#was it hot? yeah. insofar as whatever

[snowshinobi]

I can now say I've drawn blood during a makeout sesh how much does this up my cannibalism cred

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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[leupagus]

aw, yay prompts! Star Wars/Rogue One - Luke/Bodhi and summer hook up AU or urban street magic AU. Or Jannah/Rose - Heist AU. Or Rivers of London - anything with Molly for that food truck AU. Definitely just pick and choose as interested, or I can send these as separate asks, lol

Star Wars - summer hookup & urban street magic AU

Bodhi ducked down another alleyway, pulled off his hoodie and tossed it in a convenient bin. Then he took a deep breath and turned around, hands in pockets, trying to look casual. It probably wouldn't work. yn had been trying to teach him about sneaking around — "it's called spycraft," she'd sigh at him — but Bodhi couldn't ever shake the feeling that he was always himself, no matter who he was pretending to be.

Sure enough, he turned right out of the alley and ran smack into the someone.

"You all right?" said the voice, concerned and warm and — familiar, but who the hells did he know in this godsforsaken city? Other than the Jedi, who hopefully was still back at the square with his thumb up his arse.

Bodhi looked up into the face of — "Luke," he said, his face going hot and gods, this is why he shouldn't be given any kind of responsibilities! He was good at Imbuing, not Wayfinding; although maybe this was an aspect of his abilities, that ensured he'd escape the Jedi but get caught by the one person he'd like to see even less.

Though that wasn't accurate, really, it was more that he didn't think Luke wanted to see him, after that night last summer and waking up the next morning to an empty bed and—

Bodhi was still mid-spiral when he caught sight of the rest of Luke's getup — a black cape and black suit underneath, one hand loosely cradling a saber.

Luke's eyes were wide and blue and still just as beautiful as Bodhi remembered. "Oh, shit," Luke said. "You're the Rogue?"

"You're the Jedi!" Bodhi protested, but even while his inner Jyn was screaming at him to run or kick Luke in the balls or pull that stupid cape over his head, he could feel himself starting to smile.

Because Luke was beaming at him, radiant as the sun. "Well," he said, tossing his straw-blonde hair out of his face, "I had to get your attention somehow."

Star Wars - Heist AU

"Please put your heads on your hand," said Rose, trying for "calm and authoritative." She might have even hit it.

The woman opened her mouth, then closed it again. "You mean my hands on my head?" she offered, and demonstrated.

"Right, yeah, sorry. This is my first day," Rose said, which probably wasn't the right thing to tell a robber? But also she could hear Finn in her earpiece telling her that he was thirty seconds away and also that she was doing great, which was reassuring, even if the woman in front of her was still holding the...whatever she was holding. "Um, actually if you want to put the thingy down on the floor, that would probably be good," she added.

"Oh god," she thought she heard Finn mutter, as he put on an extra burst of speed.

"The thingy," said the woman, sounding a little offended. "Honestly, if you can't even—"

Just then another woman, white with her hair up in odd little pigtails, came careening into the room. "Let's go!" she yelled without slowing down.

"Catch," said the first woman, throwing the thingy at her.

It was gold and kind of heavy, and Rose dropped it immediately, but they were already gone. "Well, fudge."

Finn's footsteps echoed in the hallway and he burst into the room, holding a taser in one hand and a flashlight in the other. "You okay?" he asked, breathing hard.

"They got away," she said. "Um, I don't know if they were really trying to steal—"

Just then the police started turning up, and the fire department, and all in all it was almost an hour later when Rose was shown the thing that the woman threw at her, now safely ensconced in an evidence bag. "It's a — oh shit," she said.

The detective, some old guy with an accent that might have been Midwestern or might have been just lazy, gave her a slight smile. "Yeah, it's oh shit all right," he agreed. "And guess what else they left behind."

The next morning, Finn came in with an actual physical copy of the Boston Globe; there on the front page was the two of them and Director Organa at the impromptu press conference in front of the museum. Underneath the photo was an array of each returned art piece, or at least pictures of what they'd looked like before. Rose had seen some of the rolled-up paintings and knew it would be months, if not years, before any of them were ready to be displayed again.

"We look good, though," she said, and Finn handed her some copies of the paper so she could send them to her sister and parents.

The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum Return Heist was the subject of months of news stories, three documentaries, and a Netflix miniseries, but it wasn't until almost five years later, when Rose matched with a beautiful woman who liked crossword puzzles and base jumping on Nerdster, that they had the first indication of who exactly had brought the artwork back.

Rivers of London - food truck AU

They always came at dusk, the two of them looking like something out of a supernatural anime about demonic domestic staff. They systematically worked their way through the entire menu, which took them about two weeks, and if the rumours were right, then they'd bugger off.

The food truck community, insofar as there is one in London, operates mostly through mutual follows on social media, uneasy alliances at the various festivals and fairs that require our services, and ruthless undercutting when it comes to the best spots in the City to ply our wares during the lunchtime rush. But word gets around about certain customers, and it went around like wildfire about these two. They always paid cash, tipped lavishly, and only the man ate, but the woman would sit or stand next to him with a notepad, scribbling furiously as he quietly talked to her — describing the food, maybe, or plotting world domination. It was generally understood that they were a pair of stone cold freaks who you prayed would just finish up their weird assessment of your food truck and leave.

Only, the day before they sampled the last item on the menu — one of our sides, a fried plantain that Bev swears could make the dead get up out of their graves with demands for seconds — I let them know that there'd be a special on offer tomorrow.

I could hear Abigail snickering behind me as the gentleman — with those suits and that cane, it was the best epithet I could come up with — lifted an eyebrow. "Indeed? And what will this special be?"

"Well, it's special, isn't it?" I said, laying on the Kentish Town charm with a grin and a shovel. "You'll have to come back and try it. Otherwise you won't have a complete understanding of the menu."

The woman nodded, solemn as ever, but the gentleman looked suspicious. "Until tomorrow, then," he said, with another squint at me.

Abigail joined me at the window to watch them go, arm-in-arm into the fog like something out of Casablanca. "So has anyone figured out what website they work for?" she asked.

"I don't think they do," I said, as the fog swallowed them up. "I think they're just weirdos."

"Weirdos you invited back for a special that you haven't even invented yet," said Abigail, with the kind of insight that makes her a great line cook and a really annoying cousin.

"Well, good-looking weirdos," I allowed.

[recurring-polynya]

a little in love now and then, part 6/? | ao3 | ff.net |

Summary: Abarai  Renji doesn’t have a fortune, but he does appear to be in want of a  wife, at least in Lady Kuchiki’s opinion. Fortunately, Lady Kuchiki also  has a sister, and a woefully eligible one, at that. (itty bitty Hisana  Lived! AU)

Rating: T, for minor cussing

This time: The Cavalry: Renji seeks outside advice.

Older parts: | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

Renji pounded his fist against the doorframe. He waited. He pounded again. “KIRA!” he bellowed. “KIRA, IT’S ME, ABARAI! OPEN UP, I NEED YOU!”

Slowly, the door slid open, and the exhausted lieutenant of Squad 3 squinted at Renji with purple-shadowed eyes.

“Kira, how do noble people get married?” Renji demanded.

Izuru stared at him for a moment, taking into account the hour, the fact that Renji was dressed in his New Year’s best, and finally, the question. He rubbed at his hair and blinked, before realization penetrated his haze of sleep-deprivation. “What have you done?” he gasped, horrified.

“You look bad, buddy,” Renji observed, before he suddenly remembered the probable cause of Kira’s condition. “Aw, cripes, Kira, I’m sorry. I forgot about, you know.”

“My captain being sent to the Maggot’s Nest?” Izuru asked dryly.

Renji cringed. “Something crazy happened and I thought o’ you, and I really wasn’t thinkin’ and I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

Kira rubbed at his face tiredly and tried to blink his eyes into focus. “You cannot just show up here and ask me how to marry a noble person and then leave again.” He managed a small smile. “Besides, if you and your captain hadn’t cracked open Aizen’s conspiracy, who knows how much worse things would be. I probably owe you one anyway.”

Renji hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t do anything, aside from trying and failing to beat up that Kurosaki kid.”

Izuru smashed a fist into Renji’s shoulder. “Whatever, meathead. The fact is, I am so sick of auditing the last forty years of squad records that digging you out of whatever horrifying situation you have enmeshed yourself in will be a delightful distraction. Let’s consider it a mutual favor.” He stepped aside and waved his hand. “Come inside and tell me whose honor you have besmirched. I’ll put on tea.”

“I haven’t besmirched anyone’s honor!” Renji excused, trailing his old school friend into his quarters. “Lady Kuchiki wants me to marry Rukia.”

Izuru almost tripped on his way into the kitchen and had to catch himself on the edge of the counter. “What?”

“Not, like, this minute. I guess she’s taken a liking to me, probably ‘cause her baby likes me, and she’s been trying to find a nice husband for Rukia, which seems like a terrible mistake, and she’s made an even worse mistake insofar as judging my suitability for this, and I’m trying to take advantage of it before she catches on.”

Izuru squinted at him. “She wants you to marry Rukia because she likes you? Not because of your decades of loyal pining and sad puppy dog eyes?”

“She doesn’t even know about that,” Renji nodded incredulously.

Izuru set the kettle on the stove. “So, let me get this straight. Back when we were in school, right after Rukia was adopted, you came up with this incredibly half-baked plan to distinguish yourself in the Gotei, impress Captain Kuchiki, defeat him in battle, and… you always refused to say the last part out loud. What was the goal, anyway? To see Rukia again? To prove to her that the only difference between you and a man born all of the wealth and advantage you can imagine is a little elbow grease? To ask for her hand in marriage?”

“Something like that,” Renji replied vaguely.

“And you’re telling me it worked?”

“I didn’t even have to fight Captain Kuchiki!” Renji exclaimed, waving his arms. “Which is good, because you weren’t there when he fought Aizen, but even with my bankai, I’m pretty sure he can still kick my ass.”

Izuru shook his head. “You are simultaneously the most blessed and cursed idiot I have ever met.”

“I know it,” Renji admitted sincerely.

“Okay, so let’s talk about what actually happened,” Izuru said, pulling out a pair of fine tea cups painted with elegant blue cranes. “Did they extend you an offer?”

“Huh?” Renji echoed. “No, nothin’ like that.”

“She just said, Mr. Abarai, you seem like a sporting fellow, would you like to marry my troublesome sister?”

“Rukia is not troublesome! And it was more like, she invited me over for dinner, and afterwards, Rukia said, ‘Oh, my sister wants to marry me off because I’m troublesome and she’s picked you’.”

“Because you seem like a chump?”

“I am absolutely a chump, but I am pretty sure Lady Kuchiki genuinely likes me.” He scratched his head. “It’s weird that a person exists who would marry Captain Kuchiki and also likes me.”

Izuru nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed. And how does Rukia feel about this?”

Renji made a face. “Well, she’s not a huge fan of it, but she didn’t shut it down, either. She’s willing to consider it.”

“Hmm,” Izuru replied with mild surprise. “And Captain Kuchiki?”

“He… doesn’t hate me,” Renji shrugged. “I’m not sure he knows what his wife is up to.”

“I see,” Izuru nodded, pouring hot water into the cups. “And what about you?”

“Me?” Renji repeated.

“Yes, Abarai, you get an opinion, too, you know.” Izuru studied his own friend carefully for a moment, before saying, “People can change a lot in forty years. You two didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Renji’s face stiffened. “I know.”

Izuru took a cautious sip of tea. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re my friend and I just want to make sure you’re doing something that will make you happy.”

Renji huffed. “Look, I said Rukia wasn’t quite on board yet, and I ain’t interested in marrying anyone who ain’t interested in marrying me.”

“Granted,” Izuru nodded, waiting for him to go on.

Renji stared at his teacup as he spun it in his hands. “I blew it. Back then. I’m not… I can’t…” He let out a frustrated breath. “Of course I want to get to know her again. I’m sure some things have changed. But I can’t screw this up again. If this is my shot, I gotta take it.”

Izuru knew how much it embarrassed Renji to admit things like this. He felt very grateful that, despite the rocks their friendship had hit over the years, Abarai still trusted him this much. He cleared his throat. “Good. I have the landscape of it. You’re interested, Rukia is open. Lady Kuchiki is for it, Captain Kuchiki exists.”

Renji thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. That sums it up pretty good.”

“So, let’s talk about the mechanics, which is why I suspect you’ve come to me. In general, it is your prerogative, as the guy, to propose. Very noble families, like the Kuchiki, might extend an offer of Rukia’s hand if they were trying to create an alliance or propose a deal with another family. It’s also possible that could happen if someone performed some great service to the family-- they very well could have offered her to that Kurosaki boy that stormed the Seireitei for her, for example.”

Renji’s shoulders went a little stiff, and Izuru realized he had hit a nerve. Maybe not quite a nerve. A soft spot. “He’s not even dead,” Renji pointed out, not sounding very confident that this was an adequate objection.

“Right, and he’s got no status in Soul Society at all, and also, they didn’t,” Izuru reassured him. “My point is, we should expect that the ball is in your court, at this point. There are two halves to this: proposing to Rukia and getting her Clan Head’s approval. Now, if you were rich and powerful enough, and didn’t care about Rukia’s feelings, you could skip her entirely, and go straight to Captain Kuchiki. Rukia would still have to agree, but it would be mostly on her family to get her buy in.”

“I don’t want that,” Renji mumbled.

“Exactly. Plus, you’re broke. You are still broke, right? If you’re not, you owe me 400 kan for your bar tab on Shuuhei’s birthday.”

“You mean when I had to leave early to drag Shuuhei home because he was blasted?”

“It was 600, but I’m giving you the good friend discount.”

Renji made a troubled face. “I am still broke, but I can pay you back.”

Izuru waved a hand. “Forget it, that wasn’t the point. The point is, and I cannot believe I am going to say this, but unless you plan on winning the lottery or passing your captain’s exam in the next few weeks, you are going to need to charm your way into this family. Lady Kuchiki likes you, but I am going to go out on a limb and say that it’s Rukia’s opinion of you that’s ultimately going to sway her, no?”

