#without inadvertently making the other an impossibility

[queenofthursday6599-blog]

You know what I find like intensely bewildering about the FOP fandom.

Is the fact that somehow it's still a debate among people about whether the kids in the Channel Chasers flash forward, Tammy and Tommy, are Timmy's kids with Trixie or Tootie.

Like they're very obviously supposed to be Tootie's kids.

Even when I saw Channel Chasers' ending as a literal kid, I instantly clocked the fact that Tootie was the mom and not Trixie, because neither kid looks anything like Trixie, and both have stuff inherited from Tootie.

So I'm putting this debate to bed right now.

The girl looks essentially like a mix of Tootie and Timmy's design (with long-ish hair that's down), while the boy is just Timmy with black hair and Tootie's nose and skin tone.

[What Tootie's skin tone was at the time Channel Chasers came out.

The show runners change the saturation of the show like 3 or 4 times over the years, and outright change some character's skin tones at some points.

Wanda for example also originally had lighter pinker skin in the earlier seasons, but it was changed to the same tanner/more orange toned skin as Timmy and Cosmo's.

Tootie however retained the lighter pinker skin, it's just that as they upped the saturation, her skin turned more pink.]

The Twins:

Tootie:

Timmy:

"But Trixie has black hair and blue eyes too, and the girl is wearing a headband just like Trixie's, so Trixie could still be the mom"-

Trixie is asian. Trixie is asian. Trixie. Is. Asian.

We can see Tommy's eyes, and we can tell he didn't inherit Trixie's eye shape, even though that would be perfect for making him not look like Timmy with his hair dyed black.

Not to mention neither has Trixie's nose. Or her height. Neither are rocking a turtle neck sweater, or boots.

Neither have Trixie's straight across bangs, the girl doesn't have Trixie's winged little eyelash, she has the same tri-prong eyelashes as Tootie.

Not to mention the girl twin's styling. She wears a plaid skirt and glasses just like Tootie's.

Sure she's got a pink headband instead of high pigtails like Tootie, but you know what other female character wears a pink headband?

Both Timantha and Timeena (only showed up in the comics, and is also a fairy), Timmy literally as a girl, wear pink headbands:

"What about the fact that Tootie has braces and Tammy doesn't?"

Tammy doesn't have any kind of tooth division at all, not even one showing where her top and bottom teeth separate in a lot of her scenes.

Even if the kids aren't a total one to one match with Tootie, they still look far far more like Tootie's kids than they do Trixie's.

Like even if the mom of Tammy and Tommy are someday confirmed to officially not be Tootie (which I doubt they'll ever do), I still wouldn't believe it's Trixie over just someone who looks pretty similar to Tootie and has a lot of the same features as Tootie.

As I've gotten older I've just become convinced that the people who honestly believe that Tommy and Tammy's mom is Trixie have just always been hardcore Timmy/Trixie shippers, and just didn't want to believe Timmy ended up with Tootie.

Which is fair. I don't want Timmy marrying into Vicky's family, or to Tootie at all. Girl has no boundaries, and is part of the worst possible family situation to marry into.

Considering A New Wish shows that Vicky hasn't changed at all in 20 years.

Also I know the show runners say that they have some traits of Trixie also thrown in to the kids to make it ambiguous who their mom is, but like where?

They don't have her eye shape, her eye color (they don't have Tootie or Timmy's eye colors either), her eyes being wide set (compared to Timmy and a lot of other characters), her nose, her height, her bangs, her eye lashes, her fashion sense, her straight hair.

They have literally nothing from Trixie, on either of the kid's designs.

Other than the fact that the girl wears pink and white, and a headband. But that's also just the color pallet of Tootie & Timmy combined (or just Timantha's), and all of Timmy's girl versions also wear some kind of headband.

They 100% designed Tommy and Tammy to be Timmy & Tootie's kids, and then decided that the mother was "intended to be ambiguous" when Timmy/Trixie shippers decided to head canon Trixie as the mom because we never see the mom or have her name dropped.

Because shipping drama fuels fandom interaction, which fuels ratings, and they didn't want to alienate the Timmy/Trixie part of the fandom by confirming Timmy/Tootie was endgame.

Though they tossed the idea of it being ambiguous who Timmy ends up with out the window in the live action trilogy and just made Tootie the end game of that canon.

So yeah, I've always thought Tootie was Tammy and Tommy's mom, but here's all my proof and reasoning.

Which as someone who did ship Timmy/Trixie as a kid, you could imagine that seeing Timmy's future kids look like Tootie and my main ship for the show wasn't endgame was kind of upsetting.

I could ramble on about the reasons why Tommy and Tammy are obviously Tootie's kids and not Trixie's for a whole lot longer. And the fact that they show up on Trixie's family tree on the wiki but not Tootie's, even though it's canonically supposed to be unconfirmed either way, irks me to no end.

But I'm going to cap this post right here. Maybe I'll bust out my punnet squares, and show why I think Tommy and Tammy being Trixie's is genetically impossible, some other time but I've thought about this too much today. But that day isn't today.

[malum-forev]

More Than Casual?

Summary: After breaking up with Bucky, you thought you'd never see him again. That is, until you're required to make an appearance at one of the future congressman's events.

Part 1: Casual

CAABNW!Bucky x Agent!ExWidow!Reader

“You ready for the event?” Joaquin asks you as he throws a punch. 

“What event?” You huff, dodging the right hook. 

“Everyone on Cap’s team gets an invite to the White House.” He covers his guard. 

“Less talking, more punching!” Isaiah yells from the other side of his training room. 

You’d heard about the event being held at the White House but you decided to turn off the TV the second those familiar blue eyes were displayed. It was too early to see the man who still made you shiver. 

“Not going.” Is all you say, throwing him a rogue kick with more force than necessary. 

“You’re missing out on the event of the year for what? Ordering in pizza?” He laughs, but you take the opportunity to kick the center of his chest, making Joaquin fly across the room. 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Isaiah hollers. 

You help your partner up. “What if I have plans?”

“Plans?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Are you finally opening your heart to love?”

You roll your eyes, but your heart sinks a little. You’d successfully gone weeks without thinking of him and now, with just a couple of words, he’s back in your mind. Pulling at your heartstrings so tightly it makes your chest cave in.

It wasn’t Joaquin’s fault, he had no idea that the man who’s being honored at the event is the same person who tore your heart to shreds. 

“I just don’t feel like going,” you manage to get out. “I much prefer to fight and protect, rather than prance and drink.”

——

“What’s this I hear about you not going to the gala?” Sam casually says a few days later. 

You choke on the water you’re drinking. 

“That serious, huh?” Sam jokes. 

You shake your head. “Doesn’t sound like something that I’d be interested in.”

Your words are careful and strategic. But trying to think of the perfect excuse while your team leader looks at you so inquisitively is almost impossible. 

“I’d be nice,” he shrugs. “To go out and support Buck.”

The nickname sends a chill down your spine. 

You called him that same name for years, especially when you wanted to tease him. In front of others you’d always referred to him as Sergeant. But in close encounters, especially when you wanted him to plead for something, you’d call him just that. Buck. 

It never failed to make you think back to when he was a kid. You’d beg him to see pictures, you knew he had a couple printed out after the rediscovery of the Howling Commandos files. 

“You’re looking at the best version of me there is, doll.” He’d always say. “No need to dwell on the past.”

But you knew it was because part of him was always scared to look back. It made him remember he had a life before all of this happened. 

“I’m busy that day.” You mutter, picking up the report on the desk. 

Sam crosses his arms. “I haven’t even told you when it is.”

You stop in your tracks. 

“Is there something else that’s bothering you?” Sam asks carefully. He knows perfectly how to deal with guarded agents. “You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

You hum.

“So, I hope to see you there, Agent.” Sam narrows his eyes. He doesn’t need to use the words for you to know it’s an order. 

You nod your head without another word, leaving the conference room before your anxiety rises more through your body.

——

“You’re pretty amped up for someone who didn’t even want to come!” Sam yells over the loud music playing inside the limo sent for you. 

You don’t look back at him as you tip the vodka bottle, letting the clear liquid coat your throat.

On any other day, vodka wouldn’t be your liquor or choice but today, you need all the courage I can get. And in terms of fucking you up the fastest, vodka is the way to go. 

You can barely feel your heel poking your foot by the time you step out. 

Your eyes inadvertently scan every square inch of the room, not looking for anything suspicious but looking for the man who you’ve been dreading seeing. 

It’s bad enough his posters are up on every lamp post.

You make a beeline towards the free bar cart, Joaquin hot on your heels. 

“Sam sent me over to babysit you,” he leans on the edge of the cart. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say sarcastically, sipping on the martini the bartender set for you. “I’m having a blast.”

Both your eyes travel down to the napkin the bartender passes you, his ten-digit phone number neatly scribbled on the paper. 

You turn it over without looking at him.

“What happened to opening up your heart to love?” Joaquin whispers, looking back at the bartender. 

“I don’t have time for love.” You mutter, swirling the olives in your drink. 

He twists the cap on a water bottle before passing it to you. “You’ll never have time for love, if you don’t make time for love.”

“Who died and made you the team’s hopeless romantic?” You eye him. 

“Steve.” He shrugs. 

Joaquin goes on and on about love but you can’t hear him anymore. Because the second you look over to the other side of the room, there he is. 

Time stands still, and your legs threaten to give out.

Bucky’s changed so much since the day you said goodbye forever. His eyes have dulled, turning into a muted blue like the sky on a rainy day. His hair looks polished, but you know better than anyone else he hates how it feels. “I love it when you run your hands through it,” he used to murmur against your lips. “Makes me feel free.” But most importantly, his expression lacks that liveliness it used to have. The wrinkles near his eyes would deepen the second his lips would stretch into a smile. And it almost always came with a: “You have no idea how much I missed you, Doll.” 

Unsaid words stretch between you two. Your eyes say all the talking needed. 

Bucky’s eyes travel from yours, down to your left hand, where you’d always wear a vibranium bracelet that he’d gifted you. It had pieces of his old arm in it. Bucky used to say that after The Winter Soldier, he wanted nothing to do with him. Until he met you. He liked when you wore it because it reminded him that even with his past, he could still deserve someone as loving as you. 

