#this got longer than I intended

[slimeyslimeyballsack]

Theo believing he's only good for causing pain and that he's incapable of being gentle, of receiving gentleness.

Theo believing he breaks everything he touches and he shouldn't be allowed to touch precious items. Liam being a precious item. The pack being a precious item.

Theo believing he's an attack dog on a leash, only being kept around for his use in a fight. Only so long as he is useful, so long as he's not a burden, so long as he's perfect.

Theo doing anything Liam asks of him. His inability to say no, to lie to him. Despite his attempts to keep his guard up the way he does with everyone else.

Theo believing he's irredeemable, evil, a monster, barely even human. Believing everyone feels this way about him. Liam feels this way.

Theo doesn't know what love feels like. There's an instinct in him, though. To protect Liam. In any way he can. To let nothing bad ever happen to him again. Even Theo.

[aelizel]

TOWL was such a rewarding watch because it reasserted what made the walking dead a hit from the beginning. in the first episodes of the show, Rick wakes up from a coma mid-apocalypse and is trying to get back to his family, and after that he is doing whatever it takes to keep them alive. "it's not about the zombies, it's about the people" was a phrase i remember hearing a lot about the show. then as the series evolved, the writers turned away from relationships and character-driven drama in favor of constant action and surprises and cliffhangers to keep people tuning in. they neglected the heart of the show, and it was starting to feel hollow. arguably, it passed the point of no return when they killed off carl. for rick, and by extent the show itself, carl was the hope for the future and the motivation for survival. without him, twd was never going to be redeemed.

so we needed rick and michonne fighting through hell to get back to each other, not knowing where the other was or if they were even alive. we needed them to get reacquainted and get through all the pain that went unacknowledged for so long. in six episodes i felt more humanity and family and love from this show than from any part of this franchise in the past six /years/. and all it took was getting back in touch with the grimes family and what makes them the stars of the show. because these characters shine when they are allowed to be romantic in every sense of the word and they fight impossible odds to stay together, and it is not about the odds themselves or the zombie kills or the big bads, it is about love and how survival without love isn't survival at all.

because when the world as you know it ends, if you have people you love then you'll always have a reason to keep going

[newsworth]

     @vlyuvdova​ from here.

     one behavior that chris has been commended for in the past is the active effort he makes to improve upon what few and far in between failures have helped shaped him,   so that he can never be defined by them alone.   such a remark has been about the only thing that coulson has extended to him in the way of kindness,  only to immediately follow it up with the directive to cross the threshold of field work where he’s certain chris will become much more familiar with failure well before he starts to really understand what success looks like in this profession.   tonights experience is done under the observation of agent romanova,  which is obviously going so ...   so well for him. 

     chris doesn’t have an appetite for this part of the job the way other agents do,   but he’s under the impression that he’s expected to develop one over time.

     amusement is the closest interpretation one could make of his expression when the thought yielded just about the same result he’d anticipated before deciding to say it aloud.   it’s subtle,  and gone by the time she’s joined him at his side of the table. 

     they should dance,  he thinks as he follows natasha’s gaze to the center of the room and perceives some darkened doorways through the fringe of his vision.   ones better seen from the vantage point of the dance floor,   and maybe better explained by the notice of which people are using it.

     “ that was an option this whole time? “   he rises out of his chair and smooths out his tie on his chest with the hand that isn’t offered to her.   

[rebelthree]

@myersbprd​

ellie is not some god-damned do-gooder. yeah, sure she sometimes gives constantine informational help if he asks her nicely though she mostly keeps her hands clean from whatever comes after. she owes him. maybe she’ll always owe him even after everything had been tore away from her because at least he’d tried. she knows it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart;  that he saw the opportunity to have allies on both sides and took it but that doesn’t change the fact that he tried. it’s a quid pro-quo with constantine, most of the time. a bit of fun for her, information for him. it works for them and it’s certainly not her working on the side of the angels. screw them. what she does for john is a little different-- still not good-gooder shit-- even if it veers dangerously to the line of something good. she likes to engage with him, play out their little battle of wills and watch him squirm when she gets into his space and causes her desired reaction, even if he often fights it. so she helps him out at times. yeah, okay, she’s even put herself into the line of fire for him. not because she really cares about his well being beyond their little games, she tells herself. and yet, hasn’t she even admitted to him, with blood splattered across her face and a wound upon her body that while other lives didn’t matter, his did? okay, sure, maybe she cared. sue her. a person would be hard-pressed to beat her in a court of law. 

all that’s to say, it doesn’t make her a do-gooder. 

she doesn’t care if a demon goes for a joy-ride in the waitress from the corner diner or if she tempts an opponent on one of her cases into royally screwing himself on his companies decency by-laws and knocking him off the case. but.. kids were dying. targeted by a woman in a hat who thought her and her companions little gifts from the satan upon the earth. if it’d been the street musician from the subway they’d targeted she’d have said more power to them, but it wasn’t. they’d left a trial of pain and suffering across the western coast that was enough to make the bosses down below take notice. and ellie.. something within her.. twisted into uncharacteristic knots, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth as more missing posters were strew across light poles. she shouldn’t care. she doesn’t have a reason to care. maybe it was that little bit of her father that still lingered in her coming out to play. but.. demonic being or not, she knows the pain of loss. she’s felt a child being ripped from her and for all her misdeeds, there’s one group of people she never influences or seeks to harm: children. 

she could have called constantine perhaps, though she’s fairly certain he’s neck-deep in his own shit-show at the moment. maybe she could have called his precious little detective friend, though ultimately, ellie had concluded that her abilities were a bit too shiny to be tangled in this web. so she calls john and gives him enough information to get him to los angeles before hanging up on him before he could question her motives. she’s sitting in a chair in her apartment when he arrives and doesn’t make her usual moves to tempt him with her alluring presence when he enters. there’s a map on her coffee table with something that looks an awful lot like blood dots and blood lines crisscrossing it (a witch had owed her a favor).

“they’re heading north. already picked out their next victim i expect.” voice emits, expression serious. it’s the first time she’s brought him a mission. the first time she’s ever expressed any concern in front of him for someone that wasn’t, well, him or herself. she’s dangerously close to wearing a white hat and it makes her want to vomit. even so, she continues, gaze meeting his. “i don’t think you’re going to be able to bring normal agents. the knot is too powerful for that. they’d scrabble their brains.”

[rivi-ri]

procrastinating going to get dinner (it is 9:14 pm. I have only just now realized this). also procrastinating writing, and putting together a grocery list for tomorrow, and drawing, and attending to my million tabs, and... uhh. huh, I wasn't intending to make this sound so overwhelming.

(I'm actually not all that overwhelmed atm because I Just finished finals, but I am trying to adjust to that, and make the most of my Freedom for now, etc etc. I also have ADHD and am still in early stages of learning to negotiate with it, if that explains anything.)