Renji nodded curtly. “That was my impression.”

“Then all of this is really a lot less complicated than you think. Spend some time with Rukia. See if she’s still the person you remember. Try to stay on Lord and Lady Kuchiki’s good side. Don’t jump the gun. If it’s meant to be, she should be so thrilled by the time you ask, she can help you wrangle the proper approvals from her sister and brother-in-law.”

Renji sighed, and took a long sip of tea. “What kinda odds you think I’ve got?”

Izuru gave a little shrug. “I’m frankly dumbfounded you’ve gotten this far. We are outside of the range of calculable probabilities.”

Renji fidgeted with the sleeve of his haori. “Do you really think… that Rukia might…”

Izuru settled his chin on one hand. “Abarai, in the time that I saw the two of you together, I found you and Rukia to have the most incomprehensible rapport I have ever seen between two people. I found her to be utterly impenetrable and you to be…” He trailed off. “Look, we’re outside of my area of expertise. I hope I was helpful on the nuts and bolts stuff.”

Renji’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah! Yeah, thanks, Kira. You were super helpful. I’ll get outta here now, so you can get some sleep, I’m sorry to--”

“Hey!” Izuru interrupted him. “I didn’t tell you to leave. I just said we were out of my depth. Do you wanna call Momo? I’m pretty sure she hasn’t slept in a month, either.”

“Er…” Renji frowned. “Are you really sure--?”

Izuru was already on the phone. “Hey, Hinamori! How’s the endless cycle of self-recrimination going? Oh, you’re stress-baking again? Perfect. You want to get overly invested in Abarai’s personal life with me? Yeah, come over as soon as they’re done. No, you’re going to have to wait and hear him explain it, you would never believe me if I tried to tell you. Okay, great!” Izuru flipped his phone shut. “Momo’s in. She’ll be here in twenty minutes with dorayaki.” He paused. “You’re not imposing. This is good for us. Let us have this.”

“Ah,” said Renji. “Did you say dorayaki?”

[cadyrocks]

The staggering irony of a Catholic talking about being demonized by trans people would be the highlight of my day if it weren't for the hot t4t breeding I have penciled in for later this evening.

But yeah, this is an attitude I can understand, because by my estimation it's the source of most modern pushback to LGBT rights. Much if it may be couched in different language, but the vast majority comes down to the beliefs of specific religions about gender and sexuality. The idea that the world exists in a certain way for a reason, and that that reason must be followed, and also that we've figured out that reason, and also the frequently unstated assumption that those who reject that reason are doing it wrong and need to be corrected... Very catholic opinion, that.

It's weird, because while the argument is fundamentally unsupported beyond flawed intuitions (you're trying to simplify our explanation of the existence of life with "god did it"; this has, historically, not been a winning proposition), it also strikes me as generally weak, given how common things like homosexuality are in nature and how much non-procreative sex there is (and how much of a benefit it is to those engaged in it). How would you claim to know the purpose of my junk when you don't know me? I am not a muscle, a machine supposed to do specific things. I am a whole ass conscious person with my own mind and my own desires and my own goals.

Whatever telos you ascribe to sexuality only works if you ignore the role that non-reproductive members play in reproduction and child-rearing, and treat massive swathes of normal human and mammal behavior as abnormal exceptions to the rule.

More fundamentally, I am not a means to an end. I am an end unto myself. My "telos", insofar as it exists, is a mystery to me - how would you know what it is if you don't know me?

Anyways, enough of this, I have to clean my room before my boyfriend shows up and I show him just how much fun a mean girl with a cock can be. ☺️

I think these nonsensical anti-trans arguments originate from trying to subtitute nature in the place where God used to be in these arguments. Unfortunately, they can't just define nature to be whatever they need it to be, so they run into problems. What transphobes don't understand is that their idea of a "natural order" is not actually natural.

@americanbrightside made a very similar point and that does make a lot of sense to me.

As you say, it's frustrating because people act like "biology" demonstrates these things that I would argue it not only doesn't demonstrate, but *can't* demonstrate.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #228

Thurs Apr 30 2020 [07:47 PM] Wack'd: Johnny never struck me as a "literal jump for joy" kind of guy but he might just want to piss off Ben

[07:48 PM] Bocaj: I tried to do that jump and click heels thing but I don't wear shoes that click so I don't know why I bothered [07:49 PM] Wack'd: Hey so remember that girl at the racetrack Johnny turned down because he was nostalgic for Crystal? Well he's cool now and they're goin out

[07:49 PM] Bocaj: I can see how she won him over. "I've got a jacuzzi at my place" "You **DO**--?" [07:50 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Lorrie is coming over to meet the family so Johnny must be serious about her [07:51 PM] Wack'd: Unfortunately for him Reed just made a last-minute doctor's appointment for Franklin to use his neurologist friend's machine to peek at his mind [07:51 PM] Bocaj: Uh [07:51 PM] Bocaj: Sure [07:52 PM] Umbramatic: wha [07:52 PM] maxwellelvis: I smell wacky sitc-oh [07:52 PM] Wack'd: Sue is like "springing this on Franklin might make him freak out" and Reed, is...a good parent? [07:52 PM] maxwellelvis: Alert the Times [07:52 PM] Wack'd: He's like "hey, why don't we just be straight with Franklin and ask him if this is something he's okay with" [07:53 PM] Bocaj: Hello, The Times? This is your cousin, Marty. Do you know that headline you were looking for? Well listen to THIS [07:53 PM] Wack'd: And Franklin's like "yeah okay that sounds like a good idea, I also want to make sure I know how not to hurt people" [07:53 PM] Wack'd: A smart kid [07:54 PM] Umbramatic: this is going suspiciously well [07:55 PM] Wack'd: Hey, Ben. Buddy. Stop it

[07:55 PM] Bocaj: aw ben c'mon [07:56 PM] Wack'd: Thankfully he quickly regains his composure [07:56 PM] maxwellelvis: Before he drools so much he could be mistaken for Niagara Falls [07:57 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Reed's like "hey why doesn't everyone come with us to get Franklin's head checked out" for. Some reason [07:58 PM] Wack'd: Lorrie's a gearhead so she's into the idea of hanging around and riding in the Fantasticar [07:58 PM] Wack'd: BEN C'MON

[08:01 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, turns out the guy running Franklin's tests is one of Reed and Ben's old college professors. He is not a fan of Ben's attitude [08:03 PM] Wack'd: So Franklin's tests begin! They start with card guessing. Franklin's not great at it [08:04 PM] Bocaj: Do neurologists usually test ESP [08:04 PM] Wack'd: The professor points out that if Franklin's powers come at moments of stress it's likely that he's simply not got them turned on right now, chemically speaking [08:05 PM] Wack'd: Reed's like "we're not traumatizing my kid for science" and the professor's like "well no, obviously not, but we might be able to do something else to create that chemical reaction in his brain as needed" [08:05 PM] maxwellelvis: "You're not drugging my kid for science" [08:05 PM] Wack'd: Oh no, nothing so mundane [08:06 PM] maxwellelvis: You have me on tenterhooks. [08:06 PM] Umbramatic: oh no [08:07 PM] Wack'd: So what the scientist actually says is "we might be able to help Franklin achieve a state of such zen that he can manipulate his own brain chemicals." But the pictures tell...a different story

[08:07 PM] Bocaj: Garnet shoves the doctor aside. "Here comes a thought" [08:08 PM] Umbramatic: eeep [08:08 PM] maxwellelvis: "In such a state, one could walk on hot coals, sleep on a bed of spikes, and get a shot from the doctor without being scared or even needing a lollipop!" [08:08 PM] Wack'd: He's having his blood pressure taken actually [08:09 PM] maxwellelvis: Mine's funnier [08:09 PM] Wack'd: Anyway a quick google reveals that biofeedback is a real thing insofar as it's something that didn't originate in this comic [08:10 PM] Wack'd: It's apparently really good for stopping urinary incontinence in people with vaginas, and okay in dealing with some mental disorders, but doesn't work for much else [08:11 PM] Bocaj: Neurologist: "So we can't prove for sure it doesn't work for superpowers HUH??" [08:11 PM] Wack'd: Forty years have passed and most scientific studies on it are comparatively recent [08:12 PM] Phantom: and none on superpowers :P? [08:12 PM] Wack'd: So at a guess this was basically a health trend for the sort of folks who these days think LaCroix is a health treatment [08:12 PM] Phantom: probably [08:13 PM] Wack'd: The LaCroix comparison might be way too generous, we're in Sawbones territory now

[08:14 PM] Bocaj: Eesh [08:14 PM] Wack'd: Anyway Mr. "With Enough Mindfulness You Can Cure Cancer" decides to try hypnosis therapy on Franklin [08:14 PM] maxwellelvis: "You're not a real doctor, are you?" [08:15 PM] Wack'd: This man's classes were part of Reed's doctorate program [08:16 PM] Wack'd: Johnny and Lorrie meanwhile decide to go on a date and do the Superman thing

[08:17 PM] Wack'd: Freddie Mercury: You've made a powerful enemy this day, Human Torch

[08:19 PM] Wack'd: Franco Mercury challenges Johnny to a game of chicken in his portion of the Fantasticar [08:19 PM] Wack'd: Interspersed with Franklin finally getting in the machine [08:20 PM] Wack'd: I feel like there's supposed to be some kinda causal link but I have no idea what on Earth it might be

[08:20 PM] Wack'd:

[08:20 PM] Bocaj: Franklin was Johnny all along? [08:21 PM] Wack'd: So Franklin's brain vomited some "psychic ectoplasm" [08:21 PM] Bocaj: Wow this guy is dipping into every bit of paranormal bric a brac [08:21 PM] Bocaj: Are we sure his degree is real [08:22 PM] maxwellelvis: Are we sure Reed wasn't also classmates with Ray or Egon? [08:22 PM] Umbramatic: his degree is in "quackology" [08:22 PM] Wack'd: The true identity of the narrator of The Amazing World of Ghosts [08:22 PM] Bocaj: Do Reed Mi Egon [08:23 PM] Wack'd: ...what

[08:24 PM] Wack'd: Franklin...vomited his brain into this guy? And...and now Franklin's Franco? [08:26 PM] Umbramatic: Franklin Meurcury [08:26 PM] Wack'd: Boy, science is really taking some kinda beating this issue

[08:27 PM] Bocaj: Uhhhhhhhhhh [08:27 PM] Bocaj: Franklin is too powerful for his angsts to be doing this [08:27 PM] Umbramatic: science: "i love the young people" [08:28 PM] Bocaj: I EAT KIDS [08:28 PM] Wack'd: Yay Sue! Also not sure how I feel about this new invisibility effect

[08:29 PM] maxwellelvis: Feels more like showing off. [08:29 PM] maxwellelvis: Or at least, the sort of effect that really should have waited until digital inking was more viable. [08:29 PM] Bocaj: The invisibility is not very not visible [08:30 PM] maxwellelvis: "Due to a compatibility issue with Windows 95 graphics cards, the Invisible Woman is now extra-visible. To keep things fair, please close your eyes when fighting her." [08:31 PM] Wack'd: "It's not that I don't trust you, Abe. It's that all your theories are dangerous quackery and also you nearly got my son killed"

[08:33 PM] maxwellelvis: (That's not some weird non-sequitor, I'm paraphrasing the manual for Doom's Windows 95 port there; with some Windows-compatible graphics cards, there was a weird bug that made invisible enemies like Spectres less than invisible. The manual joked that you should make things more fair by closing your eyes if you encounters this bug.) [08:34 PM] Wack'd: Letters letters letters! [08:34 PM] Wack'd: ...i think i hate letters now

[08:36 PM] InbarFink: Letter pages are just glorified youtube comments [08:36 PM] Bocaj: Eesh [08:37 PM] Bocaj: Around this same time ish there were letters in the avengers comics complaining wasp is too weak and ineffectual and the response said they’d work on it [08:37 PM] Bocaj: So it’s not universal among fans at this time at least [08:38 PM] Wack'd: I'm just like [08:38 PM] Wack'd: The one time I can remember you print letters from ladies [08:39 PM] Wack'd: This is what you go with? [08:40 PM] Bocaj: Yeah it sucks [08:40 PM] InbarFink: would it be conspiratorial to sugget they got a LOT of letters about it and most of them were from dudes and they just picked the two with lady names on them [08:40 PM] Bocaj: No it wouldn’t [08:41 PM] Wack'd: I mean if that is true [08:41 PM] Wack'd: Good on them for not printing male misogynists? [08:41 PM] Wack'd: But just because a point of view comes from a woman doesn't make it worth your time [08:42 PM] Wack'd: Letters like "Murder your female lead" and "I prefer when she was hysterical submissive crying and helpless" are ones you can safely ignore no matter who they come from [08:42 PM] Bocaj: Yeah [08:43 PM] Bocaj: I wish unlimited was more consistent on whether they include the letters page [08:43 PM] Bocaj: It’s interesting to me [08:43 PM] Wack'd: Same [08:43 PM] maxwellelvis: "I'm not saying I WANT her to be killed, but I don't like her saving the day and that she should get beat up more" [08:43 PM] Wack'd: Hart literally says she wants Sandman to murder her! [08:44 PM] Bocaj: Wait until Ultimate hart, ya weirdo [08:44 PM] Wack'd: Alright let's move on. The current direction, whatever it ends up being, is only going to end up mattering for another three issues anyway [08:45 PM] Bocaj: Can’t wait for you to experience Byrne so I can also vicariously

[theorynexus]

Time to Continue with part 83!

Dave is correct. Such matters are never simple. The ways of the heart are extremely complex, and while it wants what it wants, whether it has the heart to actually go through with whatever that is is an entirely different matter altogether. But that, and the wonderful weird silliness aside, I believe Dave was suggesting that there was more to it insofar as there are other factors than just his own “gay awakening” involved with the current difficulties. We shall see just what they are, and how much they have to do with Jade... now.

