#the fandom will of course be ridiculous about it but what else is new.

[bestworstcase]

You ain't wrong about fndm's lady/dude crit imbalance. I've noticed so much whataboutism & overlapping insistence that Oz/Qrow/Tai did their absolute best given [magic special forces duties], [hell world full of hell beasts] and/or [Salem/Raven's Selfish Dippage/Supermom's Loss], often with a side of 'you're just being blinkered stans who can't accept when ur waifu mains have flaws that need a-fixin' or should Get Over Themselves & Stick With The Program'. I mean, no denying the STRQ guys would be leagues less dysfunctional were it not for their situation's unique pressures and the immortals' contributions thereof (ditto for Ozlem thanks to the Bros), but I still don't think that causality chain fully corroborates this 'naught but vindicated put-upon sensei figures, the Bad Moms Doing Badness exonerate everything, it's Just How This World Works, we've been over this, STFU already' perspective nursed by long-haul fanposters and tons of general watchers.

truly. although i will say i Don’t think it’s fair to judge qrow as a parent because he wasn’t one, in either the biological sense (uncle) or legal (did not have custody) or familial (not a member of the household). so while certainly there are things he could have done better (gotten sober) (quit taking missions from oz for the sake of being around more to help out) (confronted tai about the wagon incident—tho we don’t know he didn’t do that tbf) short of either moving in to take over parenting or like flat out getting whatever passes for child services involved to force tai to get help or foster the girls himself for a while qrow didn’t really have a lot of material power in this situation. & both options he did have posed real risks (misfortune + the compounding trauma of a messy custody fight while everyone was still grieving summer). so

but yeah what gets me is "they really did try their best" and "their best was in fact inadequate and caused lasting harm" are not incompatible statements. Sometimes Your Best Sucks. that’s life. & sometimes when you’re deep in the throes of a traumatic situation or a depressive episode or alcoholism or what the fuck ever You Will Hurt People because you Don’t have the capacity to support others or practice empathy; you can’t draw from an empty well. that’s life!

it’s just also where the "intentions don’t negate consequences" principle applies; qrow trying to Be There for his nieces whilst struggling with alcoholism doesn’t make the harm done by his alcoholic behavior not have happened, tai’s depression doesn’t make neglect not neglectful, salem… existing at all doesn’t justify the choice to rely almost solely on child soldiers to defend his relics. etc

this is also the most compelling thing to me abt tai (potentially) staying near vale because of summer, at the expense of his kids; as soon as you bring "summer is alive and well and chose to leave him" into this equation you bring the implicit blame to the surface: is this woman responsible for his actions because she chose to end their relationship?

consider that the one thing we know with 100% certainty about these two is that summer did not trust him with her real self; her reaction to hearing him down the stairs is.

this, followed by slipping on a mask and lying through her teeth with practiced ease. (in comparison, when ruby is feeling acutely distressed she shuts down and gets quiet, which has the effect of making her distress visible but also small and easy to ignore or easily shunted aside by louder more apparently urgent problems. ruby tries to put on a happy face most of the time, but when she’s Feeling Bad the best she can do is small, strained smiles. summer turns around with a relaxed grin and makes a casual joke at ozpin’s expense.)

so—yang remembers "supermom" and ruby thinks her dad "misses adventuring with [summer]" and for eight volumes there isn’t anything to contradict this impression the girls have that their parents were deeply in love and happy with each other… and then our introduction to the Real Summer Rose is:

reading bedtime stories to her girls

the lies come out of her so easily!

she planned her rogue mission in secret with raven, who also left tai for hitherto unknown reasons that are now strongly implied to be that she felt like a failure as a wife and mother.

leaving aside the question of why summer chose to join salem (and why she faked her own death to do it)… this does not imply a happy or functional relationship. if nothing else whatever problem summer had that drove her to plan this suicide mission with raven was something that she, for whatever reason, did not feel like she could bring to her spouse/partner—and that in itself speaks to a fundamental absence of trust, but taken in conjunction with a) this Extremely well-practiced emotional disappearing act and b) how tai handles emotional vulnerability in v4 (NOT WELL!) it’s kinda…

well. the blacksmith shows this to ruby then remarks "maybe you’re not the only one who has felt the weight of others’ expectations. like alyx, like your mother," and the only character summer performs for in this flashback is. tai.

and—while the silver eyed warrior paragon-hero fairytale cult nonsense was undoubtedly the greater burden—i think the narrative is inviting the question here of to what extent perfect mother/perfect wife was one of those expectations, to what extent Raven Leaving was a shadow cast over summer’s relationship with taiyang, and how she might feel about all this with fourteen years of hindsight.

wrapping back around to the point about tai and culpability, you have on the one hand this implicit blame put on summer for tai having neglected the children after she left him and on the other this nascent question rising to the surface of: was summer even happy in this relationship, if she felt like she had to perform happiness often enough for it to be this easy? there’s the asterisk of course that what we see in this flashback was outside of the ordinary but the ease and confidence with which she slips on that mask bespeaks habit.

so tai fourteen years later is still pining for this partnership in which summer may or may not have felt an expectation to Be Happy (perfect huntress, perfect mother, perfect wife) and in which she certainly did not feel like she could bring her Desperate Suicide Mission Problems to her partner… and his parental neglect is all rooted directly in the intensity of his anguish after she left him… and she’s spent those fourteen years with salem and if they’ve not already crossed paths offscreen they’re certain to do so now that tai is like alone on patch with salem / summer / cinder for neighbors.

there’s an interesting reckoning being set up here, i think, with the unspoken implication that summer was the load-bearing pillar in this family and by removing herself from it she Made tai into a neglectful father—that’s the family narrative, dad shut down after mom left (died), but the narrative arc is beginning to culminate with "okay, why did mom leave?" and it seems to me that the natural trajectory from there is to really interrogate that question of blame.

[amirmeavid]

PART 2

Full disclosure I was not expecting people to like my ramblings as much as they did, and i'm running low on ideas 😭 . (Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/amirmeavid/762962965752332288/i-know-the-fandom-generally-agrees-merlin-and?source=share)

Visiting Diplomat: I have heard stories of Camelot's noble pursuit for the eradication of the vile performance that is sorc-

Merlin: *head on arthur's shoulder as he levitates a cup to drink from*

Arthur: *raising eyebrow* Why did you stop? You were talking about Camelot's magic ban.

Diplomat: *blinks multiple times* sorcery... v-vile?

Merlin: *hmmms in mock approval* Its wonderful to know how much you trust Camelot's decisions.

Serving girl: *gets very nervous, accidentally makes a mini explosion at the centre of the table*

Nobles: *have been stewing over the past week of merlin being 'public' with his magic* Sorcery! She's a witc-

Merlin: Don't be ridiculous. Its my new trick. I picked it up from a jester.

Particularly brave Noble: Forgive me your highness, but i highly doubt that was a mere trick...

Merlin: *Makes the table explode again, eyes very obviously gold* See? Its a sleight of hand!

Noble:

Noble:

Arthur: *visibly trying not to die of laughter*

Merlin: *is going about his daily business, levitating Arthur's sword to him when he is interrupted by a fucking scream*

New Knight: *pointing at the levitating sword, looking around wildly because why is no one else saying anything?!*

Magic-(hating?) Noble: Oh shut your mouth boy. Thats our king-consort. Of course its not sorcery. He just practices sleight of hand.

New Knight: ... *is having a mental breakdown, because what?*

Merlin: Sleight of hand. Its becoming increasingly common you know. I can teach it to you if you want

Arthur: *with all his regal prattiness* As a knight of the realm, you should be educated about all facets of life. Imagine. If it weren't for good sir 'Magic-(hating?) Noble', you may have accused your King Consort of sorcery!

Merlin: *dramatically* Imagine.

Poor Knight: ...yes sire.

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠🤍

𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕨 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠

word count: 1.5k

genres: n/a

warnings: mentions of depression medication and mental health, male masturbation

notes from bambi: here you go!

Matt did see everything. He liked to lurk in the triplet’s fandom spaces, and when his mental health was good, he even found it kinda fun, though he would never reveal this aloud. He definitely enjoyed watching those same spaces work themselves into a tizzy at his knowledge admittance–these kids were so funny. So it came as no surprise to him when the Tumblr TikTok video showed up on his feed.

Matt hadn’t had a good night. He’d tried to jerk off earlier, all to no avail. His antidepressants were helpful for his mood and overall outlook on life but goddamn did they make it hard to masturbate. With a snarl, he had pulled up his boxers and opened TikTok. That was over an hour ago, and now Matt scrolled aimlessly on his private account. He was quite proud of it actually. He disguised it as some random fanpage and had made it a personal mission that week to reblog a few videos about himself. No one would know, and he was nothing if not a Matt girl. 

The video on his Following page was formatted simply–a girl in her room, as most of them were, and he saw it was one of his favorite fan accounts. She always had good takes and the drama in her comment section kept him incredibly entertained. She was expressing her fear at his now-infamous “I see everything” line, and with a chuckle, he pressed the heart icon, preparing to scroll away. In his sleepy haze, he missed, hitting the comment bubble instead. What he saw made his head tilt.

user

   oh ik the tumblr girlies shakin rn

      user

         LMAOOOO REAL

      user

         i’m so lost 😭😭😭

      user

         tumblr can’t be worse than here

      user

         wait what’s on tumbler?

           see all 63 replies៴

user

   bro does NOT see everything, he’d be traumatized

     see all 12 replies៴

user

   @ user WHEN I SAW THAT I SCREAMED

user

   you guys are gonna make them quit if you keep doing ts

     see all 241 replies៴

Matt rolled his eyes at that one. He knew it was a valid concern, but he also knew that there were prices to be paid for being famous, and he would take a few weird stories in exchange for the life of his literal dreams. And besides, he reasoned to himself, they were always so off-the-mark anyway that it didn’t even feel like he was reading about himself.

But back to the matter at hand. Matt had never even heard of Tumblr, so there couldn’t be that many triplet fan accounts on there, and he figured that after everything he’d seen on Twitter, he was ready for anything.

“Well this is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbled to himself, scrolling to the end of the “headcanon”, as it was called. Matt read the name of the “blogger” (he was learning so many new terms tonight) that posted it - some strange amalgamation of letters and numbers, with, of course, “sturniolo” tacked on to the end. Matt elected to keep his thoughts on the spelling to himself. “You’re weird for that. All of it.” He swiped out of the app, fully prepared to roll over, go to sleep, and forget all about it.

…

But what else did they get wrong about him? What did the rest of them think he did when he had sex? Matt figured he should check that “sturniolo triplet” hashtag one more time. 

He sat up properly for this, sighing as he flicked on his bedside lamp. It illuminated his room, its soft light showcasing the woodsy decorations he’d furnished months ago. With a grimace, he opened the accursed app once more and began a deep dive.

It seemed the entire community centered around “smut” of him and Chris. He saw a few for Nick, a handful for Nate, all of which he scrolled past quickly, blinking them away. He wasn’t trying to dive that deep.