You rub the spot where the bracelet used to lay. 

“You don’t deserve me anymore,” you whisper. 

“D’you say something?” Joaquin looks up at you.

You shake your head, ripping your eyes away from the man who caused you unspeakable hurt. But not before noticing how his expression hardened as he looked at the man standing next to you. 

You recognized it immediately. It’s Bucky’s signature: I want to rip your head off look.

And it had everything to do with the way Joaquin was rubbing your shoulder. 

“Torres, we’re friends, right?” Your eyes bounce from Bucky’s azure to your partner’s brown. 

“Yeah,” he eyes you suspiciously. 

“Could you pretend to be my boyfriend?” You get out before you can regret the words. 

Was it immature? Yes. 

Did you want Bucky to feel at least one ounce of the hurt you felt? Also yes. 

“Why?” Joaquin’s eyebrows furrow. 

“I hate these events because, as you can see,” you flip over the napkin with the bartender’s number on it. “Men always get the wrong idea. So, can you just act like you’re my boyfriend?”

“Is this some kind of test Sam put you up to?”

You pinch your lips together. “Sure.”

“Man! I’ve been waiting for an undercover mission,” he shimmies happily. 

“But you have to pretend with everyone, okay?” You look back at the future congressman who’s making his way towards the two of you. “And make it believable.”

Joaquin smooths down his lapels. “You got it.”

Not even ten seconds later, Bucky stands between you and Joaquin with a scowl on his face.

"Agents." He looks at both of you like he's done so many times. But now, his gaze holds Joaquin's for a second longer.

"Congratulations." You raise your glass to him.

"I haven't won, yet." He doesn't look away from the brunet to your side.

"By the looks of it, you're going to sweep the floor with all the other old bozos around here." Joaquin smiles, playfully shoving the super soldier's shoulder but he doesn't budge. Not one bit.

"Could I take her away from you, it'll only be a second." Bucky asks like you're Joaquin's property.

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to ask him."

"As your boyfriend," Joaquin not-so-subtly raises his eyebrows at you. "I approve of your parting."

"We're not in the regency era you doofus." You whisper as Bucky leads the way.

"I haven't been anyone's boyfriend in a long time! I don't know how to act!" He whispers back, throwing his hands up.

"What are you doing here?" Bucky asks the second you're away from everybody else.

"Trust me, I didn't want to be here." You let out a dry laugh, pulling a cigarette from your bag and lighting it up.

"I mean, what are you doing here with him?" Bucky narrows his eyes toward your partner. "What's this? A debutant ball for your new relationship?"

"Why would you care, anyways?" You take a drag, liking the way the smoke coats your mouth.

"I don't care-I-I just-" Bucky runs a hand down his face.

"Look James," You watch as his PR guy paces around the ballroom, looking for the man who is standing in front of you. "It's best if you go back inside."

"I can't." He looks down at the floor. "I can't just leave you out here smoking alone."

A genuine laugh rips through you.

"That's the promise you're keeping up?" You raise your brows, laughing harder as his expression tightens. "Out of all the promises you made me, that's the one you're going with."

"This isn't-" He tries but you interrupt him.

"Tell me what this is?" You push for him to spill what you know is on the tip of his tongue. "What? Was this summon a friendly one? Or did you want to bring me out here just so you could see if you still had it? That power you had over me."

"N-no." He stutters over his words.

"I'm happy now, James." You let out more smoke. "And it's killing you to know that."

"I just don't know how you did it!" He finally snaps. "You come here, looking amazing like always, with another man next to you. Acting like what we had was-"

"What we had was casual." You repeat the words he said. "Nothing more."

"Was it?" His blue eyes lock into yours, tumultuous like the sea.

"Yes." You lie.

"Then why do I feel like this?" He runs a hand through his hair, messing up his perfectly combed hair.

"I don't care, Barnes." You drop the end of your cigarette on the floor. Bucky lifts his foot to step on it, just like he'd done a million times before, only for you to do it first.

You turn on your heel but Bucky stops you.

"Whatever we had is in the past, and I intend on keeping it that way." You look at him over your shoulder, hating the way his gaze still makes your heart squeeze and his touch makes your skin heat.

"I should leave, Congressman." You say through gritted teeth. "Wouldn't want to give the wrong impression to all the voters around here. "

Authors Note: Hiiiihi! Thank you so much for the love on pt. 1! As always make sure to like and comment. Alsoooo I posted the first chapter of my book, it's on my page. I'd love it if you guys could give it a read. And if you'd like to support me, make sure to give me a follow on my ig and tiktok: @sophiabazar_author, I'll be posting all book related content on there! I'll be posting chapter 2 soon! If you'd like a part 3 to casual make sure to comment!

Tagged: @erinallene @the-bucky-one @unaxv @kodzukenie333 @g1g1l @hanacheryl @ironwinnerwonderland

[astrologysaysno]

[Hi, Hello, like 8 people wanted more of what I wrote about Strange Omega Qinghua so I guess I'm delivering on that]

[The Prequel]

To Shang Qinghua, scenting is a useless phenomena.

He understands it theoretically. It's the process in which an item is marked with the pheromones of an individual to indicate an underlying social context.

The problem is, he has no idea what it's actually like.

Despite his omega status for his secondary gender, he has never actually participated in the process. Being scent blind, the smell of pheromones is something he is unaffected by, and as something that's so key in the use of social interactions, it forces Shang Qinghua to really be able to understand other cues to give a tell on how things work.

For the major characters, he doesn't need a tell. He has wrote them down with painstaking detail, dedicating chapters and paragraphs and enough words that it would make a novel feel like a drabble in comparison. He can see the twitch in Liu Qingge's hand whenever he wants to hunt, the movement Shen Jiu's fan does when he's pissed, and the way Yue Qingyuan's smile becomes a little more lifeless whenever the Qing Jing Peak Lord passes him silently.

For the characters he didn't write, he sometimes fumble. He can't smell them sometimes when they hide their anger but after years of practice, he can tell when they're mad.

It was what made him advantageous when it came to deals. Though he could never tell when a merchant was happy with the deal or not, he would be unable to be intimidated by scent. The scent of particularly aggressive suppliers who uses their scent to pressure their business partners into agreeing to a more lucrative agreement find trouble with Shang Qinghua, he simply sits casually, as if the room that is heavily intoxicated with the scent of danger was only a figment of your imagination.

But scenting itself is an instinct, an instinct that Qinghua does not have. Sure, he can emit pheromones, but it's a rocky attempt at best, and uncontrollable at worst, with the scent of these pheromones coming out at random with no clear way to start or stop. Scenting is an intentional process that relies on a person's innate ability to imbue an object with the smell of them.

It's not like he can smell it anyway.

It's why, despite his Omega status, he has never shared his scent with other omegas. it would be impossible to properly practice normal omegaverse customs without the capabilities to do so.

In my idea of the Omegaverse, people give and mark their scents to each other regularly to indicate their belonging to a pack, whether it be something such as a family, or an organization like Cang Qiong. Many have tried to gift Shang Qinghua these in the form of pillowcases, robes, or accessories.

But ignorant to his own place in the world and the way people feel about him, he takes this as his role on An Ding to be inadvertently assigned as an outer disciple in charge of the laundry; and being charged with the task of becoming the Peak Lord of An Ding by the system, he swallow his pride to take it in stride, washing vigorously and returning them back to the person in pristine and sterile condition.

This has caused strain and even a punch to the face for Qinghua, with him wrongly assuming it was simply his destiny to be mistreated. Of course he's treated like dirt, ut's probably why he became a traitor in the first place. Time passes, and he slowly gets less and less of these gifts and continues his unprecedented distance to the people of his peak.

Maybe it was why it was so easy for the people in the caravan to throw him to the man who would one day be his demise, a sacrifice for a world that values the people of their pack so highly, that seems to place such a significant weight over protecting their own.

(He hears the whispers that pity him, that suspect him, that makes guesses on why he survived, all of which center around his distance. That the demon had came for Cang Qiong specifically and his detachment gave him an out to lie about his allegiance and pass himself off as a bystander who was just unfortunate enough to be there. He seems pitiful enough, why not let him live.)

Maybe it's also why Mobei-jun has such a hard time trusting him for so long. You would assume from a man that said he would dedicate his entire life to you, that he would give everything to be your servant, he would be unashamed in being part of your pack. That he would show a visible attempt at indicating that. Pride for your pack is important in such a territorial world.

He's grated that his subordinate seemingly refuses to show his loyalty by keeping his scent, that whatever he has marked will be scrubbed into sterility.

(Shang Qinghua was once asked by his fellow disciple what that scent was, and it clicked pretty fast that Mobei-jun was marking his things. He stays up late and scrubs and replaces everything regularly, praying that the system gives him a hand if it wants the plot to stay on course.)

[clairedaring]

brb. currently screaming at the DETAILS of gelboys ep 1

(SOURCE © @virtualtadpole)

text version under the cut for readers' accessibility

I'll leave the raving about Boss and his team's meticulous craftsmanship to u/ThoughtsAllDay and others, but man, there's so much detail packed in here, I had to take notes. Which wasn't easy while watching on iQiyi without VIP, as each time you inadvertently scroll back past an ad insertion point it forces you to sit through another minute of unskippable ads that just ended five seconds ago. Anyway, some thoughts:

The biggest question I had from the series reveal was whether it's going to be one of those works that could generate endless discussions of "Is this a BL?" And so far it sure looks like one of those works. This first episode is the sliciest a slice-of-life teen drama could conceivably be. Or maybe it just feels that way because it's so different, due to the fact that...

The entire series being shot on iPhone (though they just say "phone" because Apple isn't paying them) gives the whole thing such an indie guerrilla film vibe, which is interesting to say the least. The unrestrained depth of field, the sound design picking up on every little jingling of the charms and chains the boys have on their bags, result in this raw, artsy feel that is almost jarring compared to conventional production values.

