#but I promise I have several projects in the works right now

[satoru-is-the-way]

time to request once again. i'm keeping you busy <3 jinshi with a secretary//advisor//assisstant (?) who has chronic migranes but tries to hide them form him so he doesn't get concerned ? definitely not projecting here hehe

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A/N: Ah!! ANOTHER JINSHI!! Don't worry I love this man. Ahhhhhhhhh

Pairing: Jinshi x Fem Reader

Prompt:time Jinshi with a secretary//advisor//assisstant who has chronic migranes but tries to hide them form him so he doesn't get concerned ?

Warning: N/A

You took a deep breath on your way back to your chamber as the head pain only became worse with each step. It’s not like doing the paperwork in your quarters would make the pain subside. However, it did keep Jinshi from noticing if anything was wrong. Little did you know Jinshi had been catching onto your little disappearing stunt. Only recently did the young master see your off behavior. The way your hand would touch your head, a discomforting look appeared on your features, and lastly you excused yourself. At first, Jinshi always let you go trying not to pry in your business. However, he began to worry after two weeks of repeating the actions. He eventually sent Gaoshun to spy on you. Each time Gaoshun said you would retreat to your room.

You were in a meeting with Jinshi and several higher-ups only minutes ago. There had been piles of papers loaded onto Jinshi’s monstrous stack . You hate to see those pretty violet eyes stressed, which made you volunteer to take the brunt of his work. After the meeting, he noticed how you squeezed your eyes tightly in pain before excusing yourself. Jinshu had enough of you hiding some big secret that physically caused you pain.

While slumped in your chair a loud groan escaped as the migraine began to ease up. The moment of peace was ruined by a banging on the door. “(Y/n), I want to speak with you right now.” He demands while Gaoshun is trying to calm him down. A moment later the door opened and Jinshi walked in leaving Gaoshun outside shutting the door behind him.

“Master Jinshi, what is the matter? You seem very upset at me…” You asked offering him your only chair which he made a ‘no’ gesture.

“What has been going on the past couple of weeks? I notice your behavior is very off. I hate seeing you like this… Please if I have done something to offend you…”

You sighed deeply as Jinshi gave such a teary-eyed look. “Jinshi it’s not you. I promise. I… I get these strong headaches…migraines at random points of stress.” You noticed it instantly clicked in his head. All the assignments you have piled onto yourself. While it helped his workload it only added stress onto yours. Jinshi now felt an overwhelming amount of guilt hit. He rushed to your side cupping your face. A small gasp escaped by the sudden action.

“I will not allow you to keep adding work onto yourself. Today the extra papers are to be left on my desk. You have been so helpful and I shouldn't have done you that way. (Y/n) you constantly are taking more work than required. I should have been more thoughtful about your health. Please forgive me,(Y/n).” He whispered and leaned down. You knew this would help reduce the amount of stress that build up.

“I feel bad. There is nothing to forgive, Jinshi. I need to be better-” You were cut off with a light kiss.

“No more of this. I won't allow it. Come now, my dear, let us sit down for tea.” He smiled and looped his arm around your waist pulling you along.

[sophie-frm-mars]

The Cass Review, and what we can do about it

The UK government is making decisive moves toward banning trans healthcare outright. The NHS says it is adjusting its policies to be in line with the "cass report", a pseudoscientific report written by a transphobe that goes as far as to claim that little boys playing with trucks and little girls playing with dolls is biological, and which disregards dozens of scientifically sound previous studies into HRT and trans healthcare in order to reach its conclusions that trans healthcare for under 25s should be radically changed to discourage transition at every turn and make it as hard as possible for young people to transition.

These moves will kill countless young trans people. I would not have made it to 25 if healthcare wasn't available and I know so many other trans people wouldn't have either.

The mainstream reporting in the UK is keeping itself ideologically cohesive by claiming that trans people exist, nobody hates them, and they're very rare, and the big problem is the explosion of new cases of not-really-trans people who are clogging up the system (this is a lie, the system has been intentionally slowed by malicious neglect, it isn't even a resource issue, the clinics have far more capacity than the number of patients who are let through)

Once again, this is genocidal and is actually a commonplace methodology of genocide. The nazis asked GRT people to help them understand which Traveller families were "real" travellers and which were the fake ones, since they insisted it was only the fake ones who were the problem and who had to be exterminated (because a lot of nazi GRT policy was based on American indigenous reservation policy).

Labour, the main opposiiton party in the UK, has announced it will "follow the Cass Report", and implement these restrictions on trans healthcare once in government.