The first thing Matt noticed was that almost every story had a line of photos at the top, like a faux header. None of the images contained anything amiss–all were photos posted by him and his brothers throughout the years, pictures taken by fans at shows, and the like. No, the real stuff lay in the words. This was a community–he could tell that much from the amount of reposting–of very good writers. Many of their stories spanned thousands of words with multiple parts and real plots woven throughout. And there were a lot. It was dizzying. He adjusted himself. 

There were stories for almost every situation, some even making him a drug dealer (though most writers seemed to think that out of anyone, it would be Chris, which he found hilarious due to the fact that Chris couldn’t tell a convincing lie if his life depended on it), a mafia boss, a father, a mechanic, or simply just a doting boyfriend. Some wrote him as a harsh, domineering man, quick to take his bratty girlfriend to task. Some wrote him as a needy submissive individual, and the words they used made his head spin. Matt adjusted himself again. His dick didn’t normally bother him this much. Maybe he needed new boxers. 

Matt himself only had a bit of experience in the wide world of sex. He knew there were some wild kinks out there, but he found he was never much interested in watching that kind of porn, and he’d only been with a few girls his entire life, none of whom had ever asked him to perform such tasks on them, so he really didn’t know what he liked and didn’t like. As he lay in his bed, his lamp casting fuzzy shadows over his room, Matt couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen.

They think I’m capable of actually…spanking someone? Am I? If she wanted it, I guess…Apparently I’m some sort of sex god, super posessive, I have a breeding kink, whatever the fuck that means, and Chris and I fight over girls a lot. To him, that was the most unrealistic–he and Chris had wildly different types. 

The sheer amount of stories depicting him absolutely rearranging the guts of the reader or y/n (he still had no idea what that meant) made his brain short-circuit, and he tried to tap out of the one currently pulled up. But alas, Matt still had no idea how Tumblr worked–the images below every story just took him deeper, and it was one of those images that he misguidedly clicked on, an innocuous lilac purple, covered in sparkles. Seems harmless enough.

As Matt tapped around, trying to get back, he found himself on another account and thoroughly lost. An underlined word in the first post caught his attention–concepts. Subtitled below were the words, “short headcanons about the triplets! both sfw and nsfw”. He tilted his head. ‘Sfw’? What does that mean? A quick Google search quieted his questioning. Surely a “safe-for-work” headcanon would be fine to read. He tapped the link, and it directed him to a simpler page, one organized using just his name and Chris’s, each one with links below them. His thumb hovered over one near the top, its title mildly intriguing–“soft!dom!matt”.

Then he paused. Was he really doing this? His dick began to throb. He should have just left the whole thing alone, but now…well, now he had to know. 

Five words in and he was pumping his rock-hard cock in his hand. Matt’s neck strained, his left thumb shaking as he tried to scroll to read more. Such a short piece of fiction and yet…

His stomach began to tie itself into knots. The more he read, the more he panted. His whole pelvic region felt tingly and his cock was so warm in his hand, and getting warmer by the second. This was different than anything he’d ever jerked off to before–this wasn’t a video, or even a naughty selfie from a girlfriend. This was pure porn, about him bringing some unnamed girl to completion over and over again. Matt didn’t even know that was possible. The unnamed girl couldn’t even handle his cock, that’s how tight she was-

The moment he realized this fact, his nuts clenched and he spurted cum all the way up to his chest. Pumping furiously, even raising his hips into his hand, he continued his explosive orgasm, letting out breathy groans as he did so. His chest heaved with heavy breath, and Matt felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes from how hard he’d just finished. He collapsed on his bed, sheets askew, pillows rearranged, staring blankly at the ceiling.

And then Matt realized which head had been doing all his thinking for him this entire time. Letting his now-limp dick flop to the side, he let out one more gasp of air. “That was weird,” he said aloud into the empty room. “Never doing that again.”

notes from bambi: i referenced my own work because it didn’t feel right to use anyone else’s without their consent, and i wanted to put this out today, not because i think my writing is better than anyone else's or because i think matt would prefer mine over yours. remember that it’s all just fiction and we write for fun. i hope you all enjoyed!

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn @pleasantlycrazyworld @ariqolyx @wh0resstuff @krissy4gov @coochiedestroyer1 @madisturn @mattspolitank @sturnsxplr-25 @xtravrgnoliveoil @raysmayhem-72 @sturnpooks @certifiedstarrr @melanch0lybby @freshloveforthefit @xoxo4chrisss @stunza @meerkatzthings @zivall @sturniolopepsi @that1fangirll @wh0schl0 @sharksworldd @mattscoquette @chrisslutx @sturnzsblog @solarsturniolo

[queers-gambit]

Lost and Found

prompt: ( requested ) you're just friends, but on your first night at Saltburn, you get lost in the vast halls and accidentally walk in on lover boy after a bath. he wants you to stay.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 3.6k+

note: this SHOULD'VE gotten slutty, but it DIDN'T because i'm back in the hospital and the LAST thing i need is a nurse walking in on me writing fucking smut - oh, my God, can you imagine? new fear unlocked!

warnings: RIP Queen Lizzie, cursing, sexual tension, emotions are hard, Lord's name in vain, depiction of mental illness (anxiety), author throws in a little personal detail cause writing is therapy.

"Honestly, who lives in a place like this? The bloody Queen, that's who. Her and all her fucking rooms! Jesus!" You grumbled, dipping down another winding hallway. "All right, this looks familiar, that's... Encouraging, right?" You frowned, glass of water in hand after venturing to the kitchen to fetch it - but now, you couldn't navigate your way back to your room. "Of course," you growled quietly, opening a door and finding a linen closet.

How silly, in a place like this! A fucking linen closet!

You huffed and shut the door, feeling incredibly awkward and terribly misplaced. You mind screamed that didn't belong here, you never should've set foot in a place like this! How fucking foolish you felt, like a silly little girl who was just excited her crush spoke to her, let alone invited you home with him for the summer holiday.

But it was Felix fucking Catton - certified enigma. He was all man with a boyish charm who smiled at you on move-in day at Oxford and sealed your fate. He was ridiculously nice, so very sweet, borderline annoying with his giving nature and kindness. He was loyal to a fault, intuitive, observant, admirably carefree, and so very happy to give his love to anyone who needed it. For a few weeks, you felt almost offended by his attention, wondering what kind of broken soul he thought you were; knowing he had an affinity for "damaged" or "broken" things.

At least, that's what his cousin, Oxford's registered and certified catty bitch, Farleigh Start, teased you about relentlessly when he noted the way Felix hung around you. Felix invited you out with friends, offered to study together, walked you to and from classes - even if his were in the literal opposite direction. You had no honest idea how the two were related, given Farleigh's constant attitude and Felix's overwhelming kindness, but that wasn't for you to understand. You just relished the attention Felix bestowed in-between your skepticism.

And here you are, your first night in his home, Saltburn, completely lost and totally turned-around! You didn't need water all that bad, did you? Granted, you had a several tablets to take that evening to maintain your health, but you could've used the fucking sink in the adjoining bathroom! You grew frustrated the more doors you opened, finding empty rooms or closets or another fucking library or studies or whatever! As if this home wasn't big enough, there were multiple levels and all you knew was that you and Felix were both located on the same floor with his parents above you and his sister and Farleigh beneath.

So, that helped.

But you still felt so fucking silly.

Seriously, who got LOST in someone else's home!? Fools, that's who!

Okay, okay, okay, you didn't need to be so hard on yourself, but you grew nervous and fearful for a reason you didn't understand. Your anxiety was planted in your stomach, festering, growing, taking over you to the point that you had tears in your eyes when you found yet ANOTHER fucking study!

"Oh, even the bloody fucking Queen doesn't have this many useless rooms, and she's a much bigger family, Jesus fucking Christ," you sneered to yourself - ready to give up and just sleep in one of the empty rooms. But you didn't want Duncan finding you in the morning, asking questions, forcing you to admit you were lost - you felt humiliated enough as it was! And that was without anyone witnessing this absolute mess you had made!

Well, not technically a mess - but you felt like a mess the more you crept around. And now, you felt fucking creepy - like some stalker, sneaking around the halls, trying to spy on this very nice family. You knew you weren't, but the feeling was still there - fucking anxiety would honestly be the death of you.

However, you came upon a familiar (enough) door that had a gentle light emitting from under it. With a sigh of relief, you suddenly remembered leaving a light on for yourself to return to; reaching for the doorknob, twisting it, and darting into the room while swiftly swinging the door close - but halting it to shut quietly as to not disturb anyone in the empty halls.

Yeah, anxiety was a bitch.

"Ohh-ho, evenin', love," a voice greeted, making you gasp, jump, and twist around. "Miss me that much? Heard the drain on the tub, didn't yah, had to come sneak a peek?"

Felix fucking Catton stood at the end of a messy bed in all his glory, running a towel through his wet curls. Nothing obscuring your sight, nothing hiding his manhood, nothing - literally nothing on his body except a shit-eating grin.

"Jesus, Fi! Fuck, I-I-I'm so - um," you gulped, trying not to ogle him, but failing (miserably) when beads of water rolled between the contours of his impossibly impressively sculpted muscles. "I just - you know, this place is so bloody big - um, I'm sorry - I just... Yeah..."

He smirked, nodding sarcastically, "Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble into my room? Pretty good timing, too, wasn't it?"

You squeaked, "I didn't mean to! I swear - Felix, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to, um, yeah, you know - uh..."

"Like what you see, sweetheart? Why don't you come in closer, get a better look?"

You adverted your eyes out of respect and fumbled messily for the door handle. "Oh, sweet Jesus. Bloody house is just too bloody big, I got all turned around - just needed some water and I just - fuck, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey," Felix chuckled, wrapping his towel loosely around his hips so his V-line was still on raunchy display, "I'm only teasin', love. I know this place can get confusin' t'newcomers. I actually meant to grab you some water, know you gotta take your tablets."

You swallowed your embarrassment, sighing, "I'll just - yeah - no - I'll, um, just go - I'm so sorry, again."

"You know where you're goin' all of a sudden?"

You faced the door, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, shaking your head gently, "Well, no, but I'll figure it out - I left a, um, I left a light on, you know, to help - I don't know - uh, guide me?"

"You've not stuttered this much since we first met," he laughed, tugging a pair of boxers on for your sanity (and to your dismay). "I'm dressed, doll, you can look at me now. C'mon, bit weird talkin' to your back."

"We're not talking, Felix, I'm going to bed."

"Then why haven't you left yet?"

You blinked at the intricately carved door, realizing your hand was still on the knob, but it hadn't turned. "I didn't want to be so rude as to just walk out, mid-sentence!"

"Hey, hey, you're all right, darlin', I'm only teasin'," he grinned, hearing his bare feet pad over the ground before his warm hand wrapped around your elbow. "C'mon, love, hang with me a bit - 's not that late, is it?"

"Oh, so, Duncan can walk in? Make his assumptions?" You whispered, slowly facing him and leaning back on the door with a pout. His big, brown, doe-eyes stared directly into yours, making you feel under his spotlight - something akin to a privilege, since Felix Catton didn't bestow his attention on everyone. "I just needed water, I didn't mean t'get, you know, lost like this. Seriously, this place looks totally different at night."

