consume everything with high amounts of alcohol in it. Not a longdrink/cocktail type of person. Prefers shots and many of them, due to his high tolerance. Probably unironically likes Absynthe. Drinks the last swig of beer from others with a grin just to provoke the group he spends the evening with in order to disgust them. (The last swig is said to be pure spit in Germany/Austria) It simply amuses him and it’s also a way of (very disgusting) flirting. It works with Nikto, who gets jealous if Krueger does it with someone else’s bottle and horny if it’s his own. It’s his luck then, that Krueger can very much fuck while drunk. (One of his many sexual talents!)

Nikto: He doesn’t drink, because it interferes with his meds and it’s simply not worth it to him. That being said, he is into chemsex. Big time. If he has a few days to acclimate afterwards, he will let Krueger give him a dose of whatever his Austrian seems fit. I adopted cerosin-bis headcanon of Nikto being a bit of a coke head back in the days of his undercover work and he still really likes it, as it makes him both euphoric and horny. They will absolutely fuck while high off their asses. It’s nothing that happens often and most certainly something that reqires days work of aftercare on Krueger’s part, because sometimes the drugs leave Nikto pretty shaken (also due to his regular medication). He promises that this is the last time, just to start pushing and grunting in that special way again after a few weeks/months. He likes to bottom when they do it but he swears that it’s a lie whenever Krueger brings it up while sober. If the others drink, he either has water or an alcohol-free beer. He doesn’t really like that he has to resort back to it, but it’s better than nothing.

Bonus Nikodim, because I love him:

Nikodim: A ✨social drinker✨. Likes beer, but also has a secret sweet tooth (Krueger brought him a bottle of Berentzen Cherry once and he really liked it. Nikodim is prone to sharing his drinks and trying everything. He is very vocal if he dislikes something, but it’s in a jovial fashion. He is a happy drunk, it boosts his self confidence and he likes joking around. It makes him more prone to bad decision and he was probably drunk the first time he messed around with Nikto, even if not overly so. Even if he has grown out of his teenage “I need to get blackout drunk” phase, he likes being tipsy, which makes it even easier for Krueger to manipulate and tease him. In the end, Nikto usually puts an end to it and sends Nikodim back home (more often, he accompanies him. You know. Because he is such a good guy. And because… well Nikodim is in a good mood so he might just be prone to make another bad decision tonight!)

Pookie, I love answering asks so thank you for giving me space to ramble! This was a fun one! (That being said, I do not drink, I am the perpetual driver :) So my hc are informed by cultural osmosis! I prefer aesthetic grape juice to wine on a nice evening so… there you have a general idea of how “wild” I am :D)

[introvertpanda21]

DP x Batman x DCU Story Plot

(Long Rant)

Okay, I have another story idea in my head that I need to rant about. To anyone who reads this, just know that my knowledge about these fandoms came directly from fanfiction. Well, I have some knowledge of Danny Phantom's fandom, only watched like three or four episodes in the past. Do I know anything canon, absolutely not, but like that saying 'This is my headcanon'. Okay, I'm getting off-topic, I'm just gonna start and who knows maybe I'll one day write a fanfic based on these ideas of mine.

Okay, hopefully, my ranting makes sense, (excuse the grammar mistakes) but anyway, the idea in my mind starts with basically the ghost portal and the situation with Danny happening, and the whole ghosts coming out and Danny stopping them like the show basically. Okay, but one day the G.I.W. comes to Amity Park, and initially they are useless like in the show. However, within time they became competent, (I don't like them but, they are relevant to the plot) The Fentons, Jack, and Maddie become like lead scientists since they are obsessed with their work and the G.I.W. found their weapons vitals. (They aren't good parents to Danny and Jazz; I don't like how obsessed they are with their work that they basically are emotionally neglectful to Danny and Jazz [I know it's a show]) Anyways, the Fentons and the G.I.W. start to learn and discover that due to the portal that opened to the Infinite Relams, the ectoplasm had affected the citizens of Amity Park. Since they basically lived between the line of the living and the dead. This caused them to experience changes in their biology and in some cases, a number of them started to develop abilities or powers and are called liminals. (Though only those who have the most exposure to ectoplasm develop powers like young adults to babies) Like its more complex, but it's too much work to think more about it at the moment,

Oh, also the Lazarus pits are basically corrupt ectoplasm which is gonna be relevant to the plot. Since the G.I.W. learned about the possibility that ectoplasm can extend lifespans, the G.I.W. decided to use this to profit off. Basically, by creating the Anti-Ecto Acts and the biased sources about the ghosts and the Infinite Realms, they made anyone with ectoplasm in their system be considered non-being. (I haven't thought more about it, but basically, just excuses to justify experimenting on ghosts and Amity parkers.)

With this in mind, the G.I.W. decides to wipe Amity Park off the map and take all of Amity citizens whether dead or alive along with the ghosts that were residing in Amity Park as experimentation subjects. Oh, and the Amity citizens in the past tried to contact the Justice League, but they never got an answer, unknown to them that the reason was that the G.I.W. was basically causing a media blackout to prevent any outsiders from knowing what was happening. (A lot of Amity Parkers don't really have a lot of trust in the heroes, which is pretty understandable because of their experience.)

Amity Park basically gets wiped off the map and many of the people of Amity Park tried to fight back, but it was to no avail as a number of them basically got killed and those alive were taken as test subjects.

Oh, I forgot during this time Danny is the Ghost King but like technically not, honestly haven't thought about it more. Or like he's just a prince or maybe just normal Danny. (I haven't thought of the small details like this)

Anyways, back to the plot, months pass or like a year or two, don't know, but several Amity Parkers and some ghosts managed to escape during the G.I.W. attack and some of them were previously held in faculties by the G.I.W. but were rescued. Okay, so they are basically in hiding because they have really bad trust issues in trusting regular humans. (Which is reasonable, since the last time they trusted regular humans, it ended with them now being hunted by the G.I.W. and the government.) So, now they are struggling to survive and want to rescue the rest of their friends and families. So, basically, tensions are high among themselves.

(Also, I have this idea that Amity Parkers are decent fighters, not to the level of experienced heroes, but they can still put up a fight. Especially since ectoplasm grants them like super strength and their fingernails can turn into claws. Also, the young ones have developed like powers. They can also heal much faster. I don't know if this is canon in the show or fanon, but like the ghosts, they also started to share the culture of fighting against each other, but in a friendly sparring way.)

Also, during this time, the Justice League was getting reports of green-deformed monsters attacking different cities. This causes worries among the heroes since many of their attacks do no damage to them. (Batman gonna be up nonstop trying to do research on them) The only heroes that could really stop them were the Dark Justice members. So, anyway, the Justice League realized that they have a potential earth crisis and are trying to figure out why it's happening. (I don't fully have a full explanation for the reason, could be the Ancients or Observers in Infinite Realms sending them because of what the G.I.W. is doing. Or the G.I.W. is causing instability between the Infinite Realms and Earth due to their experiments on ectoplasm.)

So, while the heroes are trying to figure it out, back to the Amity citizens, a number of them are currently hiding in Gotham. Given that Gotham has ectoplasm even if it's slightly different. (ectoplasm lore?) Also, Lady Gotham offers them refuge in her city. And as fuck up Gotham is, Amity Park citizens are much pretty unfazed by the city since they lived in Amity Park.

Anyways, Tucker is currently living in Gotham with Sam and Wes after escaping from one of the G.I.W. facilities. The boy is traumatized due to the fuck up experiments he went through. But, he's determined to rescue not only Danny, Jazz, Elle, and Dan (I know, he's supposed to be like Danny's evil clone or something along the line, but the kid gonna get redemption, though he de-aged to a three-year-old. Well, the scenario in my head is that they all sort of de-aged, Danny and Elle are like seven and Jazz is like eleven) He also wants to save the others who are still being held as prisoners.

I haven't thought more plotwise, but I have been thinking of different scenarios. So, basically, Tucker gets told that he needs to get close to Tim Drake, one of the kids of Bruce Wayne in order to get access to some blueprint or machination or something in one of their offices or factories that would help them in rescuing the others. (Don't fully know science logic) He does so with the target in mind, but he doesn't expect to fall in love with Tim. My mind wants some romance, and I find the ship kind of cute, they probably enjoy each other company. Anyways, Tucker is now fighting against his feelings and his loyalty to the group, which wants to settle the score against G.I.W and the government.