The open environment alone sounds like a continuity nightmare, though not having paid much attention to the people and cars in the background, I didn't noticed anything egregious.

The opening toilet shot was... a choice.

The song Fourmod's mother plays in the beginning is เด็กมีปัญหา (Dek Mi Panha) by, of course, Four-Mod. It's one of the biggest early hits from the Kamikaze teen-oriented record label. Faye Fang Kaew is another of the label's first groups. You can tell their mother is a huge fan. (By the way, the iQiyi subtitles spelling Fourmod's name after his Instagram handle is really annoying. Hope they drop it soon.)

Fourmod said "this term" when asking to take the BTS, so it's probably the start of the second semester, i.e. November. Senanikhom Station opened in December 2019, while the entire northern extension opened in December 2020. Either Fourmod was referring to starting his P.6 and M.1 years after the station and line opened respectively, or the series is set in 2023.

I laughed at how they needed a disclaimer warning not to run up the escalators and to hold the handrail - clearly mandated by BTS the series sponsor. If you're wondering about the sponsorship, by the way, it probably just involved them making special arrangements for location access and not any cash - this was the case for the 2009 movie Bangkok Traffic (Love) Story, which revolved almost entirely around the BTS. Here, the lack of crowds during the morning rush hour points to most of the people probably being hired extras.

The BTS got plenty of indirect advertising in exchange, of course. Fourmod buying the monthly pass seemed almost forced at first, but was soon leveraged to explain why he didn't know how to tap out of the system, since he'd presumably only used single tickets before. (Like Thoughts said, the attention to detail is incredible, with things like these that you have to zoom in to even notice.)

The depictions of locations are so super specific to reality, almost as if this were a documentary. The school is fictional, of course, but it's slotted into the exact location of Watpathumwanaram School in real life, and everything around it, including the path of the students' commute, is real. Don't know why they'd take a tuk-tuk instead of walking 400 metres to Siam Square, though, as the traffic is totally impossible.

I have no idea how much creative liberty they're taking with the school's flexibility with body accessories, electronics, and transgender students. I'm sure the creators based it on what's possible at some actual schools nowadays, but I can't tell how realistic it is for the setting at all. Very much appreciate the variability in the lengths of the students' shorts as a reflection of their personality, though, as it's rarely seen on screen anymore.

I raised an eyebrow at Fourmod asking for extra MSG in his fruit dip. (The subtitles mistranslate it as "chili salt".) Didn't even know it was a thing - usually it's just sugar, salt, and chilli - but apparently recipes that also add MSG aren't uncommon.

I'm about curious about the passage of time. Their painted nails almost growing out suggests probably two months passing during each of the time jumps, but that would be almost the entire school term already.

It's funny to imagine how they got Yuedpao as a main sponsor. Their shop is actually opposite Kantima Salon, one wonders whether it's a coincidence or they found the location first, then got the sponsorship later.

The Kluay Kluay banana dessert shop was clearly included to keep older viewers connected - it's probably the only Siam Square location in the entire episode that's recognizable to someone who knew the place from the 2000s. Heck, the neighbourhood has changed so much recently, few of the scene locations would have looked like shown even five years ago.

Which brings me to my final point and main impression from the episode: Everything in it feels so deliberate in its depiction of today's youth culture. Which is of course what the creators set out to do. But the thing is, I (and probably most Millennial and older viewers) can't quite tell how accurate it is. I trust that the team did their research well, and on the whole it feels real enough, but the script's particular references, slang and vernacular might as well be a foreign language. It feels rather eerily uncanny how changed some things have become in the space of a generation, and yet how familiar some things remain.

[scrupulosity-comics]

hey is racism one of your obsessions? also white and ocd. if it is, how u cope with it? i'm really afraid all the time to hurt my loved ones who are black people, and they're the majority of my loved ones. and how do u identify whats racism from whats an intrusive thought?

Most of my race-related OCD is abstract stuff like “if I move out of my parents’ house and try to live my own life outside of their control, I will have to find somewhere I can afford to pay rent, which will probably mean moving into a low-income neighborhood, which would mean inadvertently helping to gentrify the community, which would gradually push the original residents out of their homes and disrupt community ties and support systems and creating housing insecurity, so therefore I can’t move out or move on”.

I think that’s just part of a larger existential terror that I can only ever make the world worse by living in it—a net harm to the universe, molecule by misspent molecule.

I have been letting this ask sit in my inbox for weeks now because I’m convinced that anything I say will be destructive. What if my answer enables or excuses racism? What if my answer fuels the anguish of the mentally ill?

The rational and compassionate part of my mind insists that your loved ones (and mine!) understand that you (and I) are white, and have likely dealt with white peoples all their lives, and are capable of judging for themselves whether you are good to them and deserving of their intimacy. It is impossible to go through life without hurting and being hurt by people you care about—always you will have blindspots and miscommunications and competing needs. That’s just part of the curse of consciousness and being a social species. We all get a little blood on our hands eventually, one way or another… friendship involves knowing this, accepting this, and committing to avoid it and then, that failed, to make things right.

Again: your friends know you’re white. They have reason to expect the best of you or they wouldn’t be your friends. They choose to have you in their lives; trust them to trust you, and to recognize the difference between a beloved friend struggling with a treacherous and unkind brain and doing their best in an inescapably racist society, and a racist who whose bigotry makes them unworthy of their time and affection.

I do think racism obsessions are a particularly difficult manifestation of OCD to cope with because they’re hard to discuss at all without feeling like you’re implicitly asking for absolution. With other types of OCD, it’s common to seek reassurance that what you’re obsessively afraid of isn’t true—but what feels more racist than asking someone to reassure you that you’re not racist…? LMAO.

They say the “cure” to OCD, such as it is, is just to learn how to embrace the existential horror of uncertainty. Tall fucking order. Hell on Earth! But in a bizarre way I have found the rhetoric that “everyone is unconsciously and incurably racist” to be unexpectedly helpful… there is no total psychological purging and mental purification we can undergo, no amount of ritual self-flagellation that will drive the demons out, no pristine state we can aspire to and hate ourselves for soiling. Only mundane everyday commitments to compassion and empathy and solidarity and cleaning up our messes. But even then, a thought isn’t a mess. A thought I’d not a thing that happened or a choice you made. It doesn’t represent an alternate timeline branching off into a parallel universe where you have acted on it and hurt people.

Earlier this year I was playing a video game—during my lunch break I got to wondering what happened if you failed a skill check that I had passed in my own playthough, so I looked up a clip on YouTube and was so triggered by the answer (the player character calls his companion a racial slur in the heat of the moment, without meaning to, even if you’ve played him as a committed anti-racist) that I immediately spiraled and was close to throwing up in the broom closet, and when I got home I opened my own save and tried to make the player character kill himself as catharsis. It was an incredibly unreasonable guilt response to a completely fictional scenario that I hadn’t even gotten in my own playthrough, but in retrospect it was a safe way to explore fear of my own internalized racism hurting somebody and what might happen if my intrusive thoughts came true. It sucked and it was terrible and I was angry at myself for being crazy about it, but it ended up being a small dose of exposure therapy and practice at not repenting for nonexistent through self-abuse.

I dunno. This has been a long uncomfortably personal ramble but I hope it’s helpful. I don’t know if your friends know you have OCD (or how it manifests) and I don’t know whether telling them would help. But allowing yourself to trust others to trust you is far more useful than beating yourself up for thoughts you don’t want. I have on occasion warned people that I am cautious about doing certain things with them—particularly drinking—because there is a risk that I may spiral and show symptoms humiliating and uncomfortable to both of us, and I don’t want to put them in a position where they witness or feel like they have to help me manage the white guilt elements of my disorder. These conversations have usually gone well, and the mutual understanding to boundaries takes some of the tension out, which seems to reduce the triggers. It’s messy and awkward and maybe it limits who is willing to be friends with me, but IMHO it’s better than surprising someone.

As for determining whether something is an intrusive thought or actual racism, I guess my answer is: does it matter? Would you manage them differently? Intrusive thoughts may be an evil voice in your brain, but racism is an evil voice in society’s brain.

[roronoacherries]

𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞 | roronoa zoro

913 words

content: fem. latina reader, fluff, post time-skip, zoro watches reader dance and sing while she cleans the sunny.

notes: i miss rbd... yo digo r, tu dices bd, rbd, rbd!

zoro loves to watch you clean. he likes to stay back with you while the others explore a new island, knowing that you like to take advantage of the time alone. he’ll make himself scarce to let you work in peace but he's always there, keeping you company.

sometimes he closes his eyes to rest, enjoying the comfortable silence of the empty ship, hearing only the sound of you humming or singing softly; although most often, all he does is watch. it doesn't really matter to him; so long as he's near you, he's content.

there’s something endearing to him about the way you zone out, moving from one thing to another as if all the chore work came naturally to you.

she’d make a perfect housewife, he thinks to himself, knowing full well that if he ever uttered those words aloud, you and your tiny frame would make sure he hurt (and that thought is only further proof to him that you would be).

he likes it most when you play your loud latin music and sing along to it, almost always sounding terribly though he's convinced if you bothered to try you'd sound like an angel.

you hold the broom like a mic, singing each syllable like you feel it in the depths of your soul and zoro wonders what the hell you could be singing about; he rarely asks anymore, knowing well enough that it'll likely be a feeling you've never actually felt before.

you're dramatic and loud and he's certain that you wouldn't act this foolishly around anyone else. something he couldn't be more thankful for.

"y aquí estoy rendida a tus pies." you drop to your knees in front of him and the swordsman raises a brow, silently wondering how long it'll take you to sweep the room this time.

"y sé que no hay nada que perder..." you stand, stepping closer to him and your hand rests on his cheek and he thinks it might take at least another ten minutes for you to be done.

"pensando en ti," you lean in close, your hand falling into his and all that's left on his mind is that he could kiss you for those next ten minutes instead.

but you pull away before your lips can touch, fingers slipping from his as you sing the next line. "hasta que no me dejes ir."

you sing the chorus as you twirl around the room, picking things up from the floor, your eyes meeting zoro's enough for him to know that this time the song is about a feeling you know.