100% on the money. I am not sure that technically qualifies as incestuous, though, my man.   I am also not 100% sure that you are correct in this matter, other than the fact that it may make her rambunctious and more confident that she is playing a successful role as whatever strange matchmaking hate girlfriend she envisions herself as.  (Not that I don’t think that humans could successfully play the part of a kismesis; rather, I am simply nooot sure Jade is actually doing well at it, or that she has quite the “stuff” for it, at this point. We’ll see.)

***laughs hysterically at this wonderful awkwardness***

That she has.  And honestly, from a Trollish lens, it would seem that she’s had the “hots” for Karkat’s black concupiscent quadrant for quite some time, as well.  (Man, that is sortof weird of her, to go out of her way to exclaim that to John... .    Especially with the distance between her and accomplishing that goal. You’d think she’d at least want to get them to show some interest before doing that.  Does seem very puppy-like of her, though. Hmm~)

Honestly, John is right in that thought.  Mind you, trying might not be the worst idea in ideal circumstances (because at least he could say he tried, and it wasn’t working out for him; thus hopefully become able to get Jade not to push further, and salvage the friendships of everyone involved), but at this point, it’s honestly a great big gamble for Dave. He doesn’t have much romantic experience, and he’s not really sure 100% what he wants.  Not only that, he clearly feels pressured and uncertain with regards to the matter, and that is not a good point to embark on any relationship.  It leaves the door open for all kinds of potential abuse, because things aren’t starting out with firmly established boundaries and the necessary mutual respect for the desires of each person involved upon which all healthy romances are founded.  If it were me, I would most certainly advise against Dave bending to the pressure from Jade like this. If she wanted to make a potential situation between the three of them work out, Jade needs to understand that patience will need to be involved. She’s immortal, Dave’s immortal, and while Karkat may not be, they do have quite a bit of time before they’ll have to worry about him aging too much to make it work, I’m sure.  This is simply a horrible mistake from all parties involved, if it’s going to swing into effect as things are now.   Of course, mistakes do not have to be totally damning, and learning from them is necessary for growth, so... we’ll see how things work out.

...  I guess Megalodon MIGHT have technically been classified as a paleolithic megafauna, technically, though its existence mostly extended much further back.   I do appreciate his continued enthusiasm about paleontology, though, and I understand that his metaphors can get convoluted and distracted, though.  On that note?:   Is that reference to the Meg supposed to be an association with Karkat’s mouth, and how his teeth are apparently quite disorganized, sometimes sticking out of said mouth when it’s supposed to be shut?   I mean, that DOES give a bit of a shark-like image.  To be fair, though: no. It was to eat whales, not other sharks. Big Game Hunter. (I really do appreciate the double meaning of his last line of the above quote.  His uncertainty and circuitous path through the conversation really does show how anxious love can make a person, especially when things are rocky.)

I don’t necessarily think that that is correct---   that is to say, I am not sure that e actually was “leading her on” by dodging the issue for so long.  This would require him to imply he did in fact have that same sort of desires as her, or at least that he was willing to reciprocate.  Based on what we’ve seen, at the very least, I am not sure that he has actually done that. (Man, it must have been weird for Game Over Continuity!Dave to see Davepeta once they joined the fight--- to know on some level that he could sense something familiar, there, but to have no idea what the heck was going on with them~) That said... no. I’m not certain that even if he had been leading her on (that is to say, showing interest, but never committing), he would actually owe it to her unless he had been using that to exploit her in some way.  Particularly, if this was done because he was uncertain if he’d be able to go through with anything, and then he then decided/will have decided to just tell her he’s not interested, I don’t think that this would be wrong at all.  Certainly, she’d have good reason to be upset, but while she’d have lost a significant deal of time, at least he’d be being true to himself instead of potentially doing her, himself, and Karkat greater harm by forcing himself into something that has a good chance of failure+painful consequences. Sorry if this seems overly negative. It’s just... these are not the ideal circumstances, and honestly it’s sortof making me uncomfortable.

(H3H3H3~)    Dangit, that “ghosted” business is sortof painful, given the natural association with John’s death in the Meat Epilogue. @w@ I am not 100% sure John’s mind is fully realizing the implied 3 person relationship that is being talked about as a potential possibility, by the way. With the way he’s talking, it makes it sound like he’s saying to use the coin to choose Karkat or Jade, rather than yea or nay to a situation with both of them.   Particularly with the reference to his logic, and the “same chance” business. Either that, or John is sortof wishy-washy and weird, and is in fact not keeping a constant goal/argument/side as he proceeds in this conversation.

It’s beautiful to see Dave suddenly becoming confident, now that it’s in his wheelhouse.   And sortof awkward and sad, seeing John flail about like this.  But he’s always been that sort of silly jokester, so I will embrace this and accept it.

It’s funny how one can get these intuitions about things, yet be unable to properly explain them, at times.   Of course, this rarely happens to me, because I’m a bit of a windbag (joke at Egbert’s expense), and am willing to look up words that may or may not fit in order to help me organize my thoughts, but it *is* certainly a phenomenon which I am familiar with.  Particularly, in the context of attempting to make connections with others, by which they may or may not latch onto and be able to infer the true meaning you’re trying to get at.

... Yeah, that is definitely one of the things being a friend is all about.  And sadly... I think Dave is right.  He probably does need to talk to Dirk.  Not that it is likely to do all that much good. Dirk’s not all that great, as far as Heart players go, and as a brother, he’s been remarkably distant with Dave, but... well, it somehow seems right, even if it’s something dreadful and somewhat repulsive.  Given that Dave is having a hard time figuring this matter out, and he’s not able to properly latch on to John’s nonsense, this is probably the best option.

I mean, it got Caliborn out of a particularly nasty bind, one time.  ;D

Yeah...  I wouldn’t necessarily suggest that “cracked” will apply to all situations, but having someone who knows and understands you-- how vibrates on the same wave-length, you might say --is absolutely necessary for some issues.

This is incredibly silly. I don’t think that is appropriate on the part of the proprietor, all things considered.  Moreover, it strikes me as curious insofar as I don’t think anyone ever came to try and help them order?    I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t understand how the fanciest restaurants work.  Or something might have happened while John was gone.  Them noticing he was gone probably had something to do with it, but... still pretty ridiculous, regardless.  I mean, who even kicks out a pair of gods? XD

(Super cute.)

How very true.   Time is something difficult to properly hold onto even in the best of times. That one is unequipped to do something that might make a difference does not necessarily mean it’s your fault that bad things happened. For example: one should not blame terrified bystanders for not mobbing a lone gunman in a mass shooting and forcibly stopping them before anything can happen, or at least partway through.  At times, life will present you with barriers of that sort that are almost impossible to overcome, and one has to think of what can be done for the future, rather than dwelling on the past. Of course, the cataclysm is in Dave’s future at this moment, and John could technically do a whole lot of other things to make events work out; yet as the narrative subtly suggests, while the possibility technically exists, it may not be something that is feasible--- for not only is Gamzee’s presence passively screwing with everything, now (and in particular, messing with characters’ abilities to make important choices well, probably), but there is the issue of the narrator potentially manipulating things, as well.   If they are being subtle enough, rather than trying to force certain actions like Dirk did at certain points, it is difficult to oppose such a being’s control. Man, I wish I knew for certain who was doing said narration, right now.

>:

[kinetic-elaboration]

January 27: Thoughts on The 100 2x09, Remember Me

...For some reason I was really angry at the beginning of this? Also there’s a lot of Lxa bashing. Sorry. And some Clarke criticism but in the latter case, I mean it well.

Also this is really long whoops.

*

So...I miss when killing off main characters was a big deal and people actually reacted to it.

I truly cannot take Lxa seriously I’m sorry. I don’t find her... intimidating at all.

I’ve already complained repeatedly about her complete bad faith deal making at every turn so I won’t go into it again but nevertheless, here she is, again, moving the goal posts of the negotiation. ‘I’ll withdraw my army if you cure the Reapers. No, if you give up your friend. No, if you give me his body.’ Clarke should have double crossed her immediately.

Also I know that I ultimately did think it was reasonable for Finn to face Grounder justice (except insofar as that justice was itself morally untenable--that is, the Torture Porn) but now that he’s dead, I think there’s no real moral argument to be made that the Grounders deserve his body. I understand their traditions, which in fact I found quite moving when I first watched this ep, but surely his people have, or could make up, some traditions for his burial also. He is still their friend. This seems like little more than an excuse to be cruel. And Clarke’s so fucking broken she just goes with it. It’s truly awful. I mean she’s doing the only thing she can do I guess but it’s laughable that she sounds as if she has any sort of upper hand, you’re getting played bitch.

(Yeah I know, Lxa is being ‘groundbreaking’ and ‘revolutionary’ by even semi-accepting capital punishment without torture and taking his body is a way of appeasing her harder line advisers but like cry me a river--she’s either the all powerful commander or she’s fucking not.)

“We want the same things.” Lol if you wanted the same things you would have stuck to the original deal. No I’m not over this at all I guess.

I also still can’t get over how Clarke has literally never earned true leadership in the eyes of her own people and yet she continues to be randomly viewed as a leader by the Grounders and thus retains pretty much full de facto control over her own people’s power structure.

Also Kane shut the fuck up. I completely forgot about this but they really did put him through an off-screen 180 where all of a sudden Lxa is a God to him and can literally do nothing wrong and to this day we have never been given an explanation how that came to be. Guess it’s easier to tell not show huh?!?

ALSO I get we’re suppose to see a sort of racism-corollary to lines like “I don’t think they know what peace is” like obviously this rubs one the wrong way automatically. But Abby’s not really wrong. And despite what Kane thinks, Lxa has given, again, NO indication at all that she is interested in peace. She has given a lot of indications that she wants to do whatever she can to wring as much from the Sky People as she can without giving anything in return and hey we’re only halfway through the season and she’s already psychologically broken Clarke (also the only person she acknowledges as the leader even though she is not, cannot emphasize this enough, the leader of anything... and thus the only person L really has to break) and sunk-cost-fallacy-ed her into submission. Now that Finn is dead Clarke would cut off her own tit to make Lxa happy because anything else is “letting him die in vain.”

...Why am I so angry lol?

I understand the positions of both Clarke and Raven in this scene, which is fucking brutal, but I sympathize more with Raven. Clarke’s basically just a messenger, but what the Grounders are demanding is (I know I already said it) cruel, and cruel to Raven above all. And Clarke is almost all business. I think that’s what she needs to be for herself but it’s not helpful to the situation.

Anyway here are my faves in Mount Weather. It’s almost hard to watch these scenes because I want to, like, memorize them. Partially for the C/M story and partially just because. Today’s adventure is getting to a radio to send a message to the Ark-wide channel, which is a term for a thing that exists. Also I forgot how snarky everyone / Miller was to Maya. Which, I get. But--are they not thinking about how her own people have experimented on her? Like she is expendable to them, this is just a known fact at this time. So yes, there is a real risk to her, Nathan.

“Oh, is that all?” / “No--there’s more.” Monty’s so one-track he didn’t even hear the sarcasm. I love him.

“Their army has been getting their ass kicked by Mount Weather forever.” Bellamy speaking the truth. Do they need the alliance, or do they just need the Grounders to back the fuck off from attacking them? (Spoiler: they do not need the alliance.)

Ah Bellarke, always quick to reassure each other. Blindly, even.

“Since I don’t take orders from you, I’m going to need a better reason” is one of my favorite lines, and underrated. Finally someone reminding Clarke she’s not actually in charge of everyone and everything all the time. (I realize this sounds like I dislike Clarke. I don’t. I just find certain traits of hers frustrating. But this just makes her a good character.) Also you can see that, rather like her moment with Raven, she falls back on being business like and direct and issuing orders to avoid talking about feelings or breaking apart.

The United States War Room survives the apocalypse.

I’m sorry but it’s ridiculous to think that Lxa invented the concept of an alliance lol.

I guess Clarke needs to go all in on the alliance because of Finn, but... I also think this is part of who she is. Her sense of practicality outweighs any human desire to hold a grudge, and I think she assumes a level of practicality in others too, automatically, such that she underestimates wariness in others. Like Bellamy and Gustus and everyone is right to be uncertain about this literally hours-old alliance--not even an official alliance, since L’s latest demand hasn’t technically been met!--and Clarke’s like ‘yeah I’ll sleep next to people who would have killed me six hours ago np!’ because now that she’s in, she’s in. She’s neither angry nor afraid.

Linctavia like “Google Earth, always taking pictures.”

Is Lincoln wearing Ark clothes?

I know Raven is made to look kind of wan and sunken and sad but yet this scene where she’s being disarmed is honestly like peak hotness for me and I don’t know why. I like my women sullen and covered in knives?

Interesting how allegedly only the warriors knew English and yet Lxa’s big announcement re: get in line with me or die is made in English. Just going to point out yet again what a big mistake that throwaway S1 line is.

What a sad life to lead, where random declarations followed by “or death” have to form the entirety of your belief system “Don’t be upset that your wife and child are dead...or I’ll beat you to a pulp.” I truly don’t understand how we were ever supposed to get in line with this society as sympathetic or interesting. So much so that they get a whole prequel I guess???

I’d rather have a Mount Weather prequel except not really, don’t ruin it for me.

I love Miller’s canonical insane superhuman strength. This is a trait often overlooked in fics.

The usual comment on Mount Weather scenes: I love all of it.

The thing is that if everyone were on board with the funeral ceremony, it is touching. Murderer and murdered together, and the people who’ve been hurt, on both sides, saying goodbye as a group. It’s just that Clarke’s people were coerced into this--they weren’t convinced it would be a fitting ceremony, just told ‘well this is how it is and if you don’t like it, we could perhaps... KILL YOU?”

Is this a new revelation that Mount Weather crashed the Exodus ship (still a really satisfying belated explanation imo)? Or did we know that because, unlike Monty et al, we knew about the jamming signals already? Can’t remember.

You can see how L came to believe what she believes but nevertheless this is bad advice lol. “Don’t care about other people.” Okay, I’ll just stop doing that then.

Mmmm, a feast in a subway station. Delicious. Fucking full pig head as the centerpiece. Very DC.

Kane (handing over pure space moonshine probably): Just don’t drink too much of it. Clarke (five minutes later): Guzzles whole bottle at once. #partygriff is officially canon.

