#I want to reinvent my face entirely

[thebackupsystem]

Can a guy go. One fucking day? Without seeing more shit about his source?

I’m already fucking dying I don’t need to be reminded he’s a shit person on the daily

ᴵ’ᵛᵉ ᵃˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵗᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰᶦᵈᶦⁿᵍ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵈᵃᵈ’ˢ ʷᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵈᵃʸ

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 3)

Part one

Part two

There's SO MUCH excellent meta out there right now, and I'm going to try not to reinvent the wheel too much, but I want to keep going with tying the episodes/ elements up together because on first watch it wasn't entirely clear how everything fit. I also strongly recommend a rewatch, no matter what you felt about the ending... if you need to stop it 10 minutes early, do that, but you pick up so much more the second time around.

So: Maggie and Nina. I spent most of my first watch wondering why we were bothering with them, honestly. Later in the season Nina, and then Maggie and Nina, gave Crowley some insightful advice, but their actual relationship didn't progress despite all the meddling, and the amount of emotional investment BOTH Aziraphale and Crowley had in making them get together was frankly strange.

I started thinking in terms of mirror couples, since that was such a big deal in S1 and that's clearly what they were set up to be, but I made the mistake that all of us made on first watch: that Nina was Crowley and Maggie was Aziraphale. It still wasn't really coming together.

Then I put the psych hat back on and started to think about displacement. Displacement is a defense mechanism, and it consists of satisfying an impulse (usually an unconscious one) with a substitute object. At the beginning of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't really in a good place, and I think on some level they know that. Aziraphale is trying to SHOW Crowley that he wants to take the next step through all the casual touches and phone calls and inviting him in, and feeling frustrated because Crowley doesn't seem to be taking the bait. (I absolutely think that Aziraphale tried to get Crowley to stay with him at the bookshop instead of living in his CAR, and Crowley said no. That's a whole other meta.) Meanwhile, Crowley, I think, is waiting for a Grand Gesture. Where did he go, as soon as Aziraphale brought up trying to get two humans to fall in love? Romantic tropes. Getting caught in the rain under an awning. A dramatic kiss that opens someone's eyes. That's the sort of thing he's always done, right? Big rescues, impassioned pleas on the street, fancy dinners, "give you a lift anywhere you want to go". He's defensive and guarded and unlikely to let someone in unless he's CERTAIN he won't be rejected, and Aziraphale's approaches are just too... quiet. No one's fault, they just don't speak the same language.

Then, they're handed the opportunity to make two humans fall in love, and they're both All In immediately. Look at Crowley's face when he summons the rainstorm. This is HUGE for him. Why? Because of displacement. Look at Aziraphale arranging the ball and being borderline deranged about it. They're both desperate to demonstrate what they think it takes for two people to move past their misunderstandings and fall in love. They can't do it for each other because the stakes are too high, and if either of them shows their cards unequivocally the vulnerability feels life-shattering. They're codependent and terrified of rejection and also, importantly, have no idea what they're doing when it comes to love. "Saw it in a film", Crowley says. Aziraphale's read about it in books. But they have zero practical experience.

Instead of learning to communicate, they try to say what they want to say through the medium of Maggie and Nina, up to and including the questionable moral decision to exert control over people's actions and thoughts during the ball. If I can just make this come out right, they both think, then things between us will be alright too. It HAS to come out right. They're attempting to gain some control over their own lives, over something that feels so overwhelming and shattering they can't look directly at it.

It doesn't come out right. Nina's relationship falls apart, but that doesn't mean she's in love with Maggie. While Crowley's stress-cleaning the bookshop to the music that played when Aziraphale got his books back in 1941 (just fuck me up David Arnold), they come in and tell him so. "I don't understand", says Crowley. Because it should have worked. Why didn't it work?

They tell him, of course. "You need to talk to each other. Say what you're really thinking." But here's the thing about communication: you have to learn it. You need to get the hang of expressing your feelings without blaming your partner, and separating intent from impact, and staying away from getting defensive and lashing out. No one has ever taught Aziraphale and Crowley how to do this. It's like Maggie and Nina put Crowley in front of a loom and asked him to recreate the Bayeux Tapestry. He doesn't have the skills; he's always going to get it wrong, even if he tries his hardest.

And he does try. But that's where Maggie and Nina the mirror couple, rather than Maggie and Nina the displacement relationship or Maggie and Nina the Greek chorus, come in. Aziraphale, as Nina, has just ended an incredibly toxic, invasive relationship with Heaven. A relationship that invaded every facet of his life, isolated him, and prevented him from being close to anyone else. "Rebound mess," Nina says. Aziraphale is a rebound mess. He's transferred the responsibility for his emotional wellness to Crowley. Crowley is the person he calls when he's in trouble, or (and this is key) when he wants to report a clever/ good thing he's done, or when he's bored. (At no point did Crowley reference Aziraphale calling him for a solicitous reason-- another problem.) Crowley is meant to take care of him. He forgets, I think, that Crowley is a person with his own wants and needs, just like Maggie and Nina are people with their own wants and needs who don't appreciate being messed with. (I think things would have been much different had Aziraphale BEEN THERE for Maggie and Nina's talk with Crowley, but he wasn't.)

And Maggie-as-Crowley? Lonely. Behind on rent, at risk of being evicted (it's important to note that Aziraphale saves Maggie from losing her record shop, as he couldn't save Crowley from losing his flat). Pining. Awkward. Revolving around Nina like a planet, to the extent that we don't get much of an impression of her otherwise. They realize, there at the end, that they both need to round themselves out before jumping into a relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley need that too. They need to take time apart and learn to be healthy on their own. Unfortunately they don't have the skills to get to that conclusion in a healthy way, so it all explodes in their faces and everything falls apart.

Aziraphale tries to teach Nina and Maggie to dance as a substitute for communication. Nina and Maggie try to teach Crowley communication as a substitute for the dance they've been doing around each other. That's the reason they're a part of the plot: they exist to demonstrate the way Aziraphale and Crowley might have succeeded in forging a better dynamic. Sadly, the boys' dance is too practiced and they got sucked right back into it.

It's okay, I think, that Nina and Maggie's storyline never really went anywhere. It wasn't supposed to. It's an allegory, not something that needs to stand alone.

[icallhimjoey]

Drown In You

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: In the shower with Joe, words get spoken that hold nothing back. This is the cut scene, the one entirely jumped over, from part 5 of Reinvent Love, remastered in full HD for your enjoyment. Full smut, little plot (although, read Reinvent Love because it'll help)!

CW / disclaimer: 18+, smut, language, rpf, fem!reader, reader has hair that needs to be brushed after showering

Author’s note: okay so the horny bitches in my inbox have let themselves be heard, and who am i to tell you no? here you go my cumcum twats, enjoy!

Wordcount: 3.2K

“I’ll wait.”

Old hair product mixed with sweat ran into your eyes as the shower stream hit you right over the head and… wait. What? You didn’t think you heard that right.

Joe was holding you, because you’d let the surface crack. You didn’t know if it was his repeated asking for you to talk to him, or if it was how he kept looking at you. But you’d cracked, and you’d seen Joe’s eyes flare for just a second, like what he’d been asking for actually didn’t turn out to be what he wanted. Immediate regret punched him right in the stomach when you showed the smallest bit of emotion.

Joe worried about you.

Worried he was pushing you further away whilst he was trying to keep you close.

Worried he had made mistakes too big to rectify.

Worried you were never going to tell him how you actually felt and he’d just have to go off body language, which, you’d been doing that and it had been fine, but some situations called for explanations.

Like this one.

He just thought you’d get angry with him. Not that you’d cry. In hindsight, he didn’t fully understand why that hadn’t been the expectation, though. You always felt with your whole body. Heavy emotion and tears always found you fast.

So he’d curled his arms around you then, and it took you a good while to control the spasms inside of your chest. You weren’t technically crying, you didn’t think, but if Joe was going to press you to talk one more time, you’d burst right into sobs.

And then he said, “I’ll wait.”

That made you look up at him, forcing him to slide one of his arms from around your head.

“I’ll wait for you. I can be patient.”

So you had heard him right.

The line in between your eyebrows grew deeper as you frowned at him, because what the fuck did he mean he was going to wait? And, in addition, what the fuck did he mean he could be patient?

Joe had just followed you around the flat trying to provoke you into arguing – that’s essentially what he’d been trying to do. Bold of him to claim he could be patient.

You were in the shower together and you knew Joe was just trying to say nice things by ways of comforting you, probably. You hoped that was what was going on. But he was getting it so wrong.

“But…” you started, trying to both make sense of what Joe meant whilst simultaneously thinking of how to tell him he was dead wrong. “I’m right here.”

And you had been.

Joe was the one that left.

You remembered Joe telling you, “Yea, you’re not going anywhere.” in a tender moment when you were trying your best to comfort him for a change, and you’d reacted the same then. Of course you weren’t going to go anywhere. You were there.

Always there.

“I’m right here.”

Joe blinked a couple of times, and looked a little lost, face blank and unassuming.

“I’m right– Joe, what do you mean, you’ll wait? Have we not been– is this not what we’ve been…”

Doing?

You couldn’t finish the sentence and furrowed your brow at how words seemed to escape you, all earlier bravery gone, because it sounded a lot like a big confession that you’d not vocalized before, and what if you were wrong?

What if Joe was going to tell you that, actually, no, what you were saying was not what you had been doing at all, you stupid bitch.

He wouldn’t say that.

But that’s what it would feel like if you were wrong.

Your brain was swimming, thinking thoughts and trying to draw conclusions where there weren’t any to be drawn when suddenly, it all clicked into place for Joe.

He was such an idiot.

Before you knew what was happening, Joe had you shrieking. He’d bent at the knees, got both arms around your waist and picked you up. It was a cute celebratory thing, because whatever you’d said had been all Joe had wanted to hear for weeks. But it was also really fucking terrifying, because you were in a wet slippery bath and you both had wet slippery bodies and the only way Joe was centering his gravity was by his face that was smushed against your chest and this was exactly how sometimes people got bad concussions.

“Joe–” you squeaked from your throat, and you were about to swear at him. Tell him to put you down. That he was a fucking idiot. That he was stupid and that this was dangerous, despite the smile that was already playing at your face.

But then before you could get any of that out, Joe let you slip down and kissed you hard, right on the mouth. Your back bent away from him and had you disappear into the shower stream, but Joe just followed, hands squeezing your sides and his lips roughly pressed to yours, not willing to break contact.

You tried wrapping your head around how you got from trying your best not to cry to being kissed in the way that you were, already feeling drunk on the giggles you were swallowing, and it felt a little ridiculous.

And then Joe spoke through his kisses and said words you didn’t think you would ever accept from him.

“I love you.”

But actually, it was fine.

You were surprised how easily joy bubbled up from deep inside your gut at hearing him mumble his confession. You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth, but Joe kept his mouth right there.

“Joe,” you pushed him at the shoulders, and instead of moving away, Joe decided to move closer, feet squeaking against white acrylic. You got cornered until your back touched the tiles and you laughed as you turned your head to break the kiss.

Joe just followed, curled around and got you from the side and, “Joe!” you giggled, because there was water streaming straight into your face, and you knocked one of the shampoo bottles down into the bath, and Joe kept hogging your mouth and you needed that to breathe and– oh.

Joe was hard.

You felt it against your hip and Joe felt how it startled you slightly.

“No, I’m sorry. Ignore that,” you could hear how there was laughter stuck inside of his voice too, but there was something urgent there too.

“I love you. Did you hear me?” he bent to make eye contact, got your chin into his hand to force it. “I love you. I said I love–”

“I love you too.”

The wet words slipped out before your brain could even catch up to it, voice way softer than Joe’s, but you didn’t mean the words any less.

Somehow it was an easy thing to say. It helped that Joe said it first, so you were just parroting which didn’t feel half as embarrassing as you imagined it could have been.

Your words stilled Joe’s whole body, just for a moment, completely frozen, and then he groaned with both eyes squeezed shut and let his head fall, face first into your shoulder.

You grinned when you looked down and saw the direct effect of what you’d said.

Made you want to say it again.

“I love you too,” you made it sound extra breathy that time, not even sure if Joe would be able to hear it over the shower water clattering into the bath, but you could tell he caught the words fine from the way Joe’s knees gave out for a split second, dick jumping and already leaking.

You loved Joe.

“Hey, I love you. Did you hear me? I said I lovemmpf–” Joe got a hand over your mouth just for the sheer agony of what it was doing to him. You took your shot and bit right into his fingers as you smiled.

“Stop it, you’ve got to– you can’t–”

Joe didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence. You got him back in the best way; with wet kisses and with scraping teeth. With hands in his hair that you used to push him right against your face. With a leg that hiked itself up until your knee touched his hip, prompting Joe to get his hands under your ass, lifting you up and pushing you against the wall in an attempt to slip inside.

But all of it was too slippery.

Too wet.

And you were laughing too much to make it work.

So you kissed, with both feet sort of steady in the bath and let your hands touch bits of Joe that made him flinch.

You were sharing your first shower together, and it felt sort of momentous.