Also, I have to concept that most of the Batfam are fully ecto contaminated with ectoplasm in their body, which is different from other Gothamites, who only have the scent of ectoplasm. So, like Tucker is literally fighting the urge to question how the hell Tim has ectoplasm in his system especially since it feels like corrupted. And especially after he met briefly with Jason, Tucker probably questioned how the fuck did Tim's brother exactly died and if they know what ectoplasm is, and if he should tell them that they are technically considered non-beings according to the laws. I also have scenarios of Batfamily moments, they have their traumas, but they love each other and are protective of each other. (My family is dysfunctional as it is, whether it fanon the Batfamily truly love each other even if they have their moments.)

Another concept I have is related to Wes, (I know that boy is like a cameo for like one episode or whatever) He's part of the Phantom group, and his experience in one of the G.I.W. bases was the worst. He went through some experiments with Lazarus' water, which basically affected his body like Jason, and now he had to experience Pit Madness. He sort of dies during these experiments and the G.I.W. scientists use Lazarus's water to see the effects or something along the lines. Especially since Ra al Ghul is one of their sponsors, since he's obsessed with immortality so, he is willing to do anything to achieve it.

For now, this is sort of the rough beginning my brain has for this story idea. Maybe I'll make a part two if my brain decides to incorporate more ideas.

[creatrixanimi]

as a submas fan who recently got into hazbin I would absolutely love to hear your au thoughts!!!!

Ok ill have to try to write out everything i've got so far!

So the original premise was that ingo and emmet got mixed up and ingo got sent to hell instead of emmet as an oopsie (emmet didnt do anything overly bad in life but heaven/hell stuff is so arbitrary they probably just made a weird decision somewhere down the line lol) but i thinkkk i have switched it to Ingo gets sent to hell because Volo successfully sacrificed him in a ritual and emmet, while dying in the same place, wasnt actually part of it so normal rules still applied to him. Ingo's soul is all messed up and corrupted because of the ritual which caused his amnesia. Emmet finds out about Ingo being sent to hell after he cant find ingo anywhere in heaven and rightfully gets upset at heaven's lack of action because he see's ingo's situation as a huge injustice. So Emmet's whole thing is basically just causing problems until he finds his way to hell and reunites with ingo.

Ingo's situation is where the fun is lol. So he wakes up after spawning in hell and is just a total odd-ball. Half because he doesnt remember ANYTHING from before he died. Maybe not even his name? Which is weird. And also because he's a total sweetheart. No one can figure out why he's even there because it's not like he's a hellborn so he must have done something to end up in hell. After a brief period of wandering around aimlessly, Lady Sneasler, who is an overlord in this au, kinda adopts him and takes him places because she thinks hes so charming and adorable. Melli is just a guy that hangs around lady sneasler even though he acts like he doesnt like her? She's the poison overlord (kinda like an aqua tofana situation for sneasler) and melli is a poison guy. So they kinda just fall into the same group. So they both become friends of Ingo. After a while of character introductions and some brief fun stuff like Sneasler getting Ingo to do all kinds of fun stuff he probably wouldnt do on his own (like the clubbing thing lmao) Ingo has his first blackout, probably triggered by some sort of memory thing, and its kinda terrifying. When he has those blackouts he shifts into his full demon form and his power goes haywire causing a lot of destruction. Its a huge shock because normally regular sinner demons dont really have much in terms of inherent power and also because Ingo cant actually use his powers while conscious so there was no sign of him being capable of that level of chaos. Anyway, after he has his little blackout his body sustains damage from exerting that kind of power and is kinda down for the count for a while afterwards. His story from there on is figuring out what is going on with him and trying to stop those blackouts before it either destroys him or a good chunk of the city, whichever comes first lmao. Sneasler is kinda just there to reign in ingo and melli she just loves a good show lol Melli is kinda where i wanna connect it more to the existing hazbin characters/storyline. Because this is lowkey more of a crossover. He accidentally becomes charlie's new pet project which no one is a fan of 😂 melli did not volunteer for this at all but his character arc is learning to make friends and care about other people after pushing people away for so long because he's a huge ball of self-hatred. He's kinda perfect for the "i can fix him" thing the hotel is all about. SO he's stuck learning to become a better person and being the narrative connection back to the core of the actual show lmao. Not sure if they ever even stay at the hotel. Maybe ingo and melli could flip flop between sneasler's place and the hotel. They dont actually have places of their own so its one or the other. In terms of intra character interactions i think its like this (this is prolly set post-s1 so no sir pentious): Charlie: thinks ingo is nice, wants to fix melli and is working with ingo to do this. Her relationship w sneasler is similar to rosie in my head. Alastor: finds Ingo somewhat threatening because Ingo can read him like a book. would otherwise find him pleasant but because he has a hard time keeping up his mysterious scary image around him he avoids him if possible. Ingo really likes him because "he reminds him of someone but he cant put a finger on it", will teleport away if melli is in the vicinity, finds sneasler charming. would gossip with her 10/10. When emmet shows up they try to kill each other which is entirely unsurprising. Everyone else in the hotel is more or less "theres something not right about that ingo guy but he's nice enough i guess", "FUCK melli get him OUT OF HERE", and "lady sneasler is chill" and when emmet shows up theyre just like "oh this explains why he likes alastor so much. Now theres TWO OF THEM." I would like to develop the other character's opinions on the situation more but this is getting. so so long. misc other character stuff: 

Lady sneasler still has sneasels, usually 3 of them. they just have tiny wings and horns but otherwise look like regular sneasels. No clue what their deal is they just exist. 

Rosie and Sneasler get along great. they are kinda similar but fill different power-niches in hell. 

Rosie finds ingo SO charming. She loves his odd vintage flair despite literally dying like. in the 2020s lol. He's very popular in cannibal town because he's a train freak and edwardians love trains. He takes the cute edwardian cannibal kiddies on train rides.

im not really sure what goes on with emmet in this au i just know he's having a shit time of it and eventually finds ingo. I havent decided if he actually falls or just leaves heaven because it sucks and no one cares enough to stop him. Also only slightly related but i actually have a voice-canon for him which is will wood which works great for this au lmao. Also emmet plays killer jazz piano and alastor is so mad about it because its actually good.

emmet and alastor dont really have all that much in common besides the smile thing but its just enough for them to beef over it. really its a similar feud as alastor and lucifer, alastor sees emmet as a threat both because of his power and the smile thing and emmet doesnt like that ingo is following alastor around like a lost puppy. emmet is def way less mysterious, he's just pissed that his brother is suffering even if ingo doesnt seem to notice his own problems.

volo doesnt really come back up in this au because he's still alive. just imagine that akari is kicking his ass in the living world or something lmao. 

i cant decide if pokemon exist in this universe. It would be funny tho to have chandelure exist in a world where souls are like whole ass people who can die for a second time. worlds nicest guy's pet lamp eats people until theyre perma-dead for breakfast.

Elesa (and probably also drayden and iris depening on your headcanons) are very sad :( i like emmet/elesa so it makes it extra hard on elesa tho. there is no solution for this.

not sure what the arceus situation is here. hazbin as far as i know doesnt have a canon god design so for all we know god could be a dumbass llama i guess. its doesnt really matter besides stylizing volo's ritual

[tmnt-event-blog]

LADIES, GENTLEMEN, MONARCHS AND ALL!

I present to you: Holiday Bingo!

Now, if you all remember: I made a poll with two options of team vs and decorate a thingy. The latter one won, and that results in this!

Holiday Window! For every bingo spot that gets filled, I will add a small decor to the window. For every blackout, there will be a big decor added.

Now, you may ask: “What about a bingo?” Well since December is famous for being the busiest month ever, I made the boards 3x3 instead of the regular 5x5 to make it easier to participate.

Speaking of the boards, I have designed four different boards for everyone to do! Here is a preview of them:

The boards with the prompts will be released this Friday, November 24th! Each will be on a separate post, so look out for that!

Now, time to lay out how this works:

Holiday Bingo FAQ and Rules!

