#tumblr/The Jab Circle

[galleryyuhself]

GALLERYYUHSELF - A newly completed venture from ALICE YARD and TOOFPRESS - The Jab Circle is a space dedicated to bringing Moko Jumbies together. STICK IS LIFE is a pilot documentary of these jab circles and the communities they inspire. (Toofpress)

[pressureplus]

Hihi!! Back again! (Lmk if you want me to not request so often I don’t want to overwhelm you guys <33)

Could I perchance req a scenario where experiment reader just wants to cuddle with Sebastian (like reader is just snuggled into his chest bc they’re just exhausted.) and then their kid decides to snuggle up on top of the reader?? I genuinely think it’s just a cute idea and I couldn’t stop thinking about it lol

Also!! How are you both? Hope you’re doing well!! <3

-💫

Hello again, 💫, hope you're doing well!

I finally got to that request you thought got eaten by the Tumblr God's like some kind of weird Tumblr Offering. Hope you like it! ❤️

Layers of Fondness

Pairings: Sebastian Solace x GN!Experiment!Reader

Au: [Unnamed]

Warnings: None, I kept this light and fluffy!

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

"Oh, Hello there, little star." Sebastian chuckles when his smaller partner comes up to cuddle him, their form already curling up into his chest from where he's been laying for a while now.

"Are you a sleepy little angel?" He teases them lightly, one of his hands coming up to rub at their back in soothing, wide circles.

"Mmmf." To say Y/N's response is short would be an understatement, but the way that their face is buried in his neck ruffle tells him they definitely don't want to be holding a conversation right now.

Smiling, Sebastian traces comforting shapes on their back and begins to hum, hoping to relieve some of that awful tension that's made his lover so exhausted today. Briefly, he ponders what could have done it this time. Maybe an altercation with another experiment? A stock run gone bad, perhaps?

His questions are answered nearly immediately when he hears the tiny patter of footsteps start to waddle their way into the room.

He can only chuckle and grin that sharp, amused smile when tiny hands emerge up from below the side of the bed and grab fistfuls of the bedding, pulling the small body up and into the covers like the little heathen that it is.

"Ah, Right. The attention-hungry baby." Sebastian snickers to punctuate his comment as the little one wiggles and worms it's way up under it's parent's arm, nuzzling in against the both of them.

"Are you finally ready to sleep? After I've been trying to get you down for a nap for two hours?" Tired, smiling relief comes from Y/N when they wrap both their arms around the needy toddler.

"Mmm..." Their shared child's ear fins twitch and it's light flickers slightly to dim with the low energy.

"Well would you look at that, they sound just like you." Sebastian seems more than a little entertained by his own remark.

"Shut up, fish man." Y/N pouts at him, completely unaware those angry eyes are much less than menacing when they're tired and only melt his fishy heart.

"Don't teach them that!" Sebastian scolds playfully, as though he doesn't say so much meaner than that more often than not, and laughs.

"Shut up!" The little, mostly nonverbal toddler proudly mimicks it's role model in the inconvenient and terribly timed way only tiny children seem to be able to do.

"Look what you've done- now it's gonna take after you!" Y/N's husband playfully jabs again, and feins looking anguished.

"You say that like you didn't marry me." Y/N teases him back.

"You say that like I won't take it back." Sebastian makes an empty, joking threat.

"You won't, we both know you can't live without me." They smile back at him before relaxing again, still so sleepy they can hardly keep their eyes open.

He leans in and kisses them on the nose, then goes to place another to the baby's temple.

The pair's little one shifts and turns to lay draped over Y/N's resting form, creating a happy family stack before it drifts and sleeps.

Sebastian goes to make yet another bit of commentary before he stops, seeing his spouse and his toddler already out for the night.

Looking happy yet again and softening, he opts instead to pull the covers up and close his eyes as well.

The collective peace has been a rare one lately, but nobody really seems to mind when the trouble is so cute at the end of the day.

[heliza24]

Thoughts about Domesticity, Carework, and the American Dream in episode 2.5 of Interview with the Vampire

I’ve been mulling over episode 2.5 a lot. There was so much to love in the episode (the incredible writing, the kitchen sink off Broadway play of it all, the chemistry between Luke, Jacob and Assad, the vulnerability in Eric’s performance). But my mind keeps circling a couple of themes, trying to piece them together. So as usual I’m here on tumblr to try to work it out. 

I keep coming back to the way that Armand was gendered in this episode. His big complaint to Louis was that he was “home picking lint off the sofa”. He arrives with “mop and misery” to clean up the mess. Louis insults him by calling him “the good nurse”. All those things are feminized. They’re also extremely of the era; these are Feminine Mystique, mid-century housewife type complaints. The wife’s job is to make the husband’s life smooth and never worry about her own happiness. Obviously in the 1970s we’re seeing this begin to change thanks to second wave feminism. We’re in the process of trying to ratify the ERA, Ms. magazine has just been founded, and things are shifting. The kind of cheery domestic American dream of the 1950s is definitely shifting, and we see this in the episode as well. Betty Hutton selling sewing machines competes with Spiro Agnew resigning on TV. The watergate scandal signified a loss of faith in American authority, a kind of parallel destruction of the country’s father figure (brought down by journalists, no less). The comfortable lie of domesticity, the “prison of empathy” that Armand has created around Louis is crumbling. Armand is boring but he’s also bored, like a housewife taking valium to get by. The whole episode is set in an apartment that reeks of divorce, according to Daniel, and we’re seeing it play out in real time. When Armand lashes out to hurt Louis, he does it not through direct violence, like Lestat, but by holding his failure as a father over him, telling him that Claudia  never loved him. That jab, in combination with the way he’s edited Louis’s memories (gaslighting, another time honored form of domestic abuse) is enough to get Louis to hurt himself. LIke a wife who is always outwardly obedient to her husband but spends her time exacting petty revenge against him for the way he takes her for granted, Armand’s methods are never violent. They are soft and subtle and targeted.

I have to thank @bluedalahorse for first alerting me to the way the crumbling domestic American dream is threaded through this episode. And after she mentioned it I saw it *everywhere*. 

Obviously there is a level of complexity here in the Loumand relationship that this metaphor cannot fully capture. For one thing, Armand is a man. He was turned in a time before modern understanding of gender and sexuality really solidified, so in some way it makes sense that he would be the most gender fluid of our main characters, but his position would be a lot different if he were a woman, even a woman vampire. And Armand is very powerful. His insecurities and crippling fear of being alone keep him from exercising this power and walking away in a way that would perhaps be healthier for both him and Louis. But he is not trapped economically or socially in the way a wife would have been in this era. (That being said, I get the sense that *something* about the way the fire happened in Paris has made Louis and Armand go to ground. Maybe there is an element of being “trapped together because of fear of exposure”. But even then, I think my point still stands.)

To drill down and become more specific, there’s an extra added layer to the way Armand is feminized in this episode. I’ve written a lot about disability in this show and also the way it approaches eugenics, and those things were very on my mind as I rewatched this episode. (To be fair, they are always on my mind when I watch anything. Being disabled will do that to you.) Anyway, the specific way that Armand casts himself in this episode is as a caregiver. He is a beleaguered, bitter caregiver to those weaker to him. I think you hear this especially when he describes to Louis what happened: “you said the worst things you ever said to me, and then you walked into the sun. And now you are a convalescent.” The absolute sneer on the word convalescent.  The absolute disdain for being put in this position again. The way he denies Louis the blood and keeps him out of his coffin for so long. The “final act of service” in calling Lestat. And then the tenderness laced with fear. Will he “be on suicide watch for the next 1000 years?”. 

Armand is fascinating to me because of the way he seems to instinctively reject people who remind him of his own past weaknesses. Those weaknesses are buried down deep in his characterization, but they’re there and they’re important. He was sick and wasting away when he was turned. And before that he was an abused sex worker. You can see the way he dismisses people in similar situations in the way he treats Daniel in this episode. He calls Daniel a “broken boy” when he’s talking to Louis. He casually rejects the idea that there might be any sort of truth captured in Daniel’s tapes. The interviews on those tapes are with a sex worker and gay veteran and his disabled refugee husband. All of these people are so close to Armand in so many ways. I even think this is why Armand comes down so hard on Claudia, and why he cannot abide the true empathy and love Louis has for her. Claudia was turned when her body was weak. Weaker and more disabled, so to speak, than Armand. But they are not dissimilar. But Louis loves Claudia anyway, and respects her strengths. No one ever shown the love Louis shows to Claudia to Armand. No one ever granted him true empathy. The only way he has been able to hold on to any love at all is to grovel, to manage, to care give. The only way he experiences care is to give it. Of course he’s broken, of course he’s bitter.

So now we come to Daniel. The broken boy who has suicidal ideation and a drug problem, things that make him imminently dismissable in Armand’s mind. But Daniel also has a drive, a passion for life, and a love for the people who slip through the cracks. Louis and Daniel definitely share this great affection for humanity, and it’s what allows them to connect in San Francisco and again in Dubai. And it’s what makes him inscrutable, and captivating, to Armand. Because there really is no greater act of service than telling somebody’s story. Daniel describes himself as a therapist ironically in Dubai, but what he’s doing is carework. It’s real empathy. And Armand doesn’t understand that. Armand doesn’t understand what someone is doing recording the stories of people who were just like him. A whole universe of possibilities opens in the moment when Armand almost starts telling Daniel his story. Out of all the ways Daniel tries to save himself, that little life line of empathy is what almost snags Armand. But then Armand clamps back down, realizes he’s staring into a “black hole”. He’s trying to insult Daniel when he says that, but to me it just sounds like he’s describing himself.

