#anyway they're so ambiguous!!!!!!

[blackhholes]

teen wolf meme: [4/6] creatures -> chimeras

You found the perfect word, though, Scott... Because a Chimera isn't just a monster with different parts. It can also mean something impossible to achieve. An unrealizable dream.

[dreamaze]

GAMBLER ◆ Heist

[brittlebutch]

Desperately trying to make sense of Alex's motivations in Season Two and you know, I do eventually have to wonder if maybe Alex wasn't actually lying in the majority of those tapes.

Like, we tend to assume that Alex's motivations have been a consistent throughline since the college years, but do we actually know that that's the case? Do we know for sure that Alex was acting in deliberate, calculated ways in 2006; or could it be that he's telling the Truth on those olds tapes when he says he's blacking out and can't remember what's happening to anyone? After all, if we're assuming that Season 2 Alex's motivations are the exact same as his motives in Season 3, then it doesn't make any sense at all that he spend months working with Jay to try to find Amy; Season 3 Alex would have attempted to kill Jay like, on sight just to get things over with as quickly as possible and contain the spread of contamination as best as he could.

But, maybe, if Alex really had been separated from Amy after the events of the 04-04-10 tape, and if he really doesn't know where she is, then maybe that could make things start to make more sense. Maybe he really had been watching Jay's channel, and seeing Jay start going through the same things he went through in college without things devolving into violence and disappearances, and wondered if things maybe could play out differently this time. Maybe he really did send that tape to Jay to ask him for help, maybe he really was just trying to find Amy.

But then, instead of actually being helpful, Jay makes it extremely clear that he's a lot more interested in stalking Alex than he is in finding Amy. Alex asked for help, and instead there's a bunch of masked dudes on Jay's heels that keep attacking him, Jay is breaking into his house, stealing his things, leading the Operator right to him all over again, keeps trying to get other people (namely: Jessica -- if Alex is being honest when he says that his call reassuring her that Amy had been found was an effort to make Sure she stayed away from everything that was happening) involved; and instead of anything getting better, instead of anyone finding Amy, things are just getting worse all over again.

It's not until after the incident at the tunnel that things seem to start rapidly devolving. Rather than a calculated attempt to finally follow through with his need to curb the spread of contamination, this is very clearly an outburst of rage and terror. Alex's "I told you not to follow me" line in conjunction with Jay speculating that Alex didn't know who that guy was, to me, pretty firmly seems to speak to Alex having mistaken that stranger for Jay. From his point of view, Alex knows that Jay and totheark know where he live, have broken in before, he suspects that Jay stole a key to make it easier to get into his house, and he's been followed on the daily for months -- Alex is sitting at the tunnel because he doesn't know where else he can go without being constantly surveilled, hunted, and assaulted. And instead of getting a moment by himself to breathe, Jay followed him out there all over again (it feels like Alex looks directly at the camera in Jay's footage of him from this day; he knew for a fact that Jay was there), and then to make matters worse now 'Jay' won't even keep his distance anymore.

So Alex lashes out. And it's not until afterwards that he looks down and finally recognizes that this wasn't Jay -- it was someone completely innocent. Things have finally reached the low point he was at in college all over again; maybe even worse this time. If Alex doesn't remember attacking anyone in college, but he was at least partially conscious of it this time, then things have reached an entirely new rock bottom, they've reached an absolute point of no return.

He has no idea what happened to Amy, and he's spent months trying to find her with no hint of where she could be; he doesn't know where Jay actually is or what additional trouble he could be causing at this point; he does know that now innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire (in regards to the stranger in the tunnel, and also Jessica now that Jay has her phone number, and the untold number of people Jay got involved when he started posting videos to the Marble Hornets channel); things are spiraling out of control and there's no one left to ask for help. The situation isn't getting better, it's getting worse; things aren't getting easier to handle, they're just getting more out of hand; the negative impact is spreading and who knows how much further it can still go?