"no quiero vivir sin tu amor jamás..." you take a seat on his lap, your legs on either side of him and zoro's hands find their place on your waist, deciding not to let you stand up again.

"what're you singing about this time?" he grunts, his thumbs drawing circles into your skin.

"nothing special. just loving you and needing you and never wanting to let you go..." you say, pressing kisses to his face between every few words.

"what was that last line?" zoro questions, somehow knowing that whatever it was, you'd left it out. a part of him thinks he deserves a nice little treat for the spanish he's inadvertently learned from you.

you think about the line for a moment before translating it, "i don't want to live without your love, not ever."

and there's something left hanging in the air when you've said it. a twinkle of uncertainty in your eyes. something left unspoken.

"you won't."

it's the kind of oath that is rooted in regret. the kind that feels certain — set in stone, despite the impossibility of it. like he's promising you the stars and there's nothing you can do but believe him. it's not up to him whether you get to be at his side forever or not, but you believe it when he says you will. 

"i missed you a lot." you can't help but say it and it feels pointless to mention, but you can’t put it out of your mind either. those two years taught you what eternity can feel like. 

"i know," zoro’s lips brush yours without kissing you. instead, you feel his breath, the warmth coming from his body, and you wish you could get to know a different kind of eternity with him. closing the gap between you and him, you think this is the next best thing — the little taste of eternity on his lips. 

"��m going to love you for a long, long time…"

zoro doesn’t mean for the words to come off as romantic, doesn’t intend for them to make your heartbeat stutter, and you know that as well as you know him but they do regardless. the swordsman doesn’t even realize the sweetness of his blunt sincerity and you couldn’t love him more for it. 

“i love you,” you utter the words in a faint whisper, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips before resting your head on his chest and listening to the music still playing. you could sit there in his arms forever, you think, until a familiar rapid beat meets your ears. 

"da-ddy yan-keh..."

and zoro doesn’t fight it when you leave the warmth of his arms to dance again. he still has an eternity to hold you and to love you, anyway. 

─────────────────────────────

taglist: @zorobraun @maaarshieee @lyriczhou @tinkywinky27 @dimimyth @gaby-chwan @tk6uro @zoros-4th-sword @idiotlittleme @zoronnoa

masterlist | taglist

[snaccpopstudios]

From the River to the Sea.

The staff of SnaccPop Studios wanted to reach out to our fans regarding our stance on the genocidal acts committed against Palestine. Though the conflict thrived well before 2023, these last few months have shown an escalation of cruelty that has become impossible for the rest of the world to ignore. 

To state the matter frankly; we stand by Palestine. We acknowledge that blood is not only on the hands of the Israeli government, but also the American, British, and other world governments who have and continue to enable Israel's actions. Any government, company, or corporation that attempts to accommodate "both sides," or inadvertently shows support through inaction is equally complicit in creating a climate in which this genocide is allowed to take place. It is for this reason we feel compelled to speak out and condemn these acts for what they are; genocide, theft, ethnic cleansing, and mass-murder.

We believe that all those responsible for these innocent deaths must be called for and prosecuted as murderers in the first degree, regardless of status. But we also acknowledge that this will likely never happen.

In light of this, what can we do? We believe that it is not the citizen's burden alone to end this genocide, and yet we must call upon every individual person to reflect on this matter and do what we can to make things right. An initial step for many of us would be to seek to educate themselves on this matter. We must learn from history to avoid unwittingly contributing to further oppressions. We will be providing a few trustful sources for you all to further educate yourselves and donate to, if you are able to.

We must also ask everyone to remember that these lives are irrevocably lost. Children who are now without parents, families separated and lost–these people's lives will be permanently affected by these events, if they survive. Their pain and trauma will impact the future for everyone on our planet. It is vital to acknowledge this and treat it with the gravity it is due. It is so easy to distance ourselves from these events, to compartmentalize the trauma of people we don't know, people who live so far away from many of us. It is easy to get caught up in the narrative disseminated by mainstream media, to detach ourselves from the real human suffering, to view it as a story that has nothing to do with us. We must perform due diligence to discern the truth and act accordingly. Acknowledging the suffering and remembering all that has been lost is vital to holding Israel accountable for their genocidal acts.

We must also use our empathy to realize that this is one of the great injustices of humanity; by allowing it to happen now, we further enable it to happen to other disenfranchised groups in the future. None of us are truly safe if we allow this brutality to wage unchecked. We cannot allow our governments to believe that we will tolerate or condone this, now or ever.

Links:

Care for Gaza. Providing distribution of cash, food, or other supplies needed like medicine or clothes to displaced families in Gaza. https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza. As of writing this, the GoFundMe is no longer accepting donations, but their PayPal in their Twitter (https://twitter.com/CareForGaza) still is.

Pious Projects. Providing menstrual/hygiene kits to those who menstruate in Gaza. https://piousprojects.org/campaign/2712

eSims for Gaza. Helping those in Gaza remain connected to the outside world, stay connected with families, and show what’s happening within Gaza. https://gazaesims.com/

History of Palestine and debunking myths spread: https://decolonizepalestine.com/

PDF Booklet provided by Bisan on her Instagram. Advocating for Palestine that recounts Israeli propaganda and how to spot and debunk them. https://sites.google.com/view/advocatingforpalestine/?fbclid=PAAaZtxfP5EBAZSRP6h15wi96-dnCuOgOlE0aXKVB8gCtQbokaSE9N1nxzkuA_aem_AaIBVrty_hSHN28vgu0T-rJly_eLH5YAFKxLcCLLBNBXl8QZiUe4fvR-pkBV_8x6UyM

Boycott, Diversity, and Sanctions (BDS) website: https://bdsmovement.net/

Please note these aren’t all of the available resources out there, but a few collected, trusted ones. Take the time and effort to look and reach further yourselves, as we will continue to do so ourselves.

SnaccPop Studios 🍉

[piftamere]

part five - stunned (wc : 0.5k words if you don't want to read there's a tl:dr just under it!)

As you stepped off stage, still feeling exhilarated from your first gig, you saw a freakishly tall man approach you, a smirk on his face.

When you recognized who he was, you inadvertently grimaced.

Come on, let’s be mature, i shouldn't base my opinion of him on hearsay. You thought, taking a deep breath and replacing your expression with a polite smile.

"Hey!" he greeted with a toothachingly sweet voice "I just wanted to come by and congratulate you, it was a really good performance, for a beginner artist like you." He was probably trying to flatter you, but instead sounded impossibly condescending.

Ok, so maybe the rumors were true.

"Thanks." Your voice and expression were deadpan. "Can I ask how you got backstage?"

"No, it's a secret," he winked at you, flashing a playful smile. However, when he noticed that you didn't even flinch at his joke, let alone laugh, he quickly added, "The security guard let me in because he's a big fan of me."

You wondered if he could sound even fuller of himself… and made a mental note to hire stricter security next time.

Deciding to be polite you replied "I have to admit you make good music, I've been a fan of Geto since forever."

He noticed the hint of admiration in your voice, making him relax a little.

"Not of me huh? I'm hurt." he pouted, taking the liberty of teasing you. "Geto was the one who invited me and i'm glad he did… I really liked 'before you can', i think that's my favorite from tonight."

Your eyes widened a little, "Really? I'm… surprised, it's a little sadder than the others. To be honest, it's my favorite one too."

"Surprised I'm more than a pretty face?" He teased again.

"I never said that." You rolled your eyes but the corners of your mouth tilted up slightly, he noticed that too.

“Can i ask what it’s about or if it’s about your own experience?”

Even if he could be genuinely interested, you can't help but decline. "Sorry, but it's a little too personal."

“Shame.” he paused and smiled “Can i get your phone number?”

You couldn’t suppress the frown on your face. He choked a little at your visible disgust and laughed awkwardly, passing a hand through his hair. “For business reasons, sorry I should have clarified.”

Only half convinced, you gave him your number, worst-case scenario you could simply block him.

After typing it in his phone, a hint of mischief in his eyes, he continued “You didn’t have to look so horrified that i might be hitting on you though, I’m deeply wounded.” his voice dramatic as ever, a hand on his heart.

“How will you ever recover?” you retorted, smiling. Without giving him a chance to respond, you said "It was… nice meeting you, but i gotta go. Bye!!"

And with that you disappeared behind a door, leaving Gojo Satoru stunned.

[tl:dr : gojo comes backstage, he’s arrogant (and a tiny bit charming), he congratulates you, asks for your number for “business reasons”, you give it to him and you leave quickly.]

fun facts

gojo really didn't notice he was condescending until shoko pointed it out

y/n doesn't know what to think of gojo yet...

author's note

ilovegojosatoru

i've eaten cereals in orange juice and it's not that bad tbh

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ tugging on heartstrings ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

as an aspiring solo artist, you dream of making it big in the music industry. With your talent and unwavering determination, you find yourself entangled in a web of romantic pursuits amidst rumors and betrayal. Will you emerge unscathed and manage to navigate your love life in the chaos of fame?

Part five - Next

rbs and interactions are highly appreciated <3

taglist : open :) to be added leave a comment on the masterlist of the smau

@lysaray @swissy23 @d6za1 @minzxec @sleepy-waffle @saturn-alone @dreamxiing @reiluvr @nikkimvriee @mellozhi @cre8ing @ichorstainedskin @inosfavgf

[iidilio]

𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

[ 🌸 ] my man it’s a good boy-

characters: sesshomaru;; some character mentions  

genre: fluff

warnings: none;; sesshomaru being soft;; mentions of reader being old;; a soft headcanon is a warning?

…

i couldn't write everything i wanted 🥹, eeee-

- - -

*make me your queen, daddy-

*ok no, lmao

*traditionalmantraditionalman

* have you seen his clothes?, have you seen his hair?, have you seen his mom?!

*that man is royalty!

*which means that as his partner you're going to be surrounded by luxuries and… oh yes and also Jaken, and the beautiful little thing better known as Rin.

*as a future clan wife you will be instructed what to expect from other beings (who will soon be inferior to you, lmaooo)

* Sessh knows what he's doing

*because if he didn't know what he's doing he wouldn't have let the feelings that made his stomach churn (in a good way) flow.