When Armand is lulling Daniel into death, the thing he chooses to describe to him is the American domestic fantasy. He describes it as a fate worse than death. He describes it as a boring trap. And he specifically casts Daniel in the masculine, straight role in that fantasy, with a wife “vacuuming on valium” who “counts down his thrusts”. In some ways Armand is painting his own relationship to Louis as the worst possible fate that Daniel could suffer. (And it makes me wonder– did Armand ever wonder if he would amount to anything? Does he think his life has any meaning at all, if you subtract the vampiric powers? Armand has never stopped to introspect like this, but I wonder what would happen if you forced him to.)

But Daniel is stubborn, and his desire to tell stories and empathize with people resists death. I love that he still defends himself, still claims that he’s “a bright young reporter with a point of view” and that that is worth something. Because it is.

When Louis asks Armand to save Daniel, Daniel unwittingly becomes a symbol of Louis and Armand’s continued marriage. He’s a wedding ring, a vows renewal. He’s emblematic of the continuation of failing vampiric domesticity. And when Louis tries to repair the damage Armand has wrought, he isn’t able to offer Daniel soothing words about his ability to find a spouse or raise children or understand love. Louis doesn’t understand those things, so how could he teach Daniel about them? But Louis has always understood stories and humanity, so he is able to gift Daniel his writing and his reporting back. 

I think you can interpret Daniel’s failed marriages and difficult relationship with his children in a lot of ways. We could say that he was always going to fail at these things, regardless of whether or not he met the vampires, because of the discontent that Armand sensed in him. Maybe the trauma that this aborted gay hookup with Louis created was enough to re-closet him, and send him down a dark road of unfulfilled straight relationships. Or maybe Armand’s words really did echo around in his head and pull him down as much as Louis’s lingered and sustained him over the years. Maybe we’ll get more answers about this as the show goes on, or maybe it will live in the ambiguous world of memory and manipulation the show so often plays in.

Regardless, I think this episode was a masterpiece, and the way it firmly established these themes about the failure of domesticity and the burden and joys of carework are going to really matter, I think, as we hit the brutal conclusion of the season. When emotions are at a breaking point, especially between Armand and Louis, they are going to resonate because they were grounded in this little claustrophobic wonder of an episode.

As a little postscript, I’m not quite sure where we’re going with Devil’s Minion after this episode, or if we’re even going there at all. If a DM timeline happened in the past, it would require additional editing of Daniel’s memory, and I’m not quite sure if that reveal would work structurally. (I would love to be proven wrong about this though, because I would love for young Daniel and Armand to have interacted more, for Assad and Luke’s chemistry if nothing else. They were so wonderful together.)  If it were to happen in Dubai, or to happen again Dubai, however… well that’s interesting. Because older Daniel is disabled. He’s even more firmly in this category of people that Armand is apt to dismiss. And if they were to get together, there would probably be some aspect of caregiving on Armand’s part. And there would also be some caregiving on Daniel’s part, in his ability to listen to Armand. So that has the potential to be really fascinating, and maybe mutually beneficial to both characters. But I think we have to cover a lot of ground before we would be able to get there.

[littlefanficprincess]

Bloody Red

Pair: Redtooth x (gn) reader

Song: The wolf by SIAMES

"Cause you can run. But you can't hide, I'm gonna make you mine"

(A/n): There is literally not Redtooth x reader in existence. So I guess mine is the first (atleast on Tumblr)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Red tooth strolls through a dark forest. His eyes boredly moving around, observing the area surrounding him.

He pauses in his step when he notices a white light glowing through the trees. It was hard for him to ignore, it was quite alluring to him.

Taking a peek, he spots you. Sitting in a spell circle, you were mediating. Your hands were planted on the ground, giving off the same glow. You were surrounded by a white power which formed a Hasu flower.

"Now what can this be? A Sorcerer, an alchemist, or just a try hard?" The demon gets a toothy grin on his face. He approaches the person, looking at your appearance.

You could hear his voice and footsteps, but try your best to ignore it. He notices that, amusing him very much. He wonders how long it will take for this concentration to dissapear.

Pacing around behind you, Red tooth begins taunting "What pathetic thing are you doing here?"

Seeing your eyebrows furrow, he knew he was on the right path. He places his index ontop of your head, trailing down to your neck. It continues down to your shoulders and then your back.

You didn't know who it was, or what they truly wanted. But you did feel their powerful aura, so you just hoped they would let you be.

He leans in close, close enough for you to feel his breath on your ear. It felt warm compared to the cold air surrounding the two of you. "Now come on, you trying hard to ignore me. Why can't you give me a little glance~" He whispers, getting a little too close for comfort.

You could feel your hands somewhat tremble, but you power through. Calmly, you breath through your nose, in and out. Trying your best to lower your nerves.

But flinch when you feel both his hands on your shoulders, his sharp nails slightly digging into your clothes and your skin. He didn't seem to be interested in drawing blood, but it was still horrifying.

"Now if you don't mind me touching you, you surely you won't mind me taking a bite" He leans, mouth wide open with his sharp crimson teeth.

Before he could chop down. You turn around, sending a beam of energy his way. Your eyes open to reveal a pair of (e/c) irises. You find that he had dodged the attack.

A very pleased smirk was present on his face. His body was slight hunched from jumping out of the way. His vision trained on your figure.

Your body freezes, realizing who was pestering you. Redtooth, One of the shadow assasins and nicknamed: The Vampire of Xuanwu. Off all people on this land, why him?

"Not so tough, are you?" He says, before dashing towards you. You could barely react before you were pinned against a tree, being held by the neck. Letting out soft grunts, you could feel his nails jab into your neck.

Grapsing his wrist, you struggle in his grip. Your legs dangle a feet above the ground. You hate how helpless you felt, feeling like a single move could be a death sentence.

"You amuse me, I've hadn't had joy like this in a long while" Redtooth mentions, his piercing eyes gleeming. "Now I can't have some killer to end your life when I'm gone. I'll leave little message"

You could only watch as he leans in, brushing your clothing aside. You breath gets stuck in your throat, feeling his teeth pierce through the skin on your shoulder.

Slowly, your vision begins to drift away. It was blurry by the time he lets you fall you down the ground, as if you were a doll he was done playing with. He dissapeared from your vision, off to who knows where.

You try your best to stay awake, but it was hopless as you fall asleep. Unknowingly to you, you were laying there for hours.

By the time you woke up, it was already the next day. You were still laying against the tree, sitting on the grass. In the corner of your eye, noticing a red mark on her shoulder.

Raising your hands, your fingers trace along the mark. Feeling it, you realise it was from the bite Redtooth gave you. The gears turn in your light, until you understood what he did.

"HE MARKED ME!?"

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 6.1

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3

Preview: (because this chapter is straight in with the NSFW smut!)

"That was kinda fun,” murmured Steve. And Eddie discovered his post-coital high was shot through with ickily warm fuzzy feelings. Steve had chosen to be here this afternoon. Yeah, Eddie had offered more money. Perhaps Steve had predicted that. Didn’t mean he was totally faking what was happening between them.

Part 6.1 true romance

“You’re fucking delicious, Babe,” said Eddie, who was wedged between Steve’s thighs. He smothered his face in the meat of Steve’s ass and lapped hungrily along Steve’s syrup-smeared crack.

“Can I go deeper?” His breath heated the thin channel of air between them like a toaster.

“Jesus, pleeease. Eat me out already!”

“You got it, Baby.”

Eddie circled Steve’s ring, teasing and dabbing before jabbing entry. Steve was a paradise of flesh and sugary flavor, spiked with soft-ish fur. Eddie wanted to gobble him aaaaaall up.

Nothing better to drown out the rumble of Eddie’s approaching apocalypse.

“Aaaagh, yeah… deeper. Gnnng… Eddieeeeee!”

Eddie fucked Steve with his tongue. Steve’s frenzied pressing and clenching performed half Eddie’s labor for him. On the other hand, without sprouting a super-human lizard-tongue, he wasn’t gonna hit Steve’s sweet spot. He withdrew for air, and because his overenthusiastic tongue ached already. Steve whimpered, moved to frisk his own dick.

Spurred by a wicked reflex, Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist. Steve let Eddie yank his hand away and hold it behind him in the small of his back. “Uh, uh. Not yet, Babe.”

“Torturer,” muttered Steve. “Thought you were a nice guy.”

“I’m the Dungeon Master, Baby, and I luuurve hearing you beg.”

“You want me to beg?” gasped Steve, peeking back. “You like that, huh? Well, here it is. I need you inside me, Eddie. You kill me—I need you so bad.”

Eddie beamed and got back to the enjoyable task of eating Steve out. Steve kept on cursing and pressing into Eddie’s face. Eddie released Steve’s hand, which he flailed back toward his dick. Eddie reared up, smartly swatted Steve’s ass.

“Ow!” yelped Steve, and Eddie was pretty much as surprised as he was. He’d never done anything like that before. He stared, kinda shocked, at the redness he’d planted on Steve’s pale skin.