So, Alex decides to go scorched earth. He disfigures the body with the rock either to hide evidence or to make sure the guy would actually stay dead and not just get back up to start his own cycle of contamination in a few years. He tries to give Jay one last chance to back off, and Jay instead admits he's been talking to Jessica, acts obstinate and lies about not having Alex's spare key, and then breaks into Alex's house a second time (minimum). If Alex doesn't stop him now, who will? Alex met with Jay planning to kill the others, and then himself, so he could put a stop to this once and for all and keep things from getting any worse than they already were.

Maybe it makes a lot more sense if, rather than being a strangely incomprehensible detour on what should have been a straight path, the events of Season Two were the breaking point that put Alex on that path to begin with.

[blatterpussbunnyfromhell]

still not over the ending of hannibal seriously that shit SLAPPED like?? Love Crime being repeated as Will and Hannibal jump off the cliff?? iconic. “I will survive” over Bedelia looking at her own leg on the table, meaning that not onbly did Will and Hannibal ACTUALLY DID SURVIVE THE FALL but they also acted on all their threats to Bedelia who absolutely does NOT intend to die, as she hides her fork under the table. THE MEANINGS AND THE POSSIBILITIES OF THAT ENDING AAAAAAAAH

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

One of my ocs has been quietly vibing with your star foxes lore for a while, if we’re allowed to yoink lore headcanons I finally have an explanation for why he’s so funky. (Fox boy of ambiguous origin)

you've no idea how happy this ask makes me

[smonk-wonk]

how are you a holocaust survivor if you're POC?

I'm not a Holocaust survivor I'm 25?

I'm gonna guess you mean descended from Holocaust survivors & victims. In which case it's really sad that you think this way firstly? POC and non Jewish people did in fact die during the holocaust and many were targeted for not fitting the Nazis' idea of the "superior Aryan race".

From The Holocaust Encyclopedia: "When Adolf Hitler and the Nazis came to power in 1933, there were several thousand Black people living in Germany. The Nazi regime discriminated against them because the Nazis viewed Black people as racially inferior. During the Nazi era (1933–1945), the Nazis used racial laws and policies to restrict the economic and social opportunities of Black people in Germany. They also harassed, imprisoned, sterilized, and murdered an unknown number of Black people."

Also contrary to what some believe, and this may sound farfetched and I hope you're sitting down but bear with me- some people are actually more than one race. Some people are POC and white. We call this being biracial. Or in grade school, being an "Oreo". A mutt if they really want to dehumanize you

But while my relatives weren't targeted for their skin color as they were white, many people were. Black Germans and other POC did exist, were murdered and traumatized, and have passed down that generational trauma. Just as other persecuted populations even if it was much less it was no less a part of the genocide and ethnic cleansing.

[firebirdsdaughter]

I respect your right…

… To interpret this honestly incredibly vague character writing/story telling in this way. I respect it.

You're wrong, but I respect it.

[cardworksartblog]

Last night, I heard your terrifying howling. I felt the earth tremble, as if to shake me awake as you let loose the enchanting song of demise you sing when you catch someone in your woods.

It was followed by the townsfolk pounding at my door in a panic. A child had stumbled into your woods at sunset, and had yet to return now at midnight.

Your howling had convinced the useless brutes who guarded the village that you'd claimed the child as a casualty in your forest, but the villagers had managed to convince them to let me investigate first.

Thank the sun they had.

As I ran down the path to the fields, I saw you in the moonlight. In the middle of the wheat field, standing, with a dove pale as the purest white paints in your jaws. The brutish guards had followed me, and panicked, readying arrows and shouting for the rest of the village as I ran toward you.

Then, the child peeked out from behind your hulking form, looking up sleepily as if they were not standing by wilderness incarnate. The villagers chastised the brutes angrily, the child's mother running down yelling for them as your gaze pierced straight through me.

Toward the brutes.

You dropped the dove into my hands, black ichor staining my palms as you turned and nudged the child forward into their mother's embrace. When their mother asked the child why they'd taken so long to come back with you, they'd told her that something bad had tried to eat them after they got lost.

But then the angel, the child had pointed up at you with wonder in their eyes, had saved them. You glared at the brutes, and I shared your baleful gaze. Their disrespect would not have been tolerated if the child had not been present.