Q. How do I participate?

A. When the official bingo cards go up, you can reblog the card you’re gonna use. After that, you just fill out the prompts with either a drawing or writing. Once you are done, post the board you’re using with the prompt you chose crossed off along with what you made for that prompt (edit: please also @ this bling when you cross a prompt)

Q. What if I make a blackout on my bingo board?

A. If you end up getting a blackout but still wanna do more, then grab another bingo board! Ex: If you blackout on Peppermint Lane, you can fill out the prompts on Candle Night. If you blackout on Candle Night, you have two more options. If you get a blackout on all four… what in gods name is fueling you? (/silly)

Q. Do I draw or write?

A. You can either or both!

Q. What if I only do one prompt and can’t do anymore?

A. Completely chill! Everyone has something going on, I ain’t gonna chastise you for only doing one prompt on your bingo board.

Q. Can I do [insert ship name here]?

A. Unfortunately for this event, ships are not going to be allowed this event. I apologize for anyone who is upset at this, but considering this is a more free range event, I want to stay clear of harassment that could possibly happen due to ships.

Q. Can I do [insert tmnt iteration here]?

A. My gay companion, you can do any iteration. You wanna do Bayverse? Fuckin go for it. You wanna do 1987? Hell yeah, you do you. You wanna do IDW? Slay.

Q. Could I use my au for a prompt?

A. Hell yeah you can!

Q. Could I use my oc for a prompt?

A. As long as they’re with any tmnt character, sure!

Q. Is this an angst event or a fluff event?

A. Both. Both is good.

Q. What’s the rule on NSFW?

A. The same it was for the Halloween gift exchange. If you do not want your boss or teacher to see it, do not post it.

Q. Does it have to include a holiday?

A. It does not! If you don’t celebrate any of the holidays in December, you do not have to include those in what you create. On that same note, if you would like to include a holiday, go for it! Whether it be Christmas, Kwanzaa, Chanukah, Yule, or any other holiday in December! Do what you enjoy and will make you happy.

Q. When is the deadline?

A. This event will stay live from November 24th to January 1st. January 1st will be the last day to post any prompts on your bingo board.

Q. Why did you choose a window to decorate?

A. There are some times where I can’t draw for shit, and this is one of those times.

Update: Q. Can I do multiple prompts?

Update: A. Yes, but only two to three prompts

If there are any questions you have for me, feel free to send them my way!

Until then

BOOYAKASHA!!!

[hopefulatrocity]

From The Ashes-Chapter 13

Notes: So, long time no post. I'm truly sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I've had some bad bouts of depression pop up and also had a switch of hyperfixations. This chap is actually one I had already written up, I just didn't post until now. I'm hoping this will motivate me to start writing again. Lots of misunderstandings between Daryl and Pheonyx going on right now. It won't last for long though, Pheonyx is very direct but they need to work through this before they can confront each other.

TW/CW: smoking, talks of past drug/alcohol abuse, past child abuse, allusions to past sexual assault, scars from abuse, animal death(possum and woodchuck), gore, blood, body insecurity, depictions of a walker,

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know. I also post on AO3 and FF so you can subscribe there too.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics & @omiyours

Banner by: @liminal-creations

Prev Masterlist

In his 39 years of life, Daryl was more than familiar with the concept of losing time. He had his first sip of alcohol when he was 11 and 13 when he first got blackout drunk. Alcohol was something that had always been a constant in his life, although not as much in the recent years. After a while, his forms of escapism were molded by Merle’s. When he first started following his older brother around, he was immediately introduced to a world of doing and dealing drugs. For years, he’d watched his father shoot up and snort shit on a regular basis. So the idea of getting high was something he avoided for as long as possible. But his brother had a way of getting into his head and making him do things he wouldn’t typically do. It wasn’t long before he was dabbling in various illicit substances. Mostly weed, but he tried almost everything else. His limits being fentanyl and smack. He’d seen too many good people fall into those traps and he couldn’t bring himself to fully destroy his body, no matter how much he hated himself. Daryl was aware of his family’s inclination for addiction, his mother being an alcoholic, his dad being both an alcoholic and a drug addict. Because of that, he refused to allow himself to follow fully in his family’s footsteps. Despite his urges to do more, get high more, he held his ground. Which ultimately led to a knock out fight between him and Merle. The older Dixon had goaded Daryl, calling him a pussy and asked Daryl if he thought he was better than him. But Daryl knew the anger his brother was spewing wasn’t pointed directly at him. It was a manifestation of Merle’s internal demons, ones that hated that he couldn’t cope without some sort of substance coursing through his bloodstream. So, he let his brother lay into him a few times before he ended the fight. One well-placed right hook and his inebriated sibling was laid out on the stained carpet of the trailer they were renting.

 After that fight, he cut back on the hard drugs, sticking mainly with weed and alcohol as his vices. Lots of alcohol. Looking back, he could admit that he’d avoided one addiction by picking up another one, but in his mind, being a drunk was a better option. A slower death, riddled with lost time and moments of fleeting happiness and contentment. The walk back to his tent after seeing the scars that covered Pheonyx’s back, was probably the first amount of lost time that didn’t result from some sort of vice. All he knew was the feeling of shock, the itch to run, and suddenly his ass was planted on the grass in front of his tent. 

Shaking hands patted his pockets, searching for the packet of cigarettes that Pheonyx had given him earlier in the day. He pulled them out, fingers almost numb, and pulled a lighter from his other pocket. Placing one of the smokes between his lips, he flicked the lighter four times before his tingling fingers finally managed to get a flame to stick. Lighting the cigarette, he inhaled deeply and allowed the smoke to permeate his lungs. It had been almost a week since his last hit of nicotine and the rush of it pulsing through his veins helped to calm his frazzled nerves. Hands still shaking with the remnants of haunted memories personified, Daryl ran trembling fingers through his short hair. 

The only words going through his mind were four lettered words and one resounding question: How? How did Pheonyx get those scars? Was this all a mistake? Did Daryl misinterpret the long lines and rounded imperfections? Was it the product of some freak accident and not what he had assumed? If it wasn’t an accident, who would have done it? The scars were old, the coloring of the ones not covered in ink were a big indicator. They were  most likely from childhood. If it wasn't an accident, like his gut was telling him, then who could have done it?  Was it Pheonyx's stepdad, Hershel? No. Daryl didn’t think so. While Pheonyx had seemed uncomfortable earlier when his stepdad was around, it seemed to be more about the old man and his stupid beliefs on the walkers sentience. There wasn’t any fear in those fern green eyes. Not like the kind his own eyes held for his Pa. It could have been Pheonyx’s mom but he only seemed sad when he mentioned her death earlier. There wasn’t any relief to be found in his words. Briefly, Daryl wondered why he cared so much. They were scars, similar to his own, but they were on someone he had known for less than 24 hours. Why did it matter?

Taking another deep drag from the quickly burning cigarette, Daryl knew the answer was complicated. He’d only known the other man for a short time, but there was something there. A spark of something. Something he was unfamiliar with. Something that scared the shit out of him. So even if he had only known Pheonyx for a day or even just 5 minutes, he felt like he would still care. He wanted to know who had hurt the younger man. Maybe just so he would have somewhere to direct his anger. Because he was angry. Pissed. Furious. And every synonym in between. Those scars had him seeing images of his own past but also images of a tiny Pheonyx, being broken in the way he had been all those years ago. Was that why he had panicked earlier when Daryl asked about his gender? 

“Fuck!”, Daryl cursed, dropping the cigarette nub to the ground. Instinctively he pulled the side of his index finger to his mouth, soothing the small burn with his cool saliva. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed it burning down right to the filter, where his dirty fingers were clenching the little stick tightly. The slight wound wasn’t really painful, more of a shock to his already frazzled brain. Shaking his head in frustration at his foggy mind, he used the heel of his boot to put out the tiny stub, red embers fading into the grass, and unzipped the tent behind him. He crawled into the small space, barely remembering to turn around and zip the polyester flap closed. Before he flopped down onto his sleeping bag, he made sure to place his bow within reaching distance. 

In the span of less than half an hour, Daryl went from being wide awake to dog tired. The scratchy pillow under his head suddenly felt like a pile of cashmere. His eyes felt heavy and he covered them by flinging his arm over his face. 

He was so lost in a haze of sleep, he didn’t even notice the shuffling outside his tent, followed by the slow unzipping of the entryway. 

Pheonyx fucked up. Really fucked up. 