“Guess you made your mind up about your fae warlock,” mumbled Steve into the squashed pillow.

“Sorry. You’re a baaaaaad dude. Gonna have to invest in some of those furry handcuffs.” 

“Yeah? Why don’t ya?” Steve pitched Eddie a sexily frustrated snarl, then played the game Eddie’s way. Eddie lapped the last traces of syrup from his hole, while Steve bombarded him with pleas: “Need you to fuck me,” he whined. “Please, Eddie—pleeeeease?”

“Roll over,” said Eddie, and Steve obeyed. Fumbling together, they rolled on Eddie’s rubber. Steve, anticipating Eddie’s needs, hitched his knees up, flung one arm wide. It was all Eddie could do to guide himself to Steve’s slippery hole. He could easily have pumped himself a couple of times and jizzed right across Steve’s pretty face.

He didn’t want that, though. 

He slowly sheathed himself in Steve. 

“Yes… please… more… Eddie, fuck me… go hard… please?”

Eddie did, and it was outta this world. He pinned Steve’s hands either side of his head, enjoying how Steve’s rigid dick rubbed between them when he started to move. He fucked him slow, vomit-inducingly romantic. Steve sucked his lower lip till it reddened, and it reminded Eddie of the enthusiasm with which he always sucked Eddie off.

Map him in your mind, Munson—the smokin’ hair, every last dimple, every last freckle, and every pleading glance. It’s gonna be over soon… and what’s he really thinking about with that dreamy teen pin-up look on his face? The money? What he’s gonna snack on when this is over? Jesus, a hundred men have probably fucked him like this, while he conned them into believing…

Eddie refused to let his whispering demons put him off his stroke. As he hurtled toward climax, it was hard to believe Steve wasn’t as into it as Eddie was. The tear shakily trailing the line of Steve’s cheekbone seemed born of a kind of bliss. His dick, sandwiched between them, remained rock-hard. 

Soon, a bittersweet ache pooled in Eddie’s belly, tightened in his throat. He released Steve’s wrists. Steve didn’t move his hands. His misty eyes focussed and pierced Eddie deeper than ever.

“Please, Eddie,” he whimpered, and Eddie’s thundering heart literally skipped a beat. 

Then nothing mattered apart from the awesome sensations, that insatiable itch that built and built. A few more deep thrusts and Eddie’s pleasure turned nuclear. He rode wave after wave of mind-blowing sensation, while Steve literally milked his orgasm from him.

“Shiiiiit, I fucking love you, Stevie. I fucking love your ass.”

He came long and hard. As it faded, he realized that hot spatter on his chest and chin was Steve spraying his load. Steve’s orgasm face was precious beyond words—that decorous mouth forming a mildly startled ‘o’.

Eddie licked Steve’s salty taste from his lips then totally cracked up. He collapsed forward onto Steve, cackling and panting, actually kinda sobbing. He was stupidly grateful Steve had come too.

“That was kinda fun,” murmured Steve. And Eddie discovered his post-coital high was shot through with ickily warm fuzzy feelings.

Steve had chosen to be here this afternoon.

Yeah, Eddie had offered more money. Perhaps Steve had predicted that. Didn’t mean he was totally faking what was happening between them. Eddie wasn’t in the mood to pretend either. In fact, he was glad Steve had arrived early, before he’d gotten himself too trashed.

He rolled off Steve and onto his side, resting his chin on his fist. “Stevie, I wanna level with you about earlier.”

Steve turned to face him, presenting a slight frown. “You lost me.”

“Uuuuuuh, about the whole ‘not going out’ thing?” 

“Oh, right.” Steve swiped something from the tip of Eddie’s nose, then sucked it off his thumb. “I’m all ears, Eds, but… Shall we move the pillow-talk to the shower?”

...

Chapter 6.2 on tumblr

Chapter 6 on AO3

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments VERY much appreciated 🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕 Yeah, I'm needy like that...

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[snugglesquiggle]

Tines of the Devil's Fork

Storm-veiled stars, frozen city ruins, knives in the sky. Railgun finished early, Uzi hunts.

here's something short and experimental. what if uzi repaired her railgun with Something Else?

i'd appreciate kudos and comments, but this is short enough i can put it all here on tumblr

i.

Stars, the few times Uzi saw them, shined all sorts of colors. Blue, yellow, red. Beneath the streetlamps, acid-tinged snow-flakes glittered, bright and scattered the same way, but they were only white. Crap replacement.

Uzi keeps eyes on the sky; she was savvy, knew to stay on-guard. Two scavengers chit-chat beside her, eyes on facial animations instead. But they listened as she’d ranted railgun electromagnetics and anime choreography. Seemed interested. She thought of Doll, back when they were sleepover-sisters. Crap replacement.

No time for angst, just action. Uzi holds her railgun, and thinks of Khan.

ii.

Shadows scowl and loom. Spooky streets. Uzi knew spooky all her life. In Doll’s sleepovers they played dare-games in closet darkness. Rumors said if you shut out all light, you sometimes felt watched. Doll did every time. Uzi too.

Dark is nice, sharpens senses. Uzi’d thought her railgun needed a glowing green spare part. A macguffin. Then she brought a copper-wrapped tuning fork to a room with no lights. Completion sung to her, and the railgun felt done.

Just needs a target.

Till then, it’s scavenging.

An apartment block stands, no lights powered, but copper’s in the walls.

iii.

Crack. Quin sledghammers wall-plaster. Pipes burst, water gushing out. Cracking piñatas, copper wire candy.

Streetlamps flicker outside. The wind stops, choked breath. Transformer fails — whole block in overcast night. One lamp left, shines a vigil.

Knife-whisper. When you see yellow, he’s already dead.

Neck cut, life gushing out. Cracking piñatas like color-inverted eggs. Quin-candy.

No angst, just action.

Anime choreography. Duck under wing-sweep, copper wire lasso, gotcha.

Acid burbles — vocalsynth fries — name’s Marina.

The railgun sings. Point-blank. Core bursts, scream-roars, blood gushing out. Street’s lit anew, green light like lightning.

Still no wind.

iv.

Uzi is cold-hot. Alone like a glacier. Angry like a simmering volcano.

Fatal Error beneath bowl-cut and pinstripe suit.

Fatal Error beneath blue-dyed fringe and crop-top.

Plug a wire, mount file storage like an external hard-drive, Uzi is looking for momentos, funeral fodder or catharsis to carry back. Searching just makes her feel hot.

She looks to the victory-defeat.

Materal Collection: initialization failed, retrying... beneath afro and sweater vest.

They don’t even die like us.

Kick and smash and kick and smash and it’s action but it’s nothing.

She’s smaller even when it’s dead.

v.

Digging through murder drone carcass, those bones and sacs, you still find electronics. Like a radio — buzzing.

Wind again, ice scratching her cheek. Electromagnetic humming — on-edge. Above glittering snowfall, that yellow glint. X marks your death.

Frickin’ cooldowns! No railgun. Detatched murder-claw? Crap replacement.

Cloud-crash, snow debris. No pouncing? Idiot ball?

“Yeesh. R got cooked by a toaster?” Wary, circling.

Shotgun-barrel jabs. “You reckon it bears the devil’s fork?” Still, focused.

“Hate seein’ a fork stuck in a toaster.”

Uzi blurts, “That’s right. My corpse-meal!”

Wary, focused – then blink. Quick as death, gone as wind.

vi.

Uzi’s frame rattled. Like digital adrenaline. Robot hormones.

Murder drones fled. She bluffed, they believed. She looked back, met eye with red error.

Better act the part, could be watching.

You wanted to carry back part of them. You wanted catharsis.

Murder drones probably don’t even taste like us. Right?

Intrusive thoughts didn’t make sense.

Uzi felt cold-hot. Ice makes stones crack. Electric voltage fries circuits. Uzi felt broken-growing. Hormones.

That was just angst. This is action. Hands cupped, plastic goblet for king’s wine. Queen’s royal jelly.

Railgun whines red overheat. Cool hands cradle it. She walks away.

vii.

Snow crested Uzi’s beanie, above icicle-feathers like an inverse crown. Her rime is undisturbed. Winds went still; clouds ran dry of false stars.

Digging through her bat-wing backback, you find extraneous electronics. MP3 player. Nightcore? Anime OPs? Not hitting. Corrupted file, howling static. That’s it.

Uzi groans loud in night, frame rattling. No one to talk to. Angst-abyss. She’s melting glaciers, she’s dormant volcanos.

Her feet crack like sledgehammers against ice-slick roads.

She’s remembering two smiling scavengers she’d left Outpost-3 with. Then thinking of Doll. Thinking of Khan.

Of her mother.

Her railgun cooled quiet.

viii.

The world’s different outside of Outpost-3. A different key, her core beating new tempos, orchestral remix.

Uzi knows how. Khan read door blueprints like bedtime stories. Never explained why Door Two, just what it was: a faraday cage. Canceling that fundamental noise of the light and iron: electromagnetism.

Murder drones use it to hunt: communication, triangulation, disruption.

Uzi runs a finger down the railgun’s barrel. Guess I use it to hunt, too.

In that dark room, watched and sung to, Uzi felt completion and it attracted her.

If she’d felt repulsed? Now she understands why.

Time to change keys.

ix.