You bow and snort playfully at the child as a farewell, taking the dove in my hands back into your jaws before running off back to the forest. Your home.

I help the child's mother up from the ground, and carry the child up the hill. They're tired, it's past their bedtime. The brutes stare at me incredulously as I glower at them while walking past.

I spend the night awake after that. The scentless ichor that dripped from the dove's wounds, the visceral unsettlement I'd felt while holding it, how its figure had shifted unnaturally in my hands and your jaws keeping me from resting.

That was an angel. They'd sent an angel to kill that child in your forest.

Such a tiny child, incapable of doing any wrong, and yet they'd been all too willing to sacrifice them to instil the fear of the wild, the fear of you, back inside this village. After all the good you'd done, the successful hunts you'd sanctioned in the hunting grounds of your home....

I grasped my bone-steel knife you'd made for me after I'd helped you bury one of your kin, infused with your very power and strength. It's stayed under my floorboards for months now, I've not had the heart to use it. I felt as if any usage of it would be of disrespect to you.

But now, as I steel myself and begin gathering salt, candles and half of my money from where I store it? As fury burns inside of me like a pyre at the utter guts they had to try and kill one of my own to prove naught but a silly little argument that they were too stubborn to admit they were wrong about?

I feel a wild energy pulse through the knife as I stare out my window, gritting my teeth as I think of plunging the knife I clutch in my hand into the chest of a bastard who ruined my life before and seeks to do it again. I think of watching as black ichor streams out of their wounds as you and I raid their sacred halls of false innocence and purity.

This use for our knife is a compliment to you.

[fideidefenswhore]

What are your thoughts on Jane Boleyn, and the role she supposedly played in the fall of 3 Queens (Anne Boleyn, Anna of Cleves, Katheryn Howard)? Do you think she has been too maligned by historians for centuries, especially when it comes to the relationship with the Boleyns (it seems she got along with Anne)?

Now that I've read both works and compared them side by side, I suppose I would say my stance on Jane Boleyn falls somewhere in between that of Julia Fox and James Taffe ('Somewhere in between' is not, btw, Alison Weir); although closer to the former than the latter. Offering critique of both biographies, I would say that of JF is too apologetic (smoothing out wrinkles that exist in her arguments rather than acknowledging them) and JT is too severe.

Especially when it comes to the relationship with the Boleyns? Yes and no. Obviously she was married to George, she sent him a message of comfort while he was in the Tower, and wore only black the rest of her life, which was quite the potent statement. However, I would allow for the possibility that she potentially, inadvertently implicated him or AB (ie, testimony of hers was twisted to suit the crown's case). This is where I think there are flaws in the arguments of some of her defenders-- they cannot allow for even that possibility and so make claims that disallow it; some of which are untrue. 'Jane was only blamed as a means of absolving Henry in the whitewash of Elizabethan propagandists' is not true. Johannes Sleidan in 1545 claimed that Anne and George died by her 'false accusation'. Sleidan was a Reformer, so he would have been more sympathetic towards the plights of these two than the average person, and would have spoken to others that were as well, but the motivation to vindicate Elizabeth did not yet exist; she was at this point the very unlikely third in line to the throne.

I do appreciate that you said 'got along' with Anne, not 'besties', because...it's possible they were very close, certainly, but we must also allow for the possibility of animosity. The linchpin for the argument of closeness is the report from Chapuys that they 'conspired together' to banish Henry's mistress from court. Was this the precise truth? Considering the source I'm doubtful. Probably there was a lady Henry was serving at this time (although that we never have a name makes the story somewhat suppositious), but did they need to have 'conspired together' against her for Jane to be banished from court (which is what happened instead)? Jane might have merely made Anne aware of her, and Henry finding out that she'd been the source would have been enough for banishment. Or, as was presented plausibly in Adrienne Dillard's fictional rendition, Jane might have dropped hints to Cromwell that this mistress was a supporter of the two exiled and contumacious royal women that were Anne's adversaries, Cromwell might have passed this along to Henry, and Henry might have banished Jane for shattering the illusion that this woman had no independent ambitions or ulterior motives and merely let him hit for the sheer pleasure of his company.