When he’d first walked out into the woods, he fell into a familiar rhythm. There was no trouble. Just the whispering of the trees and the resounding answers of wind chimes in every direction. With his bow raised, he walked with purpose, keeping his ears open for the sounds of nocturnal critters. It wasn’t long before one of his arrows was piercing through the night air and impaling a possum through the eye. Leaves crunching under his feet, Pheonyx walked towards his kill and knelt down next to the small animal’s body. This was one of the worst parts of his nights. He had to find fresh meat to bait his traps. The windchimes worked wonders to draw in the shadows to the stakes of his traps, but it usually wasn’t enough to entice the creatures to push themselves deep onto the spikes. That’s why he needed the meat as a final nail in their proverbial coffin. The shadows prefer fresh, breathing meat but if no other options were around, they would indulge on already butchered flesh. 1-2 days dead at most. A few weeks after the world fell, Pheonyx had found the body of a woodchuck, killed by a long forgotten bear trap closing on its foot. He’d taken the bear trap but left the body(after recalling Kismet to stop him from rolling in the dead animal), with full intentions to come back the next day and give it a proper burial. Instead, the next day, he stumbled on the walking corpse of his high school English teacher chowing down on the slightly decomposed body. This knowledge had helped him complete the plans for protecting his home. He had originally thought about rigging up small cages to the trees to house small animals as bait for the shadows. But the idea of putting an innocent creature in a box and emotionally torturing it just didn’t sit well in his stomach. Killing them still made him feel horrible, but at least it didn't prolong their suffering. 

When prepping kills to eat, a hunter would normally slit an animal’s throat to allow the blood to drain from the body. Pheonyx didn’t do that now. The blood was what drew in the shadows.  He picked up the animal, gently petted its soft creamy fur, and sent an internal thank you to its soul. Opting to leave the arrow in, to prevent anymore blood loss from the small body, he slung his bow over his shoulder. One would be enough for at least 5 traps, so he wanted his other hand–the one not holding the dead animal–to be free if he needed to grab his cutlass. Most nights, he would spend 8 hours clearing and checking each trap in the woods, but he didn’t have the time or energy to do that. His ultimate plan was to hit the ones, about half of them, that were closest to the farm, on the right side of the creek. Sophia seemed to be sticking to the left side of the water, which meant he would be able to check some of the others during the search the next day. He wouldn’t be able to check all of them, doing so would put them off course and be detrimental to finding the girl. But some were better than none. 

So far, he’d been lucky. The amount of shadows that wound up in the traps was manageable for one person running on little sleep and high levels of stress. Pheonyx wasn’t dumb. He knew that eventually he would crash emotionally or get hurt.  He needed help and Rick’s group was a beacon of hope for him in regards to his family’s safety. Not only were they experienced with the dead, but they also were motivated to stay and protect the haven of the farm. 

It was that train of thought that ultimately led to Pheonyx’s fuck up. His body moved on muscle memory to check the first four traps. While his body was working on protecting his family, his mind was back at the farm, back in the stables. As he was pulling off the rotted flesh from the trees, tossing it into the burn pit and replacing it with a chunk of the dead possum, his mind kept flashing back to the paleness of Daryl’s skin and the look on his face before he ran away. Pheonyx’s internal demons reared up, their raspy voices grating across his ear drums. 

He’s disgusted by you. 

You’re so weak and broken.

Why didn’t you fight back?

Why would he want you?

Shaking his head, Pheonyx tried to pull himself from the darkness. If he allowed himself, he could easily fall back into old habits. Self-destructive ones. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he dabbled in drugs and drank way too much in the past. Sometimes it was easier to find solace in the bottom of a bottle than to actually face his problems. If it wasn’t substances, his mind had its own ways of destroying itself. Constant self-berating and internal insults could make him physically ill sometimes. The end of the world wasn’t the time to be getting drunk or allowing his internal demons to claw the walls inside his body until the blood seeps from open wounds. 

Pheonyx finished refreshing the fifth trap, stabbing the leg of the possum onto the railroad spike that was already impaled into the old oak. He had tossed the head of the possum, the last piece of the animal’s body, to the side near his bow and quiver. Looking at his hands, he saw clotted blood soaked his fingers and stained his fingernails, the red color turning more brown as it dried in the evening air. Copper fragrance permeated his nostrils and he suppressed the gag from crawling up his throat. Pheonyx went to wipe his hands on the back of his jeans, as they needed to be washed anyways, but stopped when his hands met a soft fabric hanging from his back pocket. 

Pulling out the red rag, he noted the walker blood from earlier had dried and stained the cherry colored fabric. He could already see the possum blood soaking into the area where his fingers were. It blended more seamlessly than the black sludge from the shadow. Something about the idea of letting the threadbare cloth get even more dirty didn’t sit right with him, so he wiped one hand on the back of his jeans and then the other, moving the rag to the other hand in between. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he knew the rise of sentimentality surrounding the simple object was due to who it had belonged to originally. But the ultimate question was why? Why did he care about Daryl Dixon or what he thought? Growing up, he'd cared what everyone thought about him, ashamed of not fitting into their boxes and trying so hard to himself small enough to fit in them. After he came out, he’d learned to think less about it, and to follow his heart as opposed to chasing after the elusive judgements that people bestowed on him. That night had derailed him severely from his progress in those regards, but moving away had helped him become more independent when it came to freeing himself from the binds of society’s rigid standards. So, why Daryl Dixon? What about the older man made him want his acceptance so much? It wasn’t even really acceptance, Pheonyx wanted him. There had been flirting in the past. Brief glances of possible futures with girls and some guys, plenty of people he could have opened his heart to, to fall in love with, but he never had the urge to. Until him. 

That was where he messed up. While he was lost in his head, hand still rubbing the softened red rag, it snuck up on him. 

He smelled the shadow before he saw it. The scent of decay from the walking corpses was even more distinct than that of a dead animal or even a normal dead human. It was that sickly, rancid smell that filled his lungs. From experience, no amount of coughing or gagging could clear it away. Dark miasma coated his inner nostrils and flowed down the back of his throat, like the nasty cough medicine his mom would make him take when he was sick as a kid. Fear and adrenaline began to pulse through his veins and Pheonyx whirled around just as the sound of hissing and groaning reached his ears. 

The shadow was much too close to him, he could practically feel the fetid air escaping its lungs as it raised its hands to grab at his shoulders. Pheonyx barely had a second to sidestep the gnarled fingers, gray flesh hanging from under its fingernails. If he hadn’t moved, the monster would have pushed him directly into the spikes of his own trap. 

Heart slamming against his chest, Pheonyx grappled at his waist for the handle of his cutlass, but the shadow turned around. Instinctively, he took another step back and felt the air come out from under him as his foot slipped on a loose stone. He fell back onto the damp forest floor, a sharp pain ripping through his ribs, causing his lungs to constrict and his eyes to water from the pain. 

Before his senses could come back to him, the spongy weight of the decaying corpse fell directly on top of Pheonyx. Gasping loudly, not only for air but out of shock, he pushed against the shadow’s skinny collarbone with his right hand. His fingers practically melted into the mushy flesh, and black blood trickled between his digits and down onto his shirt. Midnight stained teeth snapped in front of his face and he had to breathe only from his mouth to avoid the rancid scent of blood and pus coming from the orifice. He pushed hard against the creature’s shoulder but despite its putrefying muscles, it was still incredibly strong. The hunger and need for flesh intensifying its strength. With his left hand, Pheonyx tried to search along his waist for the handle of his hunting knife, but he couldn’t reach it on the other side of his body. The walker’s hands dug into his own chest, trying desperately to gain any purchase. He threw his arm out, searching along the forest floor for any sort of weapon. Just as the tips of his fingers brushed against something soft, the hold that Pheonyx had on the shadow’s collar bone slipped. His fingers slid into soggy flesh and more black blood poured from the area his nails just slipped into, dripping onto his neck and chin. The texture of the decaying flesh was like chunky mud against his hand. This slip gave the creature all the leverage it needed to lean down and clamp its teeth into the sharp bone where Pheonyx’s shoulder met his neck.