"Surprised you even got this far, huh?"

"I looked in any room with an open door," you admitted with a small wince. "I felt so creepy, but I was all turned around - and you know, you shouldn't leave other lights on in rooms not being used. Terrible waste of energy."

"Awh, my sweet, environmentally-conscious girl," he cooed, hand raising to gently pinch your jaw. There was a serene moment, the pair of you just staring at one another, becoming acutely aware that he was still practically naked. "C'mon, don't leave yet, we can play cards if you like?"

"I've medicine t'take - "

"Right, right, right," he nodded, letting his hand drift to hold your neck in a gentle grasp. "Tell you what, you stay here, I'll grab your meds, and bring them back? You keep 'em in that li'l pink bag, yeah?"

"I don't know how to feel that you know which is my med bag," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Just shows I pay attention, don't it?"

"Maybe shows we spend too much time together?"

He kissed his teeth, grinning at you, "There's no such thing - in fact! I reckon we could double our time together and it still wouldn't feel like enough."

"Well, how's that help me later? I still don't know where my room is - oh, don't laugh!" You groaned, Felix snickering louder. "Fi, c'mon, it's not funny - this place is huge! Like, illegally huge!"

He cooed, "Oh, doll, 'M not laughing at you, promise. Just... You're not the first person t'get lost here, yeah?"

You scoffed with severe discomfort, "I really don't want t'hear 'bout all the other girls you've brought home - "

"Hey, now," he cut you off swiftly, "don't do that." He shrugged meekly, "There's been no others, just friends. Mine, Farleigh's, Venetia's... They've all gotten lost once or twice... Or that time we had to actually draw Reggie a map, poor lad got lost around every bend."

You rolled your eyes, "Truly expect me to believe that, do you?" Then you let your eyes widen a fraction, teasing, "Oh, wow, you really believe it! You really believe you haven't brought home other girls who you're interested in or who are into you?"

He crowded you into the door, shifting the room's energy to something sultry, making you hold your breath as his hand slid into your hair. "You know you're the only one, right?"

"You know that's absolute bullshite, right? Like, what a fucking line!"

He tisked, "C'mon, doll."

"Be honest, Felix."

His head cocked, "Want the truth?"

"That'd be a nice change of pace."

He scoffed lightly, "I don't give a single fuck if any of our previous guests cared for me - only you. Hear me?" He took the last step so he was stood with his feet slotted between yours. "I didn't bring them here for any other reason than friendly entertainment. You've seen the place, as big as it is, can get a bit lonely without anyone to hang with. But I asked you here... For different reasons..." He whispered, eyes jutting down to your lips as he kept a firm hold on you.

"And what reasons are those, Fi?"

He smirked, "Obviously... To kick your arse at cards."

You were flooded with pure disappointment. Raw, unfiltered disappointment that deflated your shoulders. "Yeah, right, like that would ever happen," you covered, nudging him a single step away from you. "Wanna be a gentleman and direct me to my room now?"

"Nope," he grinned, snatching your hand and yanking you away from the door. "You're gonna sit your pretty self right here," he nudged you to the edge of his bed, turning for his desk, then turning back to you to slap a deck of cards to your hand, "you're gonna shuffle these, and mentally prepare to get your arse handed to you at your own game."

You chuckled slightly, "Thought you hated 51 Rummy?"

"Only when sober," he smirked, leaning down to peck your forehead sweetly. "Sit tight, doll, I'll be a moment, yeah?"

You sighed and watched him exit the room, reaching to set your glass of water down and observe the room. In a moment of weakness, you pet over his sheets as if tempted to snuggle into them - and you were! You were cold from the lack of robe you meant to shrug on, and wondering the halls of Saltburn took much longer than you anticipated - now wanting to dive into the warmth you knew was left, the same warmth that Felix left on everything.

You jumped when the door opened again, Felix slipping inside with your little pink bag. His brows pinched, "All right, love?"

"Hmm? Yeah - "

"Your feet are nearly blue," he shook his head, handing you your bag before turning for his wardrobe. "Socks or sweats?"

"Huh?"

He turned, holding up a pair of sweatpants and socks, repeating, "Socks or sweats? Figured you're a bit cold in that." The left side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, eyeing you in your sleep shorts and loose teeshirt that had the collar ripped out, showing a hint of cleavage.

"Oh, uh, socks, please."

He tossed you the socks, dropped the sweats, and joined you on the bed as you pulled the oversized garment onto your feet. "C'mere, get close, get comfortable," he chuckled, pushing his blankets down to sit in the sheets, waiting until you turned in the bed to yank the blankets up over both your legs. "Didn't shuffle? My naughty girl," he joked, reaching for the deck of cards and opening it. He offered a much softer smile, eyes darting to your medicine bag, and then focusing on the cards - as if to give you privacy to take your meds.

You did so quickly, insecure about the rattling bottles and the amount of tablets in your cupped hand, but never once had Felix made you feel bad about your needs. After swallowing them, you cleared your throat and turned to face Felix as he divided the cards for the game, nodding to his side table, "Paper's over there, doll, for the score."

"Sure you want me to keep score?" You asked softly, reaching for the pad of paper and spare pen. "Last time we played, you lost so very miserably, I was embarrassed for you. We can save your pride a li'l, not keep score."

"It's only polite to let the pretty lady win."

"Oh, tryin' to butter me up, are you?"

"Is it working?"

"I'll let you know."

Felix chuckled, leaning back to the headboard. Then, he asked softly, "You feelin' all right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, all good."

"Sure?"

"Why?"

"Hands are shakin' a bit."

You eyed him for a moment, changing the subject by asking, "How're you not freezing? Seriously, 's like the floors are air conditioned."

"Nah, just not cold."

"Your nipples say otherwise."

"Lookin' at my nipples, are you?" He grinned. "Now you're a very naughty girl, knew you didn't stumble into my room on accident!"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" You pushed his shoulder, but he leaned closer. "Felix - "

"You could just stay here," he offered softly.

"You got me for a game - "

"No, I mean, uh..." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head and readjusting so he was supported on one elbow, facing you. "Nah, nevermind, all right, so, back to the game - "

"No, wait, say what you're thinking," you encouraged softly. "Know I hate you doin' that."

"Yeah, you get all anxious," he nodded. "I don't want t'be too forward, all right? But... You know, we sleep together at Oxford. I-In the dorms, you know?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Just thought, maybe you'd wanna stay here? With me? If you want, won't make yah, sweetheart, just thought... You know, in a house this big, you wouldn't get so lost stayin' here... Maybe?"

"Oh, aren't you my hero?"

"I know, I know, I'm just tryna look out for you, my li'l lost love. And, you know, prevent you from finding our secret dungeon," he gasped comically.

"That's not even a joke 'cause I'd believe it in a place like this. Is it a dungeon for torture or sex?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Maybe I'd like to see it. Hm," you considered, "maybe I should stay here, you know - so you can show me around and go get me water when I need it. Save my toes from freezing off, wonderin' 'round here."

He grinned, "Yeah?"

"If it's not too scandalous?"

"'S not like anyone would care... Except me, you know? I'd... I'd like you to stay here. Like havin' you close, sweetheart."

"Well, maybe you could put some clothes on? You're terribly fucking distracting! I'm here to win a card game, and I'll be damned if you win 'cause your abs are... You know, staring right at me, you cheater," you grinned, turning to face him fully with your legs crossed, the space in the sheets open for your cards.

"I think you like me naked," he grinned. "I mean, you stared long enough."

"I was just caught off guard!"

"Oh, I'm sure," his grin turned wicked. "You're still staring, doll."

"Well, it's not as if you're quick to cover yourself!"

"You're not too quick t'look away, either!"

"I was - "

"Caught off guard, yeah, you've said," he chuckled, staring at you with those moony brown eyes that made you feel as if you were the only girl he's ever seen. "Maybe I liked you lookin'."

"Is that so?"

He nodded slightly, "Yeah, not such a bad thing. You're kinda the only one I want lookin' at me like that, anyway."

"You absolute cheesehead!" Your laughter was quiet, trying not to tip Duncan off to your antics.

"You know, they're not just for lookin'," he perked his pierced brow at you. "Feel free to touch whenever you want, too."

"Hm, always knew you were a slut."

He gasped dramatically. "Is that anyway to talk to your host? Especially after giving you refuge from the big, scary, confusing halls?" Your eyes rolled and reached out to pushed his forehead, making him rock back into the pillows and headboard - but he was quick to snatch your wrist as he fell. You were yanked across the slim space, pulled so you were directly resting onto his chest; forearms bracing against his pectorals. He grinned, caressing the back of your head, teasing, "'Ello, love."

"You're a fucking fiend."

"And you're so fucking beautiful."

"I'm already stayin' here, Fi, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

He hummed, "You know... If you were mine, you'd get this treatment all the time. I can't stop - you're just so easy to compliment."

Feeling bold, perhaps from being so close and him being nearly naked, you whispered, "Then maybe you should stop shuffling your feet, grow a pair, and ask me already."

He paused, the moment turning soft as you relax against his body; stretched out the length of him, but still remaining propped on his chest to look down at his sweet face.

"Was a bit afraid to, actually, love."

"Why?"

"Haven't felt like this with anyone," he admitted, "'s just so fuckin' easy with you. Organic, authentic, safe... I was afraid to ruin that, destroy the rapport and friendship we've established. I care about you so much, I just wanted you in my life - no matter what variation that was. Being just my friend, being my girl, just want you with me. Didn't want to jeopardize anything."

"Hm," you considered, nodding slowly, "I get that. Think I felt something similar..."

"So, what do we do?"

"I think we be adults about this," you offered. "If you just want to be friends, we'll stay friends, Fi, but we don't blur lines like we have been. And if you want to give this - us - a try, I think we could. 'Cause you're you, and I'm me, and if things don't work out, we can just go back. Right? Adults do that sorta thing, don't they?"

"Not entirely sure, don't feel like an adult most days," he breathed, petting his fingertips down your cheek. "But I know I want this, with you. I swear, since you came into my life, I've felt - " He paused, shaking his head with a growing smile, "Free? Elated? Light as air?"

"Mhm, I know the feeling," you repeated.

"We doin' this?"

"That's up to you."

"I think it's up to us, actually - "

"I mean, you've gotta ask, Fi, not just assume."

"If you reject me in my own house, in my own bed, doll, I'm gonna be fucking crushed!"

"Oh, my God, just ask me! You fucking knobhead!" You laughed, leaning your head on his chest. His other arm moved behind his head to keep it propped up, looking at you with so much adoration, it knotted your stomach. The hand that had been in your hair drifted down to keep a secure hold on your waist; fingers scratching in soothing motions.

"Wanna be my girl?"

"Hmm, I think you could phrase it better."

He grinned brightly, "Would you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh, that's a little too formal. Maybe try - "

"Oh, c'mere, you," he growled, swiftly using both arms to seize under your arms and literally drag you up his body. "C'mon, baby," he whispered, lips ghosting yours, "be my baby."

"Fuck, no, that's way too cheesy!"

"I thought you liked me cheesy?" He gaped, your hand petting his cheek now; shoulders straining to keep you upright, over him.