Stars, the few times Uzi saw them, had four points. That’s how Light diffracted through lenses; squishy human eyes saw differently. They’re all messed up.

What do stars look like to murder drones? They don’t even die like us. Probably don’t see like us either.

That carcass was squishy inside. Muscles in place of servos. Crap replacement.

Last bridge back home is perilously slick. Last gust of wind tugs her hoodie. And she slips. Last moment, she ledge-grabs — with both hands.

Railgun tumbling down. One hand holding secure, the other’s thrown to reach out in a futile, dramatic gesture.

x.

Three prongs of purple code erupt in miracle-glow between splayed fingers.

It’s mirrored ten meters abyssward, cradling the fruit of months brainstorming, months tinkering, months hoping. The railgun that sung to her (in the same tonality murder drones hummed.)

Her replacement for — what?

It rises like snow never could. When it’s inches away, she stares at the symbol.

The devil’s fork.

Did she hate seeing it? Stepping off the bridge, her electricity hummed in the gun she cradled. She sees Door Three, and a rift high above.

Stars still shine, yellow and blue-red — three-pointed and ever-shifting.

[lean-mean-demon-genevieve]

Who’s this Anson character? I took a step back from tumblr and now I feel like I need a book to figure out what I missed lol.

With him yet again leeching off of appearing with Jared this weekend, now seems as good a time as any to circle back to this ask because I too have been perplexed by Jared’s supposed friendship with this guy for some time. And as per usual, I brought receipts.

Anson Gordon seems to first be publicly linked to the Pads in Sandy Molinare’s Instagram in 2016. This looks like he has been a part of the wealthy, and fairly conservative circle that both the Pads and the Ackles use to run with at that time.

He clout-chased a few times in 2018 in his IG story and wanted to let the world know he has famous friends, with Jared and Danneel (in the background of a video) making appearances. He then started more regularly sharing pics of himself attending UFC fights with Jared in January 2020. And since then, his presence has only grown to include other Austin goings-on, more testosterone fueled events, some weapons safety and/or stuntman gig on Walker that included some brief screen time, meeting up with the Pads on their 2021 Italy trip, Jared’s car accident last year in which he and his son were passengers, and a spot on the Pads Family Feud team earlier this year. He is seen, and confused for Jensen somehow in the comments, in this IG post of Jared’s, sliding down a slide like best buds. He is regularly seen showcasing himself on socials interacting with Pads errand boy, Charlie Capen (you won’t convince me he didn’t record that slide video), as well as Clif and various Walker actors.

I will be 100% transparent here about my political leanings that run deeper than fandom. I don’t like this guy because I feel like he is the very conservative, aging frat boy of my nightmares. I don’t care that he’s rubbed elbows with other rich people at the Out Youth Gala, he is a salesman at the end of the day. I feel like he and I would strongly disagree on a lot of important (to me) issues/values, and the transference I feel when I look at him is strong. (That means he reminds me of people I know in real life.) He appears quite motivated to flex next to Jared at any opportunity and draw attention to himself. (Jared doesn’t showcase him nearly as often. The slide post kinda surprised me. Again, who’s a good boy? Charlie is!)

To me, Anson comes off as caustic, shallow, arrogant, and chauvinistic. Here’s the story of how I got bored and nosy during the pandemic and came to these opinions:

This post from February 2021 was deleted months later as Anson posted more and more with Jared and Walker actors and gained followers/eyes on him. Now why in early 2021, would some folks from Texas even joke about secession?? The most obvious answer: the growing uproar over covid, mask mandates, vaccines, general pandemic limitations on their gentrifier (sorry/not sorry, wealthy Austinites) rich-kid fun. Look out y’all this privileged white male is “startin trouble.” Somebody ask this guy where he was on January 6th.

Exhibit B is less damning, but it irritates me so imma include it:

A smug face and pose like this with a firearm captioned “virtue signaling” sure feels like a jab at the sNoWfLaKeS, given the rest of the context. No, shooting guns isn’t a crime, and in fact it’s this guys livelihood, but why add the snark if you’re not an ass and hoping to instigate? It feels like a safe bet that gun laws were also up there on the list of reasons for Texas secession dreams.

Exhibit C, posted to his story in August ‘21 just prior to his IG account going private for a few months and right about the same time the Pads themselves got Covid:

I would love to know how Jared responded to being tagged in this mess. No I’m not suggesting he gave the Pads Covid, but I do think someone from the Pads or Walker team told ole boy to cool it with the anti-mask rhetoric so as not to reflect negatively on Jared, hence the private account. However you may feel about mask mandates at this point, remember that this was late summer/fall of 2021. Covid was obviously still rampant as the Pads and Anson himself would soon learn after returning home from Italy. How dare the Uber peasant ask that he respect his safety as he provides a service. Fuck that guy, right?!

It was after this in November 2021 that Anson first seemed to try to redeem himself by attending the Out Youth Gala with the Pads and also with his favorite accessory, his wife, in tow. What I won’t include here are the gross IG story video highlights from a different event that this tool has conveniently saved in which he documents his seemingly intoxicated wife’s side-boob for an uncomfortable amount of time. Guys can dig their wife’s bodies, and even do so on their own social media, but you gotta trust me that the ick factor is palpable. Bodily autonomy being what it is, maybe she’s ok with the multiple posts of this type, and I can respect that…and he’s shared quite a few.

But for me the final straw was when, not 24 hours after the horrific Robb Elementary school shooting in Uvalde, Texas on 5/24/22, Anson’s IG story was plugging his firearm silencer business and hyping the launch of new products at the NRA convention that coming weekend in Houston.

If you followed the link early on when I called him a salesman, you may have already figured out that this man has made a sizable fortune off of engineering top of the line silencers for assault rifles. The IG account tells me that they sell for about $700-$750 each. None of this is a crime, but he’s not exactly reading the room in this moment. In comparison, Gen was sharing post after post to her IG story during this time about the need for reform around gun laws and sympathy for the victims. But this guy knew a big convention was approaching and he needed to capitalize. Then he went golfing.

Are you still with me?

So this is why I cringe whenever I see this Wish version of Jensen snuggling up to Jared.

He’s not deserving of the positive assumptions that some fans/Jared stans have made about him based solely on his proximity to Jared. And let’s be honest, with the great big fandom divide these days, a lot of Jared fans are just all too eager to root for anyone that isn’t Jensen. But, in my opinion, you don’t get to show up at an LGBTQ fundraiser claiming to be an ally when you have no doubt voted to protect your own interests (guns, money) and cast ballots for people who also support drag bans and an end to gender affirming care. It doesn’t work like that, especially not in Texas. He’s invested in Texas staying red, and if you recall or scroll up, there was a time when it wasn’t red enough for him. He’s certainly not voting for LGBTQ+ human rights, but he will write them a check for damage control in the aftermath. What a guy.

To clarify, this is NOT an anti-Jared post, although some may see it as such. There’s no suggested call-to-action for the fandom coming from me. Jared is not Anson’s keeper. But at the same time, to an extent, we are who we associate with and with whom we spend precious time. And Jared spends a fair amount of public time with this clown and allows Anson to attach himself to him and profit off of him. Leeching onto Jared is the best thing this guy did to get his face and his veneers seen by a larger audience. So Jared, I love ya, but it’s not a good look. This guy had no qualms showing people who he was when fewer people were looking, but deleting posts doesn’t delete screenshots. And I’ve got those, as you can see.

[3416]

re: mitchy/scapegoat stuff. ive never been someone who ever used the ask/submit button despite being here for like more than 12 years asjjdjfkf - but wanted to say that i love the more nuanced discussion you bring about sports/TML/ideology and frameworks etc surrounding fandom and sport culture. I roam around reddit a lot and am obviously subbed to all the hockey subs, and the bigger IG pages and ...good lord above. like, for the sake of optimism, maybe some of the comments about Mitch are just chirps and half-hearted jabs (shambles in his brain, tiny hands, and then like shitting on goalies as a tactic from auston (lmfao) etc.) --- but the ones on Mitch are so gendered, demeaning, and seem more personal. he's small, he's popular, he's playful and kind, quirky, bubbly and friendly and called 'mouse', whatever. and guys pick that "femininity" apart and go for the jugular where if he isn't a roided out, snagged a blonde haired gf with 2 kids and stoic, quiet and physical - he's a failure. tbh I have a broken ankle rn and housebound, i could go on and on about how Mitch is in the limelight as a vector to that gendered/ideological debate of masculinity in hockey but then I'd be writing a thesis on tumblr dot com LMFAO. tldr Mitch is an easy target because there's an outside pressure for players to fit a mold, regardless of on ice skill (imo)

oh yeah, i totally agree with you, and i think anyone who's taken any kind of interest in mitch marner has seen the way he's talked about on the whole by the typical masculine sports fan online and been like... what the fuck is that lol. right now the shitstorm with him is so fucking frustrating bc it's not valid critique of his play, it's SOOOO character based. it's people making up rumors about him. it's people wanting to run him out of town for fucking breathing. and then within that, you KNOW the men spewing all this shit or the ones primed to hate him ARE using that kind of language about him in private circles and it drives me fucking nuts. it's pretty transparent when people Pretend to be neutral about him, and then the SECOND something goes awry for the whole team, it's 100% placed on him and moving him is the ONLY option to change up anything about this roster. like no bro. i know that's not what your ask is primarily about, sorryufhjdskl... i get heated, but i'm just so ....... he really does represent what a bunch of old men ass hockey watchers hate about hockey nowadays but also what is ultimately making hockey more of a marketable sport: skill, lmao. and he's 'smaller' than the normal guy.. and he's genuinely pretty to look at... he doesn't play a gritty or hit-heavy game (and the game itself will continue to trend away from that style of play.. or SHOULD lmao considering the lasting injuries that come out of this sport but i digress. theyre behind the other leagues for a reason) and he sometimes has had an attitude with the media after being dragged through the fucking mud for many things out of his control. it's just so........ frustrating. and it's evil. and sorry if i don't take all the men who say that kind of shit's opinions in good faith or seriously when it comes to what the future of this team looks like bc if they had their way, it'd be a team i'm not even a fan of.