If this was evidence of closeness, and it might be, then we also have to remember that the end result was Jane's banishment from court, and that there is, as JT fairly pointed out, no evidence that any of the Boleyns spoke in her defense, favor, or for her return. It would take an extremely magnanimous person to accept all that with equanimity and not feel any resentment whatsoever. So, if there was intimacy, there might have also been rift.

That leaves the question: enough 'rift' for her to seek vengeance? I doubt that much for all the reasons Fox outlines in her biography, but at the same time I wish there was not this relentless push to only defend women that we assert 'deserve' defense, on the premise they were entirely selfless, accepted every insult with grace, never kept any grudges, never had personal ambitions (the actions she took during the queenships of those you mentioned would suggest otherwise), mixed emotions, or conflicting loyalties; that we could acknowledge that acknowledging the agency of historic women also means acknowledging they were capable of making mistakes.

[caimitos]

i already made a tumblr for my art (just as an archive) but i hate the thought of moving here for my art after ~5 years on artph / the local art community on twitter

like i'm not sure how to (re)build an audience on a website that just doesn't have my target audience in it and it makes me want to eat broken glass

[rimouskis]

when I first started my job, I'd often overplay my emotional detachment to it because I had moved from a high-emotional/personal-involvement industry into a soulless corporate one.

and to, like, justify that decision and explain it to my high-emotional/personal-involvement peers from that old industry, I'd be like "lol I don't really care, you know? the job suits my skill set and I can do it, so it's all good:)"... but I've come to the realization that I actually really enjoy doing the labor of my job and it's weirdly hard to admit that!!

[gloriousmonsters]

just watched Amanda the Jedi's video about it and man, the cabin at the end of the world 🤝 horns: books that clearly state that if there is a God that causes horrible things to happen, it's the right thing to do to say fuck that God and his plans, which got movie adaptations that were like nooooo let's remove all of that God is fantastic actually ignore all the bad things

[birlwrites]

I don't know if you need to hear this, but, given that post about comments earlier, I just wanted to say that I've got both TTDL and Tyrant on my subscriptions, but I still check for updates on the usual posting days multiple times. Your writing is very good; and that runs the whole gamut. The pacing, the characterization, the plot, and a lot of things that I can't name at the top of my head. Best of all, though? Your voice. The effort you've put into the craft over the years is very evident.

thank you so much anon - i'm fortunate enough to not get too many of the 'post more' comments, or at least they're vastly outweighed by the people who genuinely care about the story, and the addition on that post about how powerful positive comments are is incredibly true

for me, knowing that someone is invested in the story (beyond the point of just yelling 'I NEED MORE' at me, which EVERY TIME i deeply wish to respond to with 'no i'm never posting again<3' even though i'm aware it would be a bold-faced lie, simply because i know for other authors it WOULDN'T be a lie and ~actions have their consequences~) makes posting fic an actually fun experience - then i get excited to update the same way readers are excited to read the update, and that's how i've managed to keep going on stories that are WAY bigger than anything i ever dreamed i'd write when i first made an ao3 account. ttdl would not exist if not for the overwhelming amount of encouragement i got from people who enjoyed stga, which would not exist if not for the interest and support i got from people reading my one shots and shorter multichaps

there are a lot of things i love about ao3 but i think because it really is just an archive of fanfiction (which is a good thing for it to be! i don't want it to be a social media platform), it can be easy for people to forget that there's an actual person behind the account posting updates, and that's how they begin to treat authors as merely content creators

i know leaving comments can be a really nerve-wracking thing (i've gotten people apologizing to me for leaving short comments, apologizing to me for leaving long comments, apologizing to me for not commenting on the previous chapter, apologizing to me for not having anything specific to say beyond that they love the story, apologizing to me in case they spelled something wrong because it's 5AM where they are, ETC ETC ETC) and just like... if you're sincere in your appreciation for the story, no matter how much you have to say, please know that it's very much taken to heart and received with gratitude

so it means a lot to me to know that you're interested in those stories, because that is why i post them

[celestialholz]

Live long and fuck in Hondas (or 'why that Vulcan salute is way more significant than you think it is')

Hey. Hey Holz. Did you know Deadpool and Wolverine fucked in the Odyessy? Did you know that they now live in a one-bed with Blind Al? Did you know that -

Yes, friend. I know all of it. And you're all super fucking valid for pointing it out.