"Correction, I love you cheesy," you whispered, lowering your head to press a quick kiss to his lips. He hummed in relief, but you pulled back to promise, "I'd love to be your girl, Fi. Only took you the whole bloody school year, didn't it?"

"Hey, good things to those who wait, right?"

"Don't quote Professor Mercy at me when we're in bed with barely anything on, Jesus fucking Christ," you grumbled, unable to restrain your grin when he pulled you in for another kiss - but this time, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

Maybe getting lost in Saltburn was more beneficial than you originally thought, and maybe Professor Mercy and ages of philosophy was right because this felt like the absolute best thing, and you'd wait a hundred lifetimes if it meant having Felix in your arms - like he was now, kissing you like it was his lifeline.

How extraordinarily warm, you felt, to be lost in this world, in this extraordinary home, and found, by Felix fucking Catton.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 1 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 2

Summers spent cleaning the Georges' pool, mowing their lawn, fixing up their garage door, and giving the odd oil change to one of their cars was the norm for you. Your father had made it big as a self-made entrepreneur, climbing the ladder rung by rung all the way up from rock bottom, but he had ensured your upbringing reflected his humble roots. That meant that while you never had to go hungry like he did, your allowance was minimal. Enough for school lunch and a few dollars to spare.

Doing odd jobs around the neighbourhood had been your primary means of making money for the last couple of years. The block was pretty fancy, so not everybody wanted to hire some twerp with no experience when a professional was easily available. Even so, rich folk were surprisingly stingy. You had your own equipment, didn't ask for much and had a familiar face. The Georges were your longest-standing clients. Mowing their lawn in summer and shovelling their driveway in winter had been your job since you were thirteen.

That was probably the reason why Regina kept her distance instead of ridiculing you like everybody else. You went to the same high school, Northshore, but that was pretty much it. You hung around your own (loser) ilk and she had her (cool) troupe. She had this odd little clique with Gretchen Wieners and Karen Smith. You didn't know much about the two girls and you couldn't really tell if Regina even liked them. They hung out so they had to have something in common, right? You were but an observer at the end of the day, no matter how your neighbourly vantage point gave you a glimpse into Regina's life.

You counted her ignoring you as a blessing. It would've cut deep to fall victim to her new ways. This persona wasn't that new, you had to admit, but when you'd known her since practically diapers, high school was a pretty new development. She'd never been what people would describe as sweet or nice, but this mean girl persona was on a whole other level.

To be fair, you could very well understand why Regina was the way she was. You knew Mr George. You'd sat at the same dinner table as him, had experienced first-hand how his presence weighed on his family. Especially on Regina. Your father was the same way, all sharp edges with no time for tenderness, not even- especially not for his daughter. That'd been the reason you'd gotten so close to Regina in the first place. Most of the time it was just Regina, her mom and you at their house. Mrs George left you two by yourselves a lot 'cause she had to take care of Kylie. You loved being at the Georges' house.

(Expect, of course, those select few times Mr George was also there. But that was rare. Regina didn't invite you over when he was home.)

And now it'd been reduced to this. You, fishing leaves from the pool. Regina, inside with her new friends. Mrs George, lounging on the patio with a virgin margarita, chatting with you when you rounded the pool closer to her. Kylie, probably in the sitting room dancing along to whatever they played on MTV.

You straightened from your slouched position and groaned at the ache in your back. You leaned back with your hands braced at your sides, trying to stretch out the crick.

"Mrs George?" You hollered and waved your arms in her direction.

"Yes, dear?" She brightened up, perching up in her sun bed.

"You mind if I put my headphones on while I mow the lawn?"

"Oh, sure, of course!" She waved a hand dismissively. "Remember the glasses! And once you're done why don't you have dinner with us?"

"I'll think about it, Mrs George." You smiled with thin lips, knowing you'd be turning the offer down. With that, you plugged your headphones into the Walkman at your hip and walked to the shed.

You wore the safety glasses obediently, knowing all it took to blind you was one unlucky pebble to the eye. Your dad had been sure to lecture you about workplace safety over the years, like every time you stepped foot in the shop, so at this point putting on embarrassing safety equipment was second nature.

The Georges had a big lawn. Stingy rich people, couldn't get one of those driveable mowers. You'd be pushing this cart around till nightfall, or something...

Usher's newest album blasting in your ears and the rumbling of the lawn mower muffling all background noise, you didn't notice her at first. By the time you caught sight of Regina standing on the patio stairs, looking your way, hands on her hips and a displeased frown on her lips, you feared you were too late.

You let the engine die and tugged your headphones away from your ears. "What?" You yelled across the pool.

She rolled her eyes before answering. "Mom wants you in for dinner."

"Oh," This had never happened before. Usually, Mrs George would come round to give you your payment, ask you to stay and you'd say no. She'd smile sadly and say "Maybe next time, sweetie".

"She made casserole," Regina said, inspecting her nails. What was for dinner was definitely not the reason for your hesitation.

"Uh, I don't wanna intrude-"

"You wouldn't have been invited if it was an intrusion, idiot." She cut in sharply. "Don't be rude." And so, she swept inside.

"Uh- I- I'll finish up as fast as I can!"

[gay-jesus-probably]

I like the general fandom trend to just take the plot of Hyrule Warriors as a loose guideline at best and just use the whole concept as a good excuse to get blorbos to interact across timelines, BUT I'm very disappointed that everyone is missing the comedic potential of a very specific squad of characters:

Young Link (aka Mask), who walks out of the nightmare of Majora's Mask and immediately gets portal kidnapped into a temporal war, takes one look at the whole mess and decides that you could not fucking pay him to admit to being the resident expert on Time Shenanigans. He introduces himself with the title of Hero of Termina, and definitely doesn't have any other ones, that would be crazy. Hero of Time? Never heard of him.

Tetra, who is a kickass pirate captain with zero patience for people trying to shove her into the Designated Princess role, and realizes immediately that Oh Fuck, this Hyrule has a lot of Ideas about how the Hero and the Princess are supposed to properly play their parts, the second they realize she's technically a Zelda they're gonna shove her in a goddamn dress and damsel her again, that's not happening. So she's definitely just a really cool pirate captain, nothing else going on here at all, definitely not the heir of the Hylian royal family in her time, that'd be crazy.

Ravio, who is literally just a palette swapped Link, meaning that the second his hood comes off, things are gonna get Awkward. There's no way in hell he's dealing with all that Hero baggage, that's Link work, so that giant bunny hood/mask is practically superglued to his head, and he's not taking it off for love or money.

Spirit Tracks Zelda, who is just in the Phantom Armour the whole time, and passing herself off as just a friendly ghost posessing a suit of armour to help the Hero of Spirits. Of course she isn't Princess Zelda, that's ridiculous, if she were a Zelda then people would start getting really weird about her technically being dead, and boy does that ever sound like a whole Thing she doesn't want to deal with, so she can't possibly be Zelda, she's just a nice ghost knight. Also, her teenage grandma is here, and that's kinda weird, so it's easier to just not admit to being royalty and avoid that awkward conversation.

Finally there's Sheik, who is not the Princess Zelda of the era straight up abandoning her war torn country for months at a time so she can risk her life in extreme cosplay for no clear reason, but is instead the actual Sheik from Ocarina of Time, who just beat Ganondorf like a month ago and is still trying to process what the fuck to do now. Also, he's been pretending to be a boy since he was ten, and is realizing there's a pretty good chance that he isn't pretending anymore, so that's a whole other can of worms. But for the last seven years of his life, being Princess Zelda meant certain death, so he's not really inclined to introduce himself like when in a new and stressful situation (not to mention he might actually just not be a girl named Zelda anymore), so he automatically introduces himself as just Sheik the spooky ninja man, and fuck he's in too deep to back out now, looks like he's committing to the bit. If you think you sense the Triforce of Wisdom on him, no you don't.

Cue shenanigans as the five of them attempt to hide that they're all actually kind of A Big Deal. The group motto is "Nobody says shit", which is usually delivered as a frantic hiss whenever someone slips up. Just the reunion between Sheik and Mask alone would be absolutely buckwild given how they parted, and how they're both frantically pretending to Not be involved with each other. For added hilarity and/or drama, Sheik gives his semi-bullshit cover story of having just been a friend of the Hero of Time, then runs into said Hero of Time and they both have to desperately pretend not to know each other, because if anyone picks up on the mountain of baggage between them then Mask is busted, and he won't hesitate to drag Sheik down with him out of sheer spite. Not to mention the weird balance of Sheik being used to this Link being a teenager that's actually a small child, and now has to adjust to Link who is a small child that's actually a teenager.

Also, i really feel like we're all missing out on the comedy potential of Ganondorf recognizing Young Link on sight and the two of them immediately launching into a grudge match with some extremely personal and specific insults on both sides. Meanwhile literally everybody else is just standing there watching, trying to process the fact that out of every single person that's been pulled out of time, Ganondorf only has personal beef with a literal nine year old.

I just feel like we're all really sleeping on the potential for Shenanigans here. The whole thing is an absurd mess, why not have some fun with it?

[crowsongcaws]

PLEASE SAVE BIGB'S DESIGN

TL;DR at bottom (also this sounds like anger and it isn't, I'm just dramatic) Screaming, crying, on my knees BEGGING PLEASE

I know so many other Life Series/Traffic Life characters have reoccurring tropes they aren't able to escape from fandom-wise (cough cough DESERT DUO cough cough) but please for the love of EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!! Let BigB be free of the cookie thing!!! It really is "yeah I don't watch him but I included everyone else so I'll include him and he has a bunch of cookie fanart so yeah BigB = cookies <3" It's a funny little callback sometimes, but for him, it's just that people don't know what else to give him. He hasn't even been OCified!!! (OCified as in a fanon version of himself has become widely known and accepted over the canon character i.e. Grian being an avian, Scar being ridiculously buff, Jimmy being a canary etc etc)

I understand why people would be hesitant to make him some sort of hybrid like most other members, but he doesn't have to be a hybrid to be OCified! For example, although Martyn also tends to be elf-like or sometimes something monster-related, he's widely regarded as a Listener! And guess what? BigB was also in EVO!

