#would it make more sense then? perhaps.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about Wade just... being normal(?) For a day. Doing house hold chores, watching shitty live tv, goes out to walk Puppins, showering with no smart remarks.

Yes, he still hums and taps on stuff, but it's much.. calmer.. now. In the sense that he doesn't want to cause a scene and would rather just be left alone right now.

But then... when he gets out. Surely he's going to be his silly self and say something, right?? Right???? Wrong.

He just... sits there. Boredly looking at those free magazines that you find sometimes at doctors' offices. The ones that are like "Home improvment for your loved one with dementia" or "50 dinner ideas for someone with diabetes"

Logan just blinks after watching him all day and goes "...Are you okay?"

Without a beat, he awnsers pretty monotoned. "I can't be manic all the time. That's just stupid to think." Before realizing he said it outloud. He perks up and starts laughing. "I mean- Yeah I'm great! What about you, Tiger?"

Again Logan just stares, blinking some as he tries to process.

"....How long have you kept up that act..?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, pumpkin!" It was like watching someone trying to impersonate themsleves.

"....Wade.."

"What is it cupcake?"

"...You don't have to do that."

"Do what? Gosh your so silly. My silly little sunflower."

Logan just stares at him for a bit more and quickly he panics, swallowing and starting to say anything he can to make him believe it was a joke but he dosn't believe a single word of it.

"...its not an act.. is it?"

It eventually ends with wade running out of excuses or things to lie about. He sits there, tears starting to run down his face as he thinks of words to say. You can see just how desperate he is to say something but he can't seem to get it out.

"..I....I-i."

"I know."

Wade just looks at him with this big scared eyes as if he was about to accuse him of faking or telling him he liked this wade better or something terrible like asking how to keep him this way but Logan pulls him into a side hug.

"...are you okay?"

His throat tightens, shaking his head. "..no."

"That's okay." Turning to give him an actual hug, Wade cries. Not because he's sad though. But because to Logan, it doesn't matter how high or low he was on the chart, who he was or how he acted. He loves him. He understands that acting like a crazy childish phycopath isn't a mask but rather who he was sometimes. And sometimes he prefered to silently lay his head on his shoulder.

Eventually Logan asks him if he has a personality disorder and Wade just shrugs. "Probably.... is that an issue..?"

"No.... do you want diagnosed?"

Wade pauses, remembers the last time he asked for medical help and shakes his head. "Nah... I'm good.. besides. I've come to like him."

"How long has he been in there?" Logan playfully knocks on his head and wade giggles a bit. A genuine true laugh. "I don't know. Probably forever.... are you sure it's not a problem?" He bites his tounge, waiting for the "because I like him better" but it never came.

"Why would that be a problem? Sure, you're a pain the ass but you're my pain in the ass." He says, mindlessly sitting for a second before quickly saying "DON'T-"

As wade is on the brink of explosion from laughter and some smirky comments.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[bitterseaproduction]

The Hobbit’s official movie books really push the original timeline as the film one (despite 0 aging of characters in flashbacks pfft) BUT they also present Balin as the most ‘aged’ of the Company in both appearance and description at 178, despite Thorin — visibly far younger — being 17 years older than him.

It’s a conundrum, but I got an idea when I noticed Dwalin in the books supposedly lives to 340, even though a dwarf living to just 300 is supposed to be as rare as a human making it to 100! There’s been arguments that that was just a ‘typo’ on Tolkien’s part, but what if it wasn’t? What if we roll with that? Dwalin did look shockingly younger than Balin even though he’s just 9 years younger! That’s just 3 if you take it in human years!

So, using that 340 as inspiration and a base line, what if we say the direct line of Durin the Deathless plus the occasional offshoot like Dwalin just age slower than the typical dwarf? That their max baseline is closer to 300-350 or even 350-400 versus the usual 250-300? Because, if we go with, say, 400 as Thorin’s base max, suddenly we go from ‘Thorin should look older than Balin’ to ‘he’s in the human equivalent of his late 40s,’ and that seems much closer to the slightly aged up Richard Armitage we got in movies, doesn’t it?

This would also mean Thorin IS older than Balin despite their dynamic, but hey—sometimes your younger cousin is just wiser than you. 😂

[lycantropy14]

what's wrong? aren't you coming?

[freetobeeyouandme]

The thing about the Mindflayer lore in ST is that everything keeps contradicting itself. The First Shadow is apparently like "The Mindflayer possess Henry, it's an evil alien, it's in charge, Henry is just a pawn." and that makes sense with Dustin's S4 comment that Henry's the "five star general opening gates for it"...except Henry tells El/Nancy that he shaped the MF into the spider creature we know it as, and we know it actually does look like that from Will, so that seems to be true? And then Will says it's weird to know that the whole time it has been Henry that he's felt....as if he agrees with what he's been told by El/Nancy/the others and as if that suddenly makes things make sense?

And sure maybe the MF wants Henry to think he is in charge and Will might not be able to identify the thing he's been feeling and so simply believes when he's told that was Henry. After all they did make a point of how Dustin is usually right and has a knack for conceptualizing the supernatural (except Dustin keeps getting undermined by Steve who is right also. Dustin and Robin crack the code but Steve figures out the Russians broadcast from Hawkins, Dustin says he knows where Skull Rock is, but Steve leads them there, Dustin calls Steve stupid for suggesting Vecna is a vampire but he's right Vecna is a vampiric figure!)