Quick what are you doing RIGHT now (besides scrolling Tumblr)

[savanir]

The Consequences

The comforting ticking of clocks fills the air, Danny cannot help himself but look at the many gigantic gears working in tandem each time that he pays Clockwork’s tower a visit.

“Alright, I’m here” Danny waves the green post it note around.

“Good,” Clockwork appears and gestures to an open door, “there is something I wish to show you, come���

Danny follows Clockwork into the room that appears to be an infinitely stretching hallway both left and right from him with the two of them in what he must assume must be the middle.

The young ghost takes a moment to process this and comes to the conclusion that this is just typical Infinite Realms ghost bullshit because clearly, logically, this is impossible.

There is a line on the hallway wall.

“Okay, what am I looking at”

“Time”

Danny takes a long deep breath of air before exaggeratingly rolling his eyes and giving Clockwork bombastic side eye, which the guy very rudely ignores.

“can you please be a little less vague Clockwork…”

the older ghost who has shifted into the appearance of a child grins at him, “very well, this line represents here, you could say it’s ‘my’ time.” a line which would sound ominous as hell if it were said by anyone other than the Ancient of Time itself.

“Did you call me here to tell me more about yourself” Danny quickly looks from Clockwork to the very important line and then quickly back to Clockwork  “is this a bonding thing, are we ghost bonding? Do you show this to all your favorite ghosts?”

“Daniel” Clockwork has shifted to his elderly form.

Danny rubs the back of his neck, "It's really cool- in a way. I kinda do feel like there is more to it though.” It’s also a little underwhelming, just a infinitely stretching dark grey stone hallway with a line on the wall, He’d expect Clockworks time to be… well… okay, so he’s got no clue what he was expecting Clockwork’s time to look like but it wasn’t this.

One thing is for sure though, Danny is no longer thinking about touching the Time Line.

“you would be correct,” Clockwork has shifted to his adult form, “let’s get back on track, the reason why I am showing you this is this discoloration over here” Clockwork gestures where to look with his staff.

“the blackish bit?”

“Correct, this is what I like to call missing time” Clockwork huffs, “I used to not mind it, but times have changed” he’s got the young king to be to worry about now.

Danny is somewhat startled while taking a closer look at the small black bit of the time line, “you’re missing time!? … please do not ask me to go find it for you”

Clockwork chuckles, “no there is no need, I know quite well where it is.” then it’s not actually missing is it?

“alright uh… I’ll just ask- What happens when you’re missing time, do you just… black out? orrrr, like, just what’s going on here”

Child Clockwork starts to explain, “During that period the Infinite Realms will move without me.”

Adult Clockwork continues, “from what I have learned of these events in the past it’s safe to say something will soon happen in this section of the realms, something big and dangerous, the tower is protected against these events- by going into a form of stasis.”

Elderly Clockwork finishes, “like I said, in the past this was of no concern of mine, the tower functions as intended, preserving me and time itself as it should, but I worry for you Daniel.”

“I’ve called you here to warn you, mayhap you could find out what this danger is, not to prevent it, but to ensure you yourself will not get hurt.” preventing it is sadly no longer possible. with the dark coloration on the wall the event happening is all but set in stone.

“can’t you look forward to see what it is? or maybe give me a hint or something?”

“sadly not, for me the time is wholly missing, in the sense that it will happen, and so in a way has already happened, which means-” Danny quickly waves his arm around to prevent Clockwork from going into a time tangent and give him a legendary headache, “-which means you will not be able to help me now, or during, or after. I understand.” the boy then sighs, “I’ll look into it I guess”

“Be careful” Clockwork says gravely in his adult form.

Danny nods, and deep in his core he can feel the unspoken please.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

The young halfa really does try to figure out what might happen, what might be wrong, but it is incredibly hard when you have no clues what so ever.

Time passes, life goes on as usual- as it always does.

And then it starts.

Ripples go through the realms, an oppressive pressure building up. minor shades and blob ghosts scatter darting in every direction as long as it’s away from the perceived threat.

Not long after that there is strange crackling and rumbling, artifacts start behaving weirdly, powering up rapidly.

Walker’s prison becomes a fortress that he’s quickly losing control over locking everything and anything down tight.

Both Skulker’s and Undergrowth’s domains life grows rapidly. And although Undergrowth doesn’t mind Skulker certainly does, his jungle is his hunting playground, not the other way around! And that wouldn’t even be that much of a problem if his suit wasn’t completely on the fritz.

Desiree hides herself away deeply in her haunt, frightful of her own powers going absolutely haywire with every wish she grants, usually she enjoys the chaos- but this is rapidly getting out of hand.

Clockwork manages to catch Pariah’s keep going into its own magical automated lockdown before his tower does the same in its own way.

More and more ghosts decide to evacuate away from this corner of the realms, opting to temporarily stay somewhere else and return once whatever this mess is is over.

While all that is going on in the realms outside in the realm of the living Danny still has no clue what’s going on but his powers are freaking out more and more and he’s very glad that there are no ghost attacks because he’s not sure what will happen if he actually has to put some power in his abilities.

For now he’s simply not using them, instead deciding that while this is going on he’s just a regular living human boy with no special gifts, and you know, maybe it’ll all just blow over on its own and settle down.

So far any attempts on Team Phantom’s end to figure out what the hell is going on in the realms has led to nothing. They can obviously detect the surges of power slamming through the zone but they can’t find the origin. 

The best they have got so far is that whatever it is has something to do with leylines. a suggestion brought up by Sam after Tucker mapped out some of the ripples and Sam recognized some of the shapes from her occult witchy books.

This sadly didn’t answer much and honestly only made Danny go, “This better not be some culty bullshit then”

and Tucker hissing, “bro don’t jinx it!”

When it all comes to a head it was just a normal average school day. After hearing them all out Jazz decided that the best course of action was to lock the doors of the portal just in case, and look further into ley lines later that day.

English class had a little outing planned, the whole class went on a short trip out of the city and into the forest for a special assignment.

Mr Lancer told them to find a scenery there that would inspire them, take a picture, and then write three pieces about it of various word counts, this was to teach them about word use and what not. Just regular shit, Danny wasn’t paying that much attention.

while trudging around in the woods, trying to avoid Dash and Kwan and find something to photograph does he feel it. It’s like his entire skeleton freezes over, a thin layer of frost over his entire insides that shatters right after.

Tucker yelps, “Danny what the hell was that!?”

Danny slaps his hands over his mouth, “I think that was my ghost sense? but like insane?”

“what”

Then a small portal opens and a tiny green blur speeds out and crashes right into Danny’s chest.

Danny can’t help but catch whatever it is and he quickly identifies it as Cujo when he can take a proper look.

The poor thing is shivering and whining and abrasions on his paws quickly clue the gang in that the little dog is hurt.

“Jezus, what happened to him?” asks Sam looking worried for the little guy.

Cujo whines and burrows down Danny’s jacket and into Danny's shirt, by now the A listers as well as Valerie have noticed something weird is going on. 

once Valerie recognizes the puppy butt going down Danny’s shirt does she shout, “that vile beast! Let me at them! Don’t worry Danny I have something that will deal with that thing real fast, just stand still!”