* being with the demon lord is also accepting that he is a proud man but can also be subtly gentle at times

*the last one applies only if it is your partner

*Sessh shows how proud he is to have you as his partner in many ways

*like, give you trinkets from expensive sources randomly

*once he gave you a super heavy necklace with a huge gem hung with various precious gems-

*yes, he gave it to you for your birthday lmao

*you looked simply majestic to his long-lived eyes

*I forgot to mention it but Sesshomaru sees you as the most beautiful being in all of history and he will continue to do so, even if you are already a stooped old woman and have a hard time eating solid food

* he knows that your life will not be as long as his, but he is happy with the thought that he had the fortune to meet and love you so much

*will keep your memory alive even after millions of years have passed, and even if all that time has passed he is sure that he will not love someone in the same way that he loved you... unless you reincarnate somehow (what if I make a fic of this?)

*anyways

* Sesshomaru is gentle when he touches you

* he knows that his claws could tear your delicate skin

*but he's not just gentle in that sense

* he is gentle even when he talks to you

*inadvertently sometimes his imposing voice softens more than he would on any other day when he doesnt speaks to you in front of other people and demons

*Although it seems impossible and almost fanciful, his previously cold eyes that hid his soul (which can also be gentle on rare occasions) also soften, so much that sometimes they let you see each and every one of his emotions

* Mr. fluffly can be chivalrous on simple “occasions” but they are only for your benefit, not for someone else's

*for example in a modern environment (perhaps in some not so distant future) He will open the doors for you, he will put you on the other side of the sidewalk where cars do not pass. When you get into a car before getting in, he will open the door for you to enter and if he feels in a particularly good mood he will place the seat belt to you. And if you feel cold he will put his heavy jacket on your little shoulders.

*anyways

*when his mom found out that Mr. Fluffy had a lover she immediately wanted to meet you

*you see, for her it's kind of funny since Sesshy denied more than two thousand marriage proposals when he was young (it upset his mom a lot, after all, who will take care of you when your mother is gone sessh?)

*don't tell her that I told you but to see that her son was not simply someone without feelings but that perhaps he just needed time to find that special someone, made her feel strangely happy (my woman thought that her son was going to die alone 💀).

*but she will never say it, also I think that pride runs strong in the Inu family, pfff-

*on the other hand

*if you are human he will be much more worried about you than he would be if you were a demon or half demon

* this is because even if you are a formidable warrior you can die (I mean have you seen Midoriko?, she was one of the most powerful priestess but even she couldn't handle that much)

*in the inuyokai's head, humans are fragile and annoying beings... except you, rin, kohaku and kagome she falls a bit into his category of non-obnoxious humans, pfff-

* even before he told you about his desire to woo you he researched as much as he could about ways to prolong human life

*This is because even if you reject his courtship offer, he will never stop loving and caring for you.

"When a demon falls in love, he does with such force that all his thoughts revolve around that special being for them."

*if you're from the same time as Kagome he'll be curious but won't show it

*you know?, the demon lord is so cute, his pride sometimes doesn't let him ask such simple things about your time. This is mainly because he thinks that some of his questions have obvious answers and he doesn't want to come off as a jerk.

*some of the questions that he will never ask are: “are the clothes of your time all the same?”, “are there no yokais anymore?”

*so instead of asking that he has decided that he will only listen to what you answer to others to inform himself too.

*you know

*He eavesdrops (what a nosy)

*if you say something from your time or if you make any cultural reference from your time he will just look at you while waiting patiently for the meaning behind what you just said.

*this also applies if you are a foreigner and you miss a non-Japanese word

“Carajo…”, you muttered a curse in your native language when you reminded yourself that you forgot your math books.

Sesshomaru turned to look at you with his cold gaze, only this time there was an imperceptible sparkle of curiosity in them, "What?"

“…Nothing”, ohhh- now what were you going to do? the exam would be in four days!

*aaa~ kisses

*kisses with Mr. Pretty can be fun, although sometimes disastrous, pfff-

*for example; once, you two were kissing after you were away longer than expected. Sesshomaru didn't realize it but he bit your lip more than necessary which caused his fangs to draw some blood from you

*he will never admit it

* but feeling the taste of your blood in his mouth disgusted him and scared him a little, although he obviously didn't show it

*meanwhile you were deciding if you liked what happened

*because

*that was hot-

*anyways!

*his kisses can be soft and rough at times

*there really isn't a middle ground

*in case you're wondering, his favorite part to kiss is your neck and shoulder

*kisses on the neck for Sesshomaru have a very deep meaning, more than you might think

*this is because among the Inuyokai clan the neck is a very intimate and delicate place that is dedicated to being kissed and cared for only between a couple

*a kiss on the neck is the same as "I love you" in the human dialect, literally

*shoulder kisses is more something he enjoys doing

*you see, your shoulders look so delicate and soft between his big demon hands that he can't help but kiss them when the situation allows him to.

.

.

.

*in general mr. pretty demon who has a castle in the sky that will take care of you and think that you are the most beautiful in the whole universe even when you are hunched over and have a hard time eating solid food while he tries to understand what you say sometimes, pff-

I want to write about Sesshomaru trying fast food or instant noodles with his partner soooo bad 😩 but I need to study for my exams aaaa-

rebloggg plss

[nexstage]

Stars and Pyramids AU

Planning a new life

The first time Mabel saw someone shaking hands with Bill Cipher was during her first summer in Gravity Falls. Gideon, who had become an obsessive, callous jerk, somehow possessed the knowledge to summon the dream demon, and after doing it, made a deal with him to take over the shack.

Thank goodness they stopped him. Then, Dipper made a deal with Bill because she didn’t help him decipher the password of the old laptop they’d found. The contents of the note still sent shivers to her core due to how close she was to losing her brother. Which reminds her of the fire covering her pinky and Bill’s as they sealed the deal.

She had made a deal just like Gideon and Dipper. Did that make her a bad person?

But wait, Gideon did it because he was a greedy jerk. Dipper, because he was desperate and she didn’t help him due to the play to impress Gabe. What was the point of this deal? Helping Bill and his friends to escape a dying dimension; however, was that as bad as Gideon’s purpose or worse?

“Ehem, hello~? Earth to Shooting Star? Have you lost your mind already? I mean, great for you. The more madness, the better but let’s postpone the chaos party until we are out of this place.” Bill’s voice was the final hit that broke the ice of surrealist shock as she slowly accepted that yes, this was real. Bill reached out to her for help. Bill was desperate enough to ask for her help. They had made a deal already.

“…I… I made a deal with Bill Cipher!”

“Wow, kid. Thank you for the surprise. I know I wow you just like anybody else but trust me you’re not the first nor the last one. I can even tell you some dirty family secrets in exchange for another deal.”

Welp, now that reminded her why she must step up in her new role. “Whatever they are, I’m sure they’re lies. We must think of a way to get you all out of here. Any ideas?”

Oh, he had some. His mind traveled back to the many attempts to get the Rift out of Sixer’s hands only for his former pet to outsmart him every. Single. Time! His damn paranoia had leveled up each one of the defense mechanisms of the shack. Much worse, even if had deceived Shooting Star to lead him to the shack while he possessed Blendin, Stanford would’ve suspected the sudden appearance of a time police officer asking for the rift. Then he would’ve tackled him, shown the yellow eyes to everyone, and then shot the buffoon in the head.

What an irony, uh? That of all the people he was asking for help it had to be the same person who, unbeknownst to them, had ruined his plans. Oh well, at least Shooting Star wouldn’t screw this up. He hoped so.

“There are two ways,” He began. This was incredibly risky, saying a truth that he shared with Stanford without the fool knowing it but maybe it would gain him some points with his niece. Honesty points as she’d like to say. “One of them is in the hands of Stanford. He’s protecting with nails and teeth so it’s impossible to reach it. The other way is…a biiiiiiit controversial” ‘More like you’ll hate it because I did that to your brother’

“What is Grunkle Ford protecting?”

Ok, this might either push her more into his side or blow up in his face. “After he was brought back from the multiverse, a bit of the other side -that is, what was on the other side of the portal- was poured into your world. It’s like a little floaty mass of space and, to prevent its expansion, Stanford built a snow globe-shaped device to contain it. I called it the Rift; heck, I bet Sixer had the same idea. Anyway, he and I weren’t the only ones who know about this, your brother does too.”

Mabel’s eyes almost popped out of her sockets. “Dipper was told about it? Why didn’t he tell me anything?”

Bill laughed both cruelly and bitterly. “Welcome to the club of being wronged by Stanford Pines, kid! I mean, you think just because you inadvertently helped in bringing him back, he would be cool with you as much as he is with Pine Tree? Pffft, fat chance. Favoritism is the same as calculating pros and cons for him. And you don’t even wanna know how much he projects into you and your brother just because he can’t speak like a normal guy with Stanley for five seconds.”

He feigned watching his non-existent nails, peeking subtly at the teenager as his words penetrated her psyche. They were aware of what happened back then; what he said landed her into uncomfortable, painful memories. Memories she pushed away every time she was asked about Dipper, about his whereabouts and what he was doing.

She had to make up a convincing story for her classmates as Ford’s comment ‘Isn’t it suffocating?’ echoed in her head whenever she remembered Dipper’s choice of staying in Gravity Falls.

It didn’t get better with their parents’ divorce. They were so wrapped up in their own issues and staying as far away from each other as ever that Dipper being in Oregon barely elicited a reaction from them.

As the silence stretched, Bill glanced at Mabel wondering if maybe his movement might have hit a bit too hard. His suspicions were confirmed as the teenager bit her lower lip, holding back tears. He’d better put a stop on that or they’d be here forever.

“Hey, come on, Shooting Star. Cheer up!” One of his fingers lifted her chin softly. “So, Sixer thinks you’re not good enough, so what? It’s not that he’s better. I mean, the portal, where did it come from? His head? Nope! From mine. I gave him lots of ideas and an infinite well of knowledge.” Hey smirked in his usual salesman persona. “I can do the same for you.”