But then why introduce Henry at all, when in S3 the MF already had personal beef with El and it was implied (or at least I interepreted it that way back then) that it was because she foiled its plans and closed the gate on it in S2. Then S4 goes actually maybe that was the moment Henry realized he was dealing with El and that whole thing was because of what happened in the lab back then. So what is the point of the Mindflayer?

Especially when in S1/2 the Mindflayer/Demogorgon/hivemind aren't being portrayed as evil aliens but as alien animals? Like yeah the demogorgon is a vicious predator but it's being compared to a shark, Jancy lure it with blood, it's hunting! And then in S2 they make a point of how the Lab is hurting the gate by burning it to keep it from spreading and so the hivemind burrows underground and then when Will is possessed and sends those soldiers to their death he says it was because they were hurting the hivemind (i don't remember if he says "it" "him" or "us", but the point stands). And Dustin is able to form a bond with Dart because that's just an animal! If you treat it kindly it will not attack you!

So it's like, who is in charge, Henry or the Mindflayer? Who is being used? What even is the Mindflayer like we're still not sure on that, are we?

Anyway I think I might just give up and say it's both and neither. Try to make sense of that

[sskk-manifesto]

Well, that is only if Fitzgerald has an endless stockpile of Q-specific dolls

[jay-wasreblogging]

Headcanon take on John's gambling habit + Sherlock keeping his cheque-book

This adaptation's John Watson doesn't seem like the bloke to start splurging at the casino but rather a John Watson that starts to spend his money recklessly on lots of things (branded food, better hygiene products etc) that builds up overtime which then leads to Sherlock taking control of Watson's personal finances.

Like Sherlock would unlink the tap&pay, uninstall the bank app from Watson's phone, then install it onto his own phone to keep track of everything - making sure to change the lock pin so Watson can't reinstall and sign back in (because then he could put back up his card for tap&pay).

Of course Sherlock gives the physical card/s to Mariana as she's a very financially responsible adult (who does NOT buy illegal firearms off the streets) as evident in being the business all-rounder, so every time John needs something he has to go to her for it.

[dwtdog]

One of the things that I disliked when I got in this crazy fandom was how much people hated that dnf queerbaited (dumb and real people do not qb) and then the q.sm.p and every other smp do have queer relationships and good for them. But people hating on dnf then praising Phil for being shipped with another man.... Like why the hypocrisy

ATE

[longagoitwastuesday]

I have learnt things about Geto that I wish I could unlearn

[arainaizevran]

what if i told you... there was never any upper city "content" in the first place...

[sharper-than-a-serpents-tooth]

from my fandom perspective I don't understand why diehard Athy fans never wrote fics where Jennette was disgustigly in love with Athy and gets punished for it. It just fits the common trope often seen in fanfics that everyone has to love/desire the heroine even the villain and it could serve as another excuse to make Jennette villainous by twisting her pure feelings for Athy into something else

[excelsior9173]

i think one of my favourite things about the sleep token fandom is the general consensus* to discuss and portray sleep as feminine

like the band has been consistently posting for years that sleep is “him” and use male terms and yet. like “and now he rests” things like that. the old tweets used to be a lot about “praise Him”

it’s really neat to me to see the different way of interpreting the lore/music

*(edit: consensus among the circles i run in fandom-wise)

[get-back-homeward]

Stage Play: My Old Friend

i've been here more than 2 years now and gone deep into the tags a decade back. but i've never seen anything about Two of Us 2.0: My Old Friend, a stage play by Stephen Larsen imagining a final meeting with John and Paul on November 5, 1980.

here's the summary:

The play begins on November 5, 1980. John Lennon, alone in his apartment at the Dakota in New York City, is at a crossroads. He has been having recurring dreams of death and is ready to make big changes in his life, that is if he can summon up the courage. Just then, who should appear, unannounced at his door but Paul McCartney.  The two haven't seen each other for about four years.  John is both glad and a bit wary at the sudden appearance of his old friend.  Can they mend fences? Can they come together? Or they forever doomed to be bound by the strands and complications of their shared history?

here’s a copy of the script.

it packs a lot of bug lore into a few acts (probably too much for a general audience) and leans a bit exposition heavy to fit it into J&P conversation (assumes they haven’t talked most of the decade but then they start bearing souls). the dialogue is an acquired taste, and it commits the Two of Us sin of making paul more normal for the sake of plot and using him to talk through to john. it also leans into very dark territory by the end (tarot reading with jayne mansfield among other things), which is probably tough even for devoted fans.

but it notably features some very J&P moments complete with goons humor, spontaneous bursting into song, and wild tonal shifts that are very them. it's funny then that the most authentic bits are the ones that make me doubt it could ever be adapted right to the stage. at least not without a devoted group producing it.

would have made a good fanfic though. it's especially poignant after Now and Then's release, even if i am a bit skeptical about the timelines (the idea john and paul didn't see each other for 4 years, that the fall 1980 meeting was out of the blue, time of writing Now and Then, etc.). with the biopics back in discussion, it's worth taking another look at it.

this script was read onstage in holmdel, new jersey in 2018. did anyone attend the script reading?

more importantly, has anything been done with it since?

[bitepilled]

[ CW Nudity, Suggestive, Genderbend/Feminization, Lactation | Full under cut ]

I saw Subject 67 and thought ‘oh I can make that fella a monster girl’ so. I did.

Inspired by that one eyeless concept art of Subject 67. Whether this is a genderbend from the start or the helltaker got girl’d in the process is up to interpretation 😇

[sskk-manifesto]

:)

[toytulini]

if you draw enough monster ocs, when you go back to drawing a human character, it feels like "sameface syndrome" everytime, by virtue of their face being. human.