Sam immediately jumps in front of Danny to shield him and Cujo.

“Uhm, that’s a puppy,” says Paulina derisively while Star next to her starts to coo as Cujo’s small head pops up from Danny’s neckline, snuggled in fully and clearly content to be and stay right where he is.

"Sooooo cute!” Star just wants to snuggle it, if only all ghosts were adorable little animals, then the whole ghost thing all the time wouldn’t be nearly so annoying.

“That thing is evil,” Valerie fumes.

“It’s a fucking puppy, Gray. What the hell is your damage” Paulina and Valerie viciously verbally tear into each other and Sam hates to admit it but she’s really glad for Paulina’s redirection of Val’s ire.

because she’s right, Cujo is just a puppy.

Mr. Lancer shows up noticing the commotion and increasing volume of Valerie and Paulina’s now borderline screaming match to put an end to all that.

And it’s right then, right when everyone is fully distracted that a flash happens in the distance quickly followed by a tremor through that they can feel in the ground.

Then the sound reaches them, a loud boom and right after dark clouds quickly rise up in the distance where the flash originated.

All of it happens incredibly fast but right after Mr. Lancer wastes no time to round them all up and head back to the meeting point

“Holy shit that came from Amity”

“Did the town blow up?!”

“I’m texting my parents”

"Hi? mom? Are you okay? yeah? what the fuck happened!?”

dread pools in Danny’s stomach, it grows heavier as he gets no response, it does not lift even slightly through Mr. Lancer’s general reassurances to the whole class, holding Cujo tightly to his chest helps a little, but the frantic feeling keeps surging through his body as the whole class gets into the bus to head back home.

Back in Amity it’s just chaos, police sirens, fire fighters, people out on the street, for once there are no ghost warnings blaring and it’s all the stranger for it, all the more worrying.

This isn’t a ghost attack, this is a normal explosion, and it’s so much worse because of it.

Everyone is used to ghost attacks, they aren’t used to normal explosions.

Once back in Amity things get a bit blurry for Danny, he vaguely remembers school, there was a lot of rushing of people, he vividly remembers constantly trying to contact his parents and Jazz and being incredibly worried and frustrated that they aren’t responding to anything.

He very clearly remembers that Mr. Lancer was there through all of it, when everyone else got picked up, Danny remembers both Sam and Tucker not wanting to leave him and go with their parents, but he’d… well there wasn’t really…

things stopped making sense when the police showed up specifically for him. 

After that it was all just one big dark smear.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

The street is pulverized, his house and those adjacent to it are reduced to rubble.

The other buildings are badly damaged enough that the people have to be relocated until repairs are completed and they are confirmed to be safe, for the ones closest to the explosion there is a high likelihood that the structural integrity is compromised. 

They might need to be torn down as well if that’s the case.

All the windows are smashed in a very wide radius around the initial point of the explosion, overall the scene looks like… like something out of a war documentary.

Danny doesn’t get to see much of that though, he’s put in a meeting room, or office, with some things to snack on and water to drink, both untouched, and Cujo in his lap.

The basement exploded, well, the lab or even more specifically, the portal exploded. But the local authorities don’t know about all that stuff so for them right now it’s just the basement.

And seeing as there is honestly nothing left, it's very possible that they are never going to realize there was a gateway to the realm of the dead under that house in the first place.

His mom and dad are… gone, as well as Jazz, she was most likely upstairs- studying.

Danny swallows and holds Cujo closer, nobody has bothered him about the ghost dog, everyone is just treating the little guy like a regular dog, Danny would appreciate it if he wasn’t completely numb.

He’s trying very hard to just keep it all together and not start spiraling cause this is all very painfully familiar, explosion, death, they are contacting Vlad, it’s taking really long.

But from this point forward he’s going to have to do everything in his power to not slip, this is it. He can’t afford- Cause Clockwork isn’t availa- is that it? 

Is all this caused by the mess in the realms!?

Now Danny has to fight the thoughts that he should have done more, taken it more seriously, researched harder, he’d gotten an on time proper and clear warning for fucks sake! Why didn’t he- Why didn’t he-!?

But he did didn’t he? There was basically nothing to go off of, he tried really hard with the tools that he had and he had been making progress, it just wasn’t enough, he didn’t- couldn’t figure it out on time, and-

Why is it taking so damn long to contact Vlad and get this nightmare fully going he wants out of this room it’s getting suffocating!

The door opens, the nice sounding lady regretfully informs him that there seems to be more bad news, she brings it very gently and carefully, most likely trying to not re traumatize him again.

But it comes down to this, Vlad’s estate has blown up as well and nobody knows where he is, they haven’t found, ahem, him yet.

Danny swallows, that’s not how this is supposed to go.

“You think Vlad is dead?” he stammers out.

“We-” she starts clearly thinking very hard about how to word this, “Right now he’s considered missing, I’m afraid that any attempts to reach him hasn’t been answered but search and rescue-”

Danny blinks, he knows Vlad’s phone just has reception in the zone, and something as a portal explosion wouldn’t take him out, the guy should be chomping at the bit to come and get him. So he’s… incapacitated.

“-however, in the meantime the Foley’s have generously accepted to temporarily take you in, I have heard you are good friends with their son Tucker so-”

Danny perks up a little, and Cujo sleepily snuffles before settling in again, “that sounds good, as much as anything can sound good right about now”

The lady tries to hide her wince and gives him a pitying smile instead, both suck.

The next thing Danny knows he’s wrapped up in a tight hug by his best friend.

“You’ll get through this man, we’re here for you, Sam is in spirit here with us right now, if you’re very quiet you can hear her furious yelling at her parents to let her go so she can hug you too”

Danny gives him a watery laugh, “thanks, I just- fuck”

“yeah… yeah”

it’s bad, but it’s not like that time with Nasty Burger, he’s still got Sam and Tucker, Mr. Lancer too, who is certainly not stopping checking in with Danny either.

And Vlad is missing.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

The zone is a mess, it’s also devoid of life, more than usual, devoid of unlife might be a better way to put it? 

Suddenly tracing the point where this mess came from is a lot easier, Sam came with the idea that the one or ones or thing or whatever that started all this probably did something to hide what they were doing.

They go past Clockworks tower, still encased in a perfect time still bubble, seeing none of the outer gears move even an inch is rather unnerving.

eventually they reach a gigantic neon green flaming crack in reality, or at least that’s what it looks like. 

with Cujo’s aid they move back into the living world somewhat to the right of the reality tear.

It turns out that on the living side of things the tear is a big erupting neon green magma spewing volcano.

By Danny’s estimates the green is ecto adjacent but feels horrible wrong.

“so this volcano was connected to the realms somehow and when it erupted…” Sam shivers, “so natural disaster?”