"But BigB's skin had a cookie on it---" AGES AGO, PLEASE LET IT DIE "Joel isn't 'OCified'---" Didn't ask, don't care, talking about BigB right now At this point, I could draw a cookie with eyes and limbs and say it's BigB fanart and everyone would be like "yaaay!" I desperately want and NEED to see BigB with non-cookie related designs. Can he have little stuff hinting towards the cookie thing? Of course! That's part of his character! Just PLEASE add on literally ANYTHING ELSE. BigB with 4c (read it again, FOUR-C) hair with shaved sides and a heart shaved into one side. Same hairstyle but the sides are braided back and one of the sides has a heart braided into it. Cottagecore BigB with mohawk braids that go back into a bun with that little bandana headband on! Imagine he's in friendly floral clothing holding a bouquet of flowers, and the center of the flowers look vaguely like eyes but everything else about him looks so typical you barely notice at first glance because he's totally Normal(tm) and completely unaffected by Evo as opposed to literally everyone else. Please give BigB a new outfit. That sweater is TIRED. Let it REST. Give him literally ANYTHING ELSE. Give him a fucking corset idk! A dress! Ball gown! Spacesuit! My Chemical Romance merch! LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE. "I don't think BigB as a character would wear a corset/dress/anything feminine---" Why? Go on. TL;DR Stop making BigB's personality revolve around cookies (and also being a cheater because of Double Life for that matter) and please add literally anything else to his character design/personality traits I am begging and screaming and crying because I can't unsee it

[stardust-and-snickerdoodles]

fall asleep, close my eyes, and disappear pt. 1

fandom: X-Men

pairing: Charles Xavier x Reader

summary: Charles Xavier is familiar with the weight of his students' past traumas, including yours. At least that's what he thinks, until a mission-related injury prompts him to delve into your mind, uncovering a deep-seated trauma you've repressed. Fearing he's caused more harm, Charles works with you to reveal this forgotten memory and heal from your past experiences.

tags/warnings: injury, rape aftermath/recovery (implied), anxiety, panic attacks, emotional hurt/comfort, charles xavier trying his very best not to invade someone else's privacy

word count: 2089

Charles Xavier is well-acquainted with the traumatic past lives of his students. It is easy to see how many of them had come from terrible circumstances, how many had been ridiculed or hurt or abandoned. He has seen his share of darkness as well, and he wishes to protect his students from any more of it.

Amidst all the sadness and despair that clouds the minds of the youngsters, there is you. Old enough to be a teacher, but new enough to your powers to still be a student. You are close with Charles due to your age, but keep him an arm’s length away. You, too, had been hurt in the past. You don’t want to trust your heart to anyone… yet.

Being surrounded by all the young students, you know you have to put on a brave face. You smile in the hallways and laugh and tell jokes. And things are fine – you enjoy your pseudo-parental role at the school.

But something is missing. A heaviness weighs on your mind, something dangerous that you subconsciously suppress. All you know is that sometimes you wake in the middle of the night gasping, and it feels like you’ve lost something.

Charles knows of course – Charles always knows – but figures you’ll come to him when you feel comfortable. He learned his lesson about prying into people’s minds long, long ago. And he doesn’t want to push you away the way he’d pushed away others (Erik, Raven, Jean – no, he shouldn’t think of these things). He cares for you far too much to lose you.

That being said, as time passes, Charles can't help but grow more and more concerned. He hears you lying awake at night, or even worse, in the throes of a nightmare. Yet in the morning, it seems all is well. You carry on as always, no worse for wear. It worries Charles. The temptation to just read your mind and see what plagues you is all too strong. But he respects your privacy.

But he can’t stay out of your mind forever, no matter how much he wants to.

The X-Men had been sent off to assist a crew of miners who had been trapped in a cave. A small mishap led to a few injuries amongst the team, nothing serious but certainly enough to warrant a visit to Hank after. You received the worst of it – your powers of telekinesis meant you were in the thick of it, pulling rocks off the imprisoned crew – when a section of the wall crumbled away on top of you. You managed to block most of the debris, but a well-timed drop of a boulder managed to clip you on the head, knocking you unconscious for a brief interlude. You woke shortly thereafter, already on the ship and headed home, but the team insisted you get checked out despite your protests.

When you arrive back at the school, Hank and Charles wait with matching anxious expressions. You stumble along with the help of Kurt, trying to look like you aren’t leaning too heavily on him.

Charles and Hank rush to you. Hank comes up on your left to support that side, while Charles sweeps his eyes over you protectively. You wave them off with a bloodied hand. “I’m fine, guys, seriously.” You aren’t – your head is pounding – but students are standing at the doors to the school, and you know you have to put on a brave face for their sake.

Hank side-eyes you. “You’re bleeding.”

“Hank, take her to the lab. I’ll be down shortly,” Charles says, barely keeping the worry out of his voice. You flash him what you hope is a reassuring smile. It doesn’t seem to change his expression.

Down in the lab, Hank runs a myriad of tests, all while you complain and insist that you are fine. Eventually, he lets out a sigh. “Well, everything looks okay.” You move to hop off the exam table when he holds out a hand to stop you. “But I want Charles to take a look to make sure you didn’t goof up your brain. I can’t see everything on a CT scan.”

You groan and settle back in. Charles, always with a talent for dramatic timing, enters at that precise moment. “How are you feeling?” he says as he rolls up to the table.

“Like I said before, I’m fine. Just a little bump, is all.”

Charles stares at you, as if trying to read your mind without actually doing it. His eyebrows furrow before he turns to his colleague. “Hank?”

Hank crosses his arms. “Her scans all seem fine. A bit of rest should take care of the residual ache. But I’d like you to see for yourself. Just in case.”

Charles nods and looks at you again. “Are you alright with that?”

You shrug. “Go for it, professor.”

Charles wheels himself a little closer. “Lay back,” he murmurs, positioning himself at the head of the exam table.

You do as he asks, and Charles places two warm fingers on your temple. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him enter your mind.

Charles weaves through the lanes of your conscious, seeking out any damage. He takes in your recent memories, watches the rock wall crumble on top of you. He digs deeper, searching further into your past. He watches as you come to the school, watches you trudge through the rainy streets as a homeless beggar, watches your family leave you. Charles breezes past those memories as quick as he can – no sense in dwelling on the things that cannot be changed. He races down neural pathways and connections, spotting nothing of note.

That is, until he slams into a mental wall, one so thick and aversive that even he might have a hard time getting through it. He is so deep into your mind that he isn’t sure you even know this exists. Concern courses through him as he attempts to break through the wall. But it won’t give, at least not without causing you distress. Already he can hear you – outside your mind, in the real world – whimpering in anguish.

Charles pulls away, mentally and physically, drawing his hands from your temples. Your eyes shoot open, and for a moment there’s a flash of fear in them. But it’s gone in an instant. Charles realizes how starved for air he seems to be and takes in a deep breath.

You sit up quickly. “All good?” you ask.

Charles nods, unable to speak, and you hop off the table. Before he or Hank can get another word in, you are out the door and on your way.

“Charles?” Hank looks at his friend in confusion. “What is it? What did you see?”

The professor stares blankly at the table. “Her mind… There’s something… I’m not sure.”

“Is it from the accident?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, this was… deeper. Further back. Something she’s repressed. I doubt she even knows it’s there.”

…

Upstairs, your fellow teammates greet you with sighs of relief and gratitude for making the mission a success. Someone proposes the idea of drinks, and all of a sudden people are putting coats on and discussing plans for the night.

“Um, I think I’m going to pass on this one,” you announce, wringing your hands together nervously. You’re afraid to miss out on the festivities, but your head is aching and you know you should probably rest.

Your team wishes you well and heads out, and soon you are left in the kitchen alone. You trudge up the stairs to your room, nearly ready to collapse from exhaustion. It seems fate had other plans for you though, for as soon as your back hits the mattress, there’s a knock on your door.

You groan quietly and twist your hand in the direction of the door. It opens with a soft click and soon you hear the telltale sound of Charles’s wheels on the floor.

You squint at him out of one eye as he makes his way to the side of your bed. “Yes?” you question when he doesn't say anything. “Did you need something?”

“No, no,” Charles reassures, his voice soft. “I just wanted to make sure you truly were alright.”

“Well, my head hurts something awful but I think I just need to rest,” you reply honestly.

Charles nods and you turn on your side to face him, pulling a pillow under your cheek. Again, the professor says nothing more, just gazes at you with those striking blue eyes of his. You watch him for a moment, before you feel your eyes begin to drift closed.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, you hear him murmur. “What?” you grumble, slightly annoyed that your peace was disturbed.

Charles clears his throat and speaks up. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“You know you can ask me anything,” you yawn. Sleep pulls your eyelids closed again.

“Would it be alright if I looked into your mind while you were sleeping?”

You snort out a laugh. “I love when people ask before they violate my privacy.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

You snap your eyes open, only to see him starting to wheel away. “No, Charles, it’s fine. I was joking.”

“Right.” He comes closer to the bed again.

“Did you see something wrong earlier?” Panic creeps into your voice at the thought. “Is there something wrong with my brain?”

“No, darling, of course not,” Charles rushes. “You’re… perfect. I just want to make sure. Sometimes things can be revealed in sleep that are not present while we are awake.”

That seems to make sense to you, so you settle further into your pillow, letting your eyes fall closed again. “Well, just… have fun digging around, I guess,” you mutter. “Don’t break anything.”

Before long, you’re out like a light.

Charles wastes no time in laying his fingers on your temples again. This time, he knows where he’s headed and he makes his way along the pathways quickly. He can feel a heaviness begin to weigh on him as he comes closer to the mental block. Perhaps this is what causes your nightmares, your occasional zoning out, your sad disposition that hid behind a cheerful façade.

Charles prepares himself as he approaches the wall, trying to get a sense for its depth and meaning. He can tell that this blockade was formed long ago. Perhaps not in your childhood – it isn’t that far back – but maybe as a teenager. And it’s so strong, it rivals his own mental walls.

Carefully, Charles begins to pick away at the wall. He pushes and pulls at the tenuous strings that make up the outer barrier, then chisels away at more cemented bits further in. The further he goes, the heavier the darkness seems to become. His own mind is beginning to feel fatigued, but he can sense he’s close. Whispers of this forgotten memory slip through the cracks that form, not enough to make out but he knows they’re there.

Finally, finally, he breaks through. And instantly, he wishes he hadn’t.

No.

Stop.

Please!

Charles forces himself out of your mind, his breaths coming in short gasps. The room has darkened with the approaching night, and your still-sleeping form is illuminated by moonlight. Charles runs a shaking hand over his eyes. What have I done?

As he looks on, your body begins to shake and tremble. You let out heart-wrenching cries as a nightmare overtakes you. Those same cries that he hears every night, those same cries he just heard in your subconscious. “Don’t break anything,” you had said. Has he broken you?

The wall. He has to put the wall back in place. This memory, this horror… He has to protect you. With trembling fingers, Charles re-enters your mind.

Already he can see the memory seeping out, its darkness spilling into the recesses of your mind. Charles feels his heart sink as he realizes the damage he’s caused. It’s like Jean all over again.

Except this time, he is determined not to lose you.

Brick by brick, string by fragile string, Charles rebuilds the barricade around the memory. He seals in as much of it as he can.

Not forever, no. Not like Jean.

He will help you reveal it yourself. And then he will help you heal.

But to let it all out at once… that would destroy you.

>>>

part 2

[momotonescreaming]

several sentence sunday!

I got tagged by the lovely @aringofsalt thank you so much!! (Let's just ignore the fact that it's no longer Sunday in my timezone lmao)

Another snippet from my still unnamed bucktommy fic . No plot, just vibes, as I try to get my head around writing them. I'm having sooooo much fun 😊

---

It feels easy with Tommy, natural, but not like he’s just falling into it with him like when Buck was in his other relationships. Less like he’s being whisked away in someone else’s current and more like he’s going with the flow. Together. He was choosing Tommy and Tommy was choosing him back. It was an easy decision to make. Like he was talking about with Eddie — they just clicked.