[relaxxattack]

meta about Rose’s relationships with her mom and Kanaya…..

WAAUGH ok so like…

roses relationship with her mom the most nebulous thing of all time because they really give it basically ZERO screentime like we’re never fully able to understand how much of mom was actually cold or enjoying of mind games and how much of it was sincere

it can be assumed that a portion of it was definitely sincere just based on like.. wizards, or lack thereof, and roses conversation with roxy about her love of wizards and what that means about her views on mom

and at that point you have to assume that mom was mostly well meaning but perhaps not all there in the head at ALL, enough for rose to make up this cold calculating woman who bizarrely coordinated everything about her life including the decor just to make rose as miserable as possible

and therefore rose lives her entire life thinking her mother hates her and likely lashing out in weird ways and trying to do all kinds of shit for attention (the no tears coconut shampoo tumblr post comes to mind) and it’s basically just so desperately sad. she is so fucking lonely and tries so hard to come off as “above all that”, she thinks shes soooo self aware just because she knows her mother has issues and knows her situation is bad. she goes off about all this and how terribly unwanted it makes her feel and the other adults around her are like “wow you’re so self aware!” and she gets so satisfied about that, like, yes she’s so self aware, she’s so smart and understands her problems and mental health so well, she must be entirely above it actually. nothing else to dissect there.

and then kanaya comes in and kanaya is so very painfully similar but also not above it all. kanaya has about as much trouble saying things as rose does but unlike rose she’s not afraid to admit when she’s scared or wrong

kanaya is so bad at social cues but rose has made cues her whole life and so they are CONSTANTLY misunderstanding each other, circling around and around the point but kanaya keeps taking jabs at the issues and rose just tries to flirt the problems away.

this is literally just an incoherent fucking ramble because tbfh i need to reread acts 2-5 and write a fucking dissertation on rose and kanaya so i can say a thing that actually makes sense but the TLDR of the matter is. i am foaming at the mouth over them

also i know canon sort of implies towards act 6 that mom was well meaning but mostly off her rocker but personally i MUCH prefer the hc dynamic that rose and her mom have where mom is just as fucking dramatic, just bad at expressing emotion and shit (the rose lalonde vampire slayer fic has such a GOD TIER example of this, please read that fic everyone) and basically yeah that version of mom is actually the canon one To Me

[shipwreck-letters]

Year Walk Chapter Twelve: Abide and Hinder (Part 2)

Read on AO3:

Summary: At the Hebra summit, Mipha and Urbosa find ways to support the Rito during a monster invasion. Zelda awaits Revali at the base of Vah Medoh, but just when everything seems to be on track...Something is not right.

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: Injury, combat, blood

Notes: Part two of Abide and Hinder is here! I also would like to try taglisting, so if you want updates to every chapter on tumblr or the link to AO3, just let me know and I'll add you here in this section! Thank you all so much, I hope you enjoy!

Credits: Poster made in Canva, banners by @cafekitsune

Whether it was a broomstick, a flagpole, or a mop--Instincts of training and fighting returned instantly. Mipha felt a piece of her spirit return when Kolla, the Rito guard, presented a beautifully carved spear. 

"You're sure about this?" He asked, hesitantly letting go. Mipha took a step back, her hands sliding into place. One close to the colorful feathers and blade, the other to the blunt end of the weapon. 

She twirled it and lunged--Kolla's feathers swaying in the sharp jab--and his shoulders were immediately relieved. 

"I see. You should take this, then." He passed her a smaller knife and belt to attach. "Just in case."

He looked back at Urbosa, already prepared with her Gerudo weapons, sword, and shield in their glory.

Set for the weather and enemies, the guard took to the sky, guiding Mipha and Urbosa as they traveled on foot over bridges and rocky roads.

Then, Mipha looked up at Urbosa, one thought present in her mind. 

"You chose me to accompany you."

"I did. Does that surprise you?"

"I thought you would ask me to stay behind. After all, I have no Zora weapons. My trident has broken, my healing abilities are absent still. What can I contribute?"

Mipha watched Urbosa's eyebrows knit together. 

"You are still a renowned fighter, with or without a trident. And your healing, well...Speaking from my own experience, it takes time, Mipha. Yes, the days are short and nights shorter, but time passes regardless of our actions. You may as well refocus your energy until that muscle is strong enough to return to you."

Urbosa hummed after her words fell and sank into Mipha. The Zora Princess took a deep breath and held her spear tighter. "Right. I just need to..."

"Dodge!" 

Kolla shouted from above, bowstring already pulled taut and an arrow docked. The cold wind cut  Mipha's cheek, and something shrieked from the snow beside her. A white Lizalfos scrambled out from its hiding place, scuttling with its metal weapon as its eyes swiveled in circles. 

Mipha aimed her spear forward, scanning the snowbanks. Urbosa spun around the other way. 

When it came to Lizalfos, there was always more than one. At the leap and shriek of the monsters, lumps in the snow broke free; Ice-made chuchus rolled out with hazardous frost, daring anyone to risk contact.

"Hey! This way, hurry!" 

Mipha jumped over a swinging branch, lunging for one last attack, while Urbosa swung high, keeping the monsters away enough for them to run. Kolla flew much faster, rising and falling above snow clouds to guide the way; Mipha took a deep breath, following his scent as the clouds began to smother and disguise. 

The makeshift camp was overrun with chaos; Mipha swooped low as a dead Keese went flying over her head and barreled into the snow; Sharp stakes were tied together to keep intruders at bay; Peculiar skulls were rattling on the stakes, cackling in death at the wounded and irritated. In one corner, makeshift beds held Rito tending to their frostbitten feathers or sliced skin. Mipha's heart tightened, but she kept her focus on Kolla. 

He whipped his head around, darting to rushing soldiers and the overworked, underwhelmed, and understaffed environment. 

Urbosa stepped forward, sheathing her swords. "This place is in chaos. Who is in charge here?"

"...Revali." Kolla winced.

"Ah. I see." Urbosa pursed her lips together. "Who is next to lead, then?"

Another voice snapped out from behind Mipha; A wounded Rito leaned over the bedside, nursing his side with a cloth pressed tightly to the skin. "Kolla. The young ones were fighting the Lynel at South Summit; Nngn…You will have to be the one to make the next move."

Kolla's feathers poofed up for a moment. "Me?" He glanced at Urbosa's expectant look. "Ugh…I guess so. I apologize, I thought our time would be brief. Here's the rundown, then." 

He pointed towards the north gate. "We are the last defense before Rito Village. Revali has taken the unharmed soldiers to the summit, but we are running low on supplies, and there is not enough to tend to the wounded. You get the idea?"

Urbosa nodded. "Of course. However, Revali is the key to your Divine Beast. If Revali and Zelda can work together, I am certain that machine will be the key to stopping this monster problem." 

"Right. Revali will not come back so easily. He is stubborn, especially so this time around. For what reason or another, I wish I knew. If you can carry your weight in battle, you can follow the soldiers to Hebra South Summit." 

As they spoke, Mipha glanced around the camp; many soldiers were already wounded and unattended. She broke from Urbosa and Kolla to the elder Rito at the nearest bed. Something inside switched, and all sounds became background noise; She rummaged through boxes and bags, arms piled up with tools and cloth. 

"What's your name?" She asked the man. 

He lifted his head, dense clouds evaporating with each breath. "Kaneli." 

Mipha opened a pot lid; An earthy smell, like plaster, wafted up immediately. A smaller jar was filled with honey-colored oil. Perfect. 

"I am Mipha, from Zora's Domain. I can help heal you, if you'd let me." 

Kaneli chuckled and looked down at his wound. "Do what you can, Miss Mipha." 

Mipha pulled over a chair with her foot and sat down. Her hands worked faster than her brain; all thoughts focused on tending to the spear wound in Kaneli's side. She barely heard Urbosa's voice as she laughed at something. 

"-I am not the Chief of the Gerudo for my looks. Let's go, Princess Zelda is waiting. Mipha. Mipha?"

Mipha hummed as she cleaned the wound, bent over, and focused intensely. "I shall take care of the soldiers here. That much I can manage."

It wasn't ideal, but magic nor energy sang for Mipha; Luckily, she had specifically chosen to study under the healers in the domain, and tending to such awful wounds was not her first time around. Though when the moment paused, Mipha steadied her hand over the most minor cuts, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing. Come on, come on… 

She thought of her baby brother, grinning teeth and tail dragging along the ground. She thought of her father, his bellowing laugh, and the gentle way he could pick up both siblings in one hand. Muzu--his particular morning walks, and Calla--Returned from a sister domain deep underwater.