Tucker looks from his PDA trying to make sense of the ecto energy readings and the still spewing volcano, “there is no seismic activity here, that volcano was dead, something triggered it”

“or someone” hisses Danny, “I’ll have a closer look around as Phantom, do not hesitate to contact me if you see someone or something” 

Sam and Tucker both agree and Danny transforms and heads into the volcano.

the place is… weird, there are ruins, and some ritualistic areas, there is a huge mostly destroyed pool where new debris occasionally still falls into, causing a new explosion, Danny takes a few samples of the stuff in the pool to investigate later, cause even though it’s the same toxic green it’s clearly different from the stuff the volcano is spewing into the air.

Then he makes a quick sweep through the underground caverns and stumbles upon a sight he was not expecting.

Unconscious Vlad. Though upon closer inspection it’s revealed to Danny he’s very cold and stiff, so properly dead Vlad. 

The idea is… ridiculous.

So is that it then? Vlad found some neat new place to fuck around with shit he shouldn’t and he found out in the most explosive way possible, and now there is some manner of ecto volcano or whatever, though probably not cause it just doesn’t feel like ecto… But anyway it all exploded in Vlad’s face and he died and caused another Pariah Dark level event through the Realms and somehow managed to also kill Danny’s parents and Jazz while he was at it.

Danny lifts Vlad’s corpse up and takes him with him to Sam and Tucker. Whatever happened down there happened, but Vlad’s corpse doesn’t deserve to just be left there to rot, just like Danny’s parents and Jazz, he didn’t deserve to die (fully).

Sam and Tucker startle violently when he carefully lays his body down nearby.

“Ancients! is he-” Sam takes a hesitating step forward

“I don’t sense anything from him anymore, like, there is supposed to be something there and there just isn’t so…”

“fucking hell” Tucker wipes a head over his face, “can we- I would really like to go home now, I think I’ve gotten enough of this place”

The trio agrees and after some back and forth they have decided that Danny will put Vlad’s corpse in a not yet combed through section of his estate. Search and rescue will find his body, and then… uhhh…

“I worry about everything after that when we get there, alright?” Danny says, and that’s that.

It feels… wrong, but none of them can come up with a better plan so…

It’s not long the next day that the same nice lady contacts Danny about Vlad.

Danny was expecting that. 

What he wasn’t expecting was that eventually in that conversation a whole new bomb got dropped on him.

Because apparently Vlad has registered him as his heir, as in like heir to Dalv.co

And heir to a lot of money.

Time passes, the world is in magical chaos, the Justice League is solving it. Danny isn’t involved in any of it. 

He just had a funeral and is now looking at the graves of his parents and his sister, and a little bit over there is Vlad.

Cujo is still with him, the little guy seems to have decided that he’s just not going anywhere without Danny so he has a dog now, he’s always wanted a dog.

There is a man a respectful distance behind him, apparently that’s Vlad’s butler, his butler now, since when did Vlad have a butler? Danny cannot remember there being a butler the last time he was forced to go to Vlad’s creepy mansion.

It’s starting to rain.

“Master Daniel,” oh no, he’s going to have to put an end to that right away.

Danny turns and takes a step to the guy, “please call me Danny”

“time stop”

Danny startles as everything around him stops moving, rain drops freezing in place.

The butler in front of him now looks a lot like Clockwork.

“First I want to give you my condolences, I am very sorry for your loss Danny” Clockwork looks well and truly remorseful, he’s genuine. There is a tiny part of Danny that instantly wants to rage and scream at him about the unfairness of it all. But Clockwork cannot do anything, not this time.

“And secondly,” he changes back into the very regular human butler appearance, “I’ll be around to aid you along this new path”

Danny blinks.

oh, well, okay then.

Clockwork introduces himself as Conrad W. Kronus and makes it very clear that to everyone that matters he’s always existed. 

There will be no need to worry about any paperwork or whatever, from here on out Danny will get to stay at the other estate Vlad got in Amity so he could do his Major work more easily and he’ll get to live there with his butler and his dog.

That way he can finish school in Amity Park comfortably.

There is of course still the matter of Dalv.co to worry about but Clockwork reassures him that he doesn’t have to think about any of that just yet and to focus on grieving properly instead.

He says all that while driving them home in one of Vlad’s fancy cars, Danny didn’t think the old ghost would know how to drive at all…

It’s when they arrive and Cujo jumps out of his arms to explore his new home while Clockwork goes about his own maybe butlery duties while Danny kind of just stands in the main living room that a sudden realization comes to him.

“oh- this is… I’m like Bruce Wayne now”

[starrystevie]

it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.

the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.

it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."

then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."

then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."

that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.

"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."

but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.

'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.

if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.

if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.

"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.

for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-

the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."

eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.

"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.

three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.

he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.

"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"

there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.

"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"

eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.

"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."

eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.

he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.

"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."

"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."

eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?

but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.

and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.

eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.

"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.

it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.

there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."

"holy shit."

it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.

"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"

choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-

"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."

he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.

"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"

and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.

"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.

"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."

eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."

steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.

"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."

"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."

he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."

eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.

"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.

"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.

"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.

"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"

the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.

and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.

"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."

it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.

"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."

"...are you bribing me, harrington?"

"is it working?"

eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.

"of course it is."

the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.

"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"

it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.

he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.

"lucky indeed."

[bikananjarrus]

feel a little insane when i think about hera falling in love with kanan.

like. kanan is intrigued by her and attracted to her from the beginning. i mean he's into her from the second he hears her voice. and he's known her a few days max, and he's already thinking to himself, "looking at her in the pilot's chair now, he determined he'd follow her anywhere." like okay lover boy!!!!!

but hera is on a mission when she meets him. and at first, she didn't even intend to recruit him, much less to get to know him, even as a friend: "people with the will to stand up to the empire were worth knowing. but then she remembered that this wasn't a recruiting trip. she needed to keep after her objective. maybe in the next lifetime, pal."

but when things shift and she sees a different side to kanan that has her reconsidering bringing him on board, she knows that he's into her. she knows that he's flirting, and she lets it slide, because she thinks he'll get over it: "he was smitten with her, she could tell - and she was all right with that too. she didn't want to tell him that her war had already begun, and that in war, there was no time for anything else. he would probably understand that eventually."

she makes it very clear that she isn't looking for intimate companionship, that he's being brought on as crew, and nothing more. for her the mission comes first. which also makes it very clear that she never meant to fall for him. but she did!!!

the mission, the fight, the rebellion is still first for her, of course. and from conversations they have in rebels, it seems like hera never let herself think very much about a definitive future for them (because how can they plan for a safe and happy and secure future when the empire is still in power?).

but she opened up to him, opened her heart to him, even after all the personal heartbreak she's already been through. even just becoming friends with him, when he was just supposed to be a helping hand. i doubt it took much for kanan to move from physical attraction to real true feelings for her. but for hera that must have been so much harder to let herself fall. especially when she never meant to fall for him in the first place. and thinking about how hard she must have fallen for him, to get to the point where she would enter a relationship with him in the midst of wartime.

and for them to have built such a strong friendship, in order to then enter such a profound, trusting, intimate, loving partnership. from rebels, we can tell they're equals. they communicate with each other incredibly well; they trust each other; they know that the other is competent and capable.

and i just think that hera finding her person, realizing she's fallen in love with him, and then allowing herself to be in love with him, is just so special and beautiful.