Waiting until tomorrow to start the war? Procrastinators. Clarke didn’t kill Finn for this.

I love Certified Dramatic Ho Bellamy knocking the cup out of Clarke’s hand even though she had made no move whatsoever to drink it.

“When you plunged your knife into the heart of the boy you loved, did you not wish that it was mine.” Lxa, also a certified Dramatic Ho.

Clarke kinda deserved to be punched in the face given that it wouldn’t actually make sense for Raven to try to poison Lxa--and make Finn’s death mean nothing? And put them all in danger in enemy territory? Nonsense. Nevertheless it’s hard not to feel bad for her when she follows this accusation up with a psychotic break.

Hmmm, do I think Abby turning in Jake was the same as Clarke killing Finn? Not really. She didn’t directly kill Jake, that was Jaha, and Jaha is who Clarke should really be mad at. That said, I don’t think she was really saving anyone in the direct way Clarke was. So, apples and oranges. Crazy awkward moment to bring it up, though lol. “Oh Clarke, you’ll feel better eventually--remember that time I killed your Dad? I got over that! Wait--does talking about your dead father upset you? That’s a surprise!” Nevertheless I appreciate major actions having consequences as that’s a semi-rarity on this show.

Monty Green: hero.

“Lxa needs this alliance as much as we do.” - True, if she intends to get her people out of MW. “She’s shown herself to be flexible.” - Not true. She’s given the bare minimum of concessions. Kane, please crawl back out of her colon for like 5 seconds, get some air.

Interesting that Raven and Bellamy are chilling near each other. I wonder what they were discussing. Tbh Bellamy’s feelings on everything in this episode are rather opaque. Other than understanding why Clarke mercy-killed Finn and being skeptical of the alliance.

“Kill one person and destroy the alliance” is literally only merciful because the default in this society is “kill everyone all the time for any reason.” Like, I guess??? That’s mercy by comparison?? But forgive me if I am not moved to admiration.

“This time justice will be done” says the woman who used the barest sliver of evidence to decide that a random person was guilty so she could have a public execution. A public execution to replace the other public execution, in fact, not to avenge a death because Gustus isn’t dead. (Yet.)

Kane’s really okay with letting Raven be tortured to death, huh? Gah he’s fucking annoying.

Bellarke: Crime Solving Duo. That’s some satisfying teamwork. Clarke figures out how the scheme worked. Bellamy figures out who’s behind the scheme. With all the evidence put together, the motive becomes clear. (Honesty, they should have been suspicious that the poison not only didn’t kill Gustus, it barely harmed him lol.)

Check out all the Department of Homeland Security stuff on Monty’s computer. This is perhaps Dante’s log in? There’s a set of “personal” files too. And a set of President’s Office files, which one would assume not everyone would have.

Anyway, I have a Thing for tense sequences of hackers...hacking.

When I first watched this season I was often so tense my whole body hurt and it’s mostly because of MW scenes like this one where Monty is caught. Like aaaaah it still gets me. He almost makes it... and then almost makes it again, with his silly little salute... (Never forget that he is A Dork.)

On the one hand, Raven being tortured and then seeing Gustus tortured to death allows her to see why Clarke killing Finn was an act of mercy, to forgive her, and to move on, so the narrative can continue with them as allies and nominal friends. And it works, basically. But I also think there’s something to the theory that they were never the same, that the wound never really healed.

I’m sorry but Octavia’s face when Clarke’s like “Yeah B, you’re expendable, go get yourself killed, have a map!!” is hilarious. Like, he’s just said that Gustus doing anything for Lxa made sense, and Octavia responded with “Look at the thanks he got” which seems to me like She Knows and then 5 seconds later Bellamy is basically thrown away by the person we all know he’d do anything for... I mean the face is fair. Also this is Bellamy’s idea and it’s a good idea and so he was right before and Clarke is also right now, but it’s still so... annoying.... like “okay, I’m done caring about you lol bye.”

And Raven’s just totally confused. It’s been a damn long day I guess.

Why are they all such fucking hotties? It’s hard to pay attention to “the plot.”

So the ashes Abby tries to give to Clarke are the same ashes, perhaps, that Jasper scatters in S3? This vial looks smaller. Why did she not immediately give them to Raven? That would seem to be the obvious thing to do.

And here we see Clarke, under L’s direct influence, becoming Increasingly Insufferable. I love her but this is obviously supposed to be her descent into the abyss: she treats her friends like little expendable minions, she turns her back on Finn’s memory, and then she ends the episode by dramatically walking into a dark room in slow motion to creepy chamber music. I mean this is the hero’s fall guys!! That’s what it always was!!!

If only they’d handled Bellamy’s hero’s fall in 3A, and Clarke’s rise again in 3B, as well.

That ending is a straight up horror movie thanks that’s why this is my favorite season.

[ptw30]

Are you happy with Shiro settling down to get married and “leaving the battle” or whatever as his ending? Because I really thought he should’ve gone back to being a piloting instructor at the garrison and maybe staying on standby as atlas commander or something like that. He loved piloting too much to become completely disconnected from it and it feels like he never dealt with his trauma imo.

Short answer: No. 

Long Answer: Somehow, this transformed into, “Obligatory Post-Season 8 Meta: Shiro is still the Black Paladin. No, I’m not delusional. Really.”

The Black Paladin & PTSD Treatment

It’s important to know, especially for @dreamworksanimation​ and @voltron, that someone doesn’t “get over” PTSD, as Lauren Montgomery said in an interview.

I’m not trying to be harsh or “call someone out.” I’m stating fact. According to the Mayo Clinic, PTSD symptoms can be treated by opening up to others and seeking the help one needs. 

Getting timely help and support may prevent normal stress reactions from getting worse and developing into PTSD. This may mean turning to family and friends who will listen and offer comfort. It may mean seeking out a mental health professional for a brief course of therapy. Some people may also find it helpful to turn to their faith community.

This ties directly into Shiro’s story. In Seasons 1 & 2, Shiro hid the majority of his symptoms from the others. In Season 3 - 6, those symptoms were exacerbated by Haggar, and though Shiro reached out to Lance, he did not get the help he needed. Shiro then was attacked in battle by Haggar/The White Lion, and again, he suffered alone. 

In “All Good Things,” the Void scene revealed that Shiro wasn’t as close to the others as he could have been, and that ended up being the truth.

Like Allura never regained her confidence to lead, Shiro didn’t open up to the others and bridge that connection to strengthen it, which is one of the treatments for PTSD. 

Here some of the Mayo Clinic’s advice:

You don’t have to try to handle the burden of PTSD on your own.

[…]

Spend time with supportive and caring people — family, friends, faith leaders or others. You don’t have to talk about what happened if you don’t want to. Just sharing time with loved ones can offer healing and comfort.

Shiro handled his suffering alone, and he did not reach out to family and friends. We didn’t see him working out with the Atlas Crew. We didn’t see him hanging out with the paladins. He was all alone.  

This is also why “Knights of Light” is such a traumatic episode for Shiro fans and those struggling with mental illness. It completely dismissed all the suffering Shiro endured. The original paladins went insane in the Void. Shiro survived and came back stronger. 

Even then, he went through the struggles in the Void alone. The paladins went through it with each other. That two-parter episode originally - I have no doubt - was for Shiro to open up to the others, receive support for his past torture, and even receive help from Zarkon, the original Black Paladin. 

That’s why Shiro’s core fear - I’m too broken to be a paladin - focused on him returning from the Void, reconnecting with the paladins, and forming a stronger bond with the team. In this way, he would have begun to cope with his PTSD as the Black Paladin, proving he wasn’t too broken, and the story would have embraced the found family aspect, where Shiro and the paladins are truly “stronger together.” 

Instead - Shiro was alone. Even in Atlas. 

Even in Atlas/Voltron.  

The rest are all bonded to their lions. We know from “Genesis” that the White Lion isn’t in Atlas with Allura’s crystals, thus Shiro isn’t the White Paladin.  

Furthermore, the others don’t even speak to him in Voltron any longer. 

He asks, but no one answers him. (There was one time that Allura responded, but that is only once. The only other time someone actually answered Shiro, it was Coran, who is not in Voltron.)

Throughout the season, there are instances of this. Here, Shiro and Keith are on the bridge, and they don’t even look at each other. 

They don’t talk to each other. No matter how you see their relationship, they are important to each other. And yet…nothing. 

Another time, Shiro was sad to be left behind when the team went forward. You can’t tell me he’s happy here. 

But Shiro desperately doesn’t want to be alone or left behind. 

How do we know?

Shiro’s only win since Season 2 was an arm-wrestling competition, and he only won because he took strength from his one-time team. (Notice: Future hubby isn’t in the above shot.)

Shiro’s Marriage

Shiro is married, so he’s not alone, right? 

Well, yeah, but…Shiro’s story wasn’t for him to be married off to finally have a family, when Voltron was supposedly a story about found family. 

By Shiro’s happiness coming from marriage, Shiro was reduced to his sexuality. Shiro is queer and nothing else, but being queer is a part of someone’s entire person. If they would have shown Shiro “finding his happiness” on board the Atlas with no-name-dude with a tag like, “Shiro continued as the Atlas’ commander and found his happiness in space,” then fine. Do I still think it would have been random and forced, and all that? 

Yeah. It’s 2018, and it’s baby steps, and I can’t believe there hasn’t been a mlm kiss in all of American cartoons already. But putting my own shipping preferences aside - it is progress. 

However, Shiro’s core desire was to be a paladin, to help, to explore space. Say what you want about the paladin’s guardian spirits, but Shiro’s was the cosmos. Tell me again why Keith has a dog that can teleport and is called Cosmo? Oh, right. Cuz Shiro was supposed to be able to teleport.

Shiro enjoyed being paladin. He wanted to be a paladin, and if one wants to embrace his captaincy or admiralty or commanding office of the Atlas position - all right, but even then he was someone who wouldn’t leave behind the “good fight.” The good fight was where he wanted to be. 

What’s also disturbing to me about “Shiro’s happiness” is that - it’s the ending Adam wanted. If you follow my blog, you know I wasn’t a fan of the “Shadam” pairing, mainly because Shiro and Adam wanted different things. That’s mature. That’s a good representation of an adult relationship. Each wanted something different, so they broke up and moved on. I like that DreamWorks showed that, and I wish they wouldn’t have killed Adam. It would have allowed viewers to see how relationships can have a healthy conclusion. 

But for Shiro then to do what Adam wanted years later, leave behind “the good fight” and settle down, is a complete reversal of Shiro’s character. That also says Adam wasn’t enough for Shiro, but no-name-husband is. To be honest, if Adam hadn’t died, Adam could have filled that role, which is disturbing as well because Shiro is now “cured” of the degenerative disease, supposedly. (Technically, he’s not in the context of the story, but I’m ignoring that for now.) 

So if Adam would have waited for Shiro, okay. But for Adam to want Shiro once cured, is a terrible message to those suffering from degenerative diseases. (Full disclosure - I was a caretaker of a person with a degeneration disease for sixteen years.)

Therefore, Shiro’s ending comes down to three things:

Shiro was married off because the EPs wanted him out of the story since the get-go, and if there is a sequel, Shiro is out of the fight - both the Black Lion and Atlas. 

It was tacked on to fix the BYG trope in Season 7.

It reaffirms that Shiro is “old,” which the EPs just love to say, even though the dude is younger than me. 

Shiro’s Role as the Atlas’ commander/captain/four bars 

If one wants to say Shiro’s heads the entire coalition as a disabled man, which is empowering, I get it. That is a powerful position, though he hasn’t won a fight since Season 2. (The Alteans beat him up in “The Zenith,” and Zethrid’s Olkari tech is the reason the team wins in “Genesis.” In Season 7, the Atlas doesn’t beat the Altean mech, so Shiro in Atlas hasn’t won a fight by himself.)

But my argument is - Shiro’s core fear was not being worthy of being a paladin, and his position in Atlas proves his fear true. (Even though Altas and Voltron merged at the end, Shiro was still not a paladin - as I explained above.)

Also, it’s important to note Shiro was happy as the leader of Voltron and the paladin of the Black Lion. Plus, he was the garrison’s best pilot. (Keith was the garrison’s best up-and-coming pilot.) 

Why would you ever sideline your best pilot? He’s one of your strongest fighters. He’s one of your best skilled fighters, and you take him out of the fight and put him on the bridge? That’s a terrible battle strategy. It’s like having the most winning goaltender in NHL history and taking him out to put in a no-name second-stringer. 

What happens? The franchise collapses. 

Yes, take that both ways, as I intended. After all, it’s no coincidence that Shiro was the Hot Topic exclusive Funko Pop! figurine. 

Not only did the storyline sideline one of its stronger fighters, it continuously reminds fans of this and undeservedly praises itself for doing so. 

Shiro had the strongest bond with his lion, and since the lion swap, almost none of the paladins talk to their lions. I think Keith is the only one who actually directs a comment to his lion - the “you’re back” line, in Season 8 and “I know you’re hurting,” in Season 6. The clone asked Black to trust him, but all the rest of the paladins refer to their lions and haven’t actually spoken to them in seasons. 

Even the final moments of the paladins with their lions reinforce the original line-up, which does indicate that the lions and paladins haven’t spoken to each other because the lion-paladin bonds ceased to exist following the lion swap. In fact, I would go insofar as to say the lions themselves were not happy with the swap.  

After all, Pidge and Lance never do the eye-glow thing, and Allura only did it with Voltron, not Blue. Also, Allura only used her bayard once in Voltron, in conjunction with Hunk’s. Neither Lance nor Allura ever use their bayards alone in Voltron, and also - the Blazing Sword does not return to Voltron until Zarkon is in Voltron with Keith. 

So yes, according to “Knights of Life” - Keith is not the Black Paladin. Zarkon said Keith is a leader, not the Black Paladin, and Shiro, too, never told Keith in Season 2 to fly Black, just to lead. 

Keith, Shiro & Leadership

Disclaimer: I love Keith. He’s my second favorite character, but I love Keith, not Keith acting like Shiro.