For the survival of young trans people, robust community structures must be developed immediately.

Efforts to change the electoral situation will proceed at a snail's pace and will be entirely at the whims of what is politically expedient. It will turn around, but it will take a long time. At the voting level, everyone in the UK who cares about trans people needs to make it clear that they won't vote for Labour unless they reverse position on this, and to be clear about this: Labour will not listen. They are PR Brained Psychopaths and they don't want to get into this "controversial" issue in a way that might cost them further popularity and the easy election win.

Wes Streeting, inhuman lab experiment and Labour Shadow Health Secretary has said that activists need to "stop protesting to ask us to be better opposition and start protesting to ask us to be better government", in other words their electoral promises are cynical reactionary bargains and deals to get them into power and the only point at which they will change anything is once they are in government, if at all. I know this sounds very "push Biden left" but I'm not saying give up now - to repeat, everyone who cares about trans people in the UK should tell Labour to get fucked right away, and then keep doing it as loudly as possible, but it's just not going to change until after the general election at least.

Another way to help could be through legal routes, like the work that The Good Law Project has been doing for trans people for several years now, but I don't know enough about the law to know if it can be used to challenge this at all.

We have to accept there is no electoral solution right now to this genocidal campaign against trans people in the UK, and while those efforts are ongoing trans people and cis allies need to fucking organise. Trans exclusive / separatist organising is riddled with issues, I don't want to cast hopelessness around but there are really very few of us and while it's absolutely necessary to privilege trans voices in trans organising and give us the deciding power and the autonomy, we need to utilise the support and time and labour of every cis person who is willing to help in whatever way they can.

Robust community structures means community structures that are helping young trans people get healthcare as an absolute basic starting point, but it means a lot more than that besides. We need community structures that are consciously organised by people who are taking responsibility for the community roles they are in and being completely explicit with each other about the nature and function of their organising. We need HRT community resources so young trans people can survive this medical segregation, we need drug user harm reduction spaces so that what people turn to in despair doesn't kill them, we need sober spaces so that people can get away from unhealthy coping responses, we need conflict resolution structures so that our problems are dealt with privately and nobody is left completely isolated, but more than any of those things, and in order to have all of those things, we desperately need trans assemblies

Assemblies are how we will get a community of robust radical organisers, because only by repeatedly practicing the ongoing process of democracy can people learn how to do it in a way that will facilitate their own organising. We have to empower the whole community to answer our own questions, come up with solutions, organise people into structures to enact those solutions and then do them. All this means is that an open door event convenes frequently (at least fortnightly) to discuss what is happening in the community. Trans people get the mic for allotted time, and discuss the issues, and then whatever voting structure the assembly uses facilitates further discussion, for example through working groups - the assembly breaks into smaller groups to discuss the topic and then representatives report the outcomes of those discussions back and consensus is reached from what the representatives report.

We have to get people engaging in this process because in order to effectively combat this situation trans people must agree on the solutions and then tell cis allies how to help and so far we haven't been doing that. We really really haven't been. But we could be with a little work. And as I'm saying, doing this will also empower everyone in the community to organise toward specific solutions for specific issues like HRT provision, sober spaces, housing, food, etc.

fuck

I'll have more to add to this post later I have to get to therapy I just got really mad when I saw the news this morning

[headspace-hotel]

i promised myself "before I go back to school in the fall, something HAS to get better. SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER."

and i made the appointments, had the conversations, I spent hours wringing my brain out googling discussing with friends and family, thinking of SOMETHING, ANYTHING i could approach disability services about now that my previous suggestions had been shot down, and i went there with a list and i was like "hey is there ANY of this stuff you can do to help me" and basically? No

i asked "maybe i could have few extra excused absences so I can rest when i'm overloaded" but the lady was like Well we couldn't do that because you would miss the material in class

I asked "maybe i could have limited group projects so i don't have to be working on something with 4 other people every single day because social interaction is really tiring" she was like Well we can't do it if it would change the course substantially but we can ask that professors tell you if there's going to be lots of group projects so you can drop the class

I asked "maybe i can do in class writing assignments in a separate room so it will be less stressful" she was like well what if we couldn't guarantee that another room would be available where some one could monitor you

This is after the possibility of a partial course load was shot down (i could request it because of 'extenuating circumstances' but there's no guarantee it would be approved, and anyway i don't even know if it would fucking help) and several other things

Going back to school is just weighing on me crushing me. The past two semesters I have been so unrelentingly exhausted, miserable and alone. I hated my classes SO much and spent so much time crying.