“I love you,” Joe said again like they were the only words he knew how to use now, dragging his lips down your throat, pressing kisses to your chest.

“I love you, too,” you replied, biting your teeth into your bottom lip whilst working both hands on him, using one underneath and making Joe gasp.

Joe kept trailing down more until he kneeled and you lost your grip on him. Without warning he pressed his whole face into you, and both your hands found his shoulders as you worriedly tried pushing him back.

“No, Joe,” you pushed until you could look him in the eye. “Stop, baby, you’ll drown.”

Baby.

Joe looked up at you and quirked his eyebrows as he smirked, both because you’d never called him baby before and because of the double entendre.

You meant that Joe could drown because you were in the shower and if his mouth was busy, surely he would end up inhaling the water that ran down your body until he’d fucking choke.

Joe, however, took it to mean something else.

And he wasn’t exactly wrong, either.

“I mean…” he started, making eye-contact with what was right in front of him. Pretty. Glistening. Dripping. Joe was about to say some stupid shit aloud, was about to say that he loved her, maybe even just as much as he loved you, because, Jesus Christ, he really fucking did.

“I’ll happily drown in you.” he got a small kiss in where he wanted to so desperately kiss you, but then you laughed and said, “No. No drowning today.” as you sunk down to your own knees, joining him sat down in the tub.

Joe easily accepted you, hands finding yours to help you down safely, happy to oblige and move to where you wanted him to be, which was sat on his arse where the water hit him overhead.

With his eyes barely open, he grinned widely as you moved to sit on his lap, one knee either side of him, arms slung around his neck. It was a tight fit and skin squeaked against the side of the tub. Joe thought that surely this couldn’t actually be nicer than him getting mouth on you, but, sure.

Your pace, remember?

Your lead.

“I love you,” you mouthed as you went in for open-mouthed kisses which Joe happily accepted, pulling you into him hard, trapping himself in between the two of you and starting quick little tilts of his hips. You helped by finding a rhythm of your own, rubbing over him and holding Joe as close as you could to add pressure where he was so clearly looking for it.

“I love you,” Joe breathed in reply, and they were barely even words at this point. Just wet vowels falling from a gasping mouth that tried telling you how good this already felt, and that he wasn’t even inside yet.

Joe’s lips tinged just as shiny red as the tip of him, and you weren’t sure if you were working up a sweat more now than you had during your run, but you knew that this activity was much preferred over the other.

When you finally lifted up just slightly more and used your fingers to line Joe up to slip inside, you saw how droplets of water spat from his lips as he mouthed a desperate, “Please.”

Joe didn’t need to beg.

But it was lovely when he did.

Made you stall, just to hear him say it again. Have him ask extra nicely.

You felt how Joe’s grip on your hips strengthened, fingertips digging deeper into your flesh.

“Please, please. Baby, please, can you–”

You sunk down onto him, making him disappear inside of you entirely. The loud moan that escaped you surprised Joe enough to move a panicked hand up to cover your mouth.

That just made you whine louder.

“Shh– shhh–,” Joe trembled through shushes, trying for eye-contact, “You can’t– you... you gotta be quiet. You...” Joe faltered, hand moving to hold you by the side of the face, fingers disappearing into wet strands that were then used to pull you in closer to kiss.

God, he fucking loved you so much.

Could you feel it? Could you feel how anguished he felt that he only had two hands to touch you with? Could you feel how feverish and lightheaded you made him feel? Could you feel how there was a deep craving inside of him that only you could satisfy for him?

He wanted you to feel it.

Feel his love.

Joe wanted you to feel how much he loved you, so he used his mouth where he could, and used his hands where he could, and he imagined how the water running down the two of you was getting rid of all the bullshit.

You were being cleansed of all the bad until there’d be only good left.

You were having sex in the bath until it’d be nothing but just love there.

You rode Joe in the bath until your knees starting hurting too much. Until the water than ran down both your faces became too annoying. Until your hands knocked all the other bottles of shampoo and conditioner into the bath behind Joe. Until Joe got too freaked out that he couldn’t shut you up, and wasn’t that an insane contrast to whatever he had been trying to do the night before?

You hadn’t minded Joe trying to get you to be loud.

But Joe trying to get you to stay quiet was infinitely better.

It made you want to be bratty about it. Be loud on purpose. Get those eyes to flare and bulge, wet lips shushing you, but otherwise doing nothing else to stop you from feeling good. Because ultimately, that’s all Joe wanted; for him to be the one to make you feel good.

When Joe came, he made a sticky mess of the side of the bath.

When you came, you made a sticky mess of Joe’s fingers.

You kissed for a while after then, stood up out of the direct surge of water, and you loved this. Loved kissing Joe as your brain slowly found its way back to reality. It was all soft touches and slow movements and a terrible waste of water, but you fucking loved it.

When you thought Joe reached behind to finally turn the shower off, you found he instead reached for a bottle of shampoo.

“Turn around.”

Joe made sure you felt it.

Felt how fucking loved you were.

Massaged your scalp with love in his finger tips.

Rinsed your hair out with love in his palm.

Towel dried you after with love in his arms.

You had never felt this taken care of before, and when Joe reached for your hairbrush, he was surprised to turn back and find two wet shimmering eyes staring back at him in the large still slightly fogged-up mirror.

“Hey,” he curled an arm around your front and you let a wet chuckle escape you. “You okay? What’s going on with you right now?”

You shrugged and felt silly as you looked at each other via the mirror. Joe pressed a kiss against your ear, and you managed to squeak out, “I don’t know, just love you, I guess.”

That made Joe push his forehead to the side of your skull as he bit his lips into his mouth.

“Oh no,” he softly said, wincing slightly before you could see him smile. The effect of those words hadn’t just gone and changed within the last hour, so it seemed.

“I love y–” you were cut off by a louder groan as Joe bent down, hinging at his hips, pushing his head into your ribs and you couldn’t help but laugh as you let your arm scratch up and down his back.

“Maybe,” Joe breathed, eyes squeezed shut for a second in a bid to recompose himself. “Maybe don’t use those words for right now.”

“Got it.” you nodded. “No talking.”

That made Joe turn his head enough to see you smile in the mirror. Joe hadn’t just spent all morning to make you talk only for you to

“All right, no. That’s not what I said, I–” Joe moved to stand up straight again, and you saw your chance to make him double over again.

“I love you.”

“You– hnngg,” Joe had to turn and lean both elbows on the sink, head dropped down, having real trouble finding his breath.

“Tell you what,” you started, smile unable to be swiped from your face, and you grabbed Joe by his shoulders. “I’ll go make breakfast. Throw that pizza into the oven. We’ll have it on the sofa and then you can brush my hair after, all right?” you pressed a small kiss to his shoulder blade and wanted to say it again, just for fun, but decided you’d probably tortured him enough.

You tapped a shoulder to which Joe hummed and then went to leave the bathroom, turning around and unlocking the door.

“Hey,” Joe stopped you just before you walked out, and you looked over a shoulder to make eye contact with him in the mirror once again.

“Love you.” Joe’s constricted voice squeezed out, just because he couldn’t have you tell him three times and not say it back.

You smiled and used a hand to pretend to lock your lips up, making a breathy laugh escape Joe before he let his forehead drop into the crook of his elbow.

Loved you.

Joe loved you and he loved that you loved him. He just needed a minute.

You loved him.

That needed more than a second to acclimate to.

Your love.

He would so happily drown in it, you had no idea.

Perhaps, he should take the lead for just a little while. Make sure he was actually going to survive this.

His lead.

His time, maybe.

His pace, definitely.

But your love.

Always your love.

the end

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[adviceformefromme]

💖 YOUR WEEK 16 - GLOW UP SERIES [PRE-2025] 💖

We are officially 16 weeks (110 days) until 2025. If you missed the post last week, go check it out as that was the warm up, setting the vision for the life you WILL be creating for your 16-Week Reinvention. 

This week is all about getting aligned with your values, so you can truly begin to that juicy life you dream of. Understanding and operating from your values is a huge step in your glow-up journey because much of the stress, anxiety, depression in your life is directly correlated to your daily choices, each time you go against your values. 

The guidance… 

You’re putting a MINIMUM of 30 mins to 3 hours aside for your self-growth-reflection-and-development each week. This is going to be your opportunity to light a candle, pull out your cute new journal and pen and actually pour into your dreams and future in this little self-growth session. 

Journal Exercise: You want to think about what you value in life, what type of lifestyle you value, what type of relationship you value, for example; maybe you’re more traditional so the 50/50 guy you’re dating is a complete waste of time because you don’t have aligned values. Maybe you absolutely hate being in offices as you’re naturally introverted and love being alone, so your chosen career in events management is not in line with your values because you actually know in your heart you value peace and working alone. Maybe you value your health, but the drinking and occasional dabble in drugs is making you feel icky in your soul, because you are not living in alignment with your truth. Just taking the time to reflect on this is going to set you ahead of the crowd, because you’re going to see clearly how you’ve chosen a life that lives in accordance with others values, not your own and this blocks your blessings! 

RELATIONSHIPS (ROMANTIC, FRIENDSHIPS, FAMILY )

FINANCES 

PURPOSE/ CAREER

LIFESTYLE

HEALTH 

SPIRITUALITY 

In each of these areas, think about what dynamics you value. Beware of the conditions set in place by society and family, and really lean into what is true to you. Think of VALUE. What do you VALUE in these areas? What resonates in your heart? 

My personal experience was that I created an entire lifestyle that was so far removed from the life I valued. Working from home in my shoebox prison apartment with a window facing a mouldy wall, day-in-day-out, when I truly valued nature, and being by the ocean and witnessing the sunrise and set. I valued high quality connections, but entertained friendships that added absolutely no value to my life. I ate at overpriced and poorly nourished restaurants when I value my money and also my health, but I would instead drink cocktails and nibble small plates spiking my hormones and feel completely drained the next day. And so I began to make shifts…it started with nourishing home cooked meals and hosting mini dinner parties over eating out. I decided to move overseas, and only live in an apartment that was ocean view, because I absolutely value seeing the sun rise and set each day. I deleted instagram because I value my time, and this was a time thief! I began investing more into my image, because I value looking and feeling my best....the list goes on but you get the picture. When you move your life towards what you value, you’ll start to feel a DEEP peace in your soul and this is NECESSARY for your glow-up, your re-invention. Yes it’s scary, yes some people might hate you, judge you and also the rest of it, but this is your movie. ~You get to create the life you dream of and it starts with you, choosing to live in alignment of your soul, and this is how things magically start coming together and falling into place because you are now in flow.

So once you are clear on what’s what. You are going to practise for this week the FUCK NO approach. And that is, unless it’s a fuck yes (you will feel this in your soul), the answer is FUCK NO. Start saying no. To people. To invites that you are not super excited about. To the book you are reading but actually cannot bare to read anymore. The iced latte that gives you the shakes. The situationship that is literally draining the life out of you. The exhausting phone calls from the relatives you feel obligated to speak to. And side note. There are no FUCKING OBLIGATIONS. You are not obligated to do anything that compromises your energy, your flow, your happiness, your joy. Cut, delete, block, ignore, reject. PROTECT YOUR ENERGY. 

To summarise. 110 days until 2025, (16-weeks) to glow-the-fuck-up-like-never-before. So no sleeping on yourself. Every single day counts. Reflect on your values, shift your life in the direction of your truth. Start saying no. 

[decepti-thots]

☕️ trans girl verity :33

Verity as a trans girl is one of those headcanons where for me, it really makes the text as we are given it more coherent. It provides a lot of implicit motivation for things the comics kind of don't bother exploring her feelings about, I think. We have all that stuff in the early phase one stuff where she is nebulously "troubled" and constantly running away, happier to live as a young teen on the streets despite obviously knowing the risks inherent to that. There's her extremely glossed over (and very deftly executed so the reader doesn't question it) decision to leave Earth entirely to go hang out with Ultra Magnus. There's her reluctance to go back to a mother she was taken away from because doing so is scary, even if she now can.

And it's hardly as though "the foster care system Fucking Sucks" etc is not adequate for explaining that, to be clear, but I feel like Verity feeling invested in staying in this new world where everything is incredibly dangerous but also where she meets all these people with no context for who she might be in the "real world", who she gets to take control of how she presents herself to them... that's a narrative that works really well for exploring through a trans lens. What her association with these people offers her, despite the danger, despite all the traumatic experiences, despite how clearly negative so much of it is, boils down to a sense of agency. (And agency is really important to Verity; everything about how she acts in SotW boils down, by her own admission, to wanting that sense of control in the face of something she can't escape.) It offers her an opportunity to decide who she presents herself as to people with absolutely no way of questioning a lot of things her fellow humans might question her on, and viewing that through a lens of trans self-determination is really interesting in how it adds additional framing to that arc she gets. Sure, running off with the big scary alien robot embroiled in active warfare as a tiny squishy young human does not sound like a great idea- but if the tradeoff is that you can really truly reinvent yourself and nobody even knows that they could question it, well. Especially in contrast to how it makes her ostensibly 'peaceful' life she could otherwise return to in fact one that isn't uncomplicatedly peaceful at all as someone facing very different kinds of fear in that "normal" life.