 Letting out a cry of pain, Pheonyx grasped onto the furry object that his fingers brushed against and used a burst of strength to push the heavy body up, breaking the seal its mouth had on his body. Teeth snapped in his face, barely missing the tip of his nose, and Pheonyx instinctively shoved the unknown object into its muzzle. Now in his sight, he could see that the object in question was the possum head that he had tossed aside earlier. The monster’s teeth tore into the skull, crushing the bone with inhuman strength, causing fresh, red blood to pour onto Pheonyx’s face. Smacking and sucking noises as it chewed were sickening. The smell of copper filled his nose and the metallic zing of the fluid flooded his mouth. 

The distraction of the meat in the shadow’s mouth was enough for Pheonyx to gain the energy to push it back with one hand and reach around his body with the other hand to grab his hunting knife. The familiar textured hilt felt like heaven on his tired fingers. Pulling out the sharp blade, he pushed the chewing creature back and raised the knife up, bringing the weapon down into its skull. The soft bone caved under the pressure of his stab and more black sludge trickled down onto his already coated hand. 

Frantic movements ceasing, the shadow went slack against Pheonyx’s body and the partially macerated possum head fell directly onto his face. Suppressing the retch that his brain finally sent the signal for, Pheonyx shoved the body off of him, inhaling the fresh air deeply. There was still a remnant of decay in the air, and the lingering scent of copper from the blood that coated his body, but it was better than the acrid smell of the creature’s mouth inches from his face. 

Pheonyx laid there for a moment, his side and shoulder throbbing in tune to his still accelerated heart rate. That was the closest encounter he had ever had with a shadow that didn’t involve one of his traps. The closest he had been to death in almost 5 years. And he still could die. The pain in his shoulder was a reminder of that. He turned his head to look at the area, his hands beginning to shake as he thought of what happened when his brother and mother were bitten. The pain of watching them slowly die was excruciating. He wouldn’t put that on his family. If he was bitten, he would take the hunting knife from the monster’s head and push it into own skull before he allowed his sisters to see him slip from the world. 

In the darkness of the night, he couldn’t see much on his denim jacket besides blood. Black and red blood was splattered all across the chest like a morbid Jackson Pollock painting. He grabbed the fabric near his neck and pulled down to see a perfect black outline of the shadow’s teeth imprinted into the thick material. Each tooth mark a testament to how close he came to becoming one of the walking dead. While it didn’t look like it had torn through the jacket, he had to be sure. He pushed his hand under the collar of his t-shirt and used his fingers to prod the painful area. There was pain but he didn’t feel any scratches or broken skin. 

Pheonyx let out a deep breath of relief. He got up slowly, careful not to jostle his side, and began to gather his stuff. The few minutes before let him know that he wasn’t in the right state to be out. A flash of red on the ground next to the walker’s body stopped him mid step. He bent down to retrieve Daryl’s bandana he dropped when the creature attacked him. The cloth had been dirty before, a mixture of oil stains and blood. Now it was coated with more of the latter. At some point during the struggle, it must have gotten caught on a root or rock because there was a large tear through the center, nearly splitting the square in half. Red threads hung limply from the perforation and Pheonyx couldn’t help but feel a bit saddened. The shadow hadn’t gotten him but it did break something important. A normal person would have simply tossed the bandana, but Pheonyx had never been normal. His feelings about Daryl might have been full of confusion, and some anger from his earlier actions, but he couldn’t find it in him to part with the cloth that had seen better days. Maybe he saw a bit of himself in the insignificant object. Torn and stained by past events but there was still some life left in the old bones of thread. He gently folded the bandana and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He had an idea of what to do with it but that would have to be done later. 

Weapons in hand, and in sheaths, he began the trek back home. It was slower going due to the pain in his side and just general tiredness. The adrenaline had faded and now he needed to sleep. But a shower was needed first. 

By the time he made it to the farm, Pheonyx guessed it was around two in the morning, based on the position of the moon. He stopped briefly into the stable to drop his weapons off near his pallet. The horses were all asleep. Baker did wake when Pheonyx dropped his bow and quiver onto the ground. The old horse gave a snort that roughly translated to “Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to sleep.” before flicking his tail and turning the other way. 

Grabbing some clean clothes from his bag, Pheonyx headed out of the stables towards the farm house. The yellow aura from the moon hit the old glass windows, reflecting the luminescence like a lighthouse, sending a beacon to let him know the way home. 

Carefully, Pheonyx walked across the porch and slowly opened the door, wincing a small bit when it let out a loud squeak. He really needed to fix that. The journey through the living room and up the stairs was filled with more squeaks and winces. Each sound a memory of Shawn or Maggie getting caught sneaking out in the middle of the night. Pheonyx never had that problem. He didn’t have any reason to be sneaking out like his siblings did. Friends and dating were not part of his teenage years. He could barely handle his own internal problems, adding anyone else to the mix just seemed like a recipe for disaster. 

The sounds of Hershel and Maggie snoring greeted him at the top of the steps. And yes. Maggie snored. No matter how much she denied it, she was louder than a New York construction site. Pheonyx made his way into the bathroom, making sure to avoid the third floorboard after the stairs because it was the loudest, and carefully shut the door. He flipped the lock and reached to turn on the bright camping lantern that was resting on the white countertop. While the Greene farm did have a generator, they only ran it for a few hours each morning and evening. Just enough to keep the fridge cold, to make meals, and to take hot showers. Taking his showers in the early hours before the generator was on, meant that Pheonyx wasn’t benefiting from the last reason. Luckily, with the Georgia heat being prevalent even through the night, the showers were bordering on lukewarm rather than cold. The pristine bathroom glowed for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the light. 

Unbuttoning his jeans mechanically, Pheonyx’s thoughts trailed back to his fuck up earlier. This wasn’t the old world. He couldn’t afford to lose himself like that. He needed to have his whole focus on this farm. On his family. Protecting them and making sure they didn’t have to deal with the darker side of this world. The one that had always existed but had fully unmasked itself when the dead began to walk. His boots were heavy on his feet and the relief of feeling the cool air on his sweat soaked socks ripped a small groan from his mouth. Tossing the socks into the hamper by the toilet, he hooked his thumb under the waistline of his jeans and boxers and pushed them down, his blood crusted fingers brushing against the thick hair on his legs. Kicking the bundle of clothing by the door (he couldn’t have his sisters or Patricia cleaning out walker blood from his clothes), he pulled his arms out of his jacket and took a moment to run his thumb over the black bite mark imprinted into the thick material. Again, he was reminded of how close to dying he had come. If he hadn’t been wearing the jacket, he would be a shell walking in the woods. Probably would be caught up in one of his own traps before the morning sun made its way over the horizon. Before he pitched the jacket to the side, he pulled out the dirty and torn bandana and set it onto the sink for safe keeping.   He reached over his head to tug the collar of his shirt–the band logo on the front was completely disfigured by the carnage on it– over his head. The stretch of his skin over his ribs hurt, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been earlier. The threadbare fabric stuck to his skin, the blood still wet in spots. Tossing the shirt onto the pile with his jeans and boxers, he reluctantly looked in the mirror to take stock of the damage to his body.  

The first thing that stood out was the large black bruise on his shoulder, bisecting the snake that trailed up his shoulder and over his neck. He gently prodded the skin, leaning into the mirror, to make sure there weren't any perforations. Even the slightest cut by a shadow’s teeth was a death sentence. Despite the deep pain, the skin was unbroken. If he hadn’t lost his faith so long ago, he might have believed it was a miracle as opposed to pure luck. The bruise covered a good portion of his shoulder, but with the right shirt choice, he could easily cover it. He knew if Maggie saw it, she would freak out. And he wanted to avoid upsetting his sister as much as possible. 

His hands roved down to his ribs and probed the darkened skin over the quote inked into the skin there. The bruise wasn’t as prominent as the one on his shoulder and thankfully didn’t seem to penetrate too deep, a superficial bruise. Nor did it seem like one of his ribs was broken. Another stroke of good fortune it seemed. At this point he was just jacking off luck. Eventually it would all come to an explosive deadly end but for now he could just be happy that it was just an awkward metaphorical handjob. 

Pheonyx turned the water on and listened to the soothing sound of it beating down onto the shower floor. He ducked his head and body under the flow, letting the individual drops massage his back. The scarred skin was a myriad of sensations. Some scars were completely numb, others tingled, and a select few made any sensation painful. His doctor said it was due to varying degrees of nerve damage. Aside from pain medication and experimental treatments, there wasn’t much to be done. So, he simply learned to deal with the feeling. 20 years later and his dad was still getting his lashes in it seemed. Pheonyx grabbed the bar of soap on the shelf by his knees and began to scrub his skin. 