Zelda's smile flashed across her vision, making her heart beat faster, but no magic returned to her fingertips. 

"Huh." Kaneli adjusted his position slowly and leaned to a more comfortable place, gazing down at his wound. "It looks….Better. Not great, obviously. If it looked great, I would be back out there."

"How do you feel?" Mipha blinked away her grief, wiping her hands clean of medicinal honey and oil. "I recommend keeping a keen watch on it; It must require time to heal properly. No more fighting for now, I'm afraid."

"Of course, doctor's orders." Kaneli gave a small smile, his eyes weary and spent. He lifted his wing, the feathers dirtied and wet from melted snow. "You saved my wing, you know. What is your name, again?"

"Mipha Naphela of Zora's Domain." Mipha bowed. "But you can call me Mipha." 

Kaneli murmured Mipha's name, nodding. He took a deep breath and leaned back into the pillows under his back. "I'll remember that name."

Mipha filled her arms with the pots and jars, smelling the thick blood around her. Three healers worked tirelessly, but soldiers outnumbered them and the number of cots. 

Her eyes landed on a few soldiers crowded around a campfire and readied her worries for the next patient. Her smile and words put their tense shoulders and exhausted eyes at ease. 

---

"Hey! Mipha!" Kolla called out.

Dust and snow flew up at Kolla's landing as Mipha set the plaster for a soldier's last shoulder wound. 

Her eyes widened as she watched many more Rito land, some stumbling and others brooding. She searched the crowd until bright red hair appeared through the gates. 

"Oh, you made it back!" Mipha jumped up and faltered. 

A familiar warrior came to a swift landing in the center of the camp, shoveling snow and ice from his feathers. He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at Urbosa's nonchalant attitude. 

The Gerudo Chief walked past Revali to Mipha, giving her a warm smile. "I see you've been busy. Do you have time for one more patient?"

"Oh please," Revali sighed. "I won that battle with not a scar to show for it." 

"I was referring to myself." Urbosa peeled back her sleeve to show a bleeding wound. Mipha could hear Revali's beak snap shut. 

"Hmph." His eyes landed on Mipha, studying her momentarily and building something to say.

"Champion Revali, it's an honor to meet you. Though these circumstances are not so pleasant." 

Mipha was humid with a haunting of embarrassment, but there was no excuse for silly behavior. 

"Sunny days in the meadow are not common here." Revali huffed, plucking debris from his feathers. "I had everything under control back there, you know. I only returned to end this business with the princess." 

Mipha applied healing salves to Urbosa's arm. "The princess will be thrilled to see you become the next pilot of Vah Medoh." 

Revali lifted his beak, smugly nodding towards Rito Village. "I don't blame her for choosing the most uniquely skilled warrior to control that machine." 

Mipha snuck the bandages on Urbosa's arm, setting her arm down carefully. She glanced around at the camp, at Kolla speaking with more stable soldiers. It seemed as if things were calmer, steadier. 

"Have the monsters subsided?" Mipha asked and waited for Revali to finish his assessment before meeting her eyes. 

"For the meantime." Revali trailed off, eyeing Mipha carefully. "You tended to the wounded this whole day? With your healing powers I heard about?" 

"Oh, well…" Mipha slowly shook her head. "I made do without it, I cannot rely on magic forever. I used what was around me. Was that a mistake?" 

Revali lifted his head, an aura of surprise overtaking him. He quickly snuffed it and shrugged. "I see no corpses, so…I will take your work here…As a good sign." 

"...Is that a thank you?"

Revali crossed his arms behind his back, marching away. Urbosa chuckled, finally moving to stand slowly. 

"In an irritating sense, yes." Urbosa said. "Now, let's go complete this ceremony before my bones begin to freeze." 

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡*∞*⍋⋆*❅｡.

The tension on Zelda's shoulders dropped when the pilots and Rito guards were gathered at the foothill, Vah Medoh only several yards away.

She gestured excitedly towards the moving beast. "Ta-da! Isn't this great!" 

Mipha grinned, raising a hand over her eyes. Urbosa nodded once, a soft smile on her face. 

Revali stepped forward, less enthusiastic and impressed than the others. Zelda spun around and jogged alongside Revali towards the stone feet of the Divine Beast. 

"We're making great progress in traveling, don't you agree?" Mipha asked, watching the princess and Rito from afar. Zelda's hands moved around, gesturing towards the feet and wings, her hair swaying in the wind. 

Urbosa nodded. "Our next stop is no small feat, either. Though I've never been, I can't imagine Death Mountain is a relaxing vacation destination."

Zelda and Revali stopped. Vah Medoh's head froze in its swaying motion. Zelda hesitantly lifted her Sheikah Slate to the humming pedestal. She moved and gestured for Revali to take her place. 

"Oh? Boiling lava isn't your style, Urbosa?" 

Revali, one hand on his hip, raised his hand to wave over the pedestal, reaching to touch the Sheikah's eye and staring back at him. 

Mipha could not hear what had been said, only saw Zelda speak and smile as she watched Revali. Maybe she was saying, "Take your place as the chosen Pilot of Vah Medoh, Revali of the Rito."

Urbosa chuckled. "No, I can't say I like my skin melted off my bones. I have heard that even the air is unbearable--You can simply burst into flames at the summit."

A voracious groaning rumbled the hill. Orange blood ran through Medoh's veins, and her hollow eye became furious with red. Zelda and Revali stumbled back, and Mipha felt her heart shatter at the unknown sight. 

"What's going on?!" Urbosa lunged forward to catch her footing and ran towards Zelda without waiting for an answer. Mipha watched as a shimmering red shield protected Medoh from intruders; Trespassers. 

"It's rogue!" Somebody shouted, and spears were drawn. Bows docked and ready to fire. 

"There must be a mistake!" Mipha's words were drowned out by Rito flown to the skies; Medoh's ancient wings unfurled, talons releasing chunks of earth as she lifted. A boulder of rock teetered then tumbled--Revali pushed Zelda to Urbosa's side as it slammed into the dirt, and loose soil and pebbles flew. 

"Not on my watch!" Revali announced and dropped to a stance; his wings hit the ground in one swoop; A gust of wind shot Revali into the heavens at breakneck speed. 

‘

As Mipha shielded her vision, her eyes landed on Revali's quill of arrows and made a mental note to prepare for deafening sounds. 

"Urbosa! Zelda!" She called out as Urbosa urgently escorted Zelda away from harm. Zelda's head was angled upwards, frozen at Vah Medoh, shaking side to side. 

"I don't understand…Urbosa…?" Zelda trailed off. "It--It rejected him."

Urbosa was silent, watching with furrowed eyebrows. Mipha looked at both of them, wishing she had an answer, a prophetic explanation. Vah Medoh was protected by a barrier of shimmering red waves reflected from the sun as it rippled down the body. She had angled her canons, her weaponry, aimed with no intention of firing (yet). 

Mipha ran the scenario through her head thrice over. "It was calibrated--"

"Activated…" Zelda followed the bird with her eyes.

"You had it activated before we arrived, so it couldn't have been a mistake on your end. You approached Vah Medoh with Revali…"

"I asked him to place his hand on the pedestal. I recited the Champions' Ballad ... .And Vah Medoh did not accept." 

Revali fired bomb arrows at Vah Medoh's barrier, unrelenting. Mipha lost count after seven times. 

Vah Medoh turned her canons, and a thin line pierced the daylight sky. 

"I have picked the wrong Champion…" Zelda whispered, her fist clenched tight around the brooch of her coat.

[stupendouspeanutstarlight]

Undiscovered Future Pt. 10

Sorry for anyone who was previously waiting on this, but I took a long hiatus from Tumblr. If any who have read my story are back, hello! To any new readers who are in this far, welcome!

___________________________________________________________

Arriving on the distinct uninhabited island was an easy task. It was relatively large, and the wildlife could be heard within the dense jungle. The chirping of birds caused their ears to twitch to attention. This foreign territory made Savanna’s tail sway anxiously; ears shooting in the direction as a new sound was made. No matter what period of life she had been in, Savanna had always had a large group of Na’vi, or RDA operatives close by. The idea of this solitude for a week was unnerving, but she wasn’t completely alone. Looking over to where Aonung untied their limited supplies from Daisy, she realised the weight of being here with him. Aonung had returned and chosen to ignore her just days before. She could see the scowls he would scorn her family with, the cruel laughter that came from his lips and the contempt in his heart. Underneath the jabs and cruelty though, Savanna had seen glimpses of the Aonung who asked about her home, made friendly wagers with her, and who let her lean on his chest as they glided over the ocean. Sighing, she walked across the sand and began to assist Aonung silently unload. 

A small Hunting hut had been installed on the island years ago, but it was quite small and was wearing down in many areas. It very closely resembled the pods back in the village, but was sized down significantly. Savanna guessed this island wasn’t used for much more than the occasional small hunting trip. It was safe to assume due to it just being her and Aonung, Tonowari had sent them to a spot where the wildlife wasn’t regularly hunted, so they’ll be more docile. Aonung and Savanna organised the few water pouches and food they had brought. The hut was comfortable, but quite dusty; the hut had not been touched for many years, allowing for the weapons in the corner to become dull. This hut had clearly seen generations of young Na’vi warriors who had come to complete a hunt for the tribe. From where Savanna was perched on the floor she could see Aonung inspecting a rack of weapons. Savanna began to rub at her weary eyes. Looking for a place to sleep, Savanna came to a daunting realisation, “Aonung.” 