(also thinking about how it took strength and bravery for her to put her heart on the line like that, to fall for him so deeply, and then to have that torn away from her but we don't need to talk about that)

[myalchod]

I remember looking at both of those polls for a good long while and being baffled by the first set of questions -- mostly because yeah, okay, I use some of those tags, but I'd never start a search with one of those. If I'm looking for something to read, usually it's:

what fandom am I in the mood for? -> start in that fandom's tag

do I explicitly want a ship or am I in the mood for a particular character or just whatever? conversely, is there anyone I don't want to read about? -> as appropriate, filter by ship/character (include/exclude)

am I in the mood for particular tags? -> as appropriate, include/exclude using the filters

scroll until something looks good -> read fic -> scream happily (ideal state)

Seriously, though, learn to use the AO3 filters to curate your experience. There are things that you'll have to work with -- the quirks of your fandom's tagging, for example, or when authors mistag (begging peopel to learn the difference between slash and ampersand in the relationship tags, and to not tag for tiny background relationships and gum up less popular ship tags), and you'l have to figure out what works for you (encouraging people to browse character tags as well as ship ones!), but the more you do with it, the easier it gets.

Also: experiment! Pick a trope that intrigues you and delve into it! Browse a ship tag backwards from the oldest fics! If you're lucky enough to have a ship tag with ... IDK, 327 pages (sounds fake, but okay), jump to page 189 and see what appeals to you. I promise you, there are all sorts of weird little gems buried in AO3 just wating for you to find them.

Explore! If you find an author you like, look at their other work. Look at their bookmarks. Look at the comments and maybe check out what people who have similar reactions to you have in their bookmarks, or what they may have written. (Taking a moment to shout out people who do share bookmarks and who make recs or even -- gasp -- write up rec posts here. Y'all are a gift to fandom.)

The lack of algorithm on this site is one of the best things about it. To me, AO3 is the same. And in both cases, once you carve out a comfy spot for yourself, it's so much better than any algorithm-generated experience could ever be.

thinking about that post of people assuming ao3 has an algorithm and also about how bonkers persistent the view is that ao3 is social media lite. like with startling regularity I get comments saying something along the lines of "it's probably weird to comment on a fic this old--" no it isn't!!!! this is an archive I am literally just assuming you searched for a selection of specific tags or sorted by kudos or looked back on my pseud or any other number of completely normal ways to use an archive site ?? kill the tiktok ghost in your brain and comment on old stuff it's NOT weird

[lillotte17]

Mythal thoughts this morning:

Morrigan said that the "closest" word for the kind of spirit Mythal came from was 'Benevolence' and my immediate reaction was:

Because even her idea that 'when kindness is denied it becomes retribution' doesn't really hold water. That's...not really how kindness works. I would think that a spirit formed around the idea of benevolence would have the same sort of path as Compassion if it became corrupted. Something more like Desperation or Despair.

To me, the idea that seems to fit her is Protection.

Protection is good! It's a feeling and impulse born from kindness and a desire to take care of others! It is also one of the oldest and most primary emotions people have. Desire and Fear came into being, and then Protection must have followed soon after. Because what else can you feel when someone you love is afraid? And a universal symbol for that feeling is a mother guarding her children, which is what Mythal always touted herself as being. "She was the Mother, protective and fierce." The Caretaker calls her 'the protector'. And the name of Solas' regret that you have to fight about her is called 'Fall of the Protector.'

But protection pushed too far becomes overbearing and oppressive. Controlling. 'Just do what I say, this is for your own good.' The cat who eats her kittens so they don't starve. The mother who breaks a precious golden mirror to teach her daughter a lesson.

Solas was Wisdom. He wanted to learn and to teach and to reflect, but even as a spirit, I think he wanted to give his knowledge purpose, and it suits him that he would be drawn to an embodiment of Protection. He could share what he knows and she could use it to keep others safe, and they will both find fulfillment in the exchange. It was mutually beneficial for them, and it was helping other people. A kind of symbiosis and even dependency, to some extent.

And then Elgar'nan makes a body. And he convinces Mythal to do so as well. And it's all downhill from there.

But you can see the thread of how Protection could convince Solas as that kind of spirit, not only as his friend, but because of what she embodies. For example, “it’s not wrong to build bodies from the titans, it gives us strength to protect ourselves and others” and “it’s not wrong to sever the titans' dreams, we’re protecting our people by ending the war” and “it’s not wrong to become a god, because the people need someone to watch over them.” Every bad step she asks him to take with her still echoes with the purpose of her original being, even though it is being pushed to harsh and terrible extremes.

Solas being Wisdom sees how she is wrong, but also doubts his convictions because protection is her nature. They have had a mutually beneficial partnership for thousands of years. He relies on her for fulfillment of his nature just as much as he believes she still relies on him for hers. And he loves her. And he trusts her. And for so many thousands of years, she has wanted to do nothing but good, so what she wants can’t be THAT bad, right?

Narrator Voice: It was, in fact, Much Worse.

And everything spins outward. He is Wisdom and he is a spirit, and spirits don't handle sudden change well, and Wisdom does not handle being wrong well, and the more things fall apart, the more he has to try and fix them. The more he has to justify the choices he made as being right. The more he has to defend the idea and the memory of Mythal being Inherently Good. Because if she wasn't good, then he put his trust in the wrong place. He was not Wise. He has lost not only Mythal, but himself and his true nature in allowing her to lead him to horrible places even when he knew better. He has to make the world the way she wanted it not only to soothe his conscience about what happened to the elves after the Veil, but because he is still clinging to the base of his initial partnership with Mythal. Mythal wanted the world this way because she was Good, and I was helping her which made me Good, and anything I have to do to achieve this goal is Acceptable because the results are Good. He can do what they have always done together. He will give his Wisdom for what she wanted to achieve, and the people will be Protected. Their contract and their natures will be fulfilled. And maybe everything else he did can be justified, even if it cannot be forgiven.

[d-emeter]

Johnny Mactavish who realizes he likes his girls a little bigger when he visits a museum for the first time — plus-sized!fem!reader x Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

CW: mid/plus-size reader! this is absolutely far from body neutral, talk of bodies/body image

Some love for my curvy gals🫶🏻

Johnny's first encounter with the beauty of the female form is as expected, almost stereotypical — staring at the pictures in the playboy magazine he stole from his older cousin. Usually hidden under his mattress, only coming out in the dead of night with a flashlight in hand. The girls are pretty. Scantily clad, sultry expressions, and Johnny quickly learns that this is what is considered hot. He sees girls like this in films, too — films shown to him by that same cousin, God forbid his ma ever found out he watched it — and he hears his cousin and his friends drone on and on about how sexy Megan Fox is as she bends over the hood of a car. Desperate to impress the cooler, older boys, he joins in too. This is what he should find hot.