Blood and dirt swirled around his feet, the lukewarm water and cheap soap baptizing him from the day's sins. He washed his hair using Maggie’s shampoo and conditioner. The products made his hair softer than the cheap products he brought with him from his apartment so he allowed himself the small indulgence of stealing some of his sibling’s stuff. Maggie often stole his flannels and hoodies, so it was only fair. 

As the water ran clear and his skin metaphorically sighed from the feeling of being cleaned, he took a moment to just indulge in the simplicity and luxury of the water trickling down his arms, legs, and chest. It was a small reprieve from the outside world. Just a small one. After a few seconds, he pushed the wet hair off his face and shut the water off. Cool air immediately made goosebumps appear on his arms. 

Because the water had been room temperature, the mirror wasn’t fogged and he was greeted by his own reflection in the glass. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he began to dry off. Scrubbing at his hair with the towel, his eyes fell down to the red bandana sitting on the edge of the sink. Shadows casting onto the stained fabric from the lantern in the corner. Tossing the now damp towel into the hamper, Pheonyx used one hand to run through his hair, smoothing the spiky mess, and the other to grab the cloth. He plugged the sink and filled it with a small bit of water from the faucet, enough to begin cleaning the bandana. 

It took a while but he was able to get most of the blood stains out of the red fabric. Or at least enough of it to be able to blend in with the already red dye. Unplugging the drain and wringing out the water, he laid it onto the edge of the sink to dry while he got dressed. He slipped into the clean boxers and jeans that he brought. Sitting on the toilet, he slipped on a pair of clean socks and pulled his worn boots back onto his still aching feet. 

“Fuck,” Pheonyx said as he picked up the shirt he brought. He thought he grabbed a t-shirt, which would hide the bruise on his shoulder, but he had accidentally taken one of his gray undershirts, the straps of which would cover only a quarter of the baseball sized bruise. 

It’s 3AM. No one is awake right now. I’ll be fine, Pheonyx thought while slipping the clean tank over his head. 

Within 3 minutes he was eating those words. As he walked downstairs, dirty clothes in hand and the red rag tucked into the belt loop on his side, he slammed into someone walking out of the kitchen. Instinctively, Pheonyx dropped the items in his hands and reached for the hunting knife at his side. The knife that he had left in the stable. 

“I’m so sorry, Pheonyx.”, a whispered familiar voice eased the tension in his muscles and he backed up to get a better look in the dark at the person. Straight brown hair and brown eyes glittered in the moonlight that poked through the windows behind him. Lori. He let out a breath of relief and smiled softly at her. 

The corners of her lips lifted, attempting to smile back, before her eyes darted to his shoulder, drawn to the dark contusion that was peeking from behind the strip of his tank top. Concern filled her gaze as she looked at him, “What happened? Do I need to get Hershel?”

Pheonyx hurried to reassure her, almost rambling with the need to not worry her. “I’m okay. I swear. I messed up and had a run in with a walker.  But I was wearing a jacket, so it’s just bruised. It didn’t break the skin.”, he kept his voice low, not wanting to wake anyone in the house. “I go out at night to make sure the woods are cleared of the dead.”

Lori’s lips turned down in a concerned frown. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to worry my sisters. And Hershel is already mad at me for putting up the traps in the woods. This would just set him off even more.” 

Sighing, she placed her hands on her hips but nodded. “I won’t tell them, but you can’t keep doing this.  Going out alone? In the middle of the night? You’re going to get hurt. Or killed.” 

He knew that. Those were constant worries that floated around in his mind. But to hear them out loud made his chest hurt. “I know. I just- I have to protect them.”

Lori didn’t even need to ask who Pheonyx was referring to. Rick and she had talked about the man in front of her. Her husband told her all about the traps in the woods(she had seen them for herself the day before but Rick explained how Pheonyx used them to protect the farm), and also how the other Greenes seemed to be in a separate world. One where the dead were simply people who had the sniffles. Pheonyx had taken up the helm of family protector. At the Quarry, all the men had taken on the task of protecting the camp. Making schedules for watches and runs. And even with 10 men working hard to protect the rest of the group, they had been attacked and decimated by the dead. The Greene son was taking on an almost impossible job. A job that one man couldn’t possibly handle alone. Not for much longer anyway. Even in the darkness of the room, the moon being her only source of light, she could see the bags under his eyes. His shoulders were slumped and he just seemed exhausted. 

“You have. And you protected my son too. Now it’s our turn to help you.”, she reached out and took his calloused hand, not noticing the subtle flinch at the contact of her skin. “Rick and the other men are going to be doing some chores around the farm, but we’ll talk to them about making a schedule for checking the woods too.”

Pheonyx didn’t know how to respond. One part of him was entirely focused on her hand touching his and how it made his skin crawl from unfamiliarity. The other part was resigned, yet still relieved, to accept help from the strangers on the property. Instead of a verbal response, he opted to nod and slowly pull his hand from hers, as not to offend her. 

Lori smiled at him and glanced at the bundle of dirty clothes that he still held in his other hand. “Carol and I are going to work on laundry tomorrow, your family’s and ours. I can take those for you and make sure to wash them before your sisters or Hershel sees.”

The older woman held her hand out to take the clothes from him and Pheonyx handed them over readily. That was another thing off his list to worry about and he could physically feel the weight on his shoulders lifting a small bit. He whispered his thanks to her and they bid each other good night afterwards. 

The warm fingers of night air threaded through Pheonyx’s still damp locks, both cooling and heating his skin. He could feel the slight breeze rustling the rag hanging off his waistband as he made the walk back to the stables. 

Once again, the only animal to acknowledge his presence was Baker, who snorted and released a sound of flatulence that Pheonyx was absolutely convinced was directed at him. Petulantly, he stuck his tongue out at the horse before walking into his personal stall. He stripped off the tank top, tossing it back into his bag of clean clothes because he’d only worn it for a short time, and pulled out an actual t-shirt from the bag. He didn’t want Maggie to come in early and catch him before he could change. After slipping on the old shirt, Pheonyx fell back onto his cot and stared up at the ceiling. His fingers found their way down to the red bandana at his side and he twisted it around in his hand, the fabric was still damp and felt clammy against his fingertips. 

The image of Daryl’s face flashed through his mind again and Pheonyx had to swallow a swell of embarrassment and sadness. He had truly been hopeful that the archer would be different. He hadn’t seemed to care about the fact that Pheonyx was trans. But when faced with the scars that lingered on his back, the man had fled, a look on his face that Pheonyx could only guess was disgust. 

Steeling himself, Pheonyx decided it didn’t matter. He’d work with Daryl to find the girl. They didn’t have to be friends. Hell, they didn’t even have to talk to each other. Once they found Sophia, they could go their separate ways. It’s not like Pheonyx could change the fact that his back looked like minced meat. Even if he could, he wouldn’t, the scars were a testament to his survival. Especially not for a man he had just met. Even if the man did make his stomach feel like tv static. 

 The morning breeze and chirping birds were nature’s alarm clock, and one that Daryl had learned to abide by in order to become an expert tracker and hunter. Most animals were early risers, so if he wanted to keep a steady pace on their trail, he needed to work on their schedule. Daryl was used to waking with the morning sun. Sometimes he even woke before the moon had finished its descent into the horizon. 

The morning after his jarring interaction with Pheonyx was no different. He had slept deeply after crashing into his tent but nightmares had infected his mind. Ones that involved his father and the things he had done to him as a boy. Those kinds of dreams weren’t unusual for him. In truth, he had grown accustomed to them. To the point that he didn’t even wake up screaming anymore. They were inevitable really. But that night had been different. Instead of Daryl being on the floor of the trailer, his back torn up like an eviction notice, it was Pheonyx. Those green eyes locked onto his, begging him for help as Will Dixon brought his belt down onto the fiery bird on the younger man’s shoulders. But Daryl couldn’t do anything. He screamed at his father to stop but Pa just smiled and brought the belt down harder. He tried to shove the man away but each time he ran into a wall. So Daryl was forced to watch. Over and over the belt smacked into Pheonyx’s skin, until the green of his eyes faded to a milky white. Despite the torturous images, Daryl had a hard time waking up. 