All my classes are stupid busy work , just like worksheets that are like "do all these tiny little steps" that micromanage you painfully as if you can't be trusted to have your own independent thoughts" while the professor sits on their phone.

The grades are made up of a thousand tiny bullshit assignments that you have to remember at the right time, if you know the material and even care about learning it, it doesn't even matter.

I took a PLANT science class last semester that I honest to god hated so much it took all the strength in my body to even go to class. I LOATHED it and I got a C in it even though it was highschool level crap and the assignments were so restrictive that they basically punished you for being passionate about anything, I would try to be creative or dig more deeply on things and my classmates (it was always a mother fucking group project because the professor didn't want to fucking lecture, just give us something to kill time like we were fucking preschoolers) hated it because creativity or thinking outside the box would always make the assignment harder for everyone and I would fuck up the grade and it made me feel so ashamed

Same class where the professor said "you can tell this is a peer reviewed journal article because it's written in two columns along the page" like what. What. Huh. What.

There is so little flexibility too like the requirements are so specifically made to "mold" me a certain way. No one sees anything I have already learned or is interested in my potential and ability and passion and keen interest that i HAVE IN ABUNDANCE by the way, and the classes are so boring and passionless

I approached a lady in the arts department about an independent study involving natural plant fibers but she was like "no sorry i only work with seniors and you would have to take these 2 of my other classes"

There is so much more that's stupid and dysfunctional about this college that is too specific to discuss with privacy online, but let it suffice to say that it's a school that wants the reputation of being really challenging and rigorous soooooo bad but it actually just has 1000 inflexible requirements that eliminate everyone's free time and assigns metric tons of tedious busy work, because being "hard" means our academics are "rigorous" right? but the quality of the academics is not good, the classes are not engaging or encouraging you to think more deeply they are just painful.

And no one, fucking no one in these classes is engaging with the work with any energy or passion or enthusiasm, the professors can't get a discussion going, everyone is just staring like a bunch of zombies because their classes r like the equivalent of two full time jobs so of course no one can Engage Deeply with them they have no fucking energy

the food is like eating out of the garbage. they reheat the same pieces of pizza over and over until they're like dried out and leathery like something from a pharaohs tomb. they have bagels kept in a box and they're so stale you can't even bite into them. I got sour, rotten milk from the milk machine so many times my stomach eventually couldn't take drinking milk from there at all.

i hate, hate, hate, HATE that place so much i start crying every time I try to make plans for fall because there is so little fucking joy in my life when i'm there it's like being trapped underground.

[ronearoundblindly]

Yield

Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader

a vague sequel to Warning Signs (not required to read before this)

Summary: Steve takes your mind off a recent tragedy for the team.

Fluff, hurt/comfort with emphasis on the comfort, references to death and trauma but not explicit, SEVERAL sweet kisses 😍. Adjusted (from its languishing, dusty doc) for @bigtreefest's Summer Lovin' Celebration using the elements: hand kink--although this work is for all-ages--and "ew gross, that's not what I thought would happen today"--except I fudged that a bit. You're welcome even though, yet again, no one asked for this! WC ~2.3k

It’s a dreamless sleep, the kind that feels like you blinked but hours passed. Awareness comes long before awakeness.

Your head aches. You feel as shriveled and puckered as you were laying in the bath tub, soaked but thirsty, letting water steadily drip between your paralyzed, parted lips for so long yesterday. Your eyelids are sandpaper, but they’ve not opened yet.

Minutes tick by—perhaps another hour—and you attempt to remember what’s happening or happened.

Two people died. Gone. Brought back in the belly of the same plane you arrived home in, they are now lost, lost somewhere dark like this, lost like you are for so long as you can stand to keep your sore eyes closed.

Well…you are home but not home all at once.

You’re in a bed, that’s clear, but the pillow isn’t your own. The scent is off. Heavy. Musky. Not unpleasant. Somehow still familiar.

You tick through snapshots of sullen faces trying to remember.

Over you lies a soft, thick blanket. Again not yours. Again pleasing. It has heft. It comforts without constraint.

The hardest sensation to figure out is your hands.

They are…sticky and weighted. You’ve sweat and clammed up upon yourself. Your hands are not clasped in each other. Why the feeling then?

It’s cold—or cool, rather—but not beneath the blanket. The contrast to the battlefield’s heat yesterday is stark though no less repressive. The external pressures of fighting have turned inward, pushing your emotions to the brink. Your won the fight, and after, you lost the war with yourself.