It is what he thinks he finds hot. That is, until his final year of secondary school. He's freshly turned eighteen, overeager to enlist (his ma had insisted he at least finished school before he did), and taking what he thought were the easiest electives to try and coast through to graduation. He finds he actually really enjoys art class, unlike most of his mates who had the exact same plan he did (he's particularly talented at drawing anatomy, and tries not to preen too much when the teacher compliments him for it to avoid teasing).

Said mates and him are fucking around during the busride to the school-mandated museum trip, none of them particularly excited to spend the day between what they deem boring paintings and sculptures. Well, Johnny is actually quite curious — his family never really took him on trips like this — but he pretends to be just as annoyed as the others.

Find a work that calls to you, and use it as a drawing exercise in your sketchbook. That was the assignment. Johnny's friends take the easy way out — beelining towards the modern section of the museum, finding the paintings that are simple squares of colours. He's planning on following them, but then his teacher lays a hand on his shoulder and points him towards another hall — classical sculptures. He's torn, not wanting to be left out of his friends' fun, but also not wanting to disappoint his teacher. He decides to follow the direction of his teacher's outstretched finger.

He's surrounded by white marble and plaster. The genuine old-as-fuck sculptures are displayed on a plateau in the middle of the hall, the plaster copies piled along the walls. He wanders, pausing here and there to sketch a hand, or a nose. And then he spots her.

It's like he's hypnotized, body moving of its own volition, bringing him towards his object of fascination until he's face to face with her. His eyes flick down to the plaque on the floor — Venus. She's a goddess of... something (he wasn't paying attention during that class, okay?). It doesn't matter. The first thing he notices is that she looks nothing like the girls in the magazines, or films — no, her body is softer. Well, it's not really, it's plaster, but she looks softer. There's a roundness to her shoulders, a fullness to her thighs, a pudge to her tummy, the skin in rolls where she's bent to the side. Hot, is the first thing that comes to mind, but then he shakes his head at himself. No, hot doesn't do her justice — she's beautiful. Gorgeous, stunning. He scoffs; she's tucked away in a corner, like she isn't the most breathtaking thing he has ever laid eyes upon. He spends the rest of the afternoon taking down every detail in his sketchbook.

—

Johnny's been searching for her. Or, rather, for that pull he had towards her, all those years ago. He knows it's stupid. His Venus was perfection in plaster, she was made, without faults. No woman can measure up to that, not a real one. And yet he searches. He flirts with the curvy girls, the ones that rarely get any attention among their group of friends. He enjoys the way they react; some fluster, some flourish, none of them expecting his undivided attention. He takes home pretty, plump birds from bars, spends a night worshipping them. Nothing about it is not real, per say. He finds them attractive, frothing at the mouth at the way his hands sink into soft flesh and roam wide curves — but they're not her. He searches.

And then he finds.

It's the day you come waltzing into his life. Or, more realistically, you come waltzing onto base. Price was getting a new secretary, courtesy of Laswell. Johnny hears the comments — she's a pretty thing, young, and smart. He doesn't think much of it. There's plenty of those walking around base.

Then he catches sight of you and — bloody Jesus. You are young, and you are smart, but you're not just pretty. You're beautiful. Plush in all the right places, sending Johnny into overdrive, an incessant need to get his hands on you as soon as possible. It's out of his control, the way his legs carry him over to you until he's face to face with you. He's already decided he'll worship you, if you'll let him.

His goddess. His Venus.

[mahoutoons]

i'm feeling controversial today so here's another hot take. and before you type away at your keyboards, know that this is all coming from a south asian.

white leftists have got to stop acting like christianity is the only religion that deserves to be criticized and you cannot touch any other religion because that'd be racist and bigoted. because as an indian who's watching my country progress towards hindu nationalism, this attitude doesn't help at all.

white people see hinduism as this exotic brown religion that's so much more progressive but don't know the violence of the caste system, how it others a large portion of the population on the basis of caste, literally branding them as "untouchables". they teach us in school that this problem is a thing of the past but the caste system is still alive and shows itself in violent ways. and that's not even covering how non hindus are treated in the country. muslims especially are being killed, have their houses bulldozed, businesses destroyed, and are being denied housing, our fucking prime minister called them infiltrators and there's this fear among hindu extremists that they'll outnumber the hindus in the country. portraying hinduism as this exotic religion does a disservice to all those oppressed by the hindutva ideology

similarly, white people see buddhism as this hippie religion that's all about peace but have no idea how extremist buddhists in myanmar have been persecuting the rohingya muslims for years and drive them out of the country.

if anything portraying these religions as exotic hippie brown religions is a type of orientalism itself.

and also y'all have got to realize that just because christianity has institutional power in america doesn't mean there aren't parts of the world where they are persecuted on the basis of religion. yes karen from florida who cries christophobia because she sees rainbow sprinkles on a cake is stupid but christian oppression DOES exist in non western countries where they're a minority. pakistani christians get lynched almost on a daily basis over blasphemy accusations. just look up the case of asia bibi, a pakistani christian woman who was sentenced to death on blasphemy charges because of something she said when she was being denied water because it was "forbidden" for a christian and a muslim to drink from the same utensil and she'd made it unclean just by touching it (which is ALSO rooted in casteism and part of pakistani christians' oppression also comes from the fact that a lot of them are dalit but that's a whole other discussion). and that's just one christian group, this isn't even going into what copts, assyrians, armenians etc have faced and continue to face. saying that christians everywhere are privileged because of american christianity actually harms christian minorites in non western countries.

and one last thing because this post is getting too long: someone being anti america doesn't automatically mean they're the good guys. too many times i've been seeing westerners on twitter dot com praise the fucking taliban just because they hate america. yes, the same taliban who banned education for women, thinks women should be imprisomed at home, and consistently oppresses religious and ethnic minorities in afghanistan. yes, america's war on afghanistan was bad and they SHOULD be called out for their war crimes there. no, the taliban are still not the good guys. BOTH of them are bad. you cannot pretend to care about muslims and brown people if you praise the taliban. because guess what? most of their victims are BROWN MUSLIM WOMEN. but of course white libs who praise them don't rub their two braincells together to make that conclusion.

this post has gotten too long and i've just been rambling so the point of this post is: white "leftists" whose politics are primarily america centric should stop acting like criticism of ideologies like hindutva, buddhist extremism, and islamic extremism BY people affected by these ideologies is the same as racism or religious intolerance because that helps literally no one except the extremist bigots. also america is not the centre of the world, just because something isn't happening in america doesn't mean it isn't happening elsewhere

[sebdoesthings]

Sorry op I'm thinking about Reki.

The way Reki is the only one out of the main cast who (as far as we're shown, anyway) can make his own boards. Who can invent modifications, who can tell exactly what kind of board shape and type will suit someone's wants and needs best. Who is skilled enough in this craft that the boards he makes can compete with those of high ranking professionals and win.