There's also the fact that as you move through SotW and RotW, her arc converges with Springer's about what self-determination looks like. Springer's arc in the latter two-thirds of Wreckers is about making active choices to decide who you want to be in the face of cycles that try and force you into being a specific person you find that you do not like very much. People have a very specific idea of who you were supposed to be for them; resisting that because you do not want to is hard. Choosing something else is hard. That has a lot of resonance for a Verity who had to make that decision because she is trans, I think, at an exaggerated scale.

And the great thing is: it works. Verity gets to choose, as an adult, to meet her mother again on her own terms. She conquers all her nightmares and gets through it and reenters the world as an adult woman who is confident enough to assert herself and take what she wants. She can go back into that human world and assert who she has chosen to be there in a way she couldn't before. It works that way with or without the trans element, but the trans element just fits in smoothly, I think. It really adds to my love for her character to think of it as a part of that story about developing a sense of self.

[casasupernovas]

thing is.

the doctor in series 3 is a lot more complex people give him credit for.

when he gets mad at martha at the end of 'smith and jones' it's not because he's offended at her flirting, annoyed at her insinuations, 'how dare she'. no. he's mad because she sussed him out, right down to the blue suit.

in 'smith and jones' the doctor has a clean slate, he has reinvented himself. and this version has no baggage.

this doctor hasn't got a brown suit it's blue, this doctor is flirtaious, romantic, even does the 'honourable' thing of making sure she knows the kiss he will give her means nothing. she won't get attatched that way when he sacrifices himself to draw out the plasmavore.

but this doctor is also a bit callous, he's excited by the thrill and danger, dimissing very real distress from people around him in favour for the facts. he only pulls himself back upon his conversation with martha.

in fact, it's no coincidence the kiss happens after martha commemorates the dead, her old mentor.

the problem is however, martha is too clever, too observant, too confident to completely be won over by this entirely. when he tells her he is the doctor, just the doctor, at first she refuses to call him by this. he has to earn it. sonic screwdriver? lol, got an electric spanner too? she asks if he has help because surely he didn't come to this hospital because he thought something was wrong on his own?

that's why he says stuff like this. he's like why are you poking holes in the illusion. i'm *this* person now, don't take me back to my reality.

but he's not quite done. they both could have died on the moon but she saves his life so, he gets another chance. incomes the reinvented doctor part two. [you can argue the doctor always knew they would make it because martha told him she saw him in a moment that had happened for her but not yet for him.]

so part 2 commences but he's turning it all the way up because he wants her as his companion.

so he's smooth talking her, but even then she's still not letting him get one over on her. "not pompous at all." so better turn it up some more, and he time travels, a 'cheap trick' to impress her more.

until his newly formed version of himself gets a hole poked in once again after martha inadvertantly makes him remember rose. and he clams up, decides it will only be one trip in a pretty aloof, defensive and abrupt way. shuts down any path that could lead to something more, testing to see if she can do the same - "i only go for humans" - she can and away we go. he's racing about the tardis back to semi-normal and they are off.

it's why he's so having mood swings all throughout 'the shakespeare code,' flip flopping between annoyance and dismissal at her questions, she's ruining how it was supposed to go in his head. she wasn't supposed to ask *this* many questions, she was just supposed to be impressed. but she went and reminded me of rose so this can't work now, it's gonna be one trip. but then flipping back to this need to impress and to just fall back into step to how they were, running around and having an adventure. how he's supposed to be.

and he decides i don't want this to end. im extending the trip. but yet again martha pokes another hole - his home. but the doctor holds onto the pretense for as long as he can. he doesn't just say "we can't go to my home and please don't ask me why because it's painful." he just lies. and this pretense now takes on a new form, because it directly references rose with choosing new earth. see, he starts by reminiscing on gallifrey when he describes it to her then chooses someone else to reminisce on. rose. all with little regard to how martha would feel about being used in this way. but unfortunately for the doctor, this takes a dramatic change for the worse as taking martha here directly leads to her abduction.

now, despite martha's olive branch after the death of the face of boe, the doctor still doesn't tell her the truth. until she sits down, and really hones in on his lies and the people of new new york began to sing for the dead. and the doctor looks at martha, the human, listening to the humans commeorate the dead. and tells her the truth. that he lied because he liked it. because he could pretend. pretend that his reality was not true. he was not the last timelord.

intriguingly enough, by the time we get to the lazarus experiment, the doctor seems determined to play out how the story was supposed to go. yet again disregarding martha's feelings. find a new companion. travel for a bit, then bring her home safe and sound. and not one year later. no ties, a nice thanks then goodbye. no heartbreak, no tears. but he comes back. because he doesn't want it to end yet, offers her another trip. and here goes martha again. telling him he needs to be clear in what he wants right now. he's not someone who can just breeze in and out of her life without a second thought. is she his companion or is she a passenger?

and the pretense is over. mostly anyway, and the doctor is at his mlst vulnerable due to the circumstances of '42' and by its end, it's like a refreshed smith and jones.

but now he doesn't feel the need to lie, he's not fully there yet. but he's more comfortable, he doesn't need to pretend.

perhaps too comfortable.

[izunias-meme-hole]

My Top 10 Batman Villains (Revamped)

(Because I currently need to get this off my chest, also a lot of these are just in my opinion)

Honorable Mention: Bane (Various) - Despite being misrepresented as a dumb brute and the fact that one of the best adaptations of him somehow gets his voice and nationality wrong, Bane is a villain with QUITE the deserving reputation. A walking tank with a luchador mask that has the brains to match his brawn.

Number 10. Scarecrow (Nolan Trilogy) - Crane wasn't a big villain in the grand scheme of the trilogy, but my god Cillian Murphy does a great job with the character. Like I wish that his supervillain outfit wasn't just a bag over his face, but Scarecrow manages to be quite the dangerous and cowardly loon with a mask of sanity in Batman Begins, an active member of the underworld in The Dark Knight, and the guy actively sending folks to their deaths in The Dark Knight Rises. Could we have had more of him? Yes. Did he use up his screen time well? Absolutely. Though his fear toxin could've been infinitely wilder.

Number 9. Mr. Freeze (BTAS: Heart of Ice) - I feel like this is a "to the surprise of absolutely nobody" moment, but this show reinvented Mr Freeze as a tragic and vengeful figure, and his debut was a perfect example of that.

Number 8. The Phantasm (BTAS) - The Phantasm is one of the best darker counterparts to Batman a lot of levels.

Number 7. Harley Quinn (BTAS) - The minor side villainess turned breakout character of the show. If anyone has seen B:TAS and then seen the rest of the media she's in, then you know why this is the best version of her. A good amount of things about the character being based around her actress (R.I.P Arleen Sorkin), her interactions with half the cast, Peak HarIvy content, the best representation of how bad her situation with her abusive ex was, and the perfect mixture between being a not-so-great-person and a precious lil' thing who deserves better.

Number 6. Ra's Al Ghul (Various) - Ra's Al Ghul may be a more international threat in comparison to the other antagonists I've listed, but he's undeniably one of Bruce's greatest foes. A very rich and powerful older man whose mission and persistence is similar to that of the caped crusader. Though unlike Batman, Ra's is willing to do more than just kill, he's willing to commit genocide, and he's willing to use other harsh and controlling methods in order to create his ideal world. Ra's is pretty much the the worst elements of Batman shoved into a singular self-righteous figure, and when done well he's easily one of the greats.

Number 5. Two-Face (Various) - Harvey Dent is a man split down the middle, a two-faced dude in more ways than one, and an irredeemably tragic figure no matter the perspective, though funnily enough he's always a victim of chance. He's a victim of the one worst possible outcome that had just as much of an opportunity to be the best possible outcome. It's part of the reason why he makes choices based off a literal coin flip. Chance put Dent in the circumstances to become a villain, and as he surrenders his entire being to chance as Two Face.

Number 4. Oswald "Penguin" Cobblepot (Various) - He's just a pathetic and horrible little man. No I'm serious. Oswald has had various portrayals over the years, but they can all be summed up at "pathetic and horrible little man wanting respect" and its great to see in action because despite the fact that he can be legit menacing and sometimes tragic, Oz is just inherently ridiculous on some level. It's great.

Number 3. The Riddler (Various) - Genuinely impressive intelligence and creativity mixed with an ego as big as 3 Russias and as fragile as a glass bottle. That's what you're always bound to find in Riddler. Be it in the 60's show, BTAS, Batman Forever, The Arkham Series, Gotham, or The Batman, Riddler is a Redditor with the theatrics of a gameshow host and the resources of John Kramer.

Number 2. Catwoman (Various) - Selina, Selina, Selina... she's cool. Sure she is a classic example of a "femme fatale," but aside from that Selina has always been a thrill seeker in some way or another. Be it as a jewel thief who proudly shows this, or an anti-hero that covers this part of herself with actual justifications, there is always an aspect of Selina that enjoys what she does when she puts that mask on. Mrs Kyle is enjoyable, idk what else to say.

Number 1. The Joker (Various) - Come on. We all knew this was gonna happen. The Joker is a crook who fell into a vat of chemicals and got a clownish makeover, who ended up becoming the nemesis of Batman. While the other rouges have their particular danger levels, they all have some type of cause they're fighting for or they're purely out to benefit themselves. Joker just causes chaos, death, and suffering, for the sake of his twisted sense of humor. He is willing to kill and ruin lives in the most creative way possible, so long as he finds it funny. Yet despite how twisted he is, this evil ass clown actually can be funny. Not only that, but he's the most effective contrast to Batman, even more than the other rouges. Batman is a frightening figure with a semi-demonic visage who suffered one bad day in his youth, yet he is a hero dedicated to the cause of justice and protecting the innocent citizens of Gotham City. Joker is a colorful figure with a big 'ol grin on his face and a jovial demeanor, yet he is perfectly okay with causing as much unwarranted harm to others for the sake of artistic chaos. Ultimately, the Clown Prince of Crime is a villain that's managed to last for decades, despite the ever marching clock, for these exact reasons.

[mask131]

How do you feel about shipping greek gods? (for lack of a better word to describe two or more people being together in a relationship I just used shipping)

Well... It depends? I don't know? Xp

The thing is that the Greek gods are horny gods, that cannot be denied, so you know, they already almost all slept with each other at some point so there's a lot of "shippng" material that's for sure.

What I would say is... it depends on why the shipping is happening, for which purpose? It is for a purely fictional storytelling, or just for personal enjoyment? And I would point out two precise things that are important to show you're not just making stuff up randomly (though I will say making stuff up randomly is allowed, and can sometimes be bloody genius - but that will be for my point B, the person who is making stuff up should know themselves and be clear that they're making stuff up)

A) Always be aware of the characterization, traits and features of the Greek gods before "shipping" them so that you don't end up making some sort of HUGE misunderstanding or misinformation thingy going on. I'm going to take an obvious example, but for example shipping Poseidon and Athena, or Athena and Ares will require it to be with full understanding of their rivalry and/or hatred for each other (so you know, perfect for "rivals to lovers" fic) - though again, with Athena there's also the need to understand she is this virgin goddess that is like a huge asexuality symbol, so you can slide romance in there but none of "Venus' craft" if you know what I mean. And for you it might seem obvious but for example there was this deleted scene of the Clash of Titans remake which was talked about a lot because Athena appeared in there and she was like this very sensual and sexy goddess that tried to basically seduce another god, so you know, the basics of mythology are not always there.

(I'm speaking here mostly in terms of you know, fic and personal artwork and whatnot to bring my example, but you know it can also apply to if you want to, I don't know, publish a book or make a cartoon or whatever)

B) But the most important thing to maintain there, and what is ALWAYS important when dealing with ANY mythology of any kind: be conscious of the differences.

The thing is that, as a creator facing myths and legends, you can basically do almost anything. ("Almost" because there's still stuff that you can't do unless you just want to look like someone who doesn't know shit about the source material). Myths and legends are here to be exploited, interpreted, reused and reshaped and redrawn. I'll go on a side-rent here but there was this post criticizing "modern retelling" of Greek myths in video games, novels and comics, and it concluded with "Just don't touch the myths again, let them as they are". And while I did understand why the person would dislike these modern works (though I do not agree with the entire selection), this conclusion is just wrong. If medieval scholars and Renaissance artists and World War playwrights had not constantly reinvented the Greek myths, it wouldn't be part of common culture as it is today. Heck, Greek mythology itself relies on a bunch of authors from various countries (because they were city-states you know) and from various centuries making WILD reinterpretations of "canon lore" and "previous takes" on gods and legends (remember that a lot of things people claim is part of "Greek mythology" come from stuff like theater plays and philosophy essays... Not really as sacred as the Bible). So to demand mythology to stop being represented and depicted is just... you know, wishing for its death and the stop of its cultural richness.