... But maybe all of you aren't seasoned Trekkies like me. Maybe not all of you gorgeous people understand the true significance of this.

Or maybe you just want a definitive way to win the argument of "are these two fucking?"

But either way, I'm here to help, and to tell you why, amongst all the absurdly homoerotic text of this film, this moment? Might be the gayest of them all.

Now, we must start by saying that although you wouldn't know it from the bullshit Abrams films, these two:

Are the fathers of gay fanfiction. Spock and Kirk here are the reason you're living in the fantastic timeline where you can write/read men fucking without any other shred of plot and that this is a legitimate and normalised internet experience - everyone say thank you, iconic papas. These guys were so homoerotically coded that even in the 60s, the era of wondrously overdramatic performances of all kinds and fairly prevalent homophobia, The Girlies still took notice, still started mailing each other fics and making zines and being just hugely excited at the thought of these two getting space-married. They are fandom as we know it today's beginning, and seventy years later they're still an enduringly popular ship on AO3. (You should all go and watch Amok Time, by the way. Contains the Honda Odyessy scene of the 60s, except there's weird biology and wrestling and just go and put it on your screens, thank me later. They fucked on that planet.)

Anyway, these two were as close as early colour TV could ever allow two men to be, deepening their *coughs* friendship almost every single episode or film - Trek's creator Gene Roddenberry even gave them a unique word in Spock's Vulcan language, with the meaning of 'friend, brother, lover.' (And if that isn't ringing any Poolverine bells, I'm not actually sure what you want out of this post. Enjoy it anyway, love you.)

... And then we get to 1982's The Wrath of Khan, and to that moment that every iconic screen couple must face - the ol' classic, it's you or me and I won't let it be you.

Sure, the set-up's a little different here - the chamber Spock's in is filled with radiation, and the scene's quieter, softer. And Kirk isn't a mutant so he can't smash his way in, he can just sit there and inwardly die as his emotional support Vulcan does.

... But you get where I'm coming from here. Ryan Reynolds doesn't take a million other potential love scenes from across the cinematic ages - no, he takes this. What is for many the romantic acknowledgement of a whole generation. The humble and desperately sweet beginning of it everything we fans know and love nowadays. The most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in television, directly comparative to what is now arguably the most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in cinema. And lest we forget, Wade doesn't believe in a fourth wall - this is a conscious choice, both in canon and in the writer's room.

Oh it's so clever and so beautiful a girl could weep. Ryan just introduced the MCU to the gays, just as Kirk and Spock did all those years ago to the masses of the time.

And then there's what it means.

This is the Vulcan salute, created to mean either 'live long and prosper' or 'peace and long life' - it's used more or less interchangeably.

But part of that's irrelevant when you're as immortal as these two.

So we're left with the sentiments of prosperity and peace, given to a man who up to this point can't imagine ever prospering again, is the furthest thing away from being at peace. Wade gives Logan the opportunity to go on, to find the things he's been lacking for so long now - things he has already helped him find. Spock tells Kirk during The Wrath that 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' and that's exactly what Wade's doing here - sacrificing himself for the greater good of his friends and his newly beloved, however much it will hurt them all.

And that's lovely, and poignant, and character-growing, and I think we all would have been content to leave it at that and have our noble sacrifice, however much we would have wept. Kirk goes on to find the remnants of Spock's soul in the next film in the series, to bring him essentially back from the dead because he felt it was more than his own soul's worth not to have done... which, again, ringing a bell anyone?

Because Logan, in not so many words, tells dear Wade to fuck right off, and we get this.