The way Langa wouldn't be where he is if it wasn't for Reki making him that board. Sure, he would've learned to do it eventually, but never ever this quickly. And Reki even notices how quickly Langa's improved, but he never realises that he's the catalyst for that, both physically (through the board) and emotionally (through giving Langa the doki dokis when he watches him skate).

Reki doesn't realise any of that. He repeatedly downplays his skill and work as a mechanic, and sees it as something lesser to active skating. He's intimidated by Langa's skill, but fails to realise that Langa's skating is more than just his skating alone. It's his skill as a skater/snowboarder combined with Reki's skill as a mechanic/inventor. They are inseparable.

The show constantly shows us how Reki and Langa bring out the best in each other both in everyday situations and skating. They are at their best when they're together. It's not just Reki who needs Langa, or Langa who needs Reki - they need each other. And it's so heartbreaking watching Reki not realise that for so long.

Whatever you do don’t think about Reki.

Reki in his workshop, tuning up Langa’s board and murmuring all the ways he’s thought of improving it under his breath without realizing it.

All while Langa sits next to him, with his head propped up on his arm, staring at Reki all dazed and wide-eyed in amazement and adoration.

[demon-country]

One of the saddest parts of the stolitz miscommunication debacle to me is that for all his bluster and all his denial, Blitz never managed to fool anyone into believing that there were no feelings involved and he was doing it solely for the book, including Stolas. That is, until Ozzie's, at which point he finally fooled the one person who he didn't even think he needed to.

For all we talk about how Stolas let his fantasies of romance run wild, which caused him to accidentally run roughshod over Blitz (especially at first), he wasn't exactly wrong, in the end. Blitz did develop feelings for him, and given how excited and enthusiastic he was that last full moon, their nights together were probably the only times he felt safe actually showing that. Because he could always tell himself and everyone else that it was just an act, he was just giving Stolas what he wanted and keeping him satisfied enough that he'd let Blitz keep the book.

Stolas thought, up until Ozzie's, that Blitz enjoyed their deal just as much as he did. Because Blitz did. If Blitz was showing up basically every moon as hyped and ready to go as the time we saw him, it's not really a surprise that Stolas didn't catch on to the times when Blitz was actually unhappy and uncomfortable because he felt objectified. After all, Blitz snaps at and is abrasive to everyone, and any annoyance probably seemed pretty par for the course, especially for someone as oblivious, ignorant, and autistic-coded as Stolas. But Stolas also got special treatment on top of that, and it's easier to focus on the stuff that stands out rather than the stuff that doesn't seem too far off from Blitz's standard behavior. He got times where Blitz was genuinely happy and comfortable and excited to see him, we literally see that in the memory fragments and Blitz's behavior during the last full moon. He got times where Blitz seemed to find him so hot he'd grab him and turn things sexual on a dime (Truth Seekers and The Circus). He also got times where Blitz was caring and attentive, and where Blitz accepted care and gentleness during aftercare (because there's literally no way that didn't happen, not getting aftercare after BDSM scenes can be legitimately traumatizing for both the Dom and sub).

Like, that's not to say that Stolas shouldn't have taken the numerous hints that his condescension and baby talk were highly unappreciated, because yeah that shit was very uncool of him and ignorance doesn't excuse it. But look at how Blitz gently caresses Stolas' cheek in Truth Seekers. Look at how thrilled he was to be with Stolas again in The Full Moon. Look at the photo Stolas has of the pony drawing Blitz seems to have made while at his palace. Look at the memory fragments where Blitz is so fucking into kissing him or gleefully showing off toys or making that big shiny eyed blep I'm dying to know the context of. How else was Stolas supposed to take all that every full moon and however many nights Blitz came over outside of that, and not be convinced that his feelings were returned?

Because they were. Not immediately, of course, but the were. They were on the same page about that. There were plenty of things Blitz didn't like, related to Stolas' unconscious racism/classism. There was plenty of "things for [Blitz] to teach and [Stolas] to learn". There were plenty of things that went unsaid and unheard and misinterpreted on both sides. But the love was there, Stolas didn't make it all up. It wasn't the perfect fantasy he was initially picturing (although I'm pretty sure that illusion didn't actually last very long, not with how dejected he looks in a few of the memory fragments and at the start of Ozzie's), and Blitz had a lot more hidden under the surface than Stolas knew about (although he did know Blitz had walls he hadn't seen through yet), but the love was there. You don't have to know everything about someone to start falling in love with them. Blitz couldn't fool anyone, but he especially couldn't fool Stolas, who he showed his heart to again and again thinking he was safely hidden behind the alibi of the book deal.

Until Ozzie's. Until the disastrous "date", after which Blitz couldn't hide the hurt he felt thinking that all Stolas wanted him for was sex, when Blitz wanted more. Except Blitz didn't say that last part. So all Stolas got was Blitz ignoring him on their date, Blitz rejecting his offer to go inside, and Blitz tearing up while saying in a wounded and borderline angry voice that their deal was strictly about sex, which finally clued Stolas in that his actions hadn't been taken as cute and flirty like he had intended, they had just served to hurt Blitz and convince him that all he wanted was to use Blitz.

Blitz's pain changed everything for Stolas. He stopped flirting, he stopped calling him Blitzy save for one time, he stopped most of his interactions with Blitz, and he started trying to give Blitz outs. He looked at all the times Blitz was annoyed at him, at how umbalanced their deal was, and at how it may have been just as cruel of a chain as the one binding him to Stella, and quite correctly came to the conclusion that the deal needed to end and Blitz needed to have a way to do his job without being dependant on Stolas. But he also looked at all the memories of Blitz being happy with him, and all the times Blitz showed up excited, and came to the incorrect but reasonable conclusion that it was all probably just an act Blitz put on to keep the book. Just like Blitz had been hoping to convince everyone of.

And then Stolas ended the deal, and Blitz couldn't figure out why so he started to panic. The deal was his safety net and his shield; it was the only way he felt he could get something close to the real relationship he wanted, it was what allowed him to be open with his feelings, and what gave him the courage to let some of his walls down. It probably felt like such a betrayal that Stolas would take it away.

Even though he was the one who dodged all of Stolas' offers to talk, out of fear that things would become complicated if they talked about it, out of fear of rejection after Stolas hid during their "date", and later out of guilt and shame for how he failed to save Stolas. Even though he was the one who was hiding behind the excuse that it was all just for the book. Even though he was the only one convinced that Stolas could never care about him for anything other than sex. Even though Stolas flat out told him he cared about him and wanted him to stay, just without the deal in between them. Even with all that, Blitz still couldn't see Stolas ending their deal any way other than Stolas abandoning him and rejecting him and taking away the only way he has ever been able to openly show that side of himself.