On the other hand here's where the problem lies: there is so much misinformation and popular misconceptons and erroneous cliches due to how it was all handled carelessly or without any knowledge of actual material (there's especially this whole wave of bringing in Christian ideals into the Ancient Greek world, from Disney's Hercules to Netflix's Blood of Zeus - at least season 1 I didn't watch season 2), that people need to be literaly taught again the simple basic. I know it sounds stupid but the whole "Medusa is a monster, not a girl turned into one" I literaly knew as a kid just because I read guides and books about the Greek myths - not fictional books, just, you know, manuals and encyclopedias and stuff. Yet, this thing found in any basic "101 to Greek mythology" absolutely baffled a lot of people... It shows how, again, people are somehow willing to take more from, I don't know, Internet posts (*cough cough* yes I'm doing Internet posts *cough cough*), cartoon series and novels than from just actual books presenting Greek mythology, not in a fictionized way.

Anyway sorry for the rant X) But my point is: one is allowed to do anything and reinvent all things however they want, as long as they have enough knowledge and understanding of the source material. It is my personal logic but, if someone can defend their choices in a way that shows they actually do know their stuff, are conscious about what they changed and recognize that they modified things, then I'm fully okay with it. To still go the shipping route, if someone says something like "Oh yeah, Aphrodite and Hephaistos are in love and the best couple ever", I can accept this if the same person does, you know, recognize how in the myths Aphrodite cheats on Hephaistos and/or Hephaistos divorces from her. "Yes I am aware of that, but for X reason or X purpose I decided to change it". Then I'm fine, you know. But if the person starts saying stuff like "I didn't know that" or "I don't care, it's not like it's important anyway", then I'll have a problem.

On a final note for the "shipping" - again I don't know for which purpose or on which level this all takes place so I am doing a BROAD answer I hope is vague and general enough - there's a little something very important to remember: the relationships of the gods are all very important. As in, on a symbolical level, there's always a sort of meaning down there you must get, you know? I talked about it before but the relationships of PosEidon, Demeter and Zeus are reflection of more primal Earth-Sea-Sky relationships. Why did Hermes and Aphrodite had "Hermaphrodite"? Because while Aphrodite is the symbol of feminity and womanhood by excellence, Hermes was originally a symbol of the phallic power (see the penis-by-the-side-of-the-road thing), so it makes sense they would create a being uniting male and female genders.

And there's a distinct evolution when it comes to the "incest" of the gods. I need to talk about it because the Greek gods thrive on incest, you know, but it is something people tend to not realize - that Greek mythology has a sort of "chronological evolution in-universe" of how the incest works. The most brutal, raw and obvious forms of incests (daughter-father, brother-sister) actually belong to older and more primordial generations of gods, reflecting how they come from an earlier time of more chaos, less civilization, and also less people: Ouranos and Gaia, the Titans, the first Olympians... But when you move by the second-generation Olympians for example, you realize a step is taken forward and the incest is not direct anymore. They still sleep with each other, but it is more "uncle-niece" and "half-sister, half-brother" or "cousin" relationships. You won't see Apollo smooching his twin sister. You don't see Ares sleeping with any of his two sisters either. And that's because, under the rule of Zeus, by the age of the Olympians, a new form of civilization and order starts encuring, one which starts to remove the most brutal and violent primal pulsions of the gods, one which moves towards the very present day and human civilization where incest is not allowed. It's a little detail people can miss, but as with everything it is very important. (And if you start telling me about "how Zeus slept with Persephone", correct me if I'm wrong but I think that's an Orphic belief, or at least comes from some Orphic fragment, and people should also start realizing that the Orphic people were weird - even by typical Ancient Greek standard - and were doing their own thing on the aside. Though, it still works with another thing prevalent throughout Greek mythology as a whole - this very interesting, ambivalent role of the first Olympians like Zeus or Poseidon, who are the rulers of this new, orderly, civilized world, and yet still end up bringing over habits and elements from the older, more brutal and chaotic past, much to everybody's problem. You know, that's when Zeus and Poseidon tend to cause trouble for everybody - if the gods had a psychology, you could write a whole thing about "generational trauma" and how despite building a new world free of the chaos and disorder of the primal gods and "bad" Titans, the older Olympians are still reproducing the same habits and patterns as their previous generations, which is the very reason there's some of the conflicts in Greek myths. But we're getting too far ahead Xp)

All of that to say - you can ship, but know that in Greek mythology, shipping will have consequences.

[skyfallscotland]

For the 'Basgiath (Remi's Version)' masterpost click here 🖤

Everything else ⤸

Fics:

Macchiato (Xaden/Violet, AU, 30k words)

keep quiet (nothing comes as easy as you) (Xaden/Violet, AU, 17k words)

The State of Rider-Flier Relations (Mira/Drake, 12.5k words)

hold me tight, or don't (Sloane/Dain, 6k words)

in too deep (Xaden/Violet, AU, WIP)

Ficlets:

Untitled Cam/Liam (AU, 1.5k words)

In-depth summaries below the cut ⤸

Fics:

Macchiato

Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail ✧ AU ✧ 30k words, complete

“F—” Fuck you, is what I was going to say, but at the last minute I realise he’s still a customer and I need to remain professional…and also I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he irritates me. (A Xaden/Violet coffee shop AU)

keep quiet (nothing comes as easy as you)

Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail ✧ AU ✧ 17k words, complete...for now—potential for an interconnected one-shot or two

In a world where the Tyrrish haven’t rebelled, Xaden Riorson is an aristocrat and therefore must enrol in the infantry—which definitely explains how he ends up on his knees before Violet Sorrengail in the Hadden Woods, his face between her thighs. Totally.

The State of Rider-Flier Relations

Mira Sorrengail/Drake Cordella ✧ AU ✧ 12.5k words, complete — potential riorgail companion fic to come

“So you’re the one who gave me that scar.” I stare, uncomprehending. “What?” I manage to bite out. He lifts a hand, tapping his finger over the scar trailing from his ear to his collarbone, a match for the one I’d had clawed into me by a gryphon just like his. I bite down on my tongue as I think about the mirror of a burn long-since healed, that mars the skin of my torso. A scar that every man or woman I’ve ever taken to bed since has commented on. And he’s worried about a line on the side of his neck? My blood boils.

hold me tight, or don't

Sloane Mairi/Dain Aetos ✧ NSFW one-shot ✧ 6k words, complete

“Fuck, you’re exhausting.” She huffed and he tried not to take it personally. “You’re not exactly a walk in the park, Mairi.” She bared her teeth at him. “Put your mouth back on me,” she tugged on his hair harshly for emphasis, “or I’ll make you regret it.”

in too deep

Violet Sorrengail/Xaden Riorson ✧ AU ✧ WIP, projected to be 50k+

When Violet Sorrengail is eighteen years old, her olympic dreams turn to dust and she swears to never attend another swim meet again. Six years later, she’s reinvented herself. As the best media manager Scribed has to offer, she’s well-traveled, well-paid and entirely content with life.   Enter Xaden Riorson—olympian, gold medallist, world record holder…devil incarnate. No one’s ever gotten under Violet’s skin quite like him. From the moment they met she’s hated him, so when Violet’s co-worker is forced to vacate her position with Team USA and she finds herself in Paris, she swears to stay as far away from him as possible.  Unfortunately, he never got the memo.

Ficlets:

Untitled Cam/Liam

AU ✧ 1.5k words, potential series.

“Are you asking to get me alone?” The Tyrr’s lips curve up in a smirk. “Would you like that?” The prince fires back. He would actually.

[chaepu]

Special Birthday - Minatozaki Sana

pairing: minatozaki sana x reader genre: fluff

after a night of celebrating y/n's birthday with all of their friends, sana and y/n head upstairs to get ready for bed.

sana rested on the bed as she watches y/n emerge from the bathroom with sana's sweater on and her hair wet. she opens her arms for y/n to cuddle up to her and she does just that.

"how did you enjoy your birthday?" sana asks "i loved every second of it" y/n smiles up to sana as she says that. "like you don't understand how much it means to me."

sana smiles back at her and waits a moment because it looks as if y/n has more she wants to say. when she doesn't speak, sana begins to take control of the conversation.

"i'm so glad everyone was able to make it. i know mina was working on a deadline and jihyo flew in today so the fact that they were there before us, i'm happy everything worked out." sana explains.

y/n doesn't say anything but sana feels something is wrong. "baby, what's wrong?" she asks in a frantic, seeing y/n with little tears falling down her face.

y/n plays with sana's fingers as they sit up to look at each other, "i've only really told nayeon this, but i used to really hate my birthday. when i moved out and was in college, i treated my birthday as any other day. i didn't tell anyone when it was, and didn't really acknowledge it." sana nods at her so let her know she's still listening and y/n continues. "yeah i went to dinners and stuff but for some reason i still hated it. then i decided a few years ago that i would celebrate my birthday, because why shouldn't i be happy that i was born?"

sana squeezes y/n's hand as an act of reassurance, rather than speaking so she doesn't interrupt her.

"i would do the things i like, like going to the movies, grabbing dinner and i would let people know that it was my birthday. and we would celebrate by going out to eat, karaoke.. stuff like that, but for some reason… i still hated it. i think i came to the realization that my birthday always felt lonely. i felt alone at the end of the night. like i didn't have anyone, and that the people around me celebrating were doing it because they had to, not really because they wanted to."

the room felt heavy at that moment. this is the first time sana has heard y/n talk about her birthday like this and in general, ever spoken like this. the only other time she's heard y/n this timid was when she was confessing her love for sana two years ago.

"but then i met you… you don't understand how much i mean it when i say i appreciate you so much, especially on my birthday, because you've reinvented how i feel about it. even before we started dating, you made me feel so special on a day that i hated so much. the way you would do your best to spend the entire day with me, and all the little things… they never went unnoticed. i realized that if i was only allowed to spend my birthday with you, i wouldn't care because being with you, i never feel lonely."

y/n wiped the little tear that fell from sana's cheek and continued.

"i don't hate this day as much as i did because you make me feel worth of having a day for myself. i don't get that hollow feeling at night when i come home. and i don't feel like everyone around me is doing things because they have to. i feel like i've found people i truly love and respect, and care for. i don't see a life without the others, and especially you, sana. you've changed my life in ways i never tell you because i don't know how to express the amount of gratitude i have for you. you deserve the world because when i'm with you, you make me feel like that, like i have the entire world in the palm of my hand."

"baby…" sana interrupts, as if she can't handle anymore of this confession.

"i don't know if that was enough but i just want you to know how much i love you and the effort you put into making me feel special."

"baby that was more than enough. i love you so much and i hate that you used to feel like you did back then. you deserve more than the world and i wish i could give it to you because i love you more than words could explain. i'm so happy that you were born and that you are able to grace everyone and me with you. you are special. you're the best thing that has ever happened to me and i will always do my best to make sure you know that."

both sana and y/n are just crying in each other's arms.

"if i had a ring, i'd propose to you right now." y/n says and they both laugh.

"not unless i get to it first." sana says.

--

a/n: quick imagine in my drafts. thanks for all the love on my other posts! question.. more angst or fluff?

[blowflyfag]

Pro Wrestling Illustrated: March 2024

“Timeless” Toni Storm is simultaneously a throwback to a bygone Golden Age and, in this contemporary grappling scene, someone rather singular.

HOTSEAT 

AN INCISIVE INTERVIEW WITH THE SPORT’S TOP STARS AND FIGURES 

TONI STORM

The whole place seemed to have been stricken with a kind of creeping paralysis. Out of beat with the rest of the world, crumbling apart in slow motion. A once-grand estate, nestled deep in the Hollywood Hills … a relic from a bygone age in Tinseltown. Back then, they didn’t need dialogue. They had faces. This is where Pro Wrestling Illustrated had sent me, on assignment for an exclusive interview with a woman whose startling reinvention has taken All Elite Wrestling–and the entire wrestling world–by storm, you might say. These days, she doesn’t show herself in public very much, aside from TV tapings and, of course, on the set. So, landing the interview took some doing, but if there’s anything 30 years covering this crazy business has taught me, it’s how to get my foot in the door. 

This time, that foot would be in the door of a palatial mansion that may very well  have once housed Valentino, DeMille, Garbo, or Fairbanks. Walking under the shade of rows of aging palms, past that once crystal-clear outdoor pool, between the cracked pillars of a French facade, I’m greeted by the butler; a loyal, oddly quiet man who brings me inside. Shrouded partly in sharp shadows, by the flickering light on a roaring fireplace, she sits reclining on a chaise lounge… Toni Storm. At first, she is reluctant to break her silence, so I have to win her trust. Part of that means playing along with what can sometimes only be described as  a baffling , yet mesmerizing delusion. In the end it’s working for her; If Toni Storm is crazy, then she’s crazy like a fox.

We chat for what seems like hours, as she relays to me her hopes and dreams, her natural connection with the fans, whether in the stands or watching at home–those wonderful people out there in the dark.

What follows are the highlights of that enlightening conversation. By the end of it, I felt I had developed a real understanding of who Toni Storm is now. I get it. She really is “Timeless.” Perhaps more than that, she is transcendent. 

And she’s ready for her closeup, Mr Khan. 

Brian R. Solomon: Thank you so much for granting me this interview, Ms. Storm. I realize you’re a very busy woman. First, let me say that there are a lot of people, myself included, who would say that right now, “Timeless” Toni Storm is one of the best, most entertaining things on AEW television, I wanted to know how you feel about that.