Placing the spear in his hand down, Aonung followed her gaze to the corner of blankets used to sleep on. “Well shit.”Both teenagers anxiously looked at the sleeping corner and realised it was the only one in the hut. They were going to have to bunk up together. If she stared long enough, Savanna hoped the hut would double in size and she could escape this nightmare. Aonung looked as if he could burn a hole in the tent with his eyes, “Maybe if we take the weapons outside we can make it two separate spots.” 

Furrowing her eyebrows, Savanna gives Aonung a deadpan look, “We can’t have them get more damaged. We have to sharpen them a shit ton already Aonung.” Pacing the tiny space in circles, Savanna throws her head back in frustration, “I’ll just sleep outside problem solved!” 

“You know that won’t work; it gets extremely cold outside at night, especially being on an island this close to the ocean.” 

“I’ll survive!” Throwing her hand up in exasperation, “I've got no other ideas!”

Getting worked up, Aonung marches over right in front of Savanna, “Just sleep with me! It’s the only way that will work at this rate!” The two of them stood face to face silently for a few seconds, a purple hue travelling across Aonungs face and blooming on the tip of his ears at the possible implications of his words. A smirk began to form on Savanna’s lips at his embarrassment. “Savanna! You know what I meant! Fine. Have it your way, sleep outside.” 

As the sun fully set Savanna closed the hut and layed down to sleep. Aonung was right; it got quite chilly. Goosebumps began to pop up on her skin. She shivered slightly, but remained where she was. Eventually she managed to fall asleep. At one point she thought she heard a rustle, but she chalked it up to her tired mind. 

The next morning Savanna felt warmth radiating on her back and stomach; she adjusted slightly and nestled into the comfortable heat radiating on her. Then she felt the fingers flexing on her back and pulling her close. Suddenly the morning wasn’t as quiet, her mouth went dry and her eyes wide. Acutely aware of the breath as it hit her shoulder, how the curls burned her skin like the sun. She looked around and noticed a distinct lack of sand and general outside. When had she gone inside? Trying to move away from Aonung’s mass was proving to be difficult, everytime she got close to freeing herself he’d adjust and grumble. It was quite cute how his unconscious self sought her out, but she needed to get up. Deciding to give up, Savanna tangled her hands gently in Aonungs hair and pulled his head away from her shoulder, “Wake up pretty boy.” 

Grunting and fluttering his eyes open slightly he scowled at Savanna, “Let me sleep Sav.” His head flopped loosely back down on her shoulder and he began to snore again. 

“No. Get your ass up, sleepy head!” Savanna Began to shift her whole body. She pried his hand off her back and sat up. He was still half draped across her, his torso having shifted to her lap now. 

Perking his head up and opening his eyes, Aonung smiled softly at Savanna, “Sav, why are you up so early?” Sitting up right to face her, he whipped the morning grogginess from his eyes. 

“It’s not even early. You just sleep like a log.” sighing she asked, “how did I get inside anyway.” 

Turning to face away from her Aonung spoke, “You must have wandered in at some point. Like you said I sleep like a log, I don’t know when you got in.”

[pelicantoes]

I just have to rant about Bakudeku. And since I have nobody who could possible, hypothetically, magnanimously understand (if you're pissed off about my misuse of those words, good) in my own admittedly very small inner circle I am forced to resort to this hellhole tumblr, so thank you for bearing with me. Because this is gonna be a wild fucking ride about my stupid obsession and deep feelings about Bakudeku, because it's fucking 12pm and I'm sleep-deprived, and almost on my period, and entirely too emotional and I have just read the most heartwrenching fanfics about those two, and I WILL make it everyone's problems because I'm OBSESSED.

Okay so, it's just the fucking rivalry, those two idiots have been through so much. And Bakugou is an absolute toxic bitch to Deku at first, but it's about the reasons behind it that make it work. The fucking inferiority complex towards someone who is quirkless, towards someone who should be lesser than him, who he knows is lesser than him, and somehow for some fucking reason he feels threatened. This kid wirh his helpful nature and his caring and compassion and always being so bright and optimistic. Bakugou loathes it because he can handle himself, but he can't handle the idea of someone being so kind in a world that is out to get him and that disadvantages and is even hostile to him at every single turn. Somebody whose literal dreams got crushed at the age of 4. He doesn't get it, Deku should be a depressed, cowering loser, but he isn't. He's bright and good. And Bakugou can't fathom it, he wants to crush him.

And then they get to ua and Deku has this crazy quirk and he feels lied to. And he must wonder why Deku would keep such a thing hidden for so long, why would he subject himself to the horror of growing quirkless when he might very well be more powerful. How could he let somebody like Bakugou hurt and belittle him when he had the power to dominate him all along. And I think it's jarring for him, because he probably sees the world as a place where the strongest survive, the strongest rule. And Midoriya hiding such a thing from him wouldn't make any sense at all eith that worldview, because naturally Deku would have wielded this power to gain more control over others, just like he did. And I think it added another dimension, because Deku isn't only kind because he's quirkless and therefore would need something going for him, he actively chose to remain kind that entire time. Despite the amount of control he could have had.

It's like Midoriya is a living embodiment of everything Bakugou does not understand due to how he's raised and that scares him, so he obsesses over him. In the same way Midoriya sees Bakugou as the ideal to beat. He has always looked up to Bakugou and his quirk and his power. It's a result of seeing him praised ever since he was a young kid. And Midoriya's obsession stems from the fact that he wants to be better than Bakugou. It's telling to me that it's Bakugou he wants to beat, not Allmight. Bakugou wants to beat Allmight, he wants to be the best, but Midoriya wants to beat the person he's always idealized and seen as the best, up close and personal. The best in his generation, not the current number 1 hero who will have retired by the time they're proheroes.

Ans there's just always this push and pull between them, they are always áware of the other's movements. They unlock in eachother a type of vulnerability that neither of them have with any of the characters, a kind of bond I have not often seen in any media. It's so raw and unfltered, it's wanting to beat the other, proving to the world they're the best, but it's also deeply intimate. Even though they would fight and taunt and jab at eachother, they trust eachother, they rely on eachother to keep them going. They would feel lost without the other, it's like they're eachother's motivation to improve, but most importantly to live. I think their bond runs so deep that their life might loose all meaning if the other dies. It's how Bakugou grows from hate to begrudging respect, and Midoriya from being a push-over to valuing himself and getting better self-esteem, and finally getting to equal footing where they hurt and fight eachother, but it underlies the knowledge that they're equal, nothing they can do will truly take the other down. The push and pull. There's mutual respect, and trust and intimacy, they know eachother more than anyone. They're both so intense, and somehow they managed to find their match in terms of intensity from such a young age that this strange bond could blossom. It just took time to put them on equal footing so they could actually provide eachother with the intensity they crave so badly. Midoriya had the resolve and the stubbornness, but none of the brawn needed to provide an actual challenge to Bakugou, to be someone he could let loose with. Bakugou had too much pride and too much ego, to ever willingly give himself up for someone else, especially not for Midorya. Until the tables flipped, until Midoriya got his quirk, and he understands Bakugou more than anyone. And Bakugou realizes Midoriya is no longer that crybaby kid he could beat up whenever he wanted and their relationship just changed so much, to the point that Bakugou willingly put himself in harm's way for Midoriya.

It's just such a compelling and complex dynamic and I get teary-eyed whenever I find fanfic that perfectly captures their bond, because it's such a powerful and profound thing and I'm absolutely astounded that I would grow to like this ship so much. It's not even like I necessarily ship it romantically, it's like they can't live without the other, and it feels undefinable by romantic or platonic labels. It's like in an entirely different category. And fuck I am so invested in those two, but ugh just Them.

[leclsrc]

hi hello hi!!

I wanted to ask you like a question that may be a bit uncomfortable for you but I wanna put it with as honestly and sensitively as I can. Anyways, I have friends or moots who I strongly disagree with different stuff in. Even people I just follow on tumblr without them knowing i'm something and I wanted to ask how do you handle discourse in stuff like f1 or any topic in general? do you feel put down when someone specific's opinion matters to you and do you hold back on your own opinions? It's completely fine if you don't want to answer or feel uncomfortable btw. it's just that I want to keep in touch with my moots and you have a good relationship with yours and I want to handle things with grace instead of blocking people or unfollowing when I feel like I'm starting to lose interest just because someone has one (or two) different opinions. And because I hold them in high regard their opinions kinda matter more than just anyone. It's not like they take jabs at me but things I take interest in for example and they do it with a great hatred and sports is definitley subjective, it's only when sometimes I feel like my opinions should be held back because these people suddenly feel like they don't see eye to eye with me and eventually lose interest. Or maybe I just overthink things and sports and other stuff will always have discourse (?) again, you don't have to answer it if you feel uncomfy but I hope you're well! 💓

omg okay wow! before anything else i wanna say i feel so touched that you thought to come to me for advice because trust mee i’m privy to acting on impulse a lot… but besides that

you’re right—discourse exists everywhere. especially in the age of social media where everyone shares their opinions online and sometimes very cuttingly, it’d be so difficult to avoid discourse/debate at all costs even if we try! i know it’s sometimes difficult to try and maintain a balance between keeping relationships and holding our own truths sacred and i don’t think either should be sacrificed right off the bat.

it really all boils down to your and your friends’ ability to hash these things out and uphold respect. i’m friends with some people who take sports seriously and support teams i don’t/vice versa. banter’s all well and good but if ever i get genuinely irritated or i feel like they’re doing too much i either 1. trust myself to just tune it out and not take it so seriously or 2. trust them to tone it down if i tell them so. so while i agree everything is subjective and discourse is inevitable, i know (and you should know too) that this fact should never be a greenlight for ‘friends’ to very loudly shit on things u enjoy! don’t fret love, you will find better circles to converse with and better people to exchange ideas with—even in disagreement.