It was more than just his self-hatred talking, it was more than just his insecurities getting the better of him. It was a perceived betrayal of trust and an inability to see how much the deal limited their ability to get what they both actually wanted. The reason it hurt him so much was because Stolas hadn't actually been wrong. Blitz did care, Blitz did enjoy their deal, Blitz did want Stolas just as much as Stolas wanted him.

The tragedy of it all was that the love was real, but the only ones who were convinced it wasn't was the two of them. So it's a good thing the story isn't over for them yet, because I couldn't take that ending for them. After all the shit they've been through in their lives, they deserve their happy ending together, they deserve to have their mutually requited love be realized.

[someiicecube]

I had this post sitting in my drafts for a while and I was suddenly reminded of it haha. 

Anyway, we all know this line from the main character synopsis, right? 

Only humans?

Is this purposeful on the writer's part to specifically mention the curse can only affect humans? Or are humans the only creatures mentioned because that's all the main character has had the chance to... curse with their touch?

Can the curse affect monsters?

Currently, we can't know one way or the other. 

Even if we did touch Leander, bare hand and all, it's Leander. The main character is under the impression that, because he's such a strong and powerful mage recommended to us by the mysterious doctor Kuras himself, it's just something he can do apparently—  although, we as the players know that's not all there is to it... just what is it? Is it part of his supposed monsterous-ness? Does he really know a spell that can protect against our curse? What's Leander's Jungle Juice really made out of? We can't tell yet...

Chosing Leander in this context is such a strategical plot point because he cannot answer our initial question. Is Leander not affected because he cast his little protection spell? Or is Leander not affected because he is/has become a monster?

However, we still can assume that the main character doesn't have full knowledge on what they are capable of with their curse— ya' know, probably being mostly surrounded by humans and such. So, the idea of touching even a monster is probably not a theory anyone wants to test (unless you're a mage, then please do it on some random monster and not the LIs for funzies... unless you want to).

Could this be a seed the writers are planting? Maybe, maybe not. But leaving the question unaswered (by Leander), again, makes the player and main character cautious by nature.

But what if they did slip up?

What if they slipped up and it happened on accident? 

Your bare fist colliding into Ais' chest, skin-on-skin but still a solid blow. Your hand desperately reaching out for Kuras' own, just wanting to feel his warmth once more only for a moment. Your palm sweeping against Vere's shoulder, pushing him away, your skin brushing along the thin translucent fabric. Or your fingers digging into Mhin's wrist as their dagger hovers right above you, their pulse hard against your uncovered touch.

It's startling. It's something you didn't mean to do. Fear grips you immediately; dread rises as your stomach falls. You are as quick to let go of them as your eyes are to look them in the eye and...

Nothing.

While, it wouldn't come as a shock to either Vere or Ais. Kuras, who the main character wouldn't know is an angel at this point, and Mhin are another eyebrow raiser for sure. It didn't affect them, when you know it should. If it doesn't affect them... that would only make the MC raise many more questions about Leander in turn. Ah, what a dramatic way to reveal the fact that the person you fancy is a monster.

Other notes and thoughts:

While, yes, an interesting idea to think about. I'm torn between wanting the monsters to be immune and 'fuck it, this curse affects everyone, even your pet rock ain't safe'. I can't help but feel this idea also lowers the stakes of the MC's curse... if done wrong.

Let's say this, the curse doesn't have an effect on monsters, right? But for each monsterous LI there will be a catch. Say, Vere, for example; a monster who lusts for power beyond him... having a human like yourself with such a deadly curse, well, who's to say it wouldn't give him a few ideas on how to use you it. What? You're still planning on finding a cure? Oh no, but you have him now, don't you? Why need a cure when you have him, your curse, and your soon-to-be mindless worshippers at your feet?

(Won't lie writing some of Vere's points made me think of Leander, but that's manipulation for you)

Or think Kuras, a doctor, an angel who passed through the shroud to watch over humanity. How would Kuras feel if the person he's grown so close to decides their curse isn't worth getting rid of now that you have him— can't you see the danger in yourself anymore?

Or try with, like some previous theories once said for us touching Leander: it doesn't affect him now... but eventually he will devolve into madness like the rest of everyone. But don't just apply that to Leander, now think of everyone else. Imagine finally finding someone you can touch without consequences. It's something that gets your blood rushing and heart pounting with a feeling your haven't felt in a while! However... the more and more you do so, you've noticed they've changed. They're more irritated, they've been having more headaches than normal, and their once beautiful smile twists into something dreadfully familiar. Congratulations, you've made your beloved mad with love! Here's the bad ending! Yipee!

Really, in the end it's all a balancing act, the stake were there and you don't want to take them away before the climax. If you do, place something else in its steed— something to raise them even further than what was initially thought possible.

[murdockcastleslut]

Can I request a Benedict fic based on enchanted by Taylor swift?!

omg this is so fun! this is kinda be what should be around season 4! i know they have a masquerade party i don't anything about the plot of the plot so this is just my imagination! hope you like it! | info about request here!

violet bridgerton has out down herself with her enchanted forest masquerade ball, a theme requested by her youngest hyacinth.

florals, woodwork, and vines covered the bridgerton home. guests entered in florals and pastels their faces covered with masks.

this ball was so full you couldn't turn around without the possibility of bumping into another person.

you were having fun dancing and conversing with guests whom also decided to join in on the festivities.

though dude to the number of people attending and the fact that although lovely your gown was very tight. you move through the home hoping to find a place to catch you breath.

you stumbled up on the empty drawing room and a man admiring the paintings among them.

"oh im sorry to interrupt." you say noticing him.

he turns to face you. his light blue eyes shine bright contrasted against his dark blue mask.

"no, no, not all. just admiring my families paintings. i never quite noticed how detailed they were." he smiles towards you.

your eyes widen as you realized who you were talking to, benedict brigderton.

"are you alright?" he asks concern.

you snap put of it and shyly nod.

"oh yes, i am sorry. i just needed a second from the party, although lovely it is quiet hot with the amount of people attending tonight. your mama must be quiet proud." you smiled.

"oh yes she is," he nodded. "please have a seat if you need."

"oh thank you."

"do you like art?"

"i do. i paint. my papa was kind enough to allow to have lessons and teach me about different artist. do you paint?"

"i dabble, though i think i might be better at sketching."

"do you have favorite thing to sketch?"

"people, whist their unaware preferably, there is something about people when then don't think anyone is paying attention them."

you smiled at his answer. he was quiet interesting, there was something about him you couldn't explain that pulled you in.

the two of you chatted about whatever came your minds and it felt like no time had passed at all.

the sound of clock stricking the next hour is what drew you out of you trance. you realized you had been talking for almost fort-five minutes. you quickly stood.

"i am so sorry, i hadn't relized so much time had passed. my mama must be looking for me. i do hope to see you again." you nervously rushed.

he stood up and smiled. he took your hand and laid a kiss on your covered knuckles.

"i was enchanted to meet you. i hope to see you again as well." he smiles looking at you with those blue eyes.

that night, the two of you laid in you respective bedrooms counting down the moments til you could see one another again.