Storm: Well, thank you very much. I completely understand why you’re feeling that way. I am a very exciting act. I have been a very exciting act for a very long time. And I’ve always blown audiences away, no matter where I’ve gone or what I’ve done. So, you are right to be feeling like this. I am, as the kids say, “killing it.”

Solomon: Nevertheless, having to address your transformation as of late. It’s been very dramatic, to say the least. What do you say to the fans who might be wondering what happened to the Toni Storm that they remembered? Storm: Well, you see, it’s simple, really. I have played many roles all throughout my career. And now what you’re seeing, “Timeless” Toni Storm, is the real me. I’m finally ready to show the world who I well and truly am. And this is it. Over the years, fans have seen others of the numerous roles I've played. For instance, most recently I used to be “Green Goblin #3” of the Outcasts trio. But now, I’m finally revealing myself, Finally revealing my true self, I should say. And that is “Timeless” Toni Storm.

Solomon: That word, “Timeless.” it keeps coming up. Could you help us understand what that word means to you? Storm: How do I put this? Ah, yes. I transcend. Yes, I’m in a different realm. In this realm, there is no time. I just exist. I do not age. I was not born. I will not die. Stars never die. I just am.

[If you ask some of the broadcast journalists at AEW, Toni Storm has lost her marbles. But the “Timeless” one tells PWI She’s just found her true self.]

Solomon: I have to ask–and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way–but did the loss of the AEW Women’s World title to Hikaru Shida last summer on the 200th episode of AEW dynamite have anything to do with what we’re seeing from you lately? Not to mention the fact that it was your supposed friend and ally, Saraya, who pinned you to win the title during the three-way match with Shinda during All In at Wembley Stadium. The reason I ask is that those developments all took place around the same time. And those losses, the way they happened, would cause many people to reconsider the path of their career.

Storm: Alright, I admit it. I’m going to finally admit it here for the readers of Pro Wrestling Illustrated. When I lost the title to Hikaru Shida, I absolutely lost it. I fell apart. And I would like to apologize to all my fans who had to witness that. But now, I have risen from the ashes. I am on quite a fantastic winning streak right now, in case you haven't noticed. I have picked myself off the ground. And I'm doing better than I ever have done. This has really ignited the fire inside of me once again. One cannot deny that Hikaru Shida has the heart of a champion. One cannot deny, even, that she has the heart of a lion. And one might say that she was destined to be a champion.  But every destiny comes to an end.

Solomon: I’m sure you’ve noticed this, but there are a lot of fans–and even the television announcers  who call your matches, like Taz and Tony Schiavone–who seem to be very concerned about you these days. Some of them have even spoken about you like you may have lost your mind. How do you take that?

Storm: Well, I’m not going to lie, darling. I don’t know where all of this misplaced concern is coming from, because I have never felt more “with it” in my entire life. I don’t know where people are getting these ideas from. I don't know who is daring to spread these ugly rumors about me. But I am done with it, truly. And you don’t need to worry about me, because I'm giving the performance of my lifetime. I’m doing just fine. I just cannot fathom where they are getting the idea that I've lost it, or why anyone would even entertain such a thought.

[Dressed as if she’s just emerged from her spacious trailer on a Hollywood studio lot, Ms. Storm shares a jaunty laugh with her adoring public.]

Solomon: Well, I think I can tell you one thing that might have been giving them that idea: the smeared makeup. That certainly might be having some people worried. I hope you can at least understand that. And, while we’re on the subject, maybe you could let us in on what that’s all about. 

Storm: Well, you see, I was talking to RJ City, and I had an epiphany…a revelation, you might say. It was then that I realized that I'm “Timeless” Toni Storm. But getting to that realization, leading up to it, was very difficult. And that takes a toll. This whole lifestyle can be very hard, mentally, on a performer. That realization can be hard to bear. And so, once in a while, you can lose control. 

Solomon: I’m not sure I understand.

Storm: Have you ever had a mental breakdown?

Solomon: I suppose I have. Many people have, at one point or another, but that’s not–

Storm: and you’ve never smeared your makeup?

Solomon: No. That, I've never done, no. Mental breakdown, maybe, yes. Smeared makeup? No.

Storm: In my world, where there is a mental breakdown, there is a bit of a smeared makeup job. However, I have a new butler now. And there will be no makeup smears. Everything is taken care of. I fired my stylist. And that was a good move. You won’t be seeing any more smeared makeup on me. I’m going to be immaculate, all of the time. 

[“SPRAYPAINTING THINGS LIKE WE USED TO DO”: Saraya attempts to incapacitate her challenger, who rallies back with Storm Zero piledriver at the Dynamite: Grand Slam taping.]

Solomon: Yes, I did notice the butler right away. He’s hard to miss. But you mentioned RJ City. Let’s get back to him. I’m interested in talking about RJ, because I noticed that he’s been with you now since you’ve been reborn, so to speak. We’d previously seen him doing backstage interviews with Renee Paquette, or hosting his excellent web interview series, HEY! EW. But lately, he seems to really be a big part of what you’ve been doing. How would you describe what your relationship is with him right now?

Storm: The thing about RJ City is he has a bit of an attitude problem. I’m going to let you all in on this. He can be difficult. He’s very cheeky. I would even go so far as to say that he’s a bit of a pest, really. So, you can’t trust him entirely. But he is around me all the time. And he was there when I had my revelation. Now, I just can’t get rid of him. But he seems to always be there to help me if I should need something, I suppose. 

Solomon: So, kind of like a pet?

Storm: Yes, exactly! He’s like my dog friend. Everyone should have one. A trusty, loyal sled dog. Solomon: I’m sure he'll be delighted to read that.

Storm: Hopefully not. I love doing this, even just to annoy him.

[Beneath the catchphrases, dramatic turns (faces!), and somewhat erratic behavior, Ms. Storm is a woman possessed by the desire to return to her former glory.]

Solomon: Now, we talked about previously losing the AEW Women’s title and how you came to these realizations. But obviously, before that, you had been one of the Outcasts, with Saraya and Ruby Soho. Now, you’ve kind of splintered off into your own universe. I’d like to ask if you have any awareness at all of how your former allies in the Outcasts feel about the new Toni Storm?

Storm: Saraya certainly hasn’t seemed very happy with me recently, for some reason. I don’t know why. But whatever problems Saraya has with me, whatever reason she’s upset, I'm sure she'll get over it. As a matter of fact, they'll all be fine. I don’t really know what they’re up to. I’m sure they’re just off, spray-painting things, like we used to do.

[“I need the biggest prize, the biggest trophy … I can’t bear to be seen without it. A lot of my self-worth comes from being champion.”]

Solomon: Are you above the AEW Women’s World championship at this point? Is that even the main goal of your career? Or are you bigger than that now?

Storm: I wouldn’t say bigger than the title, necessarily. It’s more that I need it. It’s something that I need to possess in order to be okay. I need the biggest prize, the biggest trophy. It’s become very much a big part of my art. I can’t bear to be seen without it. A lot of my self-worth comes from being champion.

Solomon: I have to ask you about the show. I mean, I have other questions about your various catchphrases, but I don’t think they’d let me print those in the pages of Pro Wrestling Illustrated. So, I’ll leave that alone, and, instead, I’ll focus on the shoe. What exactly is the significance of the shoe?

Storm: When one needs to defend oneself, one must utilize what one can get one’s hands on. And I've only ever had my shoes on me. Maybe I should invest in some kind of weaponry. But right now, the shoes seem to be doing the trick. 

[WATCH OUT FOR THE SHOW: “Timeless” Toni Storm is ever aware of the camera’s lens and can often be found breaking the fourth wall. But only a fool would dare mistake her eccentricity for weakness.]

Solomon: I would say they are, yes. I honestly never thought I’d be asking anyone this question in an interview, but do you think that maybe you might have been reincarnated? Or is it possible that you perhaps could have been born 100 years too late? Certainly, you seem more at home in the 1920s than in the 2020s.

Storm: You know, I would answer yes to that question. But the truth is, since I’m timeless, my concept of time is not a thing, if that makes sense.

Solomon: Not really, but go on.

Storm: What I mean to say is, I’m an essence. I’m a realm. I’m a mirage. I’m neither here nor there.

Solomon: Hmmm. While we’re on the subject of reincarnation, and flashbacks to a century ago, let’s talk about the short films you’ve been doing. And, by the way, I think they shouldn’t even be in picture-in-picture. They should be on the main part of the show, not during commercials. And I know a lot of people feel that way. But the films are silent, so I guess I understand …

Storm: Now you’re just babbling, darling. Do you have a question?

Solomon: Oh, yes. Do you think that All Elite Wrestling should switch the whole show being entirely done in black-and-white? And maybe silent? Or would you maybe not stand out as much if they did that?

Storm: To tell you the truth, I don't even know what you’re talking about or what you’re referring to. Everything is black-and-white to me. But I have heard about that fancy, newfangled Technicolor you’re talking about. It would be really nice one day to see AEW go live in Technicolor. I hear it’s going to be all  the rage.

Solomon: I have one more important question that I wanted to ask you, and this has to do with things that are even bigger than AEW. We know that a lot of people over the years, but especially these days, have kind of grown disillusioned with modern-day Hollywood. And you represent a timeless version of Hollywood that I think a lot of people are nostalgic for, or kind of miss in some ways–the glamor and the elegance. Could we ever expect to see “Timeless” Toni Storm bringing her timelessness, her elegance, her classic style to Hollywood itself?

Storm: What does that question even mean? What do you mean “bring my timelessness to Hollywood itself”? I’ve been in Hollywood my whole life. I’ve starred in a million movies, in all the major flicks. I’ve been a star my whole life, ever since childhood. I was born on set. Both of my parents were very famous actors, I create art, darling. And you will continue to see more and more pieces of art from me.

Solomon: I’m intrigued to learn of your being born on a movie set. I don’t think that fans are aware of that.That might be new information, broken right here in the pages of Pro Wrestling Illustrated. But didn’t you just tell me that you were never born, that you just exist?

Storm [waves in disgust]: Explain it however you like. Call it whatever you will. I was born into this business. I have been on movie sets my entire life. I am the very definition of Hollywood. All I have ever done is perform. I have performed so much my entire life that I can’t even remember my countless performances.

Solomon: Well, your performances certainly have been making an impression on audiences, as I said at the beginning of our conversation. You’re bringing back a certain something that’s been lost in the business.

Storm: I congratulate you on recognizing the obvious, yes. I just think we needed to bring that back, and that’s why I'm here. There’s been something missing from the business, from All Elite Wrestling. And I'm bringing a bit of the magic back, a bit of the art. It’s no wonder that audiences have been eating it up. I give them something to believe in. That’s what makes me stand out from the rest of the pack. And that’s what “Timeless” Toni Storm is all about. I would say that there should be even more of it–but then, of course, it wouldn’t stand out as much, would it?

[Ouch! Ms. Storm liberates the follicles from poor Skye Blue’s scalp. Tolerant of her “co-stars” until they stand in the path of her goals, Storm’s power ties in her ability to become ruthless at the drop of a hair curler.]

Solomon: No, it wouldn’t. That’s a great point, Ms. Storm. And you’re doing such an amazing job with it. I’m a huge fan.

Storm: as you should be. I appreciate all my fans and admirers. I definitely can’t say I blame them.

As with all brushes with greatness, there was only so much time to say all the things that I wanted to say, to ask all the questions that I wanted to ask. As the interview went on, it almost seemed like she was consumed deeper and deeper into this fantasy of her own making. I dared not challenge her too directly, as one never knows how someone in such a state might react. And far be it from me to shatter what's been so carefully constructed.

[“Now you’re just babbling darling. Do you have a question?”]

Eventually, the butler flashed me that pointed look that can only mean, “This interview is over now.” I politely thanked Ms. Storm and collected my things, thanking her for the gift of her precious time and excusing myself. After leaving the estate, I took one last wistful look back at the tarnished gables and overgrown landscaping that perfectly encapsulated the decadence that has overtaken the mind of Toni Storm. There is no point in debating the finer points of reality with someone like her. When all is said and done, reality is what you make it. And she has made her reality into something unforgettable and grand.

You might call it madness, but there is undeniably a method to it. Whether on the big screen or the same screen, “Timeless” Toni Storm is a big star. 

[mostremote]

USE THIS TO POST ANY/ALL EVERSNOW YOU DONT PLAN ON POSTING

(ex. too graphic of sex scenes, idk maybe i’m just a whore for that old man but that’s really what i’m after)

lmao ok!!!

I won't post everything because I just have a mess of folders and subfolders and drafts and redrafts of all kinds of things and they're not that coherent. I've got a couple of pieces that are nearly finished or at least mostly coherent that only need a bit of work to finish, so i'll try to get to those.

For now here is a much earlier draft of what eventually became Chapters 11 & 12 of The Shivering Season, "Proserpine" and "Bombs". This approach just wasn't working for me so I entirely started over. There's a few chapters where I just scrapped what I had and started again. But there's still some fun stuff in here, I like Snow not knowing how to deal with Katniss' inexplicable hypersexuality.