“…Cramming books and nerd stuff into my head?” She cringed at her response.

“If that’s what you want, sure. However, first, we need to find a solution to my relocation issue.”

The sadness in her eyes was replaced by determination as she recalled what she’d asked him moments ago. “You’re right. Well, the Rift is not useful if we can’t get closer to it, and I don’t want to get in trouble with…Grunkle Ford,” she mentioned his name almost inaudibly. “What’s the other way?”

This might get explosive. “…The other way, is that I possess some—“

“Oh no, you won’t! You even planned to throw my brother’s body from the water tower!!” Brilliant, she had to keep that in mind. Maybe the note was overdoing it although it was fun.

“I’m sorry, kid, but those are all the options I have. No wait, there is also building me a new portal but that would take lots of time, a huge brain, and going to Gravity Falls which may attract Stanford to our hideout, and bam! Demon hunting will be on the go!”

A lightbulb flashed inside Mabel’s head. “What about inanimate objects? Like action figurines or dolls?”

“Kid, that’s a great idea!” She smiled. “If you want to use me as your piece of entertainment on Halloween, which nope. I’m the host and soul of the party, not the clown!” She frowned.

“But can’t you make your own persona? You know, like a body to possess? Much better than taking over someone’s body.”

Bill’s eye twinkle in delight. “You are more clever than I expected, Shooting Star. Yes, there are some spells to create a body of any kind. Flesh and blood, crystal, rock, lava, you name it. But it needs some stuff: a place filled with magic or supernatural energy, specific runes, the vital force of the user of the spell, and a clear image of how the body will look. And seeing that we’ll also possess those vessels, the first spell must be connected to one of permanent linking.”

“Linking?”

“Possessing a body is different than to be linked to one made on your own. By linking yourself to a vessel, you make it your new body.”

“And what will happen with the old one? Does that mean you won’t be a triangle anymore?” Suddenly, a huge realization hit her. If Bill created a human body to inhabit, would that mean he wouldn’t have his powers anymore? Or would they be weakened? Weakened or non-existent, such an event reduced the danger of having him on Earth. And if the same happened to his friends, much better!

Bill, on the other hand, didn’t like where this was going. While escaping the void hadn’t left his mind, becoming a lesser being, powerless and vulnerable, made him gag. How could he keep taking advantage of idiots with his deals if he didn’t inflict fear on them or make a stellar first impression? His original form had everything he needed. Power, immortality, no need to eat, sleep, or even breathe. The whole jackpot!

Sure, he loved the sensations whenever he possessed someone but it was way more convenient than having a body on his own that couldn’t take a single hit. Humans were experts on fragility so what was the point of a body so squishy? Even jellyfish handle pain better than them!

He bet, no no, it was clear as water that Shooting Star might want to take advantage of such detail. Having Bill as Bill put a damper on her lame concept of “safety”; having him as a human would put both on the same level. As equals! Eugh! First dead than that!

‘Not if I keep some key details of the ritual secret from her though’, Bill contained his glee at the idea. Shooting Star wanted to help him be a human. Sure why not? But his new body would be created on his terms.

“Welp, kid, I think we have a plan in mind, don’t we? But if we want it to be successful, I must guide you through everything.”

“How? We can only communicate through dreams. And no, I won’t let you possess anyone.”

“Didn’t you mention dolls? I can use one of them and from there we can handle the rest.”

“Can I do it even if I’m not in Gravity Falls?”

“Unless you have some specific runes connected to the vessel, you can’t. Your home is too weak in magic standards, although it’s not impossible, there must be no one when we do this or we’re bust.”

“I’ll make you a plushie,” Uh, what? “You need to give me the runes, I’ll write them on paper and put them inside it. Then you can possess it.” Not bad.

“It has to look like me. If you color it green or whatever, I’ll burn your house.”

“You won’t. You’ll be a plushie,” She said it so confidently Bill would’ve been impressed if it weren’t for the slight anger and annoyance at her bluff.

“Put all your attention to this, Shooting Star. The runes must be written perfectly and in the next order.” He raised his hands, blue fire erupting from them, summoning a ball of azure flames that took the shape of strange symbols.

As Mabel memorized each rune, a part of her unconsciously wondered if Ford and Dipper knew about these symbols, if this was another lesson only they shared between them, or if she had been chosen to be told about spells and magic so ancient, so mysterious than not even her uncle could understand.

[coolattas]

thinking about lucretia adventurezone and grinding my teeth down to the gums because holy fuck dude. holy shit. she was impossibly, horribly young on the starblaster. three hops and a jump from being a fucking baby. the two-sunned planet is devoured by the hunger in the same year that she graduates from high school. she is easily the youngest of the birds, even considering the differing rates of aging amongst the rest of the crew. teenaged astrophysicist, wizard, author, artist, without ties solid enough back home to keep her from the starblaster's maiden voyage. she writes and rewrites every moment she can wring from her memories into enough notebooks that it's damn near arthritis-inducing to step within 50 feet of the stacks upon stacks of field notes, of detailed accounts and gentle, domestic benignity. she loves and she loses and it still can't ever prepare her for the next decade. a century dwarfs the time she spends alone running the bureau, but the sheer magnitude of her loss is incomparable. lucretia learns to live in the stolen century, learns to rely on others, learns to trust and care and laugh and build, create, sacrifice, indulge. she pries these things away from herself in the name of a greater good, to what she believes to be their only hope. she sees the agony they're in, and she inadvertently compounds that anguish when she tries to fix it. she is 18 and 118 when she feeds fisher her journals. she is 30 and 130 and 50 and 150 when taako holds a staff to her chest and counts down like it means anything to her anymore that she dies. maybe it's atonement, but even that sounds far too holy a word to describe it. her brother grips her life in his hands, and she thinks it's only fair that he is the one to soundly smother it at last. the lonely journal-keeper is so young and so impossibly old and she is so, so tired. her family will outlive her by centuries. she will be a fine powder, dust beneath the crust of the planet, long before she believes their forgiveness will ever be known. if that day comes at all. everything she has ever done is soured by a guilt so weighty that she spends every day trying to play damage control with the havoc she feels solely responsible for having wrought. she lives within the confines of dichotomy, of red and blue and good and bad, even when she knows she's lying through her teeth, because its easier to live with herself (it's not) when she justifies it, when everyone else lives and dies by the idea that she got it right. she spends 12 years alone, sitting in the thick of her own grief. she mourns men who are right in front of her face. she sees the way they have changed, so fundamentally, sees the ways her choices have ruined them. 12 years is such a long time to be alone. 12 fucking years. she ages 32 in the same span, shedding decades in wonderland in the blink of an eye, and she knows she's running out of time. she's willing to give up whatever she has left, without question. lucretia loves so fiercely and so unquestionably and still she believes herself to be irredeemably cruel when really she was just so scared, tethered to any sense of hope only by the idea that she was doing right by her family. in a position that no one should have to be in, a situation that virtually no one else could truly understand. she was so young and she suffered so, so much. more than any person should. she is flawed but she is not the monster she convinces herself she has become. lucretia adventurezone they could never make me hate you lets kiss on the mouth ok?

[otomehonyaku]

Diabolik Lovers Lost Eden Stellaworth Tokuten Short Stories スペシャル特典小冊子 ☽ Ruki ver.

This short story booklet was part of the Stellaworth set for Lost Eden! Keep reading below the cut for Ruki's version. Yuma's, Kou's, and Azusa's are coming soon!

S ☽ [Ayato’s version by @kyouxa] [Laito’s version by @kyouxa] [Shuu’s version] [Reiji’s version] [Kanato’s version] [Subaru’s version]

M ☽ [Ruki’s version] [Yuma's version] [Kou’s version] [Azusa’s version]

TK ☽ [Carla’s version] [Shin’s version] [Kino’s version]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As always, special thanks to @karleksmumskladdkaka for providing the scans ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When I think about it, I have rarely been alone since those three became my brothers. It is not that we spent 24 hours a day in each other’s presence, but the fact that I had people to call family again after losing everything eased my loneliness.

I wonder if that’s the reason why I am still genuinely not used to not being in the pictures that my brothers send us from time to time, even though I don’t really want to admit it.

The one who’d made the suggestion after a while of living together was her.

“Why don’t we send them something back?”

And so the seed was planted.

“If I’m also thinking of sending them pictures, then they must be thinking the same thing at home,” she told me with a smile, “so I’m sure they’ll be happy if we do.”

I knew that she had a point, but there was a certain awkwardness to taking staged pictures with her and sending them to my brothers. I considered flatly rejecting the idea at first because I thought it was embarrassing, but I came around immediately when I remembered the way her face had brightened when she brought it up.

The two of us ran away from the human world. From Kou, Yuma, and Azusa. Ever since she and I started living together in a crumbling Eden, I have begun to realise something–I have become completely beguiled by her. Or, rather, I might have had a soft spot for her since the beginning, but lately, the moments when I dropped my guard around her have increased considerably. Of course, I cannot convince myself to tell her that.

It’s only natural when I consider all we have been through together. To stay behind in Eden even after the war ended, then, was nothing but my own selfish idea. She was under no obligation to join me.

Nevertheless, she has stayed with me all this time, and she has truly helped make the best out of every day. It’s simply impossible not to love her for that, even though I know she had wanted to be by my side from the beginning. 

In all honesty, I am happy. Maybe that’s what has turned me into such a softie, I thought, smiling wryly. I was loath to admit it, but the plain fact that I had found happiness with her was probably the reason why.

“Ruki… Don’t you want to take a picture?” She gazed at me a little nervously. Maybe she thought she had upset me because I had kept quiet.

“No, it’s a good idea. Like you said, I think Kou and the others would love that.”

“Let’s do it, then!”

“Yes, let’s.”

Before I had even finished speaking, she darted out of the room to get the camera. As I watched her run off, I realised my approval might have pleased her more than it would my brothers. My expression inadvertently softened at the thought.

☽

She told me the camera was a gift from Azusa. Come to think of it, the photo album that my brothers had given me a little while ago had also been Azusa’s idea.