I wasn’t going to go into Keith and Shiro’s leadership dynamics, but after seeing this - 

- I felt the need to touch upon it, as Shiro now reflects Keith in Season 2. 

Keith’s leadership is based on two things - his race, as deemed by Zarkon, and two years on the back of a whale leading no one. (This is a story’s fault, not the character’s.) Keith’s connection to the Black Lion is based upon his relationship with Shiro, first asking the Black Lion to fly to save Shiro, then taking up the mantle of leadership because Shiro asked him to, and then again, flying Black to save Shiro.

Shiro, on the other hand, had the strongest bond with his lion, died to save the universe, was saved by his lion, existed in an environment that drove the original paladins insane, and came back to take leadership of an entire coalition.

Yeah, he’s just going to give up? And he’s not going to be the one talking miracles and getting up and moving again?

One can say, “But Keith has developed into the leader Shiro is/was,” which… okay, but then one has to also acknowledge, “Shiro has regressed after all he’d been through”

If one is discussing endgames for characters, this is a terrible place for us to say good-bye to Shiro.

Also, despite Keith’s insistence - 

- it wasn’t. How do we know?

Allura died, saving the universe. In a universe where Voltron wins, it’s because the team is stronger together, and the team wins together. The paladins wouldn’t allow the universe’s survival to hinge upon only one of their shoulders. If Allura went to sacrifice herself, the other paladins would find a way to save her. They would talk her out of it. They would find another solution. 

The Season 8 Voltron line-up cannot save the universe, let alone each other. 

But with Shiro in Black, Allura in Atlas/the White Lion, Keith in Red, Lance in Blue, Pidge in Green, and Hunk in Yellow - we have a team that has saved the universe and a team that won’t let each other die. 

We’d have a true found family that together, would win.

And Shiro would have found his happiness, in Black and in his family.  

TL;DR: 

[riviae]

you are a superb writer i cried 19181 times while reading your headcanons please do more i BEG

u sent this so long ago anon but looks like i’m in a hc mood so i hope that whatever randomness i end up spouting is to your interests (also omg which hc’s made u cry?? i’m assuming it’s the hansa ones): 

geralt: 

is it weird to say that one of his guilty pleasures is a warm bath?? it’s not like he gets too many opportunities for such luxuries (i.e., river baths are a lot less... pleasurable. & also dangerous... cause drowners, amongst other things), but he will always indulge in a bath when the opportunity arises.

similarly, he prefers hot weather to cold weather. even w/ all his armor, toussaint has his favorite climate/weather and allows geralt to wear his light armor, which i hc that he prefers to wear the most given what skills/traits the wolf school witchers seem more adept at compared to other schools 

boring hc that everyone pretty much has, but yeah, vampire genes were given specifically to geralt during the trial of grasses (bruxa tongue). doesn’t change much for him compared to other witchers except that he’s much more aware of his surroundings and has a somewhat faster healing rate than a regular witcher. his teeth are a bit sharper too, but not to a degree that’s overtly noticeable. 

general higher vampire hcs: 

almost all lower vampires have to hibernate at some point due to food shortages in the winter (yeah they could go & eat some ppl but it’s not like they don’t feed on the animal population too). higher vampires can choose to hibernate if they so wish (since they can control their metabolisms fairly robustly), which is why you might find a vampire or two sleeping in a coffin for an indefinite amt of time. 

if the HV decides not to hibernate for the winter/season, you still see a subtle shift in behavior. mainly, more general bouts of lethargy, increase in hoarding (insofar as what certain vampires enjoy having around i.e., regis might unconsciously purchase more books than usual to add to his library, dettlaff would buy more art supplies, & well... we know what orianna would store more of), a slight decrease in patience, increased agitation w/ strangers (human or vampire) if they wander too close to their home/territory, potentially an increase in bloodlust depending on the specific vampire (but nothing excessive), & more of a reliance on species-specific reflexes (i.e., relying more on using non-human forms/smoke/giant bat when it’s a full moon/etc.). however, on the plus side, they become quite amicable to friends/family/pack with more open displays of contentment and affection often occurring 

so in humans, we have the pineal gland, which is a structure in our brain important for regulating our day/night cycle & circadian rhythm. that’s why we’re diurnal, basically (thanks, melatonin). but HVs, being nocturnal, have even smaller pineal glands. tiredness isn’t regulated by melatonin release at night--rather, it’s based on amt of pluripotent stem cells (what i hc they use to regenerate specific body parts/limbs). sleep will come to them when their body needs it to regenerate in full. while outwardly, they may physically look healed, the internal anatomy of HVs is different and as complex as humans. this means that real ‘restorative’ sleep can come at random to HVs, almost akin to narcolepsy since HVs are consciously unaware of when they need to replenish amts of stem cells for healing

birthdays are celebrated by HVs--it’s something that the species took up from humans/elder species. so most HVs do know their exact age. however, birthdays are only celebrated on full moons, so an actual party/banquet/celebration occurs on the full moon closest to a vampire’s birth date. 

most HVs can hypnotize others using their voices--but this trait is specifically passed down through the maternal bloodline. i hc that regis & orianna can use their voice to hypnotize others, while dettlaff cannot. i also think it’s silly that cdpr made it so only bruxae do that screeching sound wave attack. nah. all HVs that can utilize their voice as a power can do the screech-y thing, but it is more commonly seen in females than males. 

hansa hcs: 

one time dandelion tried to teach a lecture-style lesson abt music theory to the hansa....... only geralt & regis actually listened while milva left when she got bored, angouleme followed her, and cahir fell asleep

cahir was actually interested in music/playing an instrument tho so later on, dandelion did teach cahir how to play a few notes on his lute 

also dandelion definitely tried to get the hansa to act out parts of a play he was working on (it was a romance of course jaskdfjs). angouleme immediately jumped to play the main character/protagonist while cahir ended up playing the ‘damsel-in-distress/love interest.’ it went about as well as you’d think, with angouleme ignoring the romantic bits and switching the script last minute to /killing/ the love interest ‘by accident.’ cahir’s ‘death scene’ lasts incredibly long (bc he really goes for it) & dandelion actually ends up changing the play to a tragic romance instead

at some point, geralt somehow ends up teaching angouleme how to swim when he finds out she can’t. he’s of course reminded of ciri.... up until angouleme, now adequate enough of a swimmer, pulls a prank by biting geralt’s ankle hard enough to leave a bite mark. it felt like being bitten by a drowner 

one of milva’s favorite moments w/ the hansa was their somewhat nightly routine where either regis, dandelion, or angouleme tell stories while everyone sits around the campfire, milva tending to her arrows, geralt and cahir sharpening their blades on a whetstone. it’s just a very peaceful moment for all of them tbh--and really solidifies their group as a family. 

[snowjosh]

don’t worry darling thoughts after seeing it

It’s absurd to call this movie “centered around female pleasure” or whatever. There’s like, 2.5 scenes where he eats her out or whatever. I also think it’s inappropriate to call it rape/non-con because it’s like… kind of not clear where the boundaries are between the real world and the simulation. Alice obviously consents to all the sex within the simulation, and the sex only takes place in the simulation. It’s not like incel!Jack is fucking her unconscious body in the real world. So insofar as it’s not happening in the real world and she does consent in the virtual world, I don’t think you can argue that it’s rape or non-con. It’s certainly bad, but that’s because the whole thing is bad and nonconsensual. 

--

The main thing that I wonder is, like… what’s the message of this movie? What’s the argument? It’s like… Alice finds out that Jack took her out of her life and into this fake one where they’re a perfect caricature of the mid-century white suburban US-American couple and he’s hot as fuck and fucks her sooo good. And his argument is that she hated her real life; she was exhausted and overworked, but in the simulation she’s carefree. But Alice kind of… entertains this argument. In that scene with him on his knees she says I love you, I love you, I love you, but which Jack is she talking about? Is she talking about real-life Jack?? She can’t possibly love him, not that much. I expected her to immediately demand to be brought back and say no, fuck you, I can’t believe you did this to me, you wouldn’t have done this to me if you loved me, and I don’t love you anymore because you did this to me. 

But she like… doesn’t really say that. Why? The messaging is just kind of muddled. The slogan “imagine having the life you’ve always wanted/deserved” or whatever is all over the place in the movie and the promo but it’s like, is the idea that the deepest desire of Alice, who’s a surgeon, is to be a housewife with her entire life dedicated to caring for and supporting her husband? Why is it that we’re only presented with the two extremes, BOTH of which feature men who are evil???? In real life, Alice is a high-achieving person who supports herself and her boyfriend financially, but her boyfriend is a gross misogynist. And in the simulation, Alice isn’t allowed any autonomy or power. Why are these the only two options imagined by the film? Which of these is the life she’s always wanted? To me, it seems like Alice’s ideal life — which, I imagine, would be having her job, having a work/life balance, and having a boyfriend who isn’t a misogynist — is never envisioned in this movie. 

So using that slogan to promote the movie feels off-base, unless the movie is claiming that the life Alice wants/deserves is that of a housewife. And that feels icky because I don’t think Alice would’ve became an actual surgeon if deep down, what she really wants is to be a housewife. If the movie is claiming that that’s what Alice really wants, it seems like a claim that being a housewife is what every woman wants, deep down. And that sucks. Like, a lot. 

--

Seeing it in a theater was weird because every time Harry’s character started doing anything intense, everyone laughed out loud and didn’t take it seriously. Which was like, yeah, I get it, it’s jarring and absurd to see Harry do this stuff especially when his acting is not impeccable. But also it was very unsettling at points because there would be absolutely horrifying shit happening to Florence’s character, and people would be laughing because it was Harry who was, idk, screaming at her or something. Which felt a little surreal because, isn’t this a whole movie that highlights how our culture degrades women and doesn’t take them seriously? And now you, watching the movie, are laughing as a woman is being screamed at and hurt? 

Is this a feminist movie? I wouldn’t say so. It’s a movie about the effects of the patriarchy. It made me feel angry about the way women are treated in our society. But yet again, I’m not sure what the central claim of the movie is. Is the message simply, “look at the horrible things men will do to women, and the tenacity that women are required to have in order to escape them”? If so, that feels kind of, uh, horrible. I want to know what the pitch was for this film. I’m sure they had to answer questions like “why does this film matter, and why is now the right time to make it?” Right now, I’m having trouble envisioning the value in this film, other than the fact that it, uh, feels like a movie — which is to say, it’s a visually gorgeous ode to cinema as an art form with a virtuosic performance by Florence. So that’s great and all, but why does it have to have the horrifying-treatment-of-women plot? 

--

One thing is that it’s VERY interesting that they make a point of telling us that Jack teaches Alice how to drive. Because he taught her to drive, she’s able to drive his car out of Victory and escape. Is this some way of giving a redeeming quality to Jack’s character? Does he teach her so that if all goes wrong and he becomes somehow indisposed, she has a chance at escaping back to the real world? Or did they just run into the problem when writing the script of “how will Alice escape if the wives can’t drive?” and so they were like, “Jack gives Alice driving lessons as foreplay. Great, sorted, moving on.” 

--

msc things that I still have questions about: 

What was up with the plane crash? They never told us what happened with the plane crash!!

Do the men go back to real life when they “go to work” every day? Is that implied when Jack says “I work every day to make enough money to keep us here and I hate it”? So does incel!Jack get a real-world job where he works every day? Am I confused? 

We never get an explanation for the weird loud noises and rattling that happens all the time in victory. I guess we can assume they are some issue in the simulation??? Why didn’t you tell us what they were! 

What was going on with the scene when incel!Jack had the flowers

I just can’t tell what was real and what was an act with Jack. What is he trying to do at the end right before Alice kills him?? He’s trying to hurt her, but why? Is it a man-becomes-angry-so-kills-his-wife moment, or what?

WHY does frank watch them have sex in his house at the party?? What was the point of that besides making him seem extra creepy???????? Is this what he’s referencing with the “i trusted you in my bedroom” thing? 

Speaking of which, HOW is it possible that Frank implies that Frank and Alice slept together, in front of Alice’s husband AND Franks’s wife, and they NEVER ADDRESS IT AGAIN???? They just let it drop?????

What’s going on at the end? like…. all the women seem to have this moment of waking up a bit but then the movie just fucking. Ends like i feel like we should’ve had at LEAST ten more minutes of resolving ??????? It feels like someone got too tired to do the last 10 mins so they just decided to have audio of Alice gasping and figured that would communicate everything. Like. What happens after Frank is dead? 

[frangipanidownunder]

I have a sickly sweet prompt for you. Set slightly in the future. Mulder and Scully's second child is now 12. Will visits every now and then but never stays long. During one of his visits, his 12 year old sibling randomly asks Mulder how he and Scully fell in love. I just wanna overdose on fluff right now. Don't let me down frangipani!

Windmills: a fic

Tagging @today-in-fic

It’s a strange feelingto know that Will is on the way home. And yes, it is home. That’s what he calls it. The blades of the windmill turnanti-clockwise despite the tendencies of the prevailing winds. Mulder alwayswaggles his eyebrows and says, in his exaggerated southern accent, “Build it,and he will come. Y’all best get the pot roast on.”

           And she does. It’s a recipe that shesaw once in a vision and Mulder declared it the best thing she’d ever cooked,without a hint of irony. The windmill blades turned and Will showed up on thedoorstep with a crooked smile and a grateful hug. He spent two days with them,fixing the flywires, turning soil in the long-dry vegetable patch, sowing seedswith his father. And yes, he is his father. She’s always known, but for thesake of science, she ran the tests anyway. Love conquers all. Even black-lungedpsychopathic rapists.

           Today, Esther is in the yard, pitchingher baseball. There’s no wind. It’s high summer, muggy with the threat of an eveningstorm. Her skin is sheen with perspiration and Scully sees the rash of pimplesbreaking out across her forehead. Her body is changing, growing. She looks moreand more like Mulder these days – all rangy limbs and the large nose she hates.But she’s beautiful beyond convention and every day Scully tells her daughterthat.

           The blades turn and Esther throwsthe ball one last time before rushing up the steps, past Scully. “Dad! Will’scoming.”