Pancakes again. Katniss turns them over with her fork, over and over. They’re always making her pancakes. Is it because they know her mother made them? Is it to try to make her feel better, remind her of home? Or hurt her? Make her miss what she can’t have?

She cuts them into little pieces and makes towers. She builds the town hall of District 12 and the square, and she smiles as she makes the street with the bakery. She imagines Peeta, coming and going from the little pancake house. He would think it was funny to live in a pancake.

‘Is your breakfast particularly amusing this morning?’ comes Snow’s dry voice, and Katniss’ smile drops as she looks up.

‘Not really.’ She topples her pancake towers and moves them around her plate in entropy.

‘You ought to eat something.’ He isn’t even looking at her; he’s distracted by whatever he’s reading on a tablet. ‘You keep skipping breakfast. It’s not healthy.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

He glances at her. There it is: concern mixed with threat. A certain amount of unhealthy is useful to him. Too much is dangerous.

Katniss spears the smallest piece of pancake and lifts it to her mouth. It makes her sick to chew it, but Snow seems satisfied.

‘As I mentioned last week, there have been some comments on how “stiff and uncomfortable” you and I sometimes appear with one another.’ He holds up the tablet and shows her a photo. Katniss can’t help but crack a grin. It’s the two of them at some stupid event. They’re holding hands, but both are looking in the opposite direction. Katniss isn’t sure which of them looks more like they want to kill someone. ‘I’m glad you find this amusing,’ says Snow. ‘Perhaps you have forgotten how tenuous all of this is. Marrying you might have obliterated the mockingjay symbol, but there are plenty of people left who want to kill us. If people start to think you’re unhappy with me, well – they might reinvent you. The kidnapped child bride of the President. That might rejuvenate the rebellion. Is that what you want?’

‘No,’ says Katniss quickly. ‘I’ll do better.’

‘We both need to do better.’ He nods at one of the servants who comes to deliver the tablet along the table to Katniss. ‘Take a look at those. I had one of my team draw up a…’ He rolls his eyes and pulls a face of uncharacteristically extreme disgust. ‘…a selection of suggested intimate gestures that you and I might employ in public to appear more palatable. Approve the ones you’re comfortable with.’

Katniss accepts the tablet without looking the servant in the eye. She starts to flick through them. Each gesture has a title, a sunny summary, and an awful cartoon diagram to illustrate it. Head resting on shoulder: this is an easy way to express the stability and comfort one person feels in the other… Black-and-white, insipid cartoon people smile back at her, one resting its head on the other. After that comes forehead kiss, hand on thigh, hand on the back of the neck, stroking hair, nuzzling…

‘Nuzzling?’ she says incredulously.

‘We can veto that one,’ Snow mutters. ‘And forehead kissing. That will only remind people of our age disparity. Do you have any vetoes?’

Katniss tosses the tablet down. Weird little shapes are dancing before her vision and her anxiety is starting its inexorable climb up her throat. ‘Do any of them. Whatever.’ She collects herself a little. ‘Uh, not hand on the back of the neck, please. I’d feel like you were choking me.’

‘Fine.’

‘Maybe we should kiss more,’ she murmurs.

‘It would be easy for that to become unseemly. Katniss?’

She is rubbing her forehead over and over and over again. ‘What?’

‘Are you alright?’

Katniss contorts her face into something like a bracing smile. ‘Yeah. I’m fine. What’s happening with the rebellion? Are people still fighting?’

Snow nods and sips his coffee like death and rebellion are quotidian topics for breakfast discussion. ‘District 11 has been very inflammatory. A few dozen were shot there last week. But they’re making little progress, we’ll easily put them down. It’s just a question of how many lives they’ll lose before they surrender. District 12 has been utterly complacent. I think they saw the wedding as—’

‘A betrayal?’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ he says lightly. ‘Either way, they’re not willing to die anymore for what you once symbolized. But then we have other problems. Many in the Capitol were unhappy with our increase in rations to the Districts, so we have enemies on that side, too. There are plenty who think you’re a poisonous influence on me, eroding the Capitol’s power from within. That coterie want us both dead. Fortunately, they’re not a large or powerful group – at least at the moment. But if the election doesn’t go our way, well…’

Katniss’ head is full of cotton wool and ants. ‘If what? They’re only electing who’ll take over when you die, right? And you’re not…’ She frowns. Looks at the tiny pieces into which he cuts his food. Can see even from here a bit of blood on his napkin. ‘You’re not going to die soon, right?’

‘I don’t intend to, Katniss, much as that might disappoint you.’ His smile is wry and wan. ‘But the moment a successor is chosen, then certain people might get… impatient. The summary, Katniss, is that we have enemies on all sides. The best thing we can do is keep up appearances.’

Katniss crumbles some piece of pancake between her forefinger and thumb. This is like eating, only better, because it doesn’t make her sick. ‘Can I do anything more? Be more…’ There’s a big blank spot in her vision now, and it covers all of Snow’s face if she holds her head in a certain place. She shifts her head back and forth, back and forth, watching him disappear and reappear…

‘Katniss?’

‘Oh.’ She blinks. The blank spot remains. ‘I was going to say, can I be more… I don’t know, attractive to them? What would help?’ She shrugs. ‘I’ll do anything.’

‘In terms of your styling, I don’t think there is any room for useful improvement. All we can do is sell our relationship to them. Hence all of that.’ He waves, revolted, at the tablet.

‘You can do what you want to me,’ Katniss says, her words vague, her thoughts elsewhere – her thoughts nowhere. ‘I’ll make it look okay. I’ll smile, and I’ll look like I like it. I can do it.’

‘I don’t want to do anything to you,’ says Snow, and his voice is strangely gentle. ‘And if you can’t cope with any of this, we can reassess. I need you in one piece, Katniss. Do you understand?’

Katniss nods. She picks up a large piece of pancake, crumbles it, lifts it to her lips, tastes a few crumbs, then lets the rest fall to her plate. It sort of looks like she just ate a whole chunk.

‘I understand. I’m fine.’ She smiles, just how she does for the cameras, and all she can see in Snow’s face is skepticism and concern.

It’s easier once they’re in the car together. Some weird reversal has happened to Katniss’ anxiety. Rather than spiking whenever Snow touches her, now it’s at its worst when she’s worrying about it, or thinking about it. Actually feeling him against her is the worst things can ever be, and there’s something comforting in that. There’s reassurance to the smell of blood on his breath. It means the worst is currently happening: you are already in hell, and that’s okay.

They have to open some stupid new art gallery or political building or execution block today, so they stand for the crowds and smile. Katniss doesn’t initiate any of the new physical gestures, but Snow touches her shoulder and her hair. After he gives his speech, when the cameras are supposed to have lost interest (but, they both know, have not) he pulls back her hair and kisses her lightly, like this is meant to be a private moment and they just can’t help themselves.

As he shifts her hair Katniss is yanked back to her coronation after winning the Games, the first time he ever spoke to her. She had to stand still and let him touch her then, too. He didn’t ask permission then. He hated her. Now he doesn’t seem to mind her so much. Does that make it harder for him to touch her? Or is it because the first time he touched her it was predatory: examining a thing he had to control. Now it’s affectionate – or the performance of affection. Katniss wonders which she hates more.

[This is when a version of the ballet, hand-on-thigh scene from “Proserpine” originally occurred]

Katniss is struggling. The misplaced cog rolls around her body and makes it misbehave, makes it sick. Her anxiety has reached its limit, and the fluid that spills over in excess is abject and stinking and it pools between her legs.

They’re at a party. A fundraiser? A campaign party? It’s something to help some Capitol politician that Snow thinks is important, somehow, and Katniss is expected to attend and advertise to everyone the wonderful unity Snow has achieved with the districts.

She is not doing a good job.

When Snow reaches for her hand, Katniss pulls away. When he smiles at her, she turns her head. When the rich, fetid smell of his blood-breath cascades over her, familiar and vile and, now, also, delicious, she looks anywhere else. His scent drops through her chest and congeals in her abdomen, and then she feels sharp notes flutter through her clit. She tries to keep as much distance between them as she can, but just his presence and his smell – which once just filled her with anxiety – now fills her with syrup.

Snow is displeased.

He tries to engage her in light conversation when there’s a lull in the political small-talk, but Katniss’ voice is sticky in her throat. She cannot meet his eyes, and she cannot be near his mouth. He keeps trying to hold her hand, or touch her waist, or put a hand on her shoulder, and she keeps sliding away. It isn’t even putting a stop to her arousal, but she cannot countenance letting him touch her and letting that feeling build again. It’s profane.

The evening is crawling by and Snow is trying once again, in futility, to get Katniss to let him hold her fingers in his, when he finally has enough.

‘We need to talk,’ he says, and tries to steer her out of the crowded room. Katniss shies away from his hand and walks ahead until they’re out in the empty, quiet corridor, where Snow finds a private alcove in which to address her. His face is set in confusion and disappointment. Not yet anger. That will come soon. ‘What on earth is wrong with you tonight?’ he hisses. ‘We are supposed to be an advert for a prosperous new alliance between the Capitol and the districts, and you are doing an extremely poor job of selling that.’

Katniss leans as deep into the alcove as she can, her bare shoulders rubbing against the walls, trying to get away from Snow’s breath and his smell.

‘I’m just not feeling very well,’ she says.

‘That’s not good enough. As far as I can tell, there is nothing physically wrong with you. You can walk around and eat well enough, so there shouldn’t be anything precluding you from holding my hand.’

She’s not even eating that well. Snow has simply become so accustomed to watching her pick at her food that he doesn’t register any difference.

‘Can I just have the night off?’

‘No.’ She is trying to sidle away from him again, and Snow places his palm on her other side to trap her. His voice is sand and broken glass. ‘Thus far, Katniss, I have mostly been impressed with your conduct – barring a few notable incidents. You have played your role excellently. But this is unacceptable. You cannot have the night off. You cannot take a break. I warned you what this life would be like, didn’t I?’

A ghostly smile haunts her face. ‘No end,’ she repeats from memory. ‘No respite.’

‘Exactly. So, are you going to do your job, or do I have to force you?’

Katniss convulses with a shiver. The new, cancerous part of her likes the idea of being forced. There is no way out of this maze, only ever deeper in. Digging in the dirt at the center, burying her face among the worms.

‘Okay,’ she breathes, her voice high with despair. Resigned and disintegrating, she reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers together like schoolkids in love. With her other hand, she reaches out and touches his face. His skin is soft paper, bristled and familiar, old and hateful. He does not stop her when she kisses him. It’s a small, pathetic, grieving kiss, and Katniss feels her body’s sexual response come in low, persistent waves. Perhaps it would be easier if she could just keep kissing him, and forget about the party, and lose herself in the sewage.

Snow pulls his lips away. ‘Good,’ he says, confused. ‘We don’t need to kiss, Katniss; it’s only a campaign party. Just try not to seem revolted by me.’ He smiles, and Katniss returns it with a completely different smile. Oh, she is revolted. Her revulsion will never be exorcised out of her. But the revulsion is lined with gold, and it makes her cunt leak.

At the very least, it’s kind of funny.

Katniss lets Snow escort her around the party and show her off, and she laughs at the men’s jokes. She lets Snow touch her however he likes, and when his hands brush against her waist or he leans against her side, unintentionally pressing her breasts, the usual anxiety sparkles into arousal.

She is introduced to some important senators who Snow tells her pose some important rival to Daric, a man she can barely remember, and Katniss laughs and smiles and looks at her husband with what looks like love but which is actually putrid desire.

‘I must say, you are every inch as stunning as you are on television,’ says one senator.

‘An astounding creature,’ says another. ‘You practically glow.’ Katniss smiles winningly.

‘My husband brings it out of me,’ she croons, and everybody laughs, and she turns her head to Snow’s and gives him a gentle kiss. He accepts it, as he must, and you can practically taste everybody’s heartfelt sentiment.

But Katniss doesn’t let him go.

She places one hand on the back of his neck and holds him prisoner, as once she did to punish him, and she lets her kiss bloom with all of her lips and her saliva and her tongue. She feels the craters of his mouth sores and erotic disgust trembles through her.

Just at the point where she knows she cannot push impropriety any further, Katniss pulls away. Snow’s expression must look like affection, but she knows how to track the fury in his eyes.

Katniss turns back to the senators – whose eyes are wide and astounded at the display – and smiles again, the picture of grace, and she laughs and the men laugh and everything is fine.

It is not until they are back in the car that Snow unfurls his anger. He waits until they are sat side by side, silent and unspeaking, and then he looks at her with his own kind of disgust.

‘I have warned you about this, Katniss,’ he says. His voice burns. ‘I warned you at the auction. You need to behave better than this. This is unacceptable.’

Katniss feels high with surreality and arousal.

‘It wasn’t unacceptable,’ she says lightly. ‘I was very careful. They were impressed by that. It was passion, not humiliation.’ She gives him a flat, adolescent stare. ‘They like to see that sort of thing. You’re not some sad old man who bought a child; you’re a man who inspires…’ She sighs and hopes a suitable phrase will come to her. Nothing suitable comes. ‘Who inspires intense sexual desire. They want to see that, the men. Makes them think they can get the same thing. They’ll go home, have sex with their wives that hate them, and they’ll fantasize about going out to District 10, 11, 12 and picking up some desperate little teenager who worships them. You’re selling them an ideal.’