“Smile!”

“...Wait.”

I grasped her hand before she could click the shutter.

“What’s the fun in a picture of me by myself? Get over here.”

She hesitated a little, making some foolish suggestions on how we should take our picture, but I ignored her and snaked an arm around her waist. Holding her close to me would make things much easier.

“This way, you’ll be in the frame too,” I whispered into her ear. 

Her shoulders twitched a little as she held her breath, and her ears started to redden. What a hopeless girl. I was sure this was not the side of her she wanted recorded on film for others to see.

If I truly cared for the picture for my brothers, I would have stopped there. However, the feeling of her warm body in my arms was too tempting. I decided to tease her a little more. I leaned down to whisper in her ear again, closer than before. 

“Save that face for later tonight.”

Her voice quivered as she whispered my name in response... 

Oh, this was bad. I wish I could say that I truly intended to leave it at teasing, but my body was acting on its own.

Sorry, Kou, Yuma, Azusa–you will have to wait for the picture a little longer.

However, when she understood that I wanted to take the camera from her, she spoke.

“But… we really are going to send them a picture, right?” So, let’s actually take a proper picture. Her unspoken words lingered in the air. She had gotten more perceptive recently.

“...Of course. Let’s continue this tonight, then.”

I let out a heavy sigh. 

I really had been going soft, but it could not be helped. Especially not around my lovely wife.

[askinkiskarma]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ɪx - ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

pairing: neteyam x omatikaya!reader

➽ a/n: this turned out a lot fluffier than intended, but i think i'm smutted-out and i'm one prompt away from starting to make these angsty hahahahahah. anyway, i hope you enjoy xx love u besties, smooches 🤍

➽ words: >700 words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them.

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

The loud booming melodies of the Omaticaya flutes and drums were etching like a beautiful pattern into the air surrounding you, filling you with happiness and euphoric bliss as you swayed gracefully on Neteyam’s lap. You loved nights like these, full of music and celebration, full of conversation and laughter, full with all of the things you felt you lost when the Sky People returned. You felt lightheaded, like you were mindlessly floating through the clouds above, and you now believed your mother about all the times she’s warned you about excessive consumption of the heady concoction she called “liquid courage”. The name was apt, too apt, making you do things you normally wouldn’t have even considered, like getting close and personal with the man you’ve desired and dreamt about for as long as you were old enough to…well, notice people in that way. Neteyam was beautiful and strong, courageous and empathetic, smart and sensible. He was a family man, the best new generation warrior in the village, known among numerous Pandoran clans for all the qualities that he possessed, qualities that seemed never-ending and made him, on one hand, too good to be true, and on the other, incredibly intimidating to talk to. 

But not tonight. Tonight, you talked and the alcohol made you calm enough to be able to look into his eyes, it made you brave enough to respond to his quick-witted conversational remarks, it made you open enough to let your natural charm and comicality shine through, which you were grateful for. All of a sudden, he wasn’t NETEYAM anymore, big, scary, capital-lettered Neteyam, he was just… Neteyam, the boy you’ve known all your life, that’s watched you grow up, that gave you your first handmade arrow and taught you how to shoot it. It got so cozy, so quickly, that you somehow found yourself nestled in his lap, humming peacefully alongside the singers providing the entertainment for the evening. 

There was a downside to the fermented juice that made your head all funny, though, and you were feeling it now, intense and overwhelming and impossible to ignore - there was heat in your womb, fiery and intoxicating, manifesting itself in the oddest of ways, in ways that made something that started off innocent and ended up in this, thoughts that told you that the way he was bouncing his leg to the beat of the drum felt good, too good, so good you needed to ride this feeling, see it through, allow it to wash over you and through you. You were happy the atmosphere was so electric and so loud, drowning the inadvertent moan you let out when his muscular, taut, azure thigh hit a particular spot that made you throb in ache, the emptiness in you begging to be filled, calling for him like a siren to a lost sailor. 

Beads of sweat, facilitated by a racing heartbeat and rushed inhales were gathering on your forehead as he continued the rhythmic, saccadic movement, almost as if he could tell what it did to you, as if he wanted you to feel this way, for him, because of him. You wondered fleetingly if it looked weird to any oblivious onlooker, if the way you started swaying your hips on his thighs to get some of the relief you desperately craved was normal in these circumstances - either way, people were too busy with their own celebration to focus too heavily on yours, and the best thing about alcohol, as it turns out, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

Your mind cleared momentarily with the breath hitched in your throat as his mouth found your ear, the smirk in his tone obvious even to your turned back, his voice velvet smooth and enticing, whispered and taunting. 

“You’re dripping all over my thigh, paskalin. Let go for me, let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

Your mother warned you about excessive consumption of the stuff she called “liquid courage”. She, however, was remised in warning you about something much more dangerous, much more additive - a beautiful overachieving blue boy with a dirty mouth and a desire to please, who’s had a crush on you since the moment he carved that arrow for you when you were young.

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon

[olderthannetfic]

I found myself rereading an old discussion about AO3 commenting culture (ye olde "Authors aren't owed comments" vs. "Readers aren't owed fic either" wank). And you know, it strikes me that a lot of the drama in such discussions is rooted in the fact that people only ever seem to engage with the worst things the opposite side says. And of course that leads to miscommunication, because the extremes are not generally applicable to most people.

Like, for instance. Someone going "I comment so regularly I practically gave myself burn-out commenting". Authors complaining about people who act entitled to stories aren't talking about you, I promise. They're talking about people who genuinely can't be bothered or go on flippant "Why don't you just write for yourself?" rants, while still enjoying other people's work. Ditto on the other side: people get offended at being called entitled authors, but odds are good the person isn't referring to you, who would simply like to not shout into the void, odds are good they're referring to the asshole authors they've met who'd throw hissy hits over comments that weren't phrased exactly to their liking, because yes, people like that do exist so it's simply flat out wrong to say "Just comment, authors are always happy to see comments, no matter how short! :)"

Also, a particular comment jumped out at me:

"It's not a consumer's job to compliment a promote an artist's work"

I generally agree that acting like people are owed comments is useless and stupid, but if I had to pick a phrasing that sums up my misgivings about common commenting culture, it's this. So many people seem to act like authors are getting a paycheck for this and don't need any additional motivator.

The other thing that bugs me is when people talk about all the reasons they don't comment (low spoons, anxiety, tired, etc.), but ignore the fact that authors have to deal with all of the above, too. And not just in fanfic. It seems any time there's any kind of social conflict being discussed (like, say, replying to a friend's messages in a vaguely timely manner) a ton of people will trot out excuses for why they can't do [insert what's generally seen as the vaguely courteous thing to do], but inadvertently act like that makes them special and like they're the only ones who have these legitimately valid excuses.

This started in one place and led to another, sorry. I guess I'm just frustrated with the Tumblr mental health culture of "I have a semi-specific reason I struggle with this so I'm not even going to try". I think people overcompensate too much for "Just don't be disabled!"-style ableism and swing too hard in the embraced helplessness direction.

Back to fanfic, every time I see the "I can't do it because of X" thing in the context of commenting, I can't help but think of how many authors also deal with depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, low spoons, etc. and how easy it would have been for them to give up, but they got through it and posted the fanfic anyway, and how often they're then met with silence because the prevailing attitude among their audience is e.g. "I read this before bed and was too sleepy to comment, and too forgetful to comment the next day". I think about some of the fic I've written, often fic written when I maybe should have been doing something else, or fic written at the cost of sleep, or hyperfixating at my keyboard for six hours instead of going for a nice hike with my family, and it's hard not to get a little bitter, you know? Talking about legitimate reasons for why commenting is hard just so often comes across as "You're free to make sacrifices to write the stuff I read, but I won't make any"

I also feel a bit bitter that it's impossible to even discuss these things in a vacuum without someone going "Discussions like this are why I've stopped commenting", as someone inevitably will in the notes of this post. "Just shut up and make your Content(TM) and don't complain about anything", is what it feels like.

--

The entire phrasing of reward and owing is stupid.

The reality is that lots of people won't produce work unless they feel like someone cares. No amount of moralizing or excuses will change that.

It's also the reality that posting to the masses on AO3 or tumblr will result in maybe one like or other interaction per hundred hits if you're really, really lucky. The rate has never been much better than that, and it never will be. It's often very much worse.

If one personally wants to encourage people, sure, go out and do that, but any call to action that ignores the above two realities is like fighting the tide.

I do think "It's not my job to promote you" typically comes up in the context of meltdowns about letting artists "languish in your likes" instead of being reblogged onto your actual blog and/or contexts where the artist/author/etc. is selling their work.

Here's the thing: people who never comment do not count.

They think they're part of a community. They're not. If you don't participate, you're a ghost.

When some author moves to a more enclosed space, a lot of people who saw themselves as part of something are suddenly left out in the cold, wondering why. But the fact is, if you don't pay the entry fee of socializing with others, you're nobody to them.

The entitled randos don't matter. If they bug you enough, take your toys and retreat to a discord with your friends.

[samthecookielord]

(Intro) - (Previous) - (Next)

Jesse: "Radar...?"

Radar doesn’t have any words.

He stands up, getting out of Jesse’s grasp. He’s tense, and he’s staring forward, still trying to process what just happened. It seems like he’s holding his breath for an uncomfortable amount of time. He runs off in the middle of the night.

He doesn’t look back.

? Radar will never forget that.

(art by @owo-whats-bliss ! There is also art by me under the cut, and the next poll)

Radar doesn’t tell their friends about what happened that night, and even if Jesse wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to be coherent about it. Their friends don’t see Radar during the day much, and Jesse always changes the topic when prompted, waving it off with some excuse or another. They eventually inform their friends of their new abilities, as it’s now impossible to hide. Their eyes have begun to glow just as Romeo’s did. All of Beacontown eventually realize this too. 

Radar does try to be normal about dying traumatically! He even tries to hang out with Jesse and pretend everything is fine! It’s… very awkward though. After some time, the two avoid each other for their own comfort.