You remember losing that war alone, so what are you holding?

Finally, you look.

There’s someone else in this foreign bed, one of the faces from the sorrowful slideshow behind your eyes.

Steve Rogers sleeps beside you, recognizable only by his size and his crown of golden hair because his head is bent, his hands encasing yours. He’s pressed himself to the bundle of fists between you.

The numbness has yet to lift. That’s why it all reeks of distance and projected celluloid. Yesterday happened but only in that far away world playing on the back of your skull. All you can process as real is that he’s right there and you are right here, simultaneously.

You try harder.

You try to flood color and sound onto the memories until they come closer.

The mission, the deaths, the flailing sense of loss, the unending bewilderment of “what do I do now?”: they become…undeniably tangible. They happened, and they happened to you. You heard the captain promise to stay with you. You heard him…

He called you ‘sweetheart.’

That’s the first thought that stirs something soft among the sharp recollections. That’s when existence returns.

Rogers came to your room. He wouldn’t leave until you were safe. He took care of you, and he called you ‘sweetheart.’ In your months of working with the Avengers, the captain has never once casually assigned an endearment. He says ‘ma’am’ more often than not and barely has nicknames for the teammates he’s worked with for a decade. 

Everyone is Agent, Sir, or Miss. Your last name has always been enough.

You were none of those things last night. You survived a horrid battle, a crippling loss, and a solitude which almost drowned you; it’s silly to admit how he heals your wounds with one simple word.

Sweetheart. A warm cocoa hug to your chest. A gentle embrace. A guidance back toward the light.

Maybe he’ll never say it again. Maybe he meant nothing by it. He only tried to help you. He only wanted you to feel better. Since no one else was around, it’s an easy assumption that Steve simply—

Rogers.

He’s Captain Rogers to you. A coworker. A teammate. That’s all.

It’s difficult to even call him a friend because the man is so professional, so shy.

That shy professional probably saw you naked last night. Whoops.

You shimmy deeper under your covers, tilting your gaze down to the shirt and shorts Rogers dressed you in—his shirt and shorts—but those movements stir the man with your hands.

In a split second, you clamp your eyes shut again and wait in the dark, fighting not to twitch at the dry-sand prickle.

He shifts with a quiet scratching of the sheets, and he sighs, the hot air grazing your knuckles.

One traitorous eye gives a curious peek.

Rogers’s head cranes back to show his sleepy smirk.

“Morning,” he rasps, blinking slowly. He ducks away again to yawn, his face stretching to life, before softly continuing. “How you feeling? Can I getcha anything?”

You tuck your lip under and say nothing. Words have left you.

After allowing the pause, Rogers lets go of your hands, cold flooding your damp skin.

“I’ll get us some water then.”

He doesn’t rumple your blanket. He doesn’t hold eye contact. He just dutifully rolls out of his bed and gets two glasses.

The paralysis is making you quake slightly. What do you say? Will he take you out of the field for this? If not already, will he bench you from how you act next? How will you act next?

He leans a knee onto the still-warm spot he abandoned and tsks.

“Come on. Couple of sips and I’ll leave you alone. Sleep all day if you want, but first—“ He inches the offered water closer.

You rake your eyes up his arm until meeting baby blues.

“Do you mean—“

Rogers’s phone rings. “Shoot, sorry. One second.” He plunks both cups down on his bedside table and answers quickly. “Yeah, Sam, I—no, no run today, I think… Seen her? Um, yeah, she’s…she was—“ glancing back at you over his shoulder, he pulls his hand over his mouth in thought “—I’ll look in…okay, sure thing. Talk later.”

You’re offered another smile and chance at water. “Where were we?”

“So this is where you go to be—“

The failed observation echos in the garage while Captain Rogers kneels by his bike (one of half a dozen). You can’t say ‘alone’ since you’re here, too, so you awkwardly kick your feet over the edge of the steel table he told you to sit on.

Captain America is important enough to be assigned one of the coveted, private garages along one side of the jet hangar, and he assured you, no one bothers him as soon as he closes that door. Where else was he supposed to take you? It’s hot outside, just like yesterday, your room is still trashed, and his room is not exactly neutral territory.

Rogers simply smiles, ticking his head to one side. “Hand me that socket wrench?”

Quick as a rabbit, you hop down, and suddenly, as his fingers drag the cool metal handle from yours, you get it. You forgot all about everything for a split second.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he whispers, smile still gentle, eyes still brilliant blue.