[spmcomic]

[bursts down ur door] im here for the dvd commentary ask meme, tell me abt this >:]: The song was meant to be her magnum opus, but upon facing the reality of the sight, how could she ever do it justice? Lazarus paused. I guess I never will, the voices mused together. It stood, on the hill, for a long moment. The packages on its back pushed its knife-legs into the soft ground, so much softer than it was at home. (man, tumblr really dont let u format asks huh)

The moonlight…

Something was wrong. What was it?

There should be three moons, the voices whispered together.

Neima hunched over her stone in the dead of night, pausing every few moments to turn her head up and examine the moons. Their light played off each other: sturdy bronze, icy blue-white, and airy reflective gray between the two. She jabbed her quill against the rock, crumpling the tip. With a snarl she tossed it away, grabbing yet another out of her cup. She dunked the end of it in her ink and very nearly chewed on the tip while she contemplated the three heavenly bodies. Ink dripped off her nose, leaving her whiskers quivering in the multicolored light.

How could you translate such a sight into music? The moons hung serenely in the sky, blotting out even the stars in such a wide circle. The way the colors lit up the long strands of dead grass, bounced off her slate, twinkled at the end of the quill… Neima’s brow furrowed and her ears drew back. She shuffled her stiff feet, trying to force some feeling back into them. They would be out of phase again soon. The next collection like this wouldn’t come around for another two years. She had to make her decision. Bronze, and white, and blue, and gray… The cold and the stillness and the crisp smell of the dew collecting on the rough stones. What notes brought them to mind? What might another instrument accomplish that her trumpet could not?

The song was meant to be her magnum opus, but upon facing the reality of the sight, how could she ever do it justice?

Lazarus paused. I guess I never will, the voices mused together. It stood, on the hill, for a long moment. The packages on its back pushed its knife-legs into the soft ground, so much softer than it was at home.

It could never get home, could it? From the very beginning… the Artificers had total control over Lazarus’ fate, and had ensured it was trapped forever. The voices never had a chance. Even if Lazarus did get home, the voices had been gathered from across time, from across the countries and tribes and regions. Where could Ishani fit, in this new world? Where would Timur? Bryagh? Kai? They had never heard of some of the ideas the other voices shared- the Mayors- the quills- the games- the armored mounts-

-

(from theia and gaia)

god. this whole bit. i think this was one of the first strong images i had for the entire fic, honestly. i wanted to evoke that artist's struggle to capture your own mind, with neima. because she is an artist- all of the people within lazarus were full, thinking, feeling individuals with their own lives and goals and inner worlds. the snippets we'd seen up until this point conveyed that, of course, but this one was… vivid, personal, and i think it's a fear that a lot of artists struggle with. the fear that you won't get to make what you wanted to make, you won't get to say what you wanted to say, before you die. and all of the leporids on douma face that lack of closure.

neima is one of the two or three souls that is specifically named during arc 5 of the comic, so i wanted to make sure she had at least one prominent appearance in theia and gaia. she's not the only artist in lazarus of course, and all of the souls are very important within the core, but neima is one of those personalities that easily bubbles to the top in this kind of environment. bryagh and ishani already get a lot of the limelight in this fic, so i wanted to touch on a few other characters within the crowd and make sure they're just as involved in lazarus' turning points as the two folk heroes.

so neima gets a moment of both lost hope and new companionship and awareness, a bit of a rebirth for lazarus. she brings lazarus to its senses with her lost dream, the group realizes their similarities and differences, and the implications of those differences, but they also all get to figure out what they want to do next as a group. all of them have lost dreams. all of prolagus will become lost. again, it's that symbolic lack of closure for their whole species coming to the forefront here.

i hope that scenes like this drive home the tragedy and downright horror of the pixls' situation. not only were their lives taken away, but everyting they wanted to DO with those lives. all the things they never achieved because they never got the chance. as an artist, this idea is terrifying to me. what happens if i hesitate at a critical moment? what happens if i die before i get to finish my project? neima doesn't entirely die, but she is permanently unable to pursue her art after being taken by the artificers.

i think specifically i wanted the moonlight to be emphasized here because moons are so… specific to planets. mars has entirely different moons than earth- mercury and venus, no moons at all. from the "surface" of a planet like saturn or jupiter, the moons must also just look like a dozen tiny dots. what about the ring of saturn? the sky is always a fantastic way to drive home an alien environment especially in a sci-fi story.

in this case, and i do always love perspective reversals, the familiarity is actually with the more alien planet to us. because the leporids might be different from us / the artificers, but they are still people and they still had a home that was familiar to them. in that sense, i wanted the artificers, the more humanoid species, to have the more familiar and friendly environment. the ground is softer, the weather is more mild, they only have one large moon on this world.

haha man it's hard to gush when i'm put on the spot like this. i feel like i'm out of things to say, but i have a million more things to talk about.

i remember all the editing this fic went through, but this scene is actually one of the ones that didn't change much between the three-ish drafts. it was always going to be the midpoint of the fic, the point where lazarus finishes processing its grief and is able to snap out of the haze the artificers cast on it due to this vivid (and very relatable, to the whole crowd within the robot) memory. it's the point where lazarus realizes that it's going to have to change tactics if it wants to make any kind of difference in its situation. it exists in the present rather than the past now. its rebellion takes on a more subtle form. and now, with these memories settled and connections made, it's in a position where it can learn the system and make allies before it attempts to overthrow the artificers' program.

thank you for asking about this. there's so much thought and work that went into theia and gaia that got left unsaid because it was a side project for the comic.

[mitigatedchaos]

Over the past few years, young people on Tumblr have taught me two important things.

First, someone described something I wrote as incomprehensible, so I tried "decompressing" it using about five times as many words. They said that they didn't fully endorse it, but that they now understood it.

I run in circles that use very dense writing, and this confirmed that the 5:1 ratio that I had discovered on Twitter was more general. Also, perhaps more importantly, the response was less hostile than expected - the initial question wasn't just a jab.

Second, after writing something that would have been considered provocative ten years ago, someone complained that my response contained "ad hominems."

That's a discourse norm! Why are you using a discourse norm if you were saying something provocative like that!

So my theory now is that it's 2024. Things changed pretty significantly in 2014. If someone is 18 now, then when the term "oppressor" started getting slung around regularly, they were eight.

The quality of information sources has degraded. Young people are trying to orient themselves in a turbulent information environment. They are open to listening.

Therefore, the best approach right now is to patiently explain things.

lot of people take the idea they might be an oppressor like it's some kind of curse or marks them or makes them fundamentally irredeemable.

this means whenever someone suggests they might have structural power over some group, rather than being normal about it and going "oh yeah i should be mindful of how i act so i don't abuse that," they take it as a personal attack, and either jump to defending themselves by denying it, or start lashing out.

this makes 99.99999% of all conversations on this website completely fucking unbearable.

[yonkimint]

MY DEAR AUTHOR IM SO UPSET THAT TUMBLR FAILED TO NOTIFY ME THAT NOT ONLY DID YOU UPDATE TODAY BUT ALSO ON MARCH 25TH?!?! FUCKING TUMBLR FAILING YET AGAIN 😭😭😭

BUT ANYWAY I READ BOTH UPDATES...

YOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGIIIIIIIII IM SO GLAD HE LET IT RIP ON MC AS HE ABSOLUTELY SHOULD HAVE OH MY GOD

IM ALSO GLAD HE'S NOT HOLDING IT AGAINST THE BABY AND HE WANTS TO MEET HIM AND SPEND TIME WITH HIM

ALSO I LOVE THAT IRENE AND JIMIN ARE WITH US ABOUT THE THROUPLE

#TEAMPORQUENOLASDOS

Obviously not at this point of the story bc there's too much shit everyone needs to talk through before ANY type of relationship happens. I mean we still don't even know what caused the big blowout that ruined Yoongi and Hobi's friendship. Also circling back to Irene and Jimin, I know it might've been a playful jab but its not fair for them to say its MC's fault that Yoongi and Hobi have issues that blew up in a horrible way. I feel like for them to go from best friends (or whatever they were feeling back then 👀👀) to never speaking to each other is some major underlying issues that no one was really in the know about.

But anyway I'm so stressed about everything going on between these characters and I'm gonna go watch something wholesome to lessen the burden lol, thank you for updating!

Oops, and here we are in May... Sorry for taking so long to respond!

But to your points about y/n taking the blame for things that aren't really her fault, you are absolutely right! Everyone in this little throuple is culpable in how things fell apart and I definitely want to unpack all of it so they can heal and reestablish a healthier relationship. It's gonna take some time though for sure!