Snow is unsettled, and Katniss likes that. He does not know where the lines lie. Nor does she.

‘It is true I have not been married in a long time,’ he says carefully. ‘And my last wife was one I specifically chose for her plain and conservative qualities. But… Katniss, it is not normal behavior.’

‘Of course it’s not normal,’ she scoffs. ‘How many men there genuinely have wives like me that adore them and want to fuck their brains out?’

He looks away from her at that. How he can’t stand it! But it’s not fun anymore. She’s not trying to torment him; she’s just wandering around her new labyrinth.

‘You just don’t like it because it makes you uncomfortable,’ she continues. She manages a bitter smile. ‘You’re kind of a prude like that.’

She studies the streetlights and the people for a while, and then she realizes Snow is watching her. She looks back at him. His expression is strange to her.

‘I worry about you, Katniss,’ he says quietly.

Katniss laughs: a short, brash bark, and then she throws back her head and convulses with laughter. It feels good to laugh; it takes the edge off her arousal.

‘Oh, sure, sure,’ she says, surfacing from the fit. ‘The man who let my District starve to death for years, who idly stood by as I fought for my life in the Games, the man who threatens to kill me on, oh, a daily basis… He’s worried about me.’

She expects a fight, or a cutting remark. But Snow only watches her. For some reason, it stops being funny. Katniss settles down and avoids his eyes. He does not stop staring.

‘Yes, Katniss,’ he says, at last. ‘I worry.’

She glances at him sidelong, and he finally turns away from her and absorbs himself in whatever important news has been poured into his tablet. She thinks about kissing him again. She thinks about smashing her head into the window, or getting into the minibar and taking one of those little glass bottles to her wrists. She would love to bleed out, wade into the quiet, and Snow could recede on the distant horizon. She would float away in the red, and wave goodbye, and he would wave back.

But… Prim…

So she sits still, and she tries to rest her mind, but it’s full of flies and blood and Snow’s lips, so she resorts to counting the streetlights, and she tries not to think about the raw, pulsing pit that her new future is hurtling toward.

[icallhimjoey]

I call him Joey, just to feel something

so there we go.

Joe Quinn fanfiction one shots (updated 4 setember 2024)

That Better? - lil angsty, lil fluffy Summary: It's hot. It's humid and hot. You're uncomfortable, sticky, sweaty, and you feel disgusting. However, Joe doesn't give a shit. Needs his cuddles to get his sleep, no matter how grumpy it makes the both of you feel. Wordcount: 1.5K

Boy Of My Dreams - lil angsty, lil fluffy Summary: You have one of those nightmares that you're not really able to shake, and then Joe turns up as the bad guy and you wake up in a weird state. It's okay though. Joey fixes it. Wordcount: 1.5K

Five More Minutes - fluff / lil sexy Summary: Muttering "five more minutes" after waking up is something most people do, but somewhere along the line, you and Joe have taken it to a whole 'nother level. Wordcount: 2.5K

Cotton Soft Touches Gentle Voices Smooth - fluff Summary: Joe's got some work to finish, but it's difficult when his girlfriend is all snuggled up on the sofa, looking like she's just about the most comfortable a person has ever been. Wordcount: 1.8K

Just A Man - fluff Summary: Joe witnesses someone flirt with you, and, listen, Joe can take a lot, okay? But an Italian bartender making his girl laugh from where he can hear it across the hotel pool is just a little too much, all right? Wordcount: 1.7K

What Else - hurt/comfort Summary: You come home after a long shift, and your feet hurt, and you've got balled up toilet paper in your underwear, and peole are so fucking rude, and Joe is so happy and you're not. Wordcount: 1.8K

I Want To Hold Your Hand - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: Bookstore!Joe is back for another store visit, and he thinks he wants a lot of things, but really, when he finds you hiding in the breakroom all day, all he truly wants to do is hold your hand. Wordcount: 2.4K

Lost Moments To Keep - hurt/comfort Summary: Bookstore!Joe is leaving for work tomorrow and won't be able to visit the store for a while... but then you take a real bad tumble in the store and hurt your head, so how the fuck can he leave you now? Wordcount: 3K

Little Spoon Reversed - fluff Summary: Anne is grossed out after hearing people talk about being big spoon or little spoon, and Joe loves using it against her. When he asks you which one you are, you throw him a curve ball that makes his brain melt a bit. Wordcount: 2.1K

Not His Thing - hurt/comfort Summary: Joe and his friends go for a fun day out and visit a smash room together, lads on tour. You have the same plans, except yours ends up being not so fun when a shard of ceramics flies right into your face. Big whoops on Joe's part. Wordcount: 1.7K

More Than That - fluff Summary: You hadn't actually thought this through. Hadn't anticipated what it would actually be like to bring Joe, the guy who you had sex with and who tried to feed you pasta a lot, to your cousin's wedding. It's: not the best. But Joe is, so, thumbs up emoji. Wordcount: 2.6K

Funny Story, Actually - fluff Summary: You take the tube to a dinner with Joe's friends, and on your way, you run into your former boss. The one who you'd trusted with your life. The one who then went and slept with your ex-boyfriend. The one whose bag you then pissed into before meeting Joe in an empty tube lift. Wordcount: 1.8K

Drown In You - smut Summary: In the shower with Joe, words get spoken that hold nothing back. This is the cut scene, the one entirely jumped over, from part 5 of Reinvent Love, remastered in full HD for your enjoyment. Full smut, little plot (although, read Reinvent Love because it’ll help)! Wordcount: 1.8K

The Boy Is Mine - fluff Summary: Joe has work and cancels plans but, you know what, you can just come over and help him out, can’t you? It’s nerve-racking and embarrassing but, ok fine, you can come over and help him. Wordcount: 1.8K

Love Languages - fluff Summary: You and Joe try to figure out his and your love language. You're convinced you know his. But then again... do you? Wordcount: 2.2K

Still Love Me? - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: The holiday prep is just a lot, okay? And you did something stupid and now, here you are, crying over something silly and in need of some extra affection. Good thing Joe's there. Wordcount: 1.7K

Sweet Dreams - fluff Summary: You can't sleep. Joe finds you, still wide awake, when he gets into bed and has just the trick to get you to doze off. Wordcount: 1.1K

Good Girl - 18+ Summary: Joe figures out you have an off-switch. Or, an on-switch. Depends from which angle you approach it. Would be nice if he didn't abuse his power, wouldn't it? Joe disagrees. Wordcount: 1.9K

Heartbeats All Chaos - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: You suffer through our first panic attack with Joe in the room and whilst you are trying your best to remain calm and practice all your breathing techniques, Joe is freaking out. Wordcount: 2.1K

Girls' Night - fluff Summary: Wedding gang's back! Joe's best friend Poppy and you are starting to become better friends. Joe pretends he hates it, eye-roll, oh my god, you're so annoying, but secretly he loves it so much he can't even think about it without blushing. Wordcount: 3.4K

For You - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: All the women who are independent, throw your hands up at me. You never ask for shit, because you don't need any help, do you? Until, suddenly, um, yes you do, and Joe gets to fucking shine. Wordcount: 3.3K

Blind Bargain - fluff Summary: You and Joe are sneaking around and you're mortified people will find out, until your flatmate sort of does, and what if she hates you because you lied to her for ages? Joe saves the day. Wordcount: 3K

Touch - fluff Summary: Joe's all grumpy and grouchy and very irritable and so annoyed and, listen, his bones creak now. Shit, he's getting old. Good thing you've got magic hands with magic fingers that hold a magic touch. Wordcount: 2.1K

But, I Love You - angst, hurt no comfort Summary: You want an evening out with Joe. Your soft ruffled mismatched outfit Joe. But you get Joseph Quinn instead and when you voice this, it all kind of... goes to shit. Wordcount: 4.1K

Inside Out & Outside In - 18+ smut Summary: In this prequel to Ground Rules (see blow) you find out what really happened on that one night, where you felt all vulnerable, and Joe was there with soft eyes and kind touches. Wordcount: 4.9K

Ground Rules - angst, fluff Summary: You accidentally fall pregnant. It’s Joe’s, but you’re not together and… so, now what? Together you figure out a system that you have to keep convincing yourselves and everyone around you will actually work.  Wordcount: 4.8K

Mine - fluff Summary: Joe talks in his sleep. Seems kind of awake, but definitely isn't. That's... that's the story? Enjoy. Wordcount: 1K

Love You A Twelve - fluff Summary: Joe has some good news and some bad news. It starts with soft beard scratches on the sofa and ends with shaving foam kisses because Joe's cute and you're cute and, gosh, shut the fuck up don't even LOOK at me right now. Wordcount: 2.9K

Alla ricerca di Cenerentola - 18+ fluff, lil smut Summary: You meet Joe at a rooftop birthday party in Rome, Italy and Joe falls in love whilst you practically inhale a full charcuterie board. You're charming like that, we get it. But then you disappear... so, now what? Wordcount: 3.5K

Soothing Serenity - 18+ lots of TOUCH Summary: Joe just happens to be the type of boyfriend that relaxes after a long day at work by putting his hands on you. And who are you to deny him? Wordcount: 1.9K

Sticky Skies - fluff Summary: You move into a new flat and meet your very cute neighbour out on your balconies when you go for a cigarette. Quick 5-minute before bed smokes turn into long two-hour before bed conversations, and you're very cute as well, so Joe can't help but love you, obviously. Wordcount: 3.5K

Infinite Fizz - 18+ smut Summary: On your last day as a temp PA, there’s no more holding back. This is the cut scene, the one entirely jumped over, from part 5 of In 120 Hours, remastered in full HD for your enjoyment. Full smut, little plot (but read 120 hours, because it'll help). Wordcount: 3.7K

Easier In Greece - fluff Summary: Joe’s in an interesting stage of life when he’s offered an equally interesting project. You whisk him off to Greece and spend eight days together on a boat with high expectations of which none turn out to be true. Wordcount: 7.9K

Saturn’s Eyes - fluff Summary: On your first date with Joe, he suddenly has an idea. He needs to show you something back at his flat. It's not sketchy, he promises. Wordcount: 2K

What's Best For Me - angst, fluff Summary: Joe's in his head and is distant for a little while which quickly has you spiraling because clearly, this is all your fault isn't it? Wordcount: 2.3K 

Forty-seven Days - fluff Summary: You’ve not seen Joe for forty-seven days, and you think he’s coming back tomorrow but he lied and surprises you at your job a day early and he’s all hands and hips and mouth. Anne hates it. Wordcount: 1.1K

Soft Hands - fluff Summary: You come home from a night out at Halloween, absolutely plastered. Joe’s waited up for you and helps you into bed safely. Wordcount: 1.9K

His Glasses - 18+ smut Summary: Um, so, Joe wears his prescription glasses out of the bedroom for the first time. All aboard the struggle bus!  Wordcount: 1.3K

There You Go - 18+ smut Summary: You go to bed way before Joe does one night, and he finds you tossing and turning, unable to stop moving, having all sorts of dreams... and so Joe helps you out, wink wink nudge nudge. Wordcount: 1.1K

What Are You Wearing - fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: You have an awful day and then Joe wears and awful outfit and it's all wrong and why does a grown man not know how to fucking dress himself?! Wordcount: 1.9K

Promise Me Both Ways - 18+ smut, fluff, hurt/comfort Summary: You've asked Joe to be a little... rougher, than he usually is. And you fucking love it, until something goes wrong, and Joe freaks out. It's fine, you LOVE it, but Joe's not so sure... Wordcount: 1.8K

-> back to home ♥

[quiet-admirer]

I got an ID photo taken today and it was an entire experience that I needed to write out. I think it wants to be a zine or part of a zine or a loose comic or something, but I don't have zine energy right now and I don't know when I will, so I'm just posting it like this:

Badge

Today I had my photo taken for a new ID badge at work.

I didn’t necessarily need a new photo: I’m transferring to a new position internally, and could have used the one my employer has on file, but the old one was from 2017 and it felt like it was time.

The 2017 photo is a very specific snapshot of time in my life. I had been maintaining a steady weight after eating disorder recovery for about a year, and I’d never been that big before. My eyes are half closed in the photo and my hair is at an awkward length of beginning to grow out the buzz cut I gave myself in 2015 to erase everything and start again during a turbulent mental health time. That work photo was taken shortly before I started Adderall and lost about 20 pounds, and years before I started HRT and gained about 60 pounds. I have a small kind-of double chin in the photo, but it’s the kind that goes and comes with posture or a smile.

I have a double chin now. Maybe if there’s a trick of the light in a photograph it might go unnoticed – a privilege, I know – but it’s always at least a little present now.

This morning, I make a mental note to remind myself to maybe try stretching my neck a little or raising my chin when I'm in front of the camera. I want to protect myself from the possibility that the long-buried disordered thoughts will use this photo as a chance to get their hooks in again if I’m surprised by how fat my face looks in the photo.