           Scully puts down her book and watchesthe windmill. In her head, there’s the familiar pressure of the connection andshe breathes. In and out, as the blades rotate. He’s coming and he doesn’t knowhow long for but can she cook those fritters this time, the curried corn onesbecause it’s too hot for roast and besides Mulder really needs to get thebarbecue out and give it a clean. And how are the tomatoes? There should be areal good crop this year. He’s got fresh basil with him and a wedge ofmozzarella so he can make Esther the salad she loves.

           Before she’s really come around,Scully has already reached for the olive oil and the salt and pepper and she’ssearching for the platter and bowls with the blue windmills pattern becauseit’s like a family joke now. Everything gets served on them when Will’s back.

His hair is short thistime. Neatly cropped and pushed up at the fringe. He looks like a movie starand she remembers Mulder with his spiky bangs and baggy suits what feels like ahundred years ago. Fuck, he was handsome then and she couldn’t do a damnedthing about it but look. And she glances over at him now, washing tomatoes atthe sink, wearing an old grey tee that’s untucked so she can see the flare ofthe muscles at his waist and the patch of silver hair in the middle of hisback. He turns and smiles at her and fuck, if he isn’t just as handsome now andthere’s a whole lot she can do about it, even if it takes them a little longerto get there these days.

           “Can I layer the salad, Mom?”Esther’s curled her hair so that it frames her face and she’s wearing a fittedvest and cut off denims that just make her look even longer-legged.

           “Sure, honey. Wash your hands.”

All the while, Scully’s watching Will and he knows it. He opens a beerand sits next to her. “I don’t know,” is all he says and she knows he’ll begone in a day or two. She covers his hand with hers and squeezes, grateful forany time with him.

The salad is perfect with the fritters. There’s sourdoughbread and salty butter and fresh greens with spring onion relish and a crispwhite that Mulder pours with a little too much extravagance. Scully is flushedand the fan is ticking overhead. Her hair is sticking to her head and Estherhasn’t stopped asking Will questions. He fields them with experience, neverreally saying much, but giving his sister enough material for him to remain heridol. Mulder runs his beer bottle against his lips and she smiles at him,running through their years together. If there was ever a case more strangethan their son, she can’t remember it.

              “Will,do you have a girlfriend?”

              “Nope,”he says, leaning back on his chair. “Don’t have time these days.”

              Shefrowns and says in a low voice, “But you must have been in love at least once?”

              Willlaughs and the fan clicks in time. “I’m not sure if I know what that even means.”

              Estheris growing more curious.   “Everybodyknows what love is,” she declares with the authority of a pre-teen. “Even Momand Dad know.”

              There’sa slow smile spreading over Will’s face and it’s the perfect out for him.Esther needs to choose her words more carefully. Scully picks up her plate andstarts to take the others to the bench next to the sink.

              “Yeah,why don’t you tell us how you fell in love, Dad?”But it’s Will who asks, teases.

              Mulderchuckles and he’s had a bottle of beer too many and Scully knows it’s bad. Sheturns on the tap, running her wrist under the water and praying it’s not goingto be too bad.

              “Well,”he starts, “it’s pretty hard to fall in love with a spy. Especially one in asuit three times as big as she was.”

              “A spy?”Esther squeals. “Mom wasn’t a spy. She was a scientist. A doctor. And all shewas trying to do was keep you in check. She’s told me this part. She wasassigned to keep Spooky Mulder from chasing aliens. And you shouldn’t judge awoman by her clothes.”

              Willgrins and takes another swig of beer. “There’s no such thing as aliens.”

              Esthersits upright, leaning on her elbows. Her eyes widen. “Then how do you explainyour blood? And Mom’s?”

              The roomstills, save for the whoosh of the fan blades, and Scully turns to look at herfamily, seated round the table. A typical scene. But her twelve year olddaughter is goading her adult son about his bloodwork and her husband iswatching them like he’s at a tennis match – head turning from child to child asthey trade arcane statements about their provenance.

              “Iworked out pretty early on she wasn’t really a spy. Not in the Cold War sense,anyway. Although, she was pretty good at freezing me out of anything importantin her life.” His expression is pure Mulder. A wide, cocky smile, chin up,eyebrows raised.

              “I thinkyou forget just how many times you ditched me, Mulder.”

              “I didthat to save you, Scully.”

              “Good tosee your martyr complex is still as strong as ever.”

              Estherclaps. “Round one to Mom. Tell us about your first kiss.”

              Will linkshis hands behind his head and waits. Mulder stands up and takes another beerfrom the fridge. Scully sighs, wiping her hands on the tea towel.

              “Shekissed me when I wasn’t me,” he says. “A man who could take any form trickedher with some red wine and a smooth line or two and she fell for it. Can youbelieve it?”

              “Ididn’t kiss Eddie Van Blundht with a silent H, Mulder. And you know it.Besides, his smooth line or two was generally what one might consider typicaladult conversation. He asked me about my life. I told him stories. He listened.That’s how dates usually go.”

              “So youadmit it was a date?” Mulder says, looking at Esther. Their daughter giggles.Will shakes his head.

              Scullythrows up her hands. “It wasn’t a date insofar as we were partners and therewas no way we would have or should have been dating. But it was an occasionwhere grown-ups conversed like grown-ups while enjoying adult beverages.”

              “Wherewere you, Dad? While Mom was not kissing you?”

              “I wasbravely fighting my way out of a locked cupboard and rushing to your mother’srescue.”

              Scullydraws in a breath. “I’ve never needed rescuing, Mulder. You know that.” Thesuds float around the sink, swirling and dancing with the same mirth that set Estheroff.

              “TheAntarctic ring a bell, Scully? Snowcats and anti-virus medication. Alien podsand hyperthermia.”

              “Is thatthe bee thing?” Esther asks, eager for more, even though she’s heard thesestories, or versions of them, for years. “You didn’t kiss then, either. What’sthe go with you two? How long did it take you two to actually kiss and declareyour love?”

              “Itried,” Mulder says. “I kissed the 1939 version of your mother and I declaredmy love for her when I got back to 1998. But she didn’t believe me. How manytimes can a guy be rejected?”

              Scullysmirks and jabs him in the ribs. “You rejected me when I turned up in yourhotel room with wine and cheese. You decided searching for the mothman was themore attractive prospect.”

              “Ah,Florida. Your hair was a frizzy mess and that blue coat, not quite as bad asthe earlier version but still, and your singing.”

              “Scullyhas a nice voice,” Will says. And she sees him in his cot kicking his legs likethe baby he was but wondering what was going on in that brain of his. “Iremember the lullabies she sung me.”

              The soundof Mulder’s bottle hitting the table top startles her. He flexes his jaw andchews over what Will has just said. His abilities are a blessing and a curse.To consciously remember a mother’s lullaby from those early months may seemlike a wonderful thing but it wasn’t that much later that Scully gave him away.

              “You stillhaven’t told us about the kiss,” Esther says. “And the zombies. I wanna hearabout the zombies.”

              “Again?”Scully asks and she takes the cheesecake out of the fridge. She pours maplesyrup over it and sprinkles crushed pecans. “It was very chaste but it meant alot. The kiss was the beginning.”

              “Andwhen did Mulder really tell you he loved you, Scully?” Will is amused now,egging on his sister, but as he leans forward, there’s a wistful look in hiseyes. She’s listened to him for years, out there, doing whatever it is he’s doing.He tells her his dreams. He tells her his nightmares. She’s come to know theirson in her head and she shares it with Mulder the best way she can but there’sstill a disconnect that both Mulder and he find frustrating. Here now, at thetable, surrounded by his family, Will looks a little broken.

              “Muldertook a little while to actually say the words.” She pushes him a plate ofcheesecake and watches his lips pop open a little. He’s remembering that momenttoo and it’s not one they’ve shared. So many of the roads in their lives havebeen twisted, pot-holed and filled with dead-ends that this one moment wherethey were both in the same lane is one they hold dear.

              “And sodid you,” Mulder counters. “Besides, we both showed our love in different waysand in less conventional terms. I once told your mother that she was my one infive billion.”

              “You hadbeen committed at the time, Mulder. Was I really supposed to take the ravingsof a madman seriously?”

              “Your motherforced her way into a game and shot all the bad guys.”

              “Andgirls,” Scully adds, nodding to Esther.

              Mulder chuckles.“And she made sure I didn’t make too much of an ass of myself on national tv.”

“I saw that episode,” Will says, “andyou did make an ass out of yourself, Mulder.”

Smiling, Mulder shakes his head. “Whatwas it you said, Scully? ‘Mulder, you wanna talk about werewolves to me, knockyourself out but this could ruin your career’. That meant a lot.” His mouth straightens.“You were and still are my constant, my touchstone.”

“So, we know you don’t say itvery often but when did you feel it?” Esther asks. “You’ve told me all thesestories but I still don’t know when you both fell in love.”

Will smiles quietly and Scullyshivers. Mulder puts his spoon down.

“When your mother was returned tothe hospital, after she’d been abducted, I felt so grateful that she was back,so compelled to find out what had happened, it drove me for years, that fire. Ididn’t recognise it at first,” he stops and looks at Scully. “but that was lovein its purest essence.”

“Mom?” Esther hands Scully atissue. “your turn.”

Scully dabs her eyes. “I wasdying. And the only person I was truly scared for was your father. That waslove in its purest essence too.”

“But why didn’t you tell him?” Estherasks.

“Because what would have been thepoint?” Will says. “And by the time she went into remission, it would havelooked like a sympathy thing.”

The fan whirs above their headsand Esther rests her chin on her hands. “But Dad was already in love with you.”

Chuckling, Mulder ruffles herhair. “And that, pumpkin, is the insanity of adulthood. We spend so longavoiding people or feelings or choices that we miss out on life. Take it fromus, your paths are not always destined to run where you think they will. Somake the most of the journey.”

Will pushes back his chair andcollects the plates. Esther gets up and helps. Mulder leans forward and takesScully hands in his. He mouths ‘I love you’ and Scully nods and says ‘me too’.

Outside, the wind whips up andthe windmill creaks into action. Will stands at the back door with his sisternext to him watching the blades turn and turn.

[theserpentsadvocate]

Alrighty, pick any combination of these for the meme: Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Percival Graves, Hengist of Woodcroft, and Celeborn (I know you said you're not a big fan of his, so this one's extra optional. I would be interested in hearing your thoughts on him, though, even if they're negative.)

Sorry it took so long. In my defense, this is long.

Aaaand in my defense about that… yeah, I’ve got nothing, I’m just like this.

Sorry about the lack of Tolkien ranting, it’s mostly meh-ing instead. There’s some ranting in the Grindelwald section, though. XD

Dumbledore

What I like about them

Okay, I love red hair, and Dumbledore in his younger years (like middle age) with his loooong auburn hair and his loooong auburn beard just does it for me a purely aesthetic way. Like I would sit and stare at him for hours.

What I dislike about them

There’s the ordinary list, manipulation and self-righteousness and the Grindelwald debacle, but honestly the biggest thing is Snape. I don’t care honestly what bullshit excuse there was, YOU DON’T EMPLOY ABUSIVE TEACHERS, like if he really has to be at Hogwarts give him some administrative position or some shit.

Favourite moment

The bit after Umbridge fires Trelawney and is trying to kick her out, and Dumbledore tells her that she can fire whoever she wants but she can’t make them leave the castle.

Least favourite moment

His opening line when he meets Harry in the nebulous train station afterlife place makes me cringe a little bit. It’s probably 100% me, but it feels… trite, and uncomfortable, and honestly like something my mom would say, which is probably the real reason why I hate it.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

I’d really love to see his relationship and/or interactions with Aberforth explored more. (Not by JKR. She needs to drop HP like a hot potato and MOVE BACK.)

An interesting AU for this character

Somewhere on my computer I have half a rantfic about the premise where Regulus became Dumbledore’s spy instead of Snape, and while it’s 500% about my Regulus feels, there’s some interesting stuff in there about Dumbledore, specifically how the dynamic changes when his spy is someone who has

actually renounced

Voldemort and isn’t just out for personal gain/revenge.

A crossover

I’m really not a huge crossover person, honestly, but I guess it would be interesting to see how he’d fare in Discworld?

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

The only person I really ship him with is Grindelwald, and I’m often ambivalent about that.

Other ships?

Nah.

BROTP

With McGonagall, probably.

NOTP

Dumbledore/Harry. Gag me.

An assortment of headcanons!

-He liked Elphias Doge, but never really considered him the kind of friend that Elphias considered him. Elphias was convenient and pleasant and somewhat in awe of him, but he never really considered them to be on the same level.

Grindelwald

What I like about them

I imagine he was incredibly attractive.

What I dislike about them

Well, there was the part where he thought people like me were second-class citizens who needed to be ruled over by people like him for our own good, so.

Also, Johnny Depp. Ugh.

Favourite moment

When he told Voldemort off. That was epic and really poignant.

Least favourite moment

Ariana Dumbledore’s death is painful to think about.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

What did he do in Nuremburg? What exactly led to his… I don’t know, change of heart? Greater self-knowledge? Changed perspective? that he demonstrates when he’s talking to Voldemort? I want to know what kind of introspection happened there.

An interesting AU for this character

Here’s an idea, what if he was played by literally anyone other than Johnny Depp?

A crossover

Yeah, I got nothing.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

I ship him with Dumbledore sometimes.

Other ships?

Not really.

BROTP

Erm. He doesn’t really interact with anyone in canon aside from the Dumbledores, Bathilda, and Voldemort, so I guess Dmbledore again? Only not. I’m interested in it; I don’t support it.

NOTP

With Voldemort? I’ve never seen it, but I just generally assume everyone gets shipped with Voldemort. Fandom is strange.

No, wait! Grindelwald/Johnny Depp.

An assortment of headcanons!

-He’s blond.

-When he was younger he had a small trim beard.

Percival Graves

I have not actually seen FBaWtFT. I was already kind of done with the extra material by then and I’m still not at a point where I can watch movies with Johnny Depp in them without feeling sick to my stomach (although it’s improved). I will watch it at some point, though.

Hengist of Woodcroft

What I like about them

There’s a lot of room for fanon interpretations.