What we've got here is a direct translation of one of cinema's gayest moments, made somehow infinitely more gay. A true achievement here - I genuinely think I spontaneously acquired tetanus in the cinema for a good minute, my jaw dropped so hard on seeing this. The pillars are the same colour as Kirk and Spock's original uniforms, for fuck's sake. I'm dying out here.

What we've done here is create narrative equality. The whole film's kinda done that leading up to this anyway - they're both mentally fucked up men who can't die, who are constantly dying anyway, who are evenly-matched in battle and both enjoy Honda fucking, who have forged a real love even as they piss each other off at every turn.

But here, they place one another in narrative equality for the first time. It's not about a sacrifice, not now, even though they're assuming it is one - it's about what should be done. It's about righting wrongs, being heroes, being together because every option other than that is unacceptable, because neither understands quite how to lose anyone else. They've both made the same choice, and that's not to let the other die alone.

It's about holding hands and loving and never letting go, even if it kills them.

... It's just about the most romantic and gorgeous thing I've ever fucking seen.

There are no more instances of masks, once they're done in this station. They don't need them any longer; they will never need them again.

And that's only emphasised by the parting shot we get of this... almost directly after Vanessa and Wade share a final sweet look.

I don't know, man. It's almost like the true conclusion is hidden behind the acceptable masquerade. Imagine that in the MCU, folks.

They've taken one of the most intimate and sweet moments in screen history, and made even more glorious.

They did The Wrath of Khan better than The Wrath of Khan did it.

And that's... that's gay. That's just about the gayest thing they could ever have done, and I adore it to the smallest pieces.

So remember, the next time your friends disbelieve you... show 'em this. Show them that they redid the very beginnings of slash fandom, and did it better.

(And then you can add on that they now live in a one-bed with their grandma, daughter and dog, and will do for the rest of their lives. Kirk and Spock didn't even get THAT shit.)

[hypertextdog]

YOU -- mm i want a fat man on me gaystyle but with clothes on

FURRY INCLINATION [Medium: Success] -- Any *animalline traits* to him, two-legs?

SENSATION -- That would do nicely, texturally speaking...

YOU -- not for now, but i'll keep that in mind.

POSTER'S GAMBIT [Easy: Success] -- Yes. YES. It's the perfect emotion. Everyone wants -- even if not that. So generalize, blogsman. Ambiguate. With this, you can finally build your *viral empire.*

BROAD APPEAL [Hard: Success] -- With your crowd: three faves, and a flirtatious re-blog from some fur-fag. Eight if the bitcoinette or the not-lycanthrope touches it...

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- Try again. We're *this* close to another "you have to let 'denny's parking lot at 3am' go."

YOU -- mm i want big men on me gaystyle #gay #mlm #lgbt #asexual

SENSATION [Medium: Success] -- But it's not about "big" -- "big" alone is nothing. Non descript. You crave *plasticity* -- you want to feel him pushing through, between your fingers...

FURRY INCLINATION -- Oh, yes. Sounds *sonft,* two-legs.

SENSATION -- *Really* sonft. If we must say it that way. And so *heavy* on our supine body, too. I almost wonder if we could...

New task: Administer the *auto-hand-job.*

SENSATION -- Yeah.

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- NEVER MIND THEM. Never mind any of that. You're almost there. Keep going, blogsman. *Earn* the U.R.L.

BROAD APPEAL [Hard: Success] -- Thirteen faves, four reblogs. None flirtatious -- none you think.

YOU -- what's missing?

BROAD APPEAL -- What do you think?

YOU [Impossible: Success] -- the *sapphic* factor.

BROAD APPEAL -- Exactly right. I *told* you I'm named this way for a reason...

HIGH SCHOOL G.S.A. -- Do it for Erin. And Michaela. I wonder if they're still...

BROAD INTUITION [Medium: Success] -- They're not.

YOU -- mm i want big men or women on me #lgbt #ambiguously queer

HIGH SCHOOL G.S.A. -- Ah-ah-ah.

BROAD APPEAL -- And about that word "big" ... you know what has to happen.