A line from a Touché Amoré song, “Reminders,” loops into my head.

“I tilt my chin up in photographs, a subtle way to reinvent the past.”

It isn’t until I’m getting dressed to leave the house that the words reach me.

I think about a comment on an Instagram video of a dozen or so high schoolers having fun sitting around a table together that was captioned as having been taken in 2003. It was some little outburst about how they all looked so slim and happy, unlike today’s teens who are fat and depressed and chronically online.

I think about the photos I have of my mom when I was a kid, where she’d stand in the back, pull us in front of her. I think about the photos I don’t have of my mom when I was a kid.

I think about all the gaps in fat existence – fat joy – in our collective historical records, and about the social media accounts who have to go out of their way to bring images of fatness to the surface.

I’m determined by the time I get in front of the camera.

I smile and I keep my head in its neutral, comfortable position.

There’s anticipation instead of apprehension when I go around to the other side of the computer to see my face.

It’s so severely washed out by the harsh white lights that I can’t quite make out my double chin. Or my acne, which I decided not to cover up with makeup today either.

(When I was in college, I had my photo taken for the yearbook. There was a check box on the form to opt into having photo correction of “blemishes.” I didn’t check it off, even though it was an anxious decision. My acne was what it was, or I was trying to teach myself that it was what it was. I cried when I got the photos back. They’d edited out my acne anyway.)

It occurs to me that the lighting’s probably on purpose.

But the photo still looks like me.

The lighting can’t hide my round face, the way my jaw and my neck blend together in a gentle slope instead of a cut edge.

Even if I had tried to disguise my double chin, I wouldn't have been able to hide my size. I decide that I like that about my face – the only part of my body I still get self-conscious about sometimes.

The song "Reminders" by Touché Amoré is an expression of frustration that the Systems That Be fail to provide us with the care and protection and support we need. A music video for the song was released in 2020, made from stitching together clips of family and friends of the band with their pets during the isolation of COVID-19 restrictions.

Maybe it was silly to think of my employer as an avenue for defiant fat self-expression and maybe my work-issued ID with my inerasably fat face on it is a drop in an important bucket. But I'm turning around and putting these words down and showing them to a community of other fat people. And I'm looking at my own face in the mirror with the knowledge that I'm slowly inventing a future for myself where there isn't any trick of the light or tilt of my chin that can omit my fatness.

[thecreaturecodex]

Anaxim

Image © Wizards of the Coast, by Wayne Reynolds

[Commissioned by @justicegundam82​​. The anaxim was one of the abominations in the D&D 3.0 Epic Level Handbook, and even in its initial appearance seemed like a strange fit. It doesn’t have an epic level CR, at CR 20, and it is the only non-evil abomination. 4e tried to reinvent them by moving them to the Forgotten Realms, and conflating them with a 2e monster family from Dragon Magazine, the sheen. Like most decisions involving the Realms in the 4e era, I hate this and am ignoring it.

My inspiration for the flavor text is as much from conversations with my followers as from any official source. Their first canon backstory is that they are the abandoned creations of a forge god who tried and failed to make an ultimate weapon. The commissioner suggested, in light of this and to give the anaxim something to do other than fight, that they be interested in “fixing” themselves. A conversation with @strawberry-crocodile​​ about one of her upcoming commissions got me thinking about how Pathfinder RPG treats Law vs. Chaos as the big reality-defining conflict as opposed to Good vs. Evil (more traditional fantasy settings) or Evil vs. Evil (the Blood War). And, because of where I am in my life, there’s definitely an element of queer symbolism in this entry as well. Feel free to play that up, or play that down, depending on how you want to use the anaxim in your game.]

Anaxim CR 17 N Outsider (extraplanar) This mechanical thing is approximately human shaped, but nearly twice as broad. Its body seems to be made entirely of weapons—it has spinning blades mounted on its back, multiple hooks and cleavers growing along its arms, and a face like a knight’s helmet.

In the war between the inevitables and proteans, there are casualties. Most of these are outright fatalities, but in some cases, an inevitable becomes irreversibly changed by the forces of chaos. When this happens, the inevitable transforms into an anaxim. No two anaxim look identical, but all resemble loosely humanoid metal figures covered in weapons. The primary goal of most anaxim is perfection: making themselves whole and complete in a way that is unique to each individual. Many anaxim would also like to figure out a way to reliably replicate, one that didn’t rely on freak chance and outside intervention. A few anaxim are instead filled with self-loathing and seek to lash out at the forces that made them—these are the most dangerous.

A single anaxim is the equivalent of an entire mortal army, and they are able to go toe-to-toe with all but the most powerful proteans or inevitables alike. As anaxims value their own lives very highly, they usually start a combat cautiously, from a distance or with hit and run attacks. The spinning blades that grow between their shoulders are, when spun fast enough, able to act as a wing, granting the creature remarkable maneuverability for its weight. In addition to their impressive physical weaponry, an anaxim can use a number of spells for defense, and a powerful blast of sonic energy for offense.

Anaxims are insane by the standards of the inevitables, which means that they are capable of respecting and understanding multiple viewpoints. Some maintain a balanced approach to achieving their goals, while others veer wildly between chaotic and lawful behavior. On some occasions anaxim will gather together into groups if their views of perfection overlap. If they do not, such groups rapidly fall apart due to infighting, with anaxim attempting to take control of their peers or simply blast them to pieces with their sonic cones.

Anaxim       CR 17 XP 104,200 N Medium outsider (chaotic, extraplanar, lawful) Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +26, true seeing Defense AC 33, touch 18, flat-footed 25 (+7 Dex, +1 dodge, +15 natural) hp 270 (20d10+140 plus 20); fast healing 10 Fort +13, Ref +19, Will +17 DR 15/(adamantine and lawful) or (adamantine and chaotic); Immune construct traits; Resist cold 20, electricity 20, fire 20; SR 28 (35 vs. divinations) Defensive Abilities constructed Offense Speed 30 ft., fly 100 ft. (perfect) Melee 2 blade arms +31 (2d6+11/19-20), spinning blades +31 (4d6+11/19-20x3) Ranged 6 spikes +27 (1d8+11) Special Attacks control construct, rend (2 blade arms, 2d6+16), sonic cone Spell-like Abilities CL 20th, concentration +25 Constant—nondetection (self only), true seeing At will— chain lightning (DC 21), displacement, greater dispel magic 3/day—ethereal jaunt, quickened greater dispel magic, improved invisibility 1/day—summon (1 iron golem, 100%, 9th level) Statistics Str 33, Dex 25, Con 25, Int 20, Wis 20, Cha 20 Base Atk +20; CMB +31 (+35 sunder); CMD 49 (51 vs. sunder) Feats Cleave, Craft Construct (B), Deadly Aim, Dodge, Flyby Attack, Great Cleave, Greater Sunder, Improved Critical (spinning blades), Improved Sunder, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (greater dispel magic) Skills Acrobatics +28, Craft (clockwork) +24, Fly +24, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering) +21, Knowledge (engineering, planes) +24, Perception +26, Sense Motive +26, Stealth +28, Spellcraft +21 (+25 crafting constructs), Survival +26, Use Magic Device +26; Racial Modifiers +4 Spellcraft when crafting constructs Languages Celestial, Common, Modron, Protean, Utopian SQ armament, construct maker Ecology Environment any land or underground (Axis) Organization solitary, binary pair or squad (3-6 plus 0-12 miscellaneous constructs) Treasure standard Special Abilities Armament (Ex) An anaxim’s natural weapons overcome damage reduction as lawful, chaotic and magic weapons. Its blade arms are primary natural weapons that deal slashing and piercing damage, and threaten a critical hit on a roll of 19-20. Its spinning blades are a primary natural weapon that deals slashing damage, and deals x3 damage on a successful critical hit. Control Construct (Su) Three times per day as a standard action, an anaxim can attempt to take over a construct within 60 feet. The construct can attempt a DC 25 Will save; if it fails, it is totally under the control of the anaxim for 24 hours. Creatures with the constructed defensive ability, such as inevitables, modrons and other anaxim, are susceptible to this effect as well. The save DC is Charisma based. Constructed (Ex) Although anaxim are living outsiders, their bodies are constructed of physical components, and in many ways they function as constructs. For the purposes of effects targeting creatures by type (such as a ranger's favored enemy and bane weapons), anaxim count as both outsiders and constructs. They are immune to death effects, disease, mind-affecting effects, necromancy effects, paralysis, poison, sleep, stun, and any effect that requires a Fortitude save (unless the effect also works on objects, or is harmless). Anaxim are not subject to nonlethal damage, ability damage, ability drain, fatigue, exhaustion, or energy drain. They are not at risk of death from massive damage. They have bonus hit points as constructs of their size. Anaxim do not need to breathe. Construct Maker (Ex) An anaxim has Craft Construct as a bonus feat. It gains a +4 racial bonus on all Spellcraft checks used in the manufacture of a construct. Sonic Cone (Su) Once every 1d4 rounds as a standard action, an anaxim can create a 60 foot cone of deadly sonic energy. All creatures in the area take 20d6 points of sonic damage and are staggered for 1 round. A successful DC 25 Reflex save halves the damage and negates the staggered condition. The save DC is Charisma based. Spikes (Ex) As a standard action, an anaxim can fire up to six spikes. Each spike is treated as a ranged weapon with a range increment of 100 feet. Each spike deals 1d8 damage plus the anaxim’s Strength modifier. An anaxim never runs out of spikes.

[olderthannetfic]

I'm having difficulty with trying to place some of my fandom's feelings about misogyny in our source materials, GoT and HotD. On the one hand, I can understand how as women, we may not want to be confronted with the pitfalls and dangers of misogyny in the real world in a fantasy story with dragons, but on the other hand, it isn't like GRRM discusses misogyny in the books without tact. Margaery, Sansa, Cersei, and now Rhaenyra all have complicated relationships with gender and power in their own storylines that make sense in the context of the world. And GRRM doesn't shy away from showing the dangers of masculinity, either. Like, how mens' prides can doom themselves, their families, and entire nations, how most of the ones who die in battle are the poor foot soldiers who are usually men. Even how some men, in their pursuit of perfection/reinvention through their sons, harm the rest of their family, like Tywin. Or how there are men who use others that he thinks are weaker than him (sex workers, women, children, the poor) to feel bigger and more important, but their harm doesn't actually improve themselves, so they repeat cycles of hurt.

I don't think people are inaccurate in saying there is misogyny in the books, but this misogyny is purposeful and not accidental. Idk, to me pointing out how Cersei thinks misogynistic things about other women is like pointing out there's racism or homophobia in a Baldwin novel... yes, that's the point. Do you or others think that there's a disconnect between audiences of fantasy and mainstream? Like, with some people just wanting fun escapism but being reminded of the real worldvs. people who just want the story as-is. Because sometimes it sounds like when Anglophone westerners try to make "feminist" retellings of myths like The Iliad about Helen or Briseis, when all it ends up doing is proving that maybe Homer was more conscious of the realities and perspectives of women than they gave him credit for, or that they missed the point of Helen's story to begin with. Sometimes I think modern reviewers/critics get so caught up in pointing out every societal ill without context of the work, that we present discussions of these ills as failing of the work. Any thoughts?

--

A lot of "feminist" retellings are junk that misses the point of the original, sure, but the complaints I've heard about GoT are mostly about "But it's realistic though!" bullshit, particularly about the show rather than the books.

It's realistic for women to face sexual violence. It's also realistic for men to face it. It's also realistic for women to have nice lives.

This is fiction: everything someone chooses to put on page or on screen was just that: a choice.

I haven't consumed any of these canons. In the books' case, I hadn't heard of them back when I read fantasy doorstops by men. I no longer do that unless it's a queer book.

The show broke one of my cardinal rules: female full frontal without equal or greater male full frontal presented equally sexily and GOD DAMN shaved pubes that 1. don't make sense and 2. aren't equally common on men.

I'll watch a rule of horny show, but not if it's aimed at someone else's libido.

--

In the horny premium cable with sex and gore realm, I did watch the first season of Spartacus. That show was campy trash in many ways, and far less critically acclaimed, but it managed to show vastly more male full frontal and a really sensitive depiction of sexual coercion of a big, manly dude and what it did to him emotionally.

Lucy Lawless' horrible slave owner character was fantastically interesting and also shaped by misogyny and the expectations that she was only valuable for bearing an heir. All kinds of awful things happened in that season, but the only time I got the feeling we were there to gawk at tragedy porn or naked bodies, it was men on the receiving end.

--

People see GoT as neutral because they're so used to only seeing media that is by and for straight guys who are used to fapping to women's crying faces and calling it realism.

I can't speak to the books. From what people have said, they sound marginally more thoughtful than the show but still firmly in the Old Guy SFF tradition where "historical realism" upon which one builds one's dragon fantasy realm means abused women, not third gender priests or Muslim travel writers or any of the other underused historical shit you could pull from.

I'll give GRRM that many of the other cliched books are stealing from him and not vice versa, but this trend is more than old enough to predate A Song of Ice and Fire, which wasn't published till 1991.

So no, I don't think it's about escapism. I think it's about being bored of the same old, same old.