He wants to explore everything with him.

Tommy sent him his first ever dick pic, and it was kind of insane how good it was. Blew his fucking mind. He felt like a teenager again with how horny it made him. He remembers it vividly, Buck lounging on his brand new couch, flipping through channels for something to watch, texting Tommy. His boyfriend recently back from shift in his own house and starting to unwind. Took a shower to clean off the day, got changed, and so Buck flirted a little. Maybe asked for a picture. He felt all giddy and little ridiculous as he did it, excitement bubbling up in his chest as Tommy actually sent a photo back.

Reclined into his mattress, one arm resting above his head, gently flexing. Hair all tousled and curling at the nape of his neck where it was still damp from his shower. He was shirtless, because of course he was, camera angled to show off the full expanse of his torso. Showing off his abs, his scar, his pecs, that Buck definitely wanted to bite. Tommy knows what he’s doing, all casual and cool and Buck really can’t get enough of it. He also kind of wanted to make it the lockscreen on his phone, if he wasn’t sure Eddie and Hen and the rest of the 118 would tease him for it as soon as they caught sight of it.

---

no pressure tags, for whatever fandom you want: @theweewooshow @devondespresso @shares-a-vest @tboybuck @sourw0lfs

[tleeaves]

Folks going "WHAT they made a show about the Fallout franchise?? I've been hearing people say Bethesda messed it up, but I haven't watched it myself, so I'm going to trust the word of other people -- some of which also haven't finished watching it" is driving me insane.

Being a hard core fan of something obviously brings with it a lot of passionate feelings when adaptations come into play. Of course, there's going to be people going "but in 8 episodes of the first ever season they made, they didn't explore Theme C or D, didn't introduce factions E and F and G, and because the source company is notorious for its scams, we and everyone else who's a TRUE fan should hate it".

The Amazon Original series Fallout follows the videogame franchise of the same name. It is a labour of love and you can tell by the attention to detail, the writing, the sets, and YES THE THEMES ARGUE WITH THE WALL. It's clearly fan service. I mean, the very characterisation of Lucy is a deadringer for someone playing a Fallout game for the first time. She embodies the innocent player whose expectations drastically change in a game that breaks your heart over and over again. Of course, she's also the vessel through which we explore a lot of themes, but I'll get to that.

There're some folks arguing that the show retcons the games, and I gotta say... for a website practically built on fandom culture, why are we so violently against the idea of someone basing an adaptation on a franchise that so easily lends itself to new and interesting interpretations? But to be frank, a lot of what AO's Fallout is not that new. We have: naive Vault dweller, sexy traumatised ghoul that people who aren't cowards will thirst over, and pathetic guy from a militaristic faction. We also have: total atomic annihilation, and literally in-world references to the games' lore and worldbuilding constantly (the way I was shaking my sister over seeing Grognark the Barbarian, Sugar Bombs, Cram, Stimpaks, and bags of RadAway was ridiculous). Oh, and the Red Rocket?? Best pal Dogmeat? I'm definitely outing myself as specifically a Fallout 4 player, but that's not the point you should be taking away from this.

The details, the references, and the new characters -- this show is practically SCREAMING "hey look, we did this for the fans, we hope you love it as much as we do". Who cares that the characters are new, they still hold the essence of ones we used to know! And they're still interesting, so goddamn bloody interesting. Their arcs mean so much to the story, and they're told in a genuinely intriguing way. This isn't just any videogame adaptation, this was gold. This sits near Netflix's Arcane: League of Legends level in videogame adaptation. Both series create new plots out of familiar worlds.

Of course, those who've done the work have already figured out AO's Fallout is not a retcon anyway. But even if it was, that shouldn't take away from the fact that this show is actually good. Not even just good, it's great.

Were some references a little shoe-horned in to the themes by the end of the show, such as with "War never changes"? Yes, I thought so. But I love how even with a new plot and characters, they're actually still exploring the same themes and staying true to the games. I've seen folks argue otherwise, but I truly disagree. The way capitalism poisons our world, represented primarily through The American Dream and the atomic age of the 45-50s that promoted the nuclear family dynamic -- it's there. If you think it's glorifying it by leaning so heavily into in the adaptation, I feel like you're not seeing it from the right angle. It's like saying Of Mice And Men by John Steinbeck glorifies the American Dream, when both this book and the Fallout franchise are criticisms of it. If you think about it, the post-apocalyptic world of Fallout is a graveyard to the American Dream. This criticism comes from the plots that are built into every Fallout story that I know of. The Vaults are literally constructed to be their own horror story just by their mere existence, what they stand for, what happens in each of them. The whole entire show is about the preservation of the wrong things leading to fucked up worlds and people. The missions of the Vaults are time and again proven to be fruitless, unethical, plain wrong. Lucy is our brainwashed character who believed in the veritable cult she lived in before she found out the truth.

So then consider the Brotherhood of Steel. I really don't think it exists in the story to glorify the military. We see just how much the Brotherhood has brainwashed people like Max (also, anything ominously named something like "the Brotherhood" should raise eyebrows). Personally, I don't like Max, but I am intrigued by his characterisation. I thought the end of his arc was rushed the way he "came good" basically, but [SPOILERS] having him embraced as a knight in the Brotherhood at the end against his will -- finally getting something he always wanted -- and him grimly accepting it from all that we can tell? Him having that destiny forced upon him now that he's swaying? After he defected? If his storyline is meant to be a tragedy, it wouldn't surprise me, because Fallout is rife with tragedies anyway. And a tragedy would also be a criticism of the military. That's what Max's entire arc is. It goes from the microcosm focusing on the cycle of bullying between soldiers to the macro-environment where Max is being forced to continue a cycle of violence against humanity he doesn't want to anymore because a world driven to extremes forces him to choose it to survive (not to mention what a cult and no family would do to his psyche). Let's not forget what the Brotherhood's rules are: humankind is supreme. Mutants, ghouls, synths, and robots are abominations to be hated and destroyed. If you can't draw the parallels to the real world, you need to retake history and literature classes. The Brotherhood is also about preserving the wrong things, like the Vaults (like the Enclave, really). They just came about through different method. The Enclave is capitalism and twisted greed in a world where money barely exists anymore. The Brotherhood is, well, fascism plain and simple.

Are these the only factions in the Fallout franchise? Hell no. But if you're mad about that -- that they're the main ones explored, apart from the NCR -- I think you're missing the point. These themes, these reminders, are highly relevant in the current climate. In fact, I almost think they always will be relevant unless we undergo drastic change. On the surface-level, Fallout seems like the American ideal complete with guns blazing that guys in their basements jerk off to. Under that surface, is a mind-fuck story about almost the entire opposite: it's a deconstruction of American ideals that are held so closely by some, and the way that key notion of freedom gets twisted, and you're shooting a guy in-game because it's more merciful than what the world had in store for him.

I mean, the ghoul's a fucking cowboy from the wild west character he used to play in Hollywood glam and his wife was one of the people who helped blow up America in the name of capitalism and "peace". There are so many layers of this to explore, I'd need several days to try and keep track and go through it all.

The Amazon Prime show is a testament to the Fallout franchise. The message, the themes? They were not messed up or muddled or anything of the sort, in my opinion.

As for Todd Howard, that Bethesda guy, I'm sure there's perfectly valid reasons to hate him. I mean, I've hated people for a lot less valid reasons, and that's valid. We all got our feelings. But the show is about more than just him. My advice is to keep that in mind when you're judging it.

[captainsophiestark]

Werewolf

Remus Lupin x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: Harry Potter

Prompt: Artemis; wilderness, the moon, protection, hounds

Summary: Remus' SO decides to finally figure out why he's been looking so rough every month and gets more answers than they bargained for.

Word Count: 1,890

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Mysteries were overrated.

Every so often, when I dove headfirst into learning something new and spent hours doing that for fun, I wondered whether I should've been sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. But now, after spending far too long trying to reason my way to understanding, I'd decided to throw logic out the window and do some good old fashioned following people around instead. My Ravenclaw friends would never let me hear the end of it when I told them, but right now, I didn't care.

My boyfriend, Remus Lupin, had been ill on and off for months. He leaned on his friends, relied on them for support, but never turned to me. I'd talked to him once or twice, but he'd never given me a straight answer, and when the third month in a row came around that he looked on the verge of death's doorstep, I decided to get to the bottom of things one way or another.

Which was why I was out in the middle of the night on the Hogwarts grounds, trailing a far distance back from the Marauders as they moved in a pack. All of them except my boyfriend seemed in good spirits, and whatever was going on, I felt for Remus. I hadn't expected the adventure to take us out of the castle, so I still wore pajamas, and only love for my boyfriend kept me from turning right around to seek shelter from the cold night air.

To my surprise, the four boys ahead of me made straight for the Whomping Willow. I knew they were idiots, but I had no idea what possible draw the murder tree could have for them right now, especially with Remus so clearly feeling terrible. Then, in a flash, Peter disappeared.

I blinked and rubbed at my eyes, trying to figure out what I'd seen. Then, in the dull moonlight just barely filtering through the clouds, I saw a rat scurry across the roots of the tree. A moment later, the branches froze in place, and the remaining three boys ducked into a passage normally hidden among the roots, the rat following right after them.

Of course they were unregistered Animagi. I knew that month they'd spent barely talking hadn't been a ploy to mess with the Slytherin Quidditch team, or James trying to impress Lily with his friends' support, or anything else they'd claimed. But Remus hadn't been part of that.

Before I could second guess myself, I let every last ridiculous Gryffindor instinct take over and rushed to the tree, sliding into the hole at its base a split second before the branches began whipping around again furiously. I muttered a quick lumos to light the way ahead of me, then hurried after the boys.

Before I got very far into the tunnel, I heard horrifying screams coming from ahead, the same kinds people said came from the Shrieking Shack. I hesitated for half a second before racing off down the tunnel in the direction the boys had gone. Whatever that noise was, it wasn't good, and I needed to make sure Remus and our friends were alright.

I made it about ten steps forward before I collided with someone. They wrapped their arms around me and held me in place to keep me from moving forward, and after a moment's shouting and confusion, I recognized the person holding me.

"Y/N, you have to get out of here!" shouted James, his tone urgent. I'd never heard him yell like this before, never saw his cool composure drop to the level of the panic currently in his eyes.

"James, what's going on?" I cried. I heard that horrible screeching again, and I tried to move past him. "Where's Remus?"

"You have to leave, now! It's not safe-!"

A moment later, an earsplitting howl replaced the screaming. I froze and so did James, and our wide eyes slowly found each other. I knew that howl from Defense Against the Dark Arts. That was a werewolf.

"You have to run, now," James finally said, his voice low but firm. "If you don't, he'll kill you. It doesn't matter that he loves you, when he's transformed... he has no control."

"Is he... is he going to be okay?"

"Not if he comes back to himself to find out he killed you. Now get out!"

With that, James turned on his heel and transformed before my eyes into a gigantic, gorgeous stag. I could hear barking and snarling further down the corridor, still not close but definitely getting closer. I hesitated, hating to leave without doing anything, but James was right. I didn't have a choice.