What I dislike about them

Even before she started This Shit ™, I was always… dubious about Rowling’s extracanonical material - fourteen-year-old Riley was firmly of the opinion that if you didn’t put it in the books, you couldn’t call it canon. (Although obviously it was optional for fans to use.) I still pretty much think that, and sometimes I feel boxed in by interview/extra material canon, which results in a… complicated relationship with characters who are optionally canon. (Full disclosure, I know who he is and that he found Hogsmeade, and I basically ignore everything else.)

Favourite moment

The founding of Hogsmeade is obviously a highlight.

Least favourite moment

???? Did he… do anything else, canonically?

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

So, how did the founding of Hogwarts and the founding of Hogsmeade coincide? (No, ignore whatever Rowling said.) Did one come first? Was Hogwarts taking advantage of an all-magical town, or did Hogsmeade originate as a sort of wizarding college town? Does one predate the other by a few generations, and how did the development of the latter influence the older institution? If they were at roughly the same time, what were his relationships like with the founders, as a group and individually? If they were more spaced out, how did the founders interact with his legacy, or vice versa?

An interesting AU for this character

Depending on your definition of canon, a bunch of what I mentioned above could be considered an AU. Off the top of my head, erm - oh, I think @iceberg-hootenanny said something about an outer space AU, I could actually go for that. Maybe he’s setting up the first real settlement on Mars or Genesis or Xenon 5 or something.

A crossover

Yeah, I dunno.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

I have no ships for him until just now, but totally off-the-wall, what if he’s Rowena’s husband?

Other ships?

I usually ship primarily intra-founders pairings, but what the hell, let’s throw Hengist in the mix.

BROTP

Idk, I feel like he could have a particularly jocular commitment to Creating New Things! and Achieving Your Goals! that I also ascribe to certain versions of Godric, so that might go over well.

NOTP

I think my standard NOTP with HP characters who I’ve never heard of ships for is going to be That Person/Voldemort. :) It’s a good catch-all answer.

An assortment of headcanons!

-He had brown hair and a beard.

-Usually carried a staff or walking stick.

Celeborn

What I like about them

Okay, so I generally focus on the fact that he was kind of snippy to Gimli, but let’s be fair here - he apologizes. Especially given the depths of Elf-Dwarf racism (and don’t get me wrong here, in their long and complicated history it is my firm opinion that the Dwarves got the worst of it and the Elves are more at fault) and his personal unpleasant experiences, that’s not a small thing.

What I dislike about them

Honestly - and I’m fully prepared, if not resigned, to be crucified for this - I almost exclusively find the Sindar really boring.

Favourite moment

Again, probably that apology.

Least favourite moment

I’ve always found the extended goodbye scene with the swan boat kind of unnecessary and boring, tbh. *wince*

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

What the fuck was he doing during the whole Fourth Age after Galadriel left? When did he eventually go to Eressea? He did eventually go to Eressea, right?

An interesting AU for this character

It’s not an AU, per se, but it would be interesting to see his reactions to whatever was going to happen in Return of the Shadow.

A crossover

With Sesame Street. :)

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

I’m boring and like canon pairings, insofar as I’m invested.

Other ships?

Are there other ships with Celeborn? I’ve actually never seen any.

BROTP

I’m tempted to say Mablung, but that’s essentially because I will shoehorn Mablung into any fucking content I can manage. I guess Gandalf is the obvious choice? (Can I say Galadriel? I think the non-romantic aspects of their relationship might be interesting, insofar as I’m interested.)

NOTP

Someone inform me what the non-canon Celeborn ships are; I don’t know any.

An assortment of headcanons!

-He used to hang out with Luthien. They weren’t super close, but they were low-key buddies.

[jokikudistrict]

THE FINAL EXECUTION: A ROBOT’S RETALIATION WITH RANCOR AND REVENGE - KEIICHI KOJIMA

Kojima’s vision blurred as he forced his eyes open. The strong yank had knocked the wind out of him, making it difficult for him to get up so quickly. As he stood himself up, the lights above him lit up to a familiar scene— he remembered working in a lab like this. Always busy with people running around him, with his coworkers talking and laughing amongst themselves. It was bizarre seeing that he was alone…

The door at the end of the lab opened. Two employees stepped in, wearing something odd over their faces. He recognized it as that Monokuma head that the first victim had died in— they remained silent as Kojima stared curiously at them. The atmosphere felt tense, but the man found enough strength in him to chuckle.

“Gentlemen?”

Their heads remained turned towards him, but they didn’t speak. Kojima squinted, pursing his mouth into a thin line.

The quiet air made it easier for Kojima to hear something curious. The gentle whrrrrrrrr- of machinery nearing, as well as heavy footsteps. Many of them. Soon, multiple other androids began to enter and the fill the room. Kojima found himself staring at all of the works he had busied himself with over the course of the district— his whole life. He surprised to see his more recent ones joining the fray, especially seeing them alive and moving.

To the others watching from the screen, those specific androids were not unfamiliar to them. Their classmates, everyone who had been murdered and executed during their time in the city, led the unfinished skinless robots behind them. Kojima raised his hands slowly with precaution, but it was useless for him to take any steps backwards. His creations were not only filling the room, but they were surrounding him. The sound of the door closing signaled that he was locked in, and he noticed that his androids were not empty handed.

Some of them carried knives, others carried bats and crowbars, with others raising their clenched fists towards their creator. They all moved bizarrely and grotesquely, with their limbs clicking and whirring at every second. He hadn’t intended on finishing them-- Ike had made it firm to him time and time again that they wouldn’t work, and Kojima had accepted that. Yet, they were all here before him now with emotions of their own.

Kojima closed his eyes tightly, grinding his teeth together. ‘That damned thing… did he plan this??’ He thought to himself. It was the only thing that made sense to him. Ike had a death wish against his creator since Jokiku’s game had started, but when would he have the time to plan all of this?

"Testing, one, two. Mmmm... nnnnn... All right! Nice!" Kojima opened his eyes to the voice coming from one of the students. Aina pumped a fist into the air, smiling. "Sorry for the technical difficulties, everyone. Aina Senki is back on-air!" Quickly, though, her face flattened into a more wry grin.

"Well, insofar as this isn't actually a rerun. So to speak. Seriously.... everyone tells you to drink water when it's hot, but nobody ever says that might kill you. It's the worst."

"Heh. But, hey, I'm back now! I'm back, and I think that's pretty good. I think my fans would agree too, right?" Aina did a small twirl in front of the other robots, flashing a V sign to the camera and holding the pose for a few seconds before covering her face with her hand.

Kojima stared at her, his expression growing pained by her words. What was she saying all of a sudden…? When she let it fall, she still had a smile, but her eyes were distant and resigned.

"Eheh. You… might not have had the worst motives, I guess, but, nnnnn… I, uh, think you should’ve maaaaybe thought a bit more. Doing this transference stuff against someone’s will, trying to play with life and death... You don’t get to make that choice. There’s, uh, someone who’s waiting for me outside. What am I gonna have to tell her now? Baka jiji."

Several of his robots walked up behind Aina, placing a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, Megumi included. Her expression was warm with an ever-present and pleasant smile. If this were a silent film, one might think she was simply chatting amicably with a friend from the way she smiled to Aina and nodded. But her voice rings out as she shrieks towards Kojima, and it's at odds with the entirety of her body language.

"Oh incredible, so first of all f-ck you, f-ck you! Thoroughly go f-ck yourself! The sh-thead that dragged us all into this is so much more of a worthless little b-tch than I thought!" Megumi says, with no more anger visible in her face than that of someone commenting on particularly sunny weather. All the same, her disconnected voice continues the tirade,while her smiling mouth moves out of sync. "You can choke on your reasons!! Mastermind retire b-tch!! You don't get to pull people out of their lives without consequences!!"

There was a cheer all around him as Megumi spoke, and sweat dripped down Kojima’s forehead. As Megumi held Aina out of the way of the faceless androids, Kojima spoke, “N- Now, now, there’s no need for… that sort of talk. Or for this sort of fight-- I’m not exactly in any condition for rough housing…” This didn’t stop the robots for readying themselves with their makeshift weapons, and Kojima bit his tongue. He dug through his coat pocket, pulling out a cloth handkerchief to wipe his face. He then wrapped it around the knuckles of his hand as he continued to speak, “I- I could work something out for all of you if you’d let me just walk out--”

He opened his eyes with sudden fiery, launching his fist towards one of the robots in front of him, knocking the head clean off its shoulders. The robots went into action as Kojima attempted to dodge them and punch anyone else in his way. His weakness however was attacked as one of the robots that had fallen swung their crowbar against his legs, knocking him down to his stomach as his chin bounced on the tile floor.

His vision blurred again for a moment, coughing as he felt three of the robots hold him down. Looking up, he could make out another student standing over him with a disgusted look over her face. Rachele scoffed as she said, "People here were killed because of you... I died because of you.” Her eyes met his, but it was as if she was looking past him. “I hope you rot in hell for this," she finished.

Haruna then came out behind, eyeing Kojima with more devilish intent. “Rotting in hell? I think I can get behind that, yeah! However…” She rocked back and forth on the heel of her shoes before being offered one of the bats that the other robots carried. Taking it in her hands, she continued, “I’m going to drag you to hell myself.” With a wind of her arms, she smacked the bat across the side of Kojima’s face as if playing a game of golf, then hitting it down over the top of his head with a disgusting crack.

That was enough of a signal for the others to join in. The robots that held him down before moved together to prop the old man up on his knees. Stella snuck up behind him, grabbing Kojima by the hair on his head in order to keep him looking forward. “You could’ve made this game so much more interesting if you had told us we were playing,” she drawled, the gears of her mouth clicking as it pulls her expression up into a smile as her eyes roll to gaze at one of the other robots, “but I don’t mind helping now. S'avère que vous êtes ennuyeux.” Kojima’s face and body was striked at repeatedly by everyone around him with their voices cheering along in a riot. The pain overwhelmed him into a near shock with his consciousness was just barely escaping him. He could feel his face swelling with blood as he was forced to gasp and cough with every kick to his gut. The second the scientist felt he was slipping out of it, cold water was thrown against his face.

He coughed and hacked, his senses coming back to him barely. A plastic cup fell to the ground from Alastor’s hand, and the young student sighed at the pitiful sight.

"Hmph,” he shook his head, “So it has come down to this, huh? You've trapped me in my worst, most hated fate. You- you technological people’s creations! I’m now what I once despised, huh…” As he would monologue, Alastor looked to his empty hand and attempted to stretch and curl his fingers just to watch it barely respond to his intentions. “I suppose this is my punishment for my actions? Bring me back home, only to rip it from me once again? For you forcing my hand to play along with your stupid game? Whatever. I don't care anymore.” He pointed his staff to Kojima’s face, just to hit him across the face and knock the loosened teeth from his mouth. "You've made a Grave Error, Necromancer Kojima! You may have turned us into enemies, but if there's one thing that brings enemies together, its to band together against those that made us so in the first place! I'll enjoy seeing you perish!"

“P- Please-- that isn’t what I--- this was supposed to be---”

The second Kojima tried to speak, he was met with everyone booing and heckling him, along with their voices distorting over themselves.

“This isn’t what you wanted?! Go f-ck yourself!” Matsukaze yelled over the noise with their hands cupped over their mouth. “I hope it hurts, old man!” Everyone in the room yelled along with agreement, and as they cheered, one of the androids that Kojima had attacked rose from the ground and walked over to him to stand in front of him with an expression of disappointment and disgust at the one who was supposed to be behind this grand scheme.

“Pathetic…. absolutely pat͠h̴ét̨ique…”

Héloïse’s voice dragged a bit as soon as she slips in her native tongue, though she didn’t seem to notice a change in her speech.“You capturing the best of the best in this country for your little experiment really did prove to be your biggest mistake. And bringing in my sister and I? Together? You i̢̧͏͘d̵́̕ió̧��̀t͝҉͘͝. Did you think even I would not figure you out? You left a cookie crumb trail for all of us to follow, it was like you wąnt҉e͞d͟ to be found out.” She touched the side of her face where Kojima had struck her with no sign of pain or bruising on her.

It was clear that the evenness of her tone was odd, considering the last time anyone saw the gymnast, she was anything but calm. Her face quickly morphs into the smile she’d wear when scheming. “Burn in the hottest flames of hell, and burn for eternity, Kojima. I’d be impressed at someone who can pull off such an amazing feat as a killing game… but at your p̴͟-͢͠p̵͟a̢th̷͡e̢͟͡tiç̧͏ age, your old, rotting mind couldn’t even think of — and execute — a successful plan for an idea as simple as that.”

Stella beamed at her sister, and the crowd erupted into more cheers as Héloïse swung her leg back and promptly kicked Kojima into his gut once more. He wheezed once more, his face wet with tears. He couldn’t admit it- he was too stubborn at his age now- but he knew that they were right. The one thing that he had been forced to do by superiors with constant threats looming over him, he wasn’t able to finish it properly. This final execution wasn’t grand or meaningful in the way that Otome Ito had debuted hers-- but did he really want that?

At this point, he preferred the silent death that his superiors promised him before.

The tense atmosphere and the accusations, as hot and searing as ever, were highlighted with the continued array of sounds.

A shout.

A kick.

A crunch.

A slam.

Another crunch, and another.

Crunch. Crunch.

Yeichi, relatively unperturbed, and to all extents absentminded to the dire situation quite literally boiling to the surface, squatted unnoticed as he fished out another cookie from the barely surviving elderly senior citizen that the surviving class had sent to his grave.

Stuffing another oatmeal raisin into his feeding hole, Yeichi freezes, quite shock at the revelation that Heloise presented, choking out an exclamation of horror.

“Whaft, coofie cwrumf twail?”

Oh no, he was consuming the evidence!

Hacking back out a mess of congealed brown matter and saliva promptly back onto the old man’s shoes, the self-proclaimed taxidermist huffed, looking quite cross with the duly accused.

“Yeah, what she said; you’re old and disgusting,” Yeichi barked, as if that was the pungent key point of whatever was being spoken about.

“The academy’ll hear about this and your dumb experiment or whatever will be through!”