His body was so entrenched in sleep that his brain came into wakefulness before the rest of him did. The dewy morning air was sharp, even in the tight space of his tent, and made his lungs ache from the slight chill. His ears perked at the sounds of birds trilling in the distance and he made out the low murmurs of Glenn and T-Dog divvying up chores for the day. 

A musty scent reached his nose. His eyes still closed, Daryl’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Over the past couple of months, he had become accustomed to the smell of his own body odor and this smell wasn’t that. He peeled his sleep-crusted eyes open, his vision swimming before becoming clear again. 

In front of him, he was met with the sight of……. 

Balls? 

More specifically, Daryl woke to the blinding sight of a dog’s rear end. Asshole, neutered sac, the whole nine yards. The only thing that broke through his fog of shock was the tail attached to said rear end. It began to thump against the ground and ended up whacking into the archer’s forehead.��

Daryl shot up and fell back on his hands, “What the fuck?!”

Having realized his human companion was awake, Kismet rolled from his side position onto his belly. He lifted his head up lazily, eyes droopy and a small string of drool hanging from his mouth. His upper lips were stuck on his teeth, showcasing his pearly white fangs. Out of context, and without the dopey look in his eyes, one might assume the dog was mid-snarl. Still half-asleep and teeth still exposed, Kismet cocked his head to the side in confusion at the look of distress in Daryl's eyes. Obviously deciding it wasn't his problem, the dog stood up, arching and stretching his legs out in front of him, making the muscles in his body bulge out even more than usual. He let out a big yawn and then shook himself, the metal pieces on his collar making a clinking noise with each movement. 

A faint whistle sounded from the direction of the house. Despite the tent flap blocking their vision, both man and dog turned their heads in that direction.

"Kismet! Breakfast!", a female voice called. 

Kismet's eyes widened and he didn't need to be told twice before he dove out of the small opening from the tent’s zipper that he had nosed open the night before. The dog moved so fast he didn't even realize his back leg had kicked out, subsequently knocking the archer's crossbow into his thigh. Daryl cursed again at the sharp pain and rubbed the area. 

Daryl had always loved dogs, but he was starting to think he needed to make an exception for this particular one. 

Taglist: @yoongibaybee @edgyboi10000 @dixonsboy19 @clairealeehelsing @mrrumplebottom

[technicolorfamiliar]

Contraband (Blackout) Dir. Michael Powell 1940

This one has been on my rewatch list since I first saw it last year. It was one of the few films in the epic Connie watch-a-thon that felt like it had some kind of curative powers, in the surprising way some movies do. I never expected it to lift my spirits and lighten my heart the way it did.

10/10 no notes. I absolutely love everything about this movie. Except the randomly shoehorned "White Negro" scene. It's so out of place in an otherwise pretty progressive film. That cabaret act literally could have been anything, why choose that?? (I couldn't find a lot of info about the choreographer, but it sounds like he was into romanticizing and exoticizing African and Caribbean people in his work… which is not great, but pretty typical of that time I guess. Ugh.)

But otherwise delightful, a romp from start to finish. Apparently someone on IMDB slammed Contraband for being "camp expressionism", but honestly? Hell yeah. I'm 100% here for it. In fact, "camp expressionism" my new favorite genre if it means cute, quirky, risqué, well-directed, well-shot, romantic spy comedy with a tight script and excellent performances.

I've also seen people comparing it to American screwball comedies of the era, but that doesn't seem quite right or even fair. Contraband, thanks to Powell, Pressburger, the editor, and the cast, has a very light touch compared to the comedies coming out of Hollywood in the '30s and '40s. It's not as heavy-handed, it doesn't beat its message to death with over-done gags or affected performances. Michael Powell even said the movie was "all pure corn, but corn served up by professionals." And that's the Powell and Pressburger difference, baby.

The comedy in the script is executed with relative subtlety. The movie isn't telling you HERE’S THE FUNNY BIT, LAUGH NOW the way screwball, slapstick Hollywood would. You almost have to be looking for the humor here to catch it, and it pays off. It's a cheekier type of comedy, not really driven by jokes and punchlines. And as someone who never really liked American comedies of that era, I really appreciate this kind of film. It's silly, even outright stupid in some scenes, but it's not playing down to it's audience. I mean, the whole brawl in the night club is almost like the big fight at the end of Blazing Saddles where more and more people keep joining in, but the action stops for half a second while someone delivers a line. It's stupid. And I love it.

The espionage stuff in is a little convoluted and kind of treated as a throw-away. But really, if you're not paying super close attention to that part of the story, you're not missing much. The spy plot between the British and the Nazis is really just there to give the lead characters something fun to do, and you know what… that's ok with me.

The cinematography also helps elevate Contraband above just being a regular old comedy. Featuring the London blackout is actually really clever. It forces a number of scenes into almost total darkness, which was a risky move and could have been a huge mistake, but it adds yet another interesting layer to the film, visually and in terms of story. There's an unusual POV (possibly handheld?) tracking shot, when Andersen and Mrs. Sorensen are walking up to her house in town, that's just lit by their flashlight. We don't see either of them, except for her hand briefly putting the key in the lock, until after they enter and the camera pans around the hall. And there's a moment a while later when they're in the basement after being tied up where Connie's face is entirely in shadow -- we know he's looking at her, but his expression is completely hidden in darkness. On paper, it sounds like a bad shot, a mistake, but this "expressionistic" lighting and camera work adds a little extra special sauce that I for one greatly appreciate.

The supporting cast is all generally pretty good. Hay Petrie is fun in a double roll. There's the scene in the rowboat where he looks like he's going to get sea sick… despite being the first mate who practically lives on a ship. Little character touches like that throughout the movie make it delightful: The girl in short shorts doing exercises in her room when Connie bursts in on her, the line delivery of the woman who works in the kitchen with Uncle Erik, the guy outside lighting his pipe during the blackout letting those two cops HAVE it. I love a character actor driven movie, all these people in bit parts adding so much color to the story. Brilliant.

Valerie Hobson is so good in this. First of all, she's a boss bitch with an incredible wardrobe. Every look she's serving is iconic. The tweed jacket and headscarf that matches her blouse? The dress with the crazy angular shoulder pads? The big, wide-brimmed hat? Slay. She's authoritative without being shrill, she's got a confident swagger you don't see a lot of actresses getting to showcase at that time. Still, she's not really a femme fatale either. Mrs. Sorensen is independent, intelligent, stunning, and into dangerous spy shit because she enjoys it. She's someone I'd want to hang out with, but would be too scared to talk to because she's so cool. I mean, she almost missed the train at the end because she went back to get Andersen's watch! I have two words for you: Wife Goals.

Sadly, it sounds like Val didn't really get to do a lot of other fun roles outside of the two films she made with Connie. Which is a real shame. Someone on Letterboxd said they're better together than Tracy and Hepburn, and I fully agree. Val and Connie have a natural chemistry that neither feels feel too personal or too studied. Their on screen work together feels easy, without all the baggage and volatility of IRL romance.

The first time I saw Contraband, I think I was simply charmed by Connie as Andersen. Getting to see him as a fun, heroic, romantic lead is incredibly satisfying. But this time around I realized how funny he actually is. He's is so cranky, he starts the movie already at like an 8.5, he's so fucking over it. It's one thing after another -- Mrs. Sorensen won't wear her life jacket, British contraband control wants to hold up them up, someone stole the landing papers, and of course it was Mrs. Sorensen AND Mr. Pigeon. He's so grumpy from the get. (My theory is that he's hangry. He's temperamental and irritable up until he gets a decent meal at The Three Vikings. So relatable.)

It was fun to rewatch this one to catch all the comedic beats Connie is doing with his gestures and facial expressions. They're choreographed, but not affected or over done. His timing and delivery is subtle and finely tuned, which is always funnier than an actor who deliberately plays up the laughs. For example, the long pause after Mrs. Sorensen corrects his pronunciation of the name of the restaurant, he furrows his brow and looks around and finally mutters, "…VI-kings." His comedy is so understated, which keeps the rapid-fire pacing of the bits from being obnoxious.