YOU -- but that's the core of it to me, kind of.

POSTER'S GAMBIT [Easy: Success] -- And to the fur-fag sector.

BROAD APPEAL -- A sector is nothing. We want the *website* in our hands. Even the proponents of Astarion, and the proprietors of "best girls"...

YOU -- Yuck.

BROAD APPEAL -- I know. But they're the only way.

VANITY [Easy: Failure] -- God, we'll be on *Ellen.*

BROAD APPEAL -- Enough of that. She's out.

YOU [Impossible: Success] -- mm i want anything at all #lgbt #ambiguously queer #asexual

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- STOP THERE. YOU'VE FOUND IT, BLOGSMAN. QUICKLY -- BEFORE WE BOTH FORGET -- TYPE IT UP AND POST.

BROAD APPEAL -- The known numbers don't go high enough. You've found a ticket out of here -- out of *Massachusetts.*

SHIVERS -- IN 2027, A METEOR THE SIZE OF A KLEAN KANTEEN WILL LAND IN THE CENTER OF ROXBURY AND LEVEL BOSTON WITH ITS ZETTA-JOULES OF IMPACT ENERGY. TOO SMALL AND TOO QUICK FOR EVEN M.I.T.'S OBSERVATORY-BOYS TO DETECT.

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- More important things than that are happening -- and sooner, too. Type it up, blogsman. This is the easy part...

YOU -- You type: "mm i want anything at all #lgbt #ambiguously queer #asexual."

SENSATION [Hard: Success] -- Stop. Go back. It's dishonest.

BROAD APPEAL -- This was never about you -- you were only ever the basis on which *this* could be constructed. If that...

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- Post it, blogsman. Make the world relate to you.

YOU -- You hit: "post."

YOU -- The progress bar reaches -- reaches -- completes. A green light indicates success.

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- YES. YES... Oh, I suppose we should have waited for *optimum posting hours.* It doesn't matter now. It's done -- and the onslaught faves will begin rolling in catastrophically in three... two...

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- In three... two...

Thought gained: Any day now...

POSTER'S GAMBIT -- Don't worry, blogsman. Just keep checking your phone -- the *wi-fi* here is *bunk,* anyway.

VANITY -- And once it does -- Ellen.

[sanguineterrain]

I am FERAL over your knight Jason thought. FERAL!!! Okay check this out: so Jason's ignoring reader because he feels guilty right? Maybe he tried to give them back but the king wouldn't allow it. But maybe the reader misunderstands and thinks they're not doing their "duties" so they make dinner and breakfast and wash his clothes and basically act like a perfect spouse. How would Jason react? 👀

Dear god... I feel another series coming on...

Idkidk, their dynamic is just really interesting to me! it's probably gonna be a bit of a slow burn here. Feel free to send more thoughts about them. I am rotating these two like a rotisserie chicken in my brain.

knight!jason todd x gn!reader. ambiguous time period but just assume it's olden times *gestures vaguely*. tw arranged marriage/forced relationship but it's complicated! jason is full of angst and self-loathing but he's a sweetie as per usual. original post for context.

****

The soldier—Jason—has said four words since you've arrived.

The first was "here," which he said whilst handing you a mug of milk. He didn't look at you as he said it, and that morning, he left for a five-day long station. You only know that because he said, after handing you the milk, "I've been stationed."

You realized it was five days when you heard his horse galloping towards the house... five days later.

You haven't initiated conversation because though you're a commoner, and no one ever had much hope for you to become anything but an old spinster, you know not to challenge knights.

But this is fucking ridiculous.

"Do you like veal?" you ask on your fourteenth day here.

Jason is about to leave, his boots half laced. He freezes at your question and looks up.

You stand tall, chin up. This is a normal question. A question a wife would ask her husband, except you're not a wife, and you're pretty sure this soldier isn't a husband either.

"I like veal," he says carefully, slowly. "Would you like me to fetch some from the market?"

Now, this is where it gets tricky. When the king summoned you, he made it clear that you were expected to care for Jason under his rules. You don't know how to navigate this world. You know what couples in your village do, but you don't know what's expected of you here.