Kojima closed his eyes, bracing for another attack. His chest heaved weakly, but he tensed when realizing that the crowd was lulling down into a silence. Everyone’s feet began to shuffle as they created space for another robot to walk towards him. Light footsteps came across the tile floor, and Kojima opened one eye before his eyes widened. She was supposed to be totally defunct. He had given up on her months ago. The androids stood still, as if just the presence of this specific creation was enough to pause their programming from continuing any further with their revenge and torture.

Otome Ito walked slowly towards the newfound mastermind, except her appearance was made done into the look of H!MECH@N. Her blonde hair bounced with each step, and in her embrace was a MonokumAI. Kojima sputtered, his eyes darting to her face and then to the ground, then back to her face. “H- How did-- who--”

Then he felt tears began to fall from his face. Stella’s grip went limp, and Kojima fell forward on his arms in front of Akedo’s mastermind as he sobbed. The one thing he had been trying to complete, he had given up at the last minute when urged by his superiors that it wasn’t enough. He didn’t have the information or skill to finish Otome’s progress, and somehow… she was right here in front of him.

Was this Ike’s way of mocking him? He had said so many times before that he would replace him and prove his talents, but he had taken it lightly as angst and jealousy.

“How could… this… O- Otome-san, what do you remember? What did he program?” He begged, but the android said nothing. Instead, she smiled, blinking with empty eyes.

Perhaps this was as far as she would go. He held himself up with his hands in his lap, trembling with blood on his face. Then her hand rose out to him.

She held a pistol forward to his face, and he froze. The android grinned, cocking it before resting her finger on the trigger. “Otome-sa---”

Her voice rang out in song with the star power of a newborn universe, “Bye~❤★! Bye~❤★!”

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

His body had fallen backwards the second shot, but the android continued shooting with an empty grin. Her arm then fell to her side, and her eyes perked over to the camera that was displaying the execution to the surviving class. The idol looked over and waved with the gun in her hand, then her expression hardened to a glare before shooting at the camera.

The display went to static before shutting down.

[caveatauditor]

My favorite albums, days 1-10

Friends have requested that I share my favorite albums on social media, preferably with vaguely autobiographical blurbs accompanying them, so to avoid polluting the wholesomeness of my Facebook timeline with music geekery, these are they until I change my mind. I excluded albums from this decade because the decade isn’t over, so the ten gems that follow represent an attempt to make history conform to me.

1. Lil Wayne, Da Drought 3

Two discs of Wayne freestyling, bloviating, and holding a conversation over a bunch of sampled and/or stolen and/or obscure music, arranged randomly because in theory the mixtape goes on forever in both directions, a gorgeous tapestry whose details happen to consist of delectable beats and wild free-associative blather. Wayne raps like a child in a candy store, eschewing parsable semantic content in favor of puns and stray impulses and improvised phonetic twaddle and whatever he feels like saying in the moment; likewise, the beats don’t cohere, sonically or in sequence, instead sticking as many hooks as possible wherever possible as often as possible; the overall result comes off like a transmission from the filthiest corner of the id. The ultimate triumph of mid-‘00s mixtape culture, Da Drought 3 is fabulous aural wallpaper and hardly an album at all, so of course it’s my favorite album.

2. Joni Mitchell, Hejira

Given how beloved this album is among a surprisingly large number of my friends, I almost went with the equally astonishing Hissing of Summer Lawns, but let’s be real now--Hejira is flawlessly, magnificently beautiful like nothing else I’ve ever heard. The guitar lines lap and peal over breathtakingly wide, sweeping expanses of empty space--space like the open road, like the southwestern desert in the winter, like the urge to travel and stay on the move, like the empty human heart. The lyrics use the familiar musicianly trope of going on tour as a springboard for a set of travelogue meditations on solitude and perpetual motion, a condition imposed partially by circumstance and partially by internal existential need; she’s moving before the ringing opening chords of “Coyote” and she’s moving after “Refuge of the Roads” pensively winds down. The latter song in particular contains several moments that always, always make me cry, especially during the first verse (“We laughed at how our perfection would always be denied”) and the third (“A thunderhead of judgment was gathering in my gaze”). I’ll never use “relate” as a verb, but I’ve often taken refuge in the road. I always take this album with me, though.

3. Jandek, Blue Corpse

I’m cheating here: Jandek is a relatively new discovery for me, and I’m still working through his ridiculously massive catalog, but I’ve listened to him with sufficient fascination enough over the past year and a half that he deserves a spot. Fans say that Blue Corpse is a good starting point because it’s his most accessible album, but accessibility is a relative concept when we’re talking about experimental atonal lo-fi acoustic quasi-blues fuckery, so let’s just call it his most carefully sequenced--side two builds the way a second side should, starting with an extended harmonica solo before leading into his cover of “House of the Rising Sun” and the album’s ten-minute centerpiece, the lonely, furious “Only Lover”. I love this album so much I could easily imagine a better one lurking in some dank, unexplored discographical corner.

4. Janet Jackson, The Velvet Rope

As a sophomore in high school I heard The Velvet Rope and immediately decided this was the sexiest and most sophisticated music I had ever heard. I was right! To this day I hold a special place in my heart for R&B that confounds the traditional banger/ballad distinction--there are no ballads on this album! With its swirly synthesizer and xylophonesque keyboard chords, “Empty” sounds like a conventional slow song until you notice the second layer of hyperactive drums clicking maniacally atop the core rhythm track: nervous energy disrupting and complementing preternatural spiritual calm. “Tonight’s the Night” is a great cover because the act of covering an established hit mirrors the act of initial erotic exploration, of navigating your way through a series of gestures you knew about before trying yourself; the way she sings “Cause I love you girl ain’t nobody gonna stop us now” is defiantly blunt, unshowy, matter-of-fact. Those are the lyrics! She’ll sing them. Breezy, mechanical, exquisite, The Velvet Rope captures the fragility of intimacy.

5. Fall Out Boy, From Under the Cork Tree

I first became aware of Fall Out Boy in middle school, when the girl whose locker neighbored mine put up a bunch of Pete Wentz posters on the inside of her locker door. I envied her brilliance and poise, since she was obviously way smarter and cooler than me, and I’m pleased to say she was right: this daft, idiotic, magnificent album captures a world of teenage crushes, fixations, stupid feelings poorly rationalized, awkward proclamations blurted out and immediately retracted, aftershave clumsily sprayed on to impress a special someone, the scent of cheap perfume, lipstick stains on your pillowcase and friction in your jeans. It’s so flushed and clumsy it automatically enters the realm of hormonal teenpop utopia, with the crunchy guitars mirroring the anguish in eternal adolescent Patrick Stump’s heart. Pete Wentz writes solecistic, self-aggrandizing lyrics because teenagers in love are supposed to utter howlers like “The only thing worse than not knowing is you thinking that I don’t know” and (sigh) “Turn off the lights and turn off the shyness”. It’s an ode to the enduring power of romantic absurdity, in all its most entertaining guises.

6. Duran Duran, Rio

Like From Under the Cork Tree, only glitzier. Occasionally I play a game with select friends of mine where we try to guess whether a random snippet of doggerel is a Fall Out Boy or a Duran Duran lyric. “It’s just like a scene out of Voltaire twisting out of sight”? Obviously Duran, for citing French philosophy is such a New Romantic move. “We’re well-read and poised/we’re the best boys”? Self-defeating self-objectification is Pete Wentz’s favorite rhetorical device. “The sun drips down bedding heavy behind/the front of your dress all shadowy lined/and the droning engine throbs in time with your beating heart”? Too florid; gotta be Duran. “Couldn’t cut me deeper with a knife if you tried/just take a look before you run off and hide”? No clue--blood and betrayal could go either way. “Let’s fade away together one dream at a time”? “Some people call it a one-night stand but we can call it paradise”? Well!

7. PJ Harvey, To Bring You My Love

As a senior in high school I heard To Bring You My Love and immediately decided this was the sexiest and rawest music I had ever heard. I was right! To this day I know no harsher or more beautiful approximation of what it means to yearn for the sublime. The tiny guitar figure in “Working for the Man”, half-concealed beneath the drums and muffled, thumping bass, devastates because it’s creepy and horrible; the maximalist guitar roar in “Long Snake Moan”, almost as loud and thundering as her distorted vocals, devastates because so would getting run over by a tank. On the rest of the album, she hits every mood between those two extremes, including rapture and delight in addition to all the abrasive ones.

8. Fleetwood Mac, Tusk

I almost went with Tango in the Night, given how my generation seems to have discovered and reclaimed it, with “Seven Wonders” popping up in Balearic dance mixes and American Horror Story. Tusk, however, is a giant compendium of whirring gears and rotating spokes and plinky keys and strummed acoustic guitars and tinkly music boxes and billions of other moving parts, and the totality of the sound correlates with a draining, overwhelming emotional extremity. Lindsey Buckingham fills the space with a bunch of tightly crafted miniatures, distilling his imagined ideal of the Fleetwood Mac sound into the searing anger of “What Makes You Think I’m the One” and “I Know I’m Not Wrong” (Lindsey Buckingham in a song title), but Stevie Nicks gets all the big statements: the thundering “Sisters of the Moon”, the incomparable breakup ballad “Storms” (“Never have I been a blue calm sea/I have always been a storrrrrrm” always makes me cry), “Sara”. Meanwhile, Christine McVie’s “Brown Eyes”/“Never Make Me Cry” couplet is the axis on which the album’s sequence turns. Tusk resonates because it conflates the singer-songwriter confessional urge with the band’s collaborative dynamic, creating a communal space for them all to bask in their shared hate for and exhaustion with each other.

9. Crunk Hits

I needed a compilation, and this magnificent one brings to life my favorite radio format: mainstream hip-hop in the mid-‘00s. Crunk and R&B were everywhere back then; to me this album sounds like New York in the hot, lazy summers of ’05 and ’06, when these songs confounded with their unprecedented hedonism and aggression and delight. Definitively singles-oriented, this music saturated a subsequent generation of hip-hop fans, so that album artistes in this decade like Young Thug and Playboi Carti have internalized crunk’s valuable lessons about shamelessly exposing the id. I couldn’t omit an album whose first five songs are Usher’s “Yeah”, Lil Jon & the Eastside Boyz’s “Get Low”, T.I.’s “Rubber Band Man”, Chingy’s “Right Thurr”, and Ciara’s “Goodies”--damn! It’s practically a greatest-hits album for the entire decade.

10. Steely Dan, Gaucho

When I bought this album in seventh grade, I wasn’t aware I was buying the fleetest, shallowest, most efficient howl of anguish ever set to music. Donald Fagen and Walter Becker are only ironists insofar as they’re romantics who mask their feelings in inscrutable form. The question with any of their albums, which are basically all flawless, is to what degree they’ll reveal their bleeding hearts, and on Gaucho there’s such a gash in the fabric the blood spurts out everywhere, staining the shag carpet, dripping through the singer’s sleeve onto his fancy leather shoes. The modest functionalism of their slick California studio-rock, the tasty licks and glossy keyboards and sparingly deployed saxophone and sudden sharp bursts of guitar, hardly enters into a dialectic with the desperation and horror of the songwriting--it’s the perfect musical expression for these feelings, as perfection that’s slightly disfigured is so much more devastating than total abrasion (when critics use “Bret Easton Ellis” as shorthand for the demented luxury porn we’ve enjoyed and suffered through this decade, what they really mean is “Steely Dan”). No matter how many glass tables you smash, how many ashtrays you inhale, you’ll never feel as shitty as this record.

[afniel]

Man, I eventually figured out what was going on here, and I dodged a fucking bullet is what. Good riddance to someone I thought was an IRL friend but was actually shit-talking the hell out of me.

Gotta love when someone decides overnight that you're """""siding with their abuser""""" who is, you know. INTANGIBLE. A literal fucking imaginary friend, insofar as anything about spirit work can be proven. Possibly not even the same version of Lilith, because of course it had to be about her. And then just blocks you everywhere without even so much as a conversation, because they suddenly converted to Judaism out of nowhere and probably without actually consulting a rabbi or anything, but it's totally okay because they got adopted by a Jewish spirit and that totally counts.

This was after getting lectured on his control-freaky spirit worker Discord because pictures of cats didn't go in the pet channel, they had to go somewhere else because someone had an """""energetic allergy""""" to pictures of cats.

Yeah, just...let that sink in a second. It's been a couple of years and I'm still trying to get my head around it.

Never mind that other people had been, y'know. Putting their cats in the pet channel just fine. This was unforgivable because I did it. I'm still confused. I'm just telling what happened, but I couldn't start to tell why.

And then he axed another friend simply for not completely agreeing with him and continuing to be my friend, because that's really cool and a good way to deal with reality.

Anyway I'm really done with people who super loudly and defensively believe you can spontaneously develop PTSD from spirits because that's just wild and in my experience ends up being a red flag a lot of the time. I really don't believe in it that hard. Like, yeah you can be traumatized by a lot of odd things...but if you're gonna hallucinate disturbing shit and then blame it on normal-ass people who haven't done anything to you, maybe seek some help if you're that troubled by whatever you got going on. Yes, some level of hallucinations is normal and fine, and yes not even all abnormal hallucinations require treatment or should be pathologized, but hot damn dude, you shouldn't be making decisions based on them.

Good luck wherever the hell you ended up, Scion or Rahav or whatever you're going by now, I sincerely hope you got your blatant issues managed, but I kinda doubt it. Still kinda hurt, bruh. But also, kinda won't miss your insistence that I was doing everything wrong because I couldn't see the ultra-special ~*real spirit work*~ shit that exists entirely in your head, and honestly, I kinda don't want to.

(...this was almost, but not quite, as much fun as why I don't call myself otherkin anymore. Sure is distantly related though!)

Hey @norcal-animist not to be like, private business on main, but did you block me on Discord and if so is this a thing we can talk about, because your habit of constant name changes on every platform kinda hasn’t left me any other routes that aren’t out in the open on Tumblr. Which I’m pretty sure neither of us prefer, so uh. I dunno send me an ask with something, man, I had Pantheacon pictures I was gonna show you.