Andersen is an interesting guy, too. I feel like his macho vibe is just a mask he wears as captain of his ship. He's so used to being That Guy, but, based on Connie's performance, I get the impression that deep down Andersen doesn’t really subscribe to all that traditional masculinity. Later in the film it's easy-ish for him to eventually drop the façade, adjust his expectations, becoming more flexible, malleable in his ideas about sex and gender. This of course is because Conrad Veidt was in reality a proto-feminist wife guy. Andersen isn't played like your standard manly man movie heroes of the time, because that's not who Connie was, that's not an image he wanted to project or support (and I feel one reason why Hollywood couldn't figure out what to do with him in the '40s, but that rant is for another post).

Andersen and Mrs. Sorensen are pretty evenly matched. In fact she has the upper hand and more progressive, dominant role especially once they arrive in London. On his ship, he's the boss, but on shore he's met with one disadvantage after another. Mrs. Sorensen has to be the one to pay for his bus and cab fare, confidently navigating her way through the blackout like a pro. Meanwhile, Andersen is pretty much a bumbling fool, a sidekick to Sorensen's spy adventure. But he's not totally incompetent either (I MEAN IT LOOKS LIKE HE KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING WITH THOSE ROPES, HE IS A SAILOR AFTER ALL *eyes emoji* *sweating emoji*), he's the one who comes up with the plan to rescue Sorensen from her Nazi captors (although I get the impression she probably would have found her own way out without his help). But what's great is that he doesn't do it alone, he goes back to The Three Vikings to round up a small army of Danish essential workers to back him up. And I love how Connie plays the whole last act of the film like he's actually on an adventure; you can see Connie the actor having the most fun ever getting to be the big movie star hero, tussling with cops and Nazis, solving puzzles with glee, getting the girl -- who is just as much of a badass as he is -- in the end. It's so good. And it's so much fun to watch.

There are so, so many wonderful little touches in this movie, many of which I only caught during this second watch. I have a page of scribbled notes I wrote while I was watching that ends with, "The cutest shit I have ever seen!" From the performances to the writing to the technical details, it's hard not to fall in love with this one. Contraband is easily one of those films I could rewatch over and over again and never get sick of it.

OH I can't believe forgot about The Boys:

The goodest boys.

[seasidewanderers]

How Did I Even Get Here? Or As I Like To Call It, How I Became Syscourse Informed

I've been meaning to make this post for a while. I've been in syscourse for years now, more precisely from I think it was 2019. So for those curious of how even does one get into syscourse... Here's all the lore and backstory.

I'll put it under a cut. Read with extreme caution if you choose to, it's... gonna get ugly in here

Warnings: long ass post; talking about trauma, drug and alcohol abuse, self harm/suicide, psychosis

I had just started university and everything was going to shit. Yeah, I like cold opens alright. You should read my stories. A-hem. I had just started university. I was struggling to make friends - I never had friends before university - I had just shaved all of my hair off. New beginning and all that. My grades in high school weren't stellar but I was managing, while in uni it went all down the drain within the first month.

Living alone meant I could be doing everything I could ever dream of! Getting blackout drunk almost every night. I was buying a bottle of gin and a pack of Monster Ultra White cans to mix in my personal gin and Monster tonic every other day. I was an already psychotic teenager fighting regular psychosis with alcohol induced psychosis, having so many nightmares I was consuming the equivalent of 15-20 espressos a day just to stay awake. The only times I managed to get more than 3 hours of sleep I was near comatose. I wish I was misusing the word.

I was near constantly actively delusional.

(I've talked about it once or twice in here in the context of delusions related to trauma and DID, my most prominent delusion is related to survivor's guilt and early infancy medical trauma. I still get episodes, though now it's more chronic bizarre thoughts and sporadic psychotic depression)

In a year, I left my dormitory room to be with other people in the dormitory exactly once.

I also got to know a guy who turned out to be a drug dealer. I mean, a really nice guy otherwise. He never got me on hard drugs (it was his personal policy to not start someone who has never done hard drugs on hard drugs, and I had mad respect for that lad); he did otherwise just give me stuff if I asked for it. Mainly it was sleeping pills.

I was minding my business with a mix of alcohol, tranquillisers and caffeine up until a point where I took a little too much, fell asleep in class, and couldn't wake up no matter how much my friend was trying to get me awake. I got rushed to the ER and now I'm banned from taking sleeping pills again. Somehow my liver is intact though! Yay

So... what does it have to do with syscourse, you might ask. And you'd be absolutely right to ask.

Nothing and everything. I discovered my system eventually in university. I started noticing that even when I was not drinking, I wouldn't remember shit anyway (which only made me drink more, if I'm not to remember anything, why bother staying sober?)

I then started noticing that I didn't remember anything. About anything. My childhood is a blank. Middle and high school is so fragmented I have no idea what happened, and the few memories I have I'd rather forget.

So what does a 19-20 years old with no friends, almost always drunk, lots of the time high as a kite, forgetful and incredibly depressed, do with their free time?

Tumblr. I started out with looking up people who were talking about ADHD, thinking my forgetfulness was poor attention; then nothing really clicked, so I moved on to mood disorders spaces, thinking it was just depression; then again, yes I do have depression, it's been terrible for many years now, but stable enough, so the sudden heightening of forgetting and not being "really there" didn't really make sense to my depression.

By the end of the school year in June by means that I don't fully remember, I landed in system spaces. First just people talking about being plural, then I discovered the pit full of burning acid that is syscourse.

It actually wasn't so bad for me at first, but I was having a nice time online because I was just following that handful of blogs that I liked, and also I wasn't active in syscourse, just lurking around like a bog creature.

When I started expanding my niche of syscourse blogs, it was... something for sure though. I didn't understand why people were fighting. I didn't understand why everyone is so awful all the time. I get that spaces filled with trauma survivors are bound to get emotionally charged, and as the old adage goes, hurt people hurt people. I get that rationally, I get the anger, sadness, and grief, but I wouldn't imagine taking my frustration out on a passerby who's not the cause of my trauma. I don't get being mean on purpose.

At some point a few years ago I stumbled upon @sysmedsaresexist and @thecircularsystem (or rather, circulars-reasoning and circular-bircular)

If I remember correctly, they were both anti endo when I got to their blogs, and I was very pro endo. I didn't, and still don't, have any reason not to be.

I started reading everything they were putting out. Every little link and file they shared got under a microscope by my part.

Part of it was just paranoia - I know they're saying something terrible. There has to be something in there that says endos are all murderers or something and I'll be in so, so much trouble for being pro endo.

Part of it was just curiosity - what do they have to say? Let me take a look at that.

And then... There was absolutely nothing that made me believe they hated me specifically (more broadly, nothing in their resources that disproved the existence of endogenic plurality, but at the time that to me was equal to "if you're pro endo I hate your face and I'll be stabbing you in a dark alley first chance I get")

And... I loosened up a bit. I still didn't properly talk to them until this year, after SAS' Changing Mindsets post, and I can say I regret not reaching out sooner. I kept reading everything they were putting out, laughing at memes, and asked lots of questions. I tried going at it with more and more curiosity and less and less fear of stepping out of an imagined line.

It didn't always go well. I am very paranoid and it takes very little for me to retract into my shell like a turtle. But! I made a lot of progress with that, too. I also learned that a) I don't have to immediately respond to asks, comments, etc out of impulse or anger, I can actually take my time! and b) I don't have to reply at all if I don't want to!!! How great is that!!!!!

I don't know why people keep saying that you can't be friends with pro/antis. That's what I needed to do! I needed to get the fuck out of my own head, get to know other people, talk to them, see where they're coming from.

Though I wouldn't say I'm friends with them exactly, simply because friend to me has a specific connotation, but they are nice people who I love talking to. Who'd have thought the Scary Anti Endo could be *reads notes* a person with their own interests and hobbies?? Oh SHIT this is NEW.

Enough talking about my background, over to the thanks, like it's my wedding day and y'all are my best men.

Circ, Dude (and all other SAS mods, though I know half of you half as much as I would like), thank you. You've done a lot for me even if you didn't know who the fuck I was until two or three months ago. You threw some PDFs and links over to my general direction and, man, I needed that.

I've been very bad. And then I've been slightly better, and then very bad again, and I'm better again. This time I don't plan on going very bad again though. I hope I can get better every day.