I took off running back the way I'd come, trusting the Marauders to take care of Remus tonight. For now, that was the best I could do.

Commotion followed me the whole way out of the tunnel, getting just so slightly closer as to make me nervous. When I finally raced out of the tunnel, I just remembered to slam the root on the tree to stop the branches. I didn't look back as I raced up the grounds to the doors of the castle, finally breathing a sigh of relief from the safety of the entry hall.

I quickly ducked into the nearest secret passage lest Filch catch me out of bed, then slumped back against the wall and slowly sank to the ground. The adrenaline of the past few minutes crashed over me in waves, and I focused on taking long, deep breaths. Slowly, as I calmed down, the actual information that came with my investigation tonight sank in.

My boyfriend was a werewolf. His three best friend were unregistered Animagi, and they apparently spent every full moon with him in their animal forms.

Every DADA class we'd spent discussing werewolves (which, thankfully, hadn't been that many) suddenly came rushing back to me. All the time our teacher had spent talking about them as if they were monsters, while Remus just had to sit there and listen. I clenched and unclenched my fists, taking a second to run the odds on expulsion if I punched a teacher.

Remus was nothing but the sweetest, most wonderful person I'd ever met, and I was so lucky to have him in my life. The thought of people ignoring that, of Remus' face if someone called him a monster... all I wanted to do was wrap him up tight in my arms and never let him go.

I decided to focus on that last feeling instead of the 'punch a teacher' feeling. I had no idea how long these transformations lasted, but I had a feeling Remus would be awfully beat up when he finally did make it back here. With a quick pitstop in the kitchens to grab a few of his favorite snacks, I headed back up to the Gryffindor common room to wait.

Only sheer force of will and a deep love for Remus kept me from passing out after the first hour. The fire was warm, the blanket nest I'd made on my favorite common room couch was comfortable, and the adrenaline dump just made me want to pass out. But I kept my eyes open, waiting for him to come back. Finally, a little after three in the morning, the portrait door swung open.

"Come on, Moony, let's get you upstairs."

"It's okay, nobody got hurt-"

The Marauders staggered into the common room, James and Sirius holding Remus between them as Peter held the door. They all froze on the spot, however, when they saw me waiting on the couch.

"Hey," I said, finally moving from the spot I'd spent the past few hours holding down. I blinked sleepy eyes and managed a smile as I approached Remus and the others. "Uh... do you guys mind if I get a minute with my boyfriend?"

James and Sirius shared significant looks, then both turned to Peter. After a moment's hesitation, they looked back at me and nodded.

"Moony we'll, uh... we'll see you upstairs," said James. He nodded to me as he eased away from Moony and headed for the stairs, Sirius following behind him with a narrow-eyed warning look in my direction. Peter followed, giving me a mix of a look between James and Sirius'. Then, finally, I was alone with my boyfriend.

"So... I'm still your boyfriend?" he asked. He leaned heavily to one side, away from me, as I approached him. The hurt and defeat in his voice ripped my heart open all over again.

"Rem... of course. I love you. Nothing could ever change that."

Remus didn't look like he quite believed me, but he drifted in my direction anyway. I smiled and closed the rest of the distance, taking up the position his friends had filled before. I wrapped an arm around his waist and started leading him towards the couch.

"You're not... afraid of me?"

I scoffed and helped Remus ease down into the blankets, then settled in next to him. I'd spent hours preparing this fort, and when I saw a little weight ease off of Remus' shoulders as he settled in, it was worth it.

"Of course I'm not afraid of you. I love you."

"But James said..."

"Never mind what James said. I love you, Rem, and nothing in the world could ever change that. I'm just sorry I couldn't do more to help you."

Remus huffed a laugh as I leaned against his side, then finally put his arm around me. I laid on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he spoke and wrapping my arms around him in the most comforting hug I could.

"You find out I'm a werewolf and almost get killed in the process... and you're wishing you could've done more to help me?"

"I'm a Gryffindor, babe, I don't scare easy."

He laughed fully now, loud and joyous. It didn't last long, since he was clearly exhausted, but the sound made my heart sing.

"What on earth did I do to deserve someone as wonderful as you?"

"You were a wonderful person every single day of your life, clearly. Now here, look what I got." Without further ado, I pulled out the snacks I'd stolen from the kitchen. Remus literally gasped.

"Did you get these for me?"

"Yup. If I'd gotten them for me, they'd've been gone already."

"You're wonderful. Have I mentioned that lately?"

"Yes, but I can always stand to hear it again." We shared a smile as Remus dug into the snacks, his head resting against mine, and then I sighed. "So... what do you think the odds are of the rest of the Marauders helping me through the steps to become an Animagus?"

Remus choked on what he was eating, then looked at me with wide eyes.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not! I want to be there to support you, Rem, through everything. I guess... as long as that's okay with you?"

He smiled, then gave a little disbelieving laugh. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my forehead before snuggling up with me again.

"I can't think of anything that would be more okay with me."

"Okay, good. But I'm going to put myself in charge of coming up with a lie to cover the mandrake leaf in my mouth. I'm pre-vetoing anything the rest of you come up with."

"Probably a good decision."

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Harry Potter Taglist: @valkyriepirate

[landwriter]

YOU'VE GOT MAIL AU??? 👀👀👀👀👀

OH YES! I have not written a scene for it since fall 2022 (hope I just made everyone in the fandom feel super old <3), except the one I wrote just now for the other WIP ask, so I'll tell you about it instead!

Slowburn enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, identity porn, two-person love triangle entirely sustained by Dream's own ridiculous beliefs. Very silly and fluffy, I think, except when it has to be sad. Big sappy happy ending, just like in the movie.

Hob, owner of The New Bookshop, like Kathleen Kelly, is prone to optimism to the point of denial of the fundamental tenets of reality and/or the bookselling business, and has a bottomless love for all the small pleasures of New York City in the fall, and indeed, all of life. He is a hapless business owner but a wonderful bookseller. He is a hopeless romantic with a faintly disastrous dating life that his friends and coworkers tease him about. Falling in love with a mysterious stranger he met online is only the latest in a long series of questionable decision-making.

Morpheus, CEO of Endless Books, unlike Joe Fox, genuinely cares about books and stories. Unfortunately, he has a plummy accent and an almost preternatural ability to come off terribly. He's very good at his job and not much else which gives everyone around him the impression he enjoys crushing small businesses beneath his heel. In reality, he mostly enjoys the company of his library, his personal assistant and best friend Matthew, and Jessamy, a beautiful silver GSP. (Because there is no universe in which I personally imagine Dream having a Labrador Retriever named Brinkley.) And writing to Hob, of course, who he is certain he will meet and love and marry, right until the moment he finds out it's Hob.

There is a whole ensemble cast including a little bit of Aziraphale

Instead of being obsessed with Godfather quotes, it's Shakespeare. Morpheus is a theatre kid who went to private school. Of course it's Shakespeare.

Rather than court Hob twice over as Tom Hanks does with Meg Ryan, Morpheus, after he falls for Hob, feels so utterly unworthy of taking what is being offered, and so convinced Hob will never want him once he knows who he is, that as soon as Hob (not him, Hob, important change) cheerfully bullies his way into his life after being put out of business, he spends all their dates trying to convince Hob to dislike his stranger.

They BOTH cry at the end <3

[itsclydebitches]

IT'S BEEN A DOOZY OF A DAY, FOLKS

Yeah I've got a couple asks about it lol. (Always a terrifying experience when you log onto tumblr and immediately wonder why your inbox blew up...)

Man, I don't even know how I'm feeling right now. We've spent so many months working on the semi-confident assumption that RWBY would be cancelled that on the one hand I can't feel very shocked about this. On the other hand there's definitely a wide-eyed part of my brain going, "Holy shit the 'RT is failing' theories finally came true O_O" I'm kinda devastated that a company that's been a part of my life for almost a decade (and for other fans far longer) is just up and gone, but simultaneously I don't care because what I loved about RT hasn't existed for some time now. We've already been dealing with that nostlgia for years, we just got a hell of a concentrated dose of it today. There's admittedly some level of vindication regarding those who've been pulling shit in the company for so long and empathy for those who were just getting by and are now suddenly out of a job. There's regret that (despite my tendency to fall VERY behind on projects. RIP I owe everyone in this fandom a massive apology) I'll probably never have an official end to my RWBY Recaps. And there's worry about how this will impact the fandom...

Yeah, not to jump on the pessimism train, but I feel like this is going to catapult some fans' misreadings into new territory. RWBY is now forever the show that was canonically unfinished and thus its perfection is assured. Think there are major issues in Volume 9 and earlier? Nah, that's setup for Volumes we just never got. Catch a contradition or other mistake? They would have explained that if they could. Any possible issues with the show if it gets picked up by someone else? Well, of course there are issues, RT isn't writing it! This was already a fandom where having accurate, nuanced discussions about the text was hard as hell... but it just got so much worse.

Honestly, I say let it go. If they're going to do anything I'd prefer a complete reboot/reworking so that this story might stand a chance. Airing new RWBY Volumes was already beating a dead horse. Resurrecting the horse to start beating it anew just feels ridiculous. Yes, I'm sad for those fans who wanted an official ending, but we've spent so much time waiting on RWBY, being worried about RWBY's future, and I personally have encounted so many shows lately whose finales soured my enjoyment that there's something reassuring in the combination of definitive ambuguity here: you know you're not getting an ending by RT, so just have fun imagining your own.

Overall, I feel like I've got to sit with this for a while, you know? I totally get why so many fans (partiuclarly RWDE fans) are celebrating and/or releasing a sigh of relief right now. I'm honestly surprised I haven't seen any crabs yet lol. But maybe it's just because I'm "old" my tumblr's standards, but there's something undeniably sad about losing that part of your fandom life. Or at least, losing what led to/represents that life. Getting introduced to RWBY by a friend, binging it for the first time, pulling new people in, finding like-minded friends here on tumblr, analyzing it for thousands of words, tracing its history and watching how radically it has changed... that's gone now. Not actually because RWBY still exists, as do my friends, and there's nothing stopping me from writing as much fic/meta as I want, but it still feels like someone closed a door on that part of my life. That's not wholly a bad thing given what RT has been lately, but I do think it'll take more than one post for me to unpack it all.

[skaruresonic]

I want to like Amy but her fans make it difficult.

Every other moment they're throwing another character under the bus to make Amy look better when that shouldn't be necessary. It's like they're playing victim over something that people don't do anymore.

If Amy is perfect like they claim then they shouldn't feel this threatened whenever another female character gets any kind of attention or praise. But without fail every single time another female character is girly, kind, brave, or anything else you can think of, it's somehow an attack on Amy.

Imagine if Sonic's fans got mad everytime there was a new character who was confident and athletic. That's how ridiculous this is.

Normally I'd say it's not really equitable not to give a character a fair shake just because their fans are being obdurate, but I can sympathize with your mindset when it comes to how folks gas up Sonamy. If they were chiller about it, I'd probably like it more. While I appreciate Sonic and Amy's dynamic as friends, I swear people portray it as an issue of life or death, and it's so freaking tiring.