Jesse: You don't- you don't have t- Radar: No it's fine! I'm plenty brave Radar: I mean- not that there's any need to be brave, what is there to be afraid of? Radar: Just you and me hanging out Radar: Being… friends Jesse: ... Jesse: I don't feel like this is the right call

Jesse does their best to learn and utilize these powers safely, but without any kind of guide, and without Radar - the best person to create such a thing - it’s extremely difficult. They inadvertently cause a noteworthy amount of damage, potentially including just moving a house thousands of blocks away and prompting the owners to go on a search for it. Their friends also catch them spawning a bunch of pigs in an attempt to bring Reuben back. It doesn’t work.

Just imagine like a long montage of mishaps okay. Like if a slice of life was horrifying.

The player is still given choices and prompts, but the options are scrambled, and Jesse never does what any of them were anyway. Their friends try to help, and Petra even catches wind of something strange going on in Beacontown (hard to not notice random blocks appearing and dissapearing above town from far away. And also whatever the heck Jesse is doing to the weather and daylight cycle by accident), and takes an early break away from her adventure to check in on Jesse.

But the more they mess up, the worse they feel... and the worse things get. The citizens of Beacontown are now more afraid of Jesse than they were before, as now it’s actually them doing these things.

Things come to a head when Jesse actually does manage to do something helpful. Something small, borderline inconsequential, like getting a cat out of a tree. Despite this success, the citizens still back away in fear of them. Jesse comes to the conclusion that continuing to stay in Beacontown will only make things worse, and that this cannot be fixed, at least not by them.

Jesse leaves a note at one of their friends’ homes, saying that they’re going somewhere far from the town for them to safely practice using their powers, so there's no need to worry about them.

They take off in the middle of the night.

...

(This choice will matter)

[profoundbondfanfic]

hi there just wondering what is the angstiest fics you guys have collectively read? I’m in search for the angstiest angst to ever angst

Hey there, sorry for the delay, but here are a few of our fav angstiest fics!

A Complete Kingdom by komodobits [Explicit, 85k words] #major character death

The sea; it swallows me. It comes up to my knees and it swallows me. The boys owe Jody a few dozen favours, and so when her niece goes missing near an old fishing village on the coast of Maine, Dean, Sam, and a newly human Castiel agree to take the case on. They settle into an old abandoned lighthouse-keepers' cottage, and slowly the tide comes in. (post-s8)

Angels Don't Fear the Reaper by you-cant-spell-subtext-without (ayreisha) [Mature, 144k words] #angst with a happy ending

"When his eyes first open, there is nothing but darkness. Not the velvety, deep black of night, but the steely, thin murk of nothingness. Of cold. Of death. Of Death. Somehow, it feels like coming home."

Every Part of the Animal by Askance (doomcountry), komodobits [Mature, 47k words] #major character death

It’s their first case after the Trials, after Heaven has collapsed: playing back-up to another team of hunters taking out some werewolves in the mountains. It's a routine job, an easy job - at least until the radio goes silent. Sam, Dean, and Cas follow after, but the caves into which the hunters have vanished wind deeper and darker than they could have expected, and something is wrong. Cas can feel it. The Winchesters may not believe what he’s hearing, but there's something down here with them—and it's not the people they came here to find, and it's not the werewolves they've been tracking. It's something else, something older, something violent, and it knows they're here.

Grey by Valinde (Valyria) [Explicit, 65k words] #angst with a happy ending

In a world where people don't see in color until they find their true mate, the first thing Dean sees when he pulls himself out of his grave is the blue sky. When Castiel raised him from the Pit, he inadvertently claimed Dean as his mate.

Man in the Wilderness by OneHundredSuns [Explicit, 68k words] #angst with a happy ending

Dean Winchester is fresh out of Purgatory along with every other Tom, Dick and Wendigo that called the cesspool home. As the monsters lay waste to the Earth and eat anything they can get their hands on, Dean sets out to find his only remaining family so that they can hunker down and fight the assholes head on. He doesn’t mean to stumble upon Castiel Novak and his adorable twins in the middle of the apocalypse and he sure as hell doesn’t mean to offer them a ride to wherever they are trying to get to. But the world is a dangerous place now and he’s always been a sucker for blue eyes and cute kids. So he’ll help them out and just hope it doesn’t get him or them killed in the process.

Ninety One Whiskey by komodobits [Explicit, 401k words] #angst with a happy ending

In the spring of 1944, the 104th Medical Battalion of the United States Army is disbanded, and its men reassigned to various infantry companies in preparation for their invasion of occupied France. For First Lieutenant Novak, this is less than helpful, as he has so far met his platoon’s designated medic a grand total of twice, and has both times found Sergeant Winchester to be the optimum combination of reckless, arrogant, and downright insufferable so as to make cohesive platoon function near impossible. When the time comes to move out, however, Castiel has to reconcile himself to the fact that men are going to go down and trust that Dean Winchester may well be the only person who can put them back together again. WW2 ETO infantry AU.

Right Where You Left Me by outdean [Explicit, 93k words] #angst with a happy ending

Ten years after the empty swallows Cas up, it spits him right back out—but a lot can change in a decade. OR The "Cas comes back from the empty to find that Dean is married" fic.

The Benjamin Franklin Key-and-Kite Experiment by beerenee [Explicit, 122k words] #angst with a happy ending

“Thank you for stopping by, Dean,” Emmanuel says, holding out the jacket. “I hope to see you in church on Sunday.” The tips of Dean’s fingers accidentally brush over the back of Emmanuel’s hand when he reaches for the jacket. “Probably not,” Dean laughs as he pulls Dad’s jacket around him. “Like I said before, I’m not exactly a believer. You?” Emmanuel doesn’t answer immediately. Then, without really looking at Dean (more like looking through him,) he whispers, “I will be.” Or 1.12 but Dean's faith healer is Emmanuel!Cas

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (doomcountry) [Teen, 31k words] #unhappy ending

Almost two years after the world doesn't end, Castiel falls from grace—and loses his voice in the process. It is the impetus for confession and change; before long, he is settling into a loving relationship with Dean, the Winchesters are tired, and hunting for a place to land has taken precedence to hunting anything else. Dean and Castiel fall in love with the strange little house on the end of Swallowtail Drive, and for a little while life is as it should be—sweet, affectionate, and beginning afresh. But more and more Castiel sees and hears things in the house that beg the question of whether or not a place itself can be alive. The walls and rooms seem to shift and grow and breathe, and one night, Dean comes home from a hunt changed in a way that Castiel cannot explain. In the months that follow, their domestic bliss takes turns for the dark and sour, and the confusion of their circumstances will ultimately test everything Castiel knows about the man he loves, and everything he believes to be true.

The walk by Persephoneshadow [Explicit, 196k words] #angst with a happy ending

Dean's been living on the streets and turning tricks for a while. Most of the time clients just find him. After a job goes wrong he goes looking for work and finds more than he expected with a married man of faith with blue eyes and a trench coat.

To build a Home by intothesilentland [Mature, 383k words] #angst with a happy ending

Twenty-three years of head-over-heels, devastating devotion and love, love, love for the man with bright eyes and dark hair. Fourteen years of friends, best friends, of always together. One moment of rejection. Nine years of apart. Nine years of heartbreak, nine years of continents away, of not speaking, of no acknowledgement, no interaction, no closure, no peace. No happiness. Nine years of Dean’s life entering motions, going through them, constant, cold and mechanic, like clockwork. Nine years of alone. God. Nine years. A lot has changed. And yet Dean still loves Cas just the same. Even if his heart hurts all kinds of different. On the day of Jimmy Novak’s funeral, Dean sees Cas for the first time in nine years. He adored Castiel the moment he met him, at only four years old. But after fourteen years of friendship destroyed by one moment of heartbreak, and after nine years of silence, Dean is convinced Cas will want nothing to do with him. And it’s killing him.

Twist and Shout by gabriel, standbyme [Explicit, 97k words] #major character death

What begins as a transforming love between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak in the summer of 1965 quickly derails into something far more tumultuous when Dean is drafted in the Vietnam War. Though the two both voice their relationship is one where saying goodbye is never a real truth, their story becomes fraught with the tragedy of circumstance. In an era where homosexuality was especially vulnerable, Twist and Shout is the story of the love transcending time, returning over and over in its many forms, as faithful as the sea.

What Is Tomorrow Without You by sobsicles [Explicit, 93k words] #angst with a happy ending

Cas is dead, and Dean is living through hell all over again. Experiencing hell as he'd first lived it, Dean aches for peace. When Jack enters his life, it only brings him a purpose. A mission for revenge sends Dean spiraling out of control as Jack does everything in his power to help Dean, going as far as to using his power to let Dean visit Cas where he resides after death. But when Dean depends on these visits and learns a few things about how he truly feels for Cas, the line between what's real and what's not starts to blur. Dealing with grief and his need for revenge, Dean struggles to find a way to get his family back together while also coming to grips that he might have to find a place in a world without Cas in it. Fortunately, Cas comes back, and Dean has to learn to navigate through the life he'd been wanting. But things aren't quite what they seem as their relationship blooms, and Dean realizes he's the reason Cas is slowly changing, and not for the better.

What Used to be Mine by someonetoanyone [Explicit, 48k words] #angst with a happy ending

“There is…” he starts; he licks his lips and glances away; his fingers twitch and fiddle, “... there is one thing she's afraid of. There's one thing strong enough to stop her.” That sounds too good to be true, so Dean waits for the other shoe to drop. It doesn’t take long. Cas at least has the wherewithal to look Dean in the eyes when he says, “when Jack was dying, I made a deal to save him.” ___ a terrible, evil AU that posits; what if the divorce arc was even worse, what if Dean never apologized in Purgatory, and what if Cas internalized all of that, making his ultimate confession less confident, though no less heartfelt, and he died thinking Dean hated him?

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow [Explicit, 352k words] #angst with a happy ending

Hiatus fic set after the S11 finale. Dean's alive, Sam's alive, they're going to get Cas from wherever he got zapped to, and everything's finally gonna be all right. Dean's on top of the world. A little voice in the back of his head is whispering "It's never that easy," but Dean ignores it.