"Actually, I..." Jason looks at you. His eyes are very green. He has a surprisingly sweet face under his helmet. "Actually, I was wondering if I could go. On my own."

"Oh."

You brace yourself for arguing or yelling. True, he hasn't raised his voice once, but he also hasn't said much at all. It's like living with a ghost.

"Yes, of course. Of course you can go." He fishes out a pouch of coins and gives them to you. You take it slowly, waiting for him to realize his mistake. He doesn't.

"Thank you," you say.

He nods and watches you walk.

"Wait."

You stop. Here it comes.

"There's a cargo ship in port today. The guards rotate at noon."

He leaves before you can form a thought. You hold the coins, watching blankly as the door shuts behind him. His horse whinnies, and then he's gone.

The market isn't far from the cottage. It's fantastic to be outside again. No one's noticed your absence, clearly, but that's alright. You've never expected more.

You buy a good cut of veal and potatoes and carrots and apples. Jason gave you more money than any cut of meat would cost, so surely he assumed you would buy other food. Why else would he give you so much?

A ship's horn drones in the distance. You're feeling some oranges when you remember his words. A cargo ship.

The sun is almost at its highest point.

"Oi! Either buy 'em or stop feelin' 'em!" the seller snaps.

You roll your eyes and move on from the orange stand. You can see the horizon of where the sky meets the sea from here. Any moment, the guards will change, and the ship will be...

You stop. Was Jason hinting at your escape?

No, he couldn't have been! That's preposterous. Why would he want you gone? The king took you for a reason.

And where would you go anyway? Once you leave, you'd be a criminal forever. You couldn't make a home on your own. And who knows what could happen in between? Pirates, enemy soldiers, anybody could snatch you up.

This must've been a test. A test to see if you would run. That's why he agreed to you going so easily.

No, your escape can't be planned now. Not when you're so obviously uncomfortable, and Jason knows it.

You ignore the ship and go home with your purchases. You spend the rest of the afternoon preparing veal stew. You warm leftover bread over the fire and set a pot of butter on the table.

Jason comes in louder than he has before, humming quietly. You perk up at the sound, happy for the lack of silence.

You set a bowl of stew at his chair and wait by the fire. As soon as he enters the kitchen, the humming stops.

"Welcome home," you say, wringing your hands. "I made supper."

Jason glances at the table, then back at you.

"You came back," he says.

"Why wouldn't I?" you ask, face neutral as you cut the bread into chunks.

"That—did the ship come?"

"Yes."

Jason sits. His face is dirty from training.

"I bought more than veal," you say, and hand him the pouch. "I hope that's alright. We—there were no more potatoes."

He takes the pouch, rubbing the string tied around the top. "You went to the marketplace... and came back."

It's not a question, but it sounds like there might be one behind it.

"Certainly," you say. "I'm loyal to you, Jason. I serve you."

He looks up, blinking rapidly. Then he looks back at his stew.

Oh, right. He's waiting for you to ask permission to sit.

"May I join you?" you ask.

Jason flinches. "You don't... you don't have to ask. I would never stop you from eating."

The words hang in the air. It's like neither one of you can speak right.

You watch him, and he watches you as you serve yourself and sit on the opposite side of the table. Jason takes the first bite, and you eat right after.

"Is the supper satisfactory? Have I done well?" you ask.

Jason stops chewing and sets his spoon down. You're struck by his shift in demeanor. You worry for a moment you've screwed up something as dim-wittingly simple as stew.

His eyes are sad as they fall on you. It's akin to grief, the pain he wears, but you don't know why he's grieving. You silently offer him more bread, pushing it toward him. He takes it.

"Yes," he says quietly and eats another spoonful. "You did. Thank you for supper."

Jason cleans his bowl three times. You have no stew leftover, which pleases you.

But as soon as Jason finishes eating, he gets up, rinses his bowl, and wordlessly leaves.

You don't see him for the rest of the night.

Somehow, you feel lonelier than when you weren't speaking.