Despite not posting about her much, Amy is actually tied with Maria for the third spot in my favorite Sonic characters list. Both girls are great characters for similar and different reasons. It doesn't make much sense to me to claim Maria is boring when Amy displays many of the same traits.

Heck, I kind of think people exaggerate how bad her Battle portrayal is, making it out to be the bad apple that spoils an otherwise good bushel. It's not fantastic, pretty Yikes(tm), actually; yet you'd think she singlehandedly ruined the game based on the way folks hone in on her portrayal at the expense of ignoring the others. ...and idk, I still laughed at a few of her lines. :v

Amy sits in the same boat as Shadow in that everyone holds their own interpretation of the character close to heart and will get defensive if you say otherwise. I've noticed a certain stubbornness among Amy fans that is also shared by Shadow fans. One time I said "I'm an Amy fan, I don't need a crash course on her character" in response to being linked a thread on her character, and got hit with "oh you're just saying what everyone else says." Like? bruh?

I'm just not one of those fans who's like "AMY DESERVES EVERYTHING EVER." She has her flaws and foibles, just like everyone else in the cast. She has a tendency to step on toes, be a bit whiny, overbearing and one-minded... and it can be simultaneously true that her kindness wins over hearts. Amy contains multitudes.

But it's almost like, for many people, taking her as she is isn't enough. She needs to practically be shown curing world hunger in order to be considered as valid as the boys or something… Which I kinda find more offensive to her character than dismissing her outright.

Why does Amy need to star in everything before you're happy, even though of the female cast, she's technically enjoyed the most screentime? Again, not to pit two bad bitches against each other, but Maria's representation isn't exactly sterling, especially considering how often folks objectify her as Shadow's morality pet or treat her death as something to shock non-fans into thinking the series is Deep and Dark(tm). If you're really for better female representation, you should be arguing for better representation for every girl character, not just saying "let Amy get hers and fuck the rest." This shouldn't be a competition. Everyone can have a seat at the table.

First the fandom consensus was "Sega sucks because they didn't include Amy in Origins." Then when they actually did that and included her in Superstars to boot, fans proceeded to move back the goalposts. Superstars doesn't count, apparently, because (insert spurious reasons here).

Maybe it makes me a bad Amy fan or whatever, but I find her crush on Sonic to be the least interesting aspect of her character in part due to how much emphasis people put on it. She and Sonic cannot have a single conversation without fans being like "OMG OMG THEY LOOKED AT EACH OTHER SONAMY IS CANON," even if canon implies that Amy is imposing on Sonic, such as SatBK's manual describing Sonic preparing for their date as "awaiting a stressful encounter."

Although I can acknowledge that Amy's crush is integral to her character, the way people talk about it makes it seem like female representation in the series as a whole is at stake every time she's mishandled. There's apparently a hashtag trending on Twitter called #letamylove that was made in response to what people perceive as Flynn's mishandling of Frontiers!Amy, FFS. They can't just say "Amy sounds too depressed in Frontiers," no, it has to be blown up into a near-political issue.

The other thing is that people who ship Sonamy often ignore Sonic's feelings and comfort in the matter. Ohshima's tweet that Sonic isn't a "real man" due to his reluctance to express his feelings towards Amy exemplifies this. It's like Sonic is considered some sort of prize that Amy earns through personal growth, when really, folks should be arguing for Amy's personal growth for her own sake.

[larsisfrommars]

The Night of The Murderous Spring Is So JUICY!

I think I need to talk about how insanely gay this episode of Wild Wild West is or I might EXPLODE. I know a lot of us who already watch the show knew this episode was ridiculous in the gay subtext department but I feel compelled to go in-depth about putting it into words.

Let’s not even dig into the fact that before drugging Jim Dr. Loveless proudly proclaims that he will make James West “kill the thing he loves” and was referring to Artemus when he said that! That’s already wild enough as it is.

For me like, through a shipping/gay subtext lense, I could already tell Artie was into Jim. There is a mountain of evidence to interpret their relationship that way at least on Gordon’s end. For West it was a little more sparse until and especially THIS episode. Which confirmed for me as relatively new to this show and fandom “ohhhh!! He really DOES reciprocate whatever ambiguously gay mess is happening here!”

The version of Artemus that Jim subconsciously conjures up for himself is so interesting. And of course, it appears to him when he’s in desperate need of comfort, of a rock to cling to, but can find none. So his hallucinating brain projects what he NEEDS most, not some lovely young lady (familiar or otherwise) to tell him everything is alright, but Artemus to take care of him. He WANTS to be taken care of and comforted by Artemus and no one else. I’m not crying YOU are crying!

His version of Artemus is pretty close to the real deal but there’s something… softer about this projected version. He’s not completely different, I wouldn’t even say out-of-character. But he is gentler, more patient and forgiving, and very much there to play guardian angel for Jim. All of his positive traits are exaggerated in Jim’s eyes, like hes always seeing the guy through rose colored glasses.

I say this because part of why I got a bit suspicious of this version of Artie was him being way too calm and forgiving when Jim starts being aggressive towards him due to the drug. Yeah Artie loves Jim but like, he’s got his own sense of self-preservation, intelligence, and a bit of a temper. I was expecting a joke or some sternness or something, hell maybe taking Jim’s gun from him. But of course he doesn’t and he can’t, because he’s not real and he’s there to comfort. Jim can’t be thrown off the course that’ll lead him to killing Artie by his hallucination’s own intervention. He’s himself but oh so slightly off.

Another thing was something that “Artie” said that didn’t actually make a lot of sense compared to the rest of established canon when Jim first starts getting temperamental. “Hey it’s me remember? Artemus Gordon? Mrs. Gordon’s son.” Now I know there’s probably some throwaway Doylist explanation for this, but the Watsonian in me prevails.

Artie never brings up either of his parents before this or ever again to my knowledge. Jim only mentions family once in a previous Dr. Loveless episode. It’s the kind of thing you’d say to someone where you’d known each other your whole lives, implying Jim would somehow know his mother. Now unless I’m mistaken they met each other in the military as adults. Which means Jim’s subconscious emotions have made him feel as though Artie’s known him his whole life. Which is some soulmate sounding mess if I ever heard it.

Then there is the crescendo of this madness where Jim shoots the illusionary Artemus in cold blood. Which is easily some of the most heartbreaking acting in the series. I have watched it a normal amount of times (lying)!! Dying “Artie” looks confused and betrayed but he STILL reaches out to Jim like he like wants Jim to know that it’s okay?! OUCH. Then of course there’s the little “why?” before he dies that pushes Jim over the edge.

Jim completely flies off the handle after Artemus’s apparent death. Careening through the street, threatening the hotel staff, trying to get himself arrested for murdering Artie. I don’t know whether it was a side effect of how much hallucinogen he ingested or what. He straight up faints like some tragic Victorian protagonist after returning to his room, overwhelmed by the evil that he has seemingly done.

When he comes back around he is not at all acting like the Jim we know and love. It’s almost like he wants Loveless to kill him with the way he goads the guy. He’s despondent and jaded and being reckless with his own life. He only snaps back to normal when he discovers Artie is in fact alive and well. Which is such a beautifully loaded reunion. He responds to Jim’s unusual tenderness with a sassy joke (which is of course how we know this one is real). It feels very akin to the Kirk and Spock reunion at the end of Amok Time.

I also think it’s worth noting that I think the first time I ever heard James West utter the words “Artie! Help me!” when he’s trying to prevent the ducks carrying the murder-LSD from being released (this episode is NUTS). Which you know in light of the events of this episode is a big step in Jim being a bit more vulnerable as a character. So there is THAT too.

Hey, and maybe it’s just me, but whether it was deliberate or not, something changed about the whole tone of the show after this particular episode. It felt like the showrunners were slowly having it dawn on them the show is at its strongest when it plays off of the bond shared by these two characters. This episode along a few other gems from season one seem to have clinched it. I noticed in season two so far they’re using Artie and Jim’s relationship as a support beam where it was more of a flexible suggestion before. Which has ✨implications✨ whether you interpret the relationship as gay or not. The events of this episode cracked Jim West’s very hard shell, and made these two characters closer than before.

[tideswept]

🍄🍬❄️

Ahoy other nonnie! o7

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

mmmmmn I'll do three for. Reasons. :)

obikin: Obi-Wan is the truly unhinged one in the relationship. Sorry. He puts up a good front but I thoroughly believe that man would, if the circumstances aligned, out-unhinge Anakin in every conceivable metric, and he'd somehow make it all appear reasonable. Totally what he had to do at that moment. There was no better choice available.

jonelias: if "soulmates" existed in TMA, Elias would have had zero compunction about killing his soulmate if necessary. (Though he'd simply avoid or politely reject them if it weren't.) And if they kept being reincarnated? He'd still maintain the same stance. Not interested. Not useful to him. But Jon, Jon is the one he chooses, and that's far more meaningful to him than something as insignificant as a soulmate. (and if Jon also has a soulmate, well... he'll deal with that in whatever way he must.) (And I don't mean he'd automatically kill them!) (Unless he personally finds them unworthy) (then all bets are off)

hartwin: Eggsy is the sane, practical one. Harry has gone too long being the wild card, being too good, too lucky, too independent. Harry overly relies on money, on technology, on social cachet to ease his way through what little of every day life he must go through in between Kingsman and missions for Kingsman. That isn't to say Harry is incapable of being a competent adult, it's that he hasn't needed to for decades, and he's redirected his energy to the spy life. He can charm anyone... but he's rusty at actually having relationships. At building a life with someone. At having someone else in his space. In having anything even remotely resembling a work/life balance. Eggsy might think Harry is someone to emulate and learn from, but to Harry, Eggsy legit is the better half of their relationship.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

I don't think Obi-Wan Kenobi is a slut. 🤷 I think it's way more likely that he's a virgin. (Though I can and will write him either way, and with many other varying levels of experience/enthusiasm/interest in sex, because fanfic is fun like that. :D)

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

uh damn that's hard??? There's a lot of valid answers that could go here. So. Um. I'm going to cheat :D I'd love a GFFA fanfic that is mostly focused around what happened when Anakin became a Force Ghost, and his reunion with Obi-Wan. And it could take place across different timelines and flashbacks or w/e (that's what I've been thinking for a fic) but the main emphasis is their new situation, a fourth (master/padawan, generals, enemies) iteration of their ever-shifting dynamic, and one that I really never see explored. And I'd love to see @darthwillies tackle it and make me cry. my second dream plot is that I'd love to see @underacalicosky tackle an obikin werewolf or witch AU! thinking modern day, Anakin having been raised alone, either unaware that he wasn't the only one or knowing that there were more [werewolves/witches] out there but finding that they were unwilling to even go near him or would attack him unprovoked when he approached. So he's twitchy, wary, a total asshole at the slightest thing that sets him off, but oh does he want to learn. And of course he's ridiculously powerful/a prodigy and how did he even survive this long by himself, where did he even come from, and Obi-Wan knows everyone is asking themselves this, maybe he volunteers to teach Anakin what he needs to know, maybe he's ordered. But none of that matters if he can't get Anakin to trust him first.

📚 [ask meme!]

🍓 [quick jump to ask inbox]