Your insides swoop more than the mid-air jump from your perch. You tuck your lip in your teeth to stifle the glow threatening to shine out. It feels wrong. You can’t be happy today. You shouldn’t. It’s not right.

Right?

Twice. Twice now he’s slipped. Maybe. Yesterday is mostly a blur. It’s hard to imagine he means to say that. It’s not like the captain to be kind. Well, of course Steve is kind, but in a professional way, a distant way. Instead, this is a tender sort of kind, tenderness like holding onto your hands while you sleep.

He’s watching your every reaction, probably to make sure you don’t fall apart again, probably to make sure you don’t shut down entirely, but you’ve a new focus: him.

“Help me?” Rogers asks, tongue swiping out, nervous. “If you want,” he adds with a shrug.

You shrug, too, but sit on the floor next to him.

He exudes unending patience, explaining the basics of what he’s working on, mentioning nothing when you clearly zone out. You lose whole minutes to either staring at him or staring at nothing. More flashes of yesterday overtake your vision from time to time, even though your eyes are open.

“Should have taken you to the infirmary,” he mutters as you shake off your latest blip.

You drop the tool dangling in your limp hand, and despite knowing there’s an object falling to the concrete floor, you jump violently at the clattering it makes.

You grip at your temples, shielding your face. “Perhaps you should have.”

A warm, steady hand lands on your knee.

“I can finish up here and take you.” He hurries to do something on the bike, and you’re sure he’s about to send you for a psych eval.

That’s the last thing you want. You have to convince him you are fine, better than fine, strong.

You grab for his wrist to get his attention back, but the move makes him twist a cap too hard and thick brown oil comes steaming out all over both of you. It drips from your forearms down and splashes from the drip pan up, the flow quickly tapering off with a thick glug from the pipe.

“Ew, GROSS,” you blurt without thinking. You resist the urge to shake it off. No need to cover more of the room in your shame. “Sorry, Cap. I—That was—“

“No, no.” He’s just laughing, thank goodness. “My fault. Was gonna change that anyway…in a couple months. You alright?” He waits for a nod. “Let’s get this mess off at the sink, yeah?”

Rogers carefully points to the corner. You maneuver onto your feet and alternate raising and lowering your arms, thick rivulets threatening to paint the floor if you let the oil run too far in one direction.

“Wipe what you can off with the towels first.”

You sort of knock the roll over and nudge it across the counter. A strategic elbow turns up the tap and depresses the soap dispenser.

“‘Steve’ is fine,” he says as he massages lather over your palms, “by the way.”

You’re damn right Steve is fine.

Your breath catches while he continues to work the oil off your skin, avoiding eye contact.

After a minute or so, rubbing around and down your fingers, specifically scrubbing along your nails, he clears his throat.

“I’m glad it wasn’t you—“ Steve concentrates on circling each knuckle “—horrible as that sounds.”

You take control of the hand helping you, applying pressure as you feel a small tremor rattle the fine bones, unable to see the clear truth of his words beneath righteously long lashes.

He lets you wash him for a while, rubbing between his fingers, scrubbing along his nails, lathering over his palms.

His voice is so quiet, a low breeze from the distant, retractable ceiling letting in the world.

“Not supposed to say that,” he rumbles, inches away at most, “diminishing as it is to the dead.” Steve halts you and slides his hands up your forearms. “But that’s the point, yeah?” He looks up finally. “Focus on the living…”

You’re frozen, hanging on every word you’re convinced he can’t be saying.

“Is that a quest—“

Steve’s long lashes descend to narrow his path, supple lips grazing yours for the briefest moment before a curt “no.” He moves in for a proper kiss then, head tilting to take full advantage of your shock. A new shock. A different kind of shock from the one you’ve barely recovered from since…

Twenty-four hours. Horror. Sweetheart. Limbo. Sweetheart. Bliss.

He’s right. The heat of him signals life and passion, desperation and spirit for the best kind of danger: a leap of faith from the heart.

A sweet heart.

It’s at this shocking and romantic turn that you realize, you’d follow him anywhere, just as he’s followed you onto a doomed battlefield, into your chaotic mind, into a cold and lonely shower. You had nothing but doubt; he offered nothing but hope.

Your weight leans into the clutch of devoted sinew and reverent tendons. Steve takes that as a welcome encouragement.

One day it might be him or it might be you, and as difficult and painful as that would be, it helps to focus on who is still here. Both of you. Together. Now.

He’s lavish and indulgent, intense because his wet hands can’t pull you closer. His tenderness and decency saturate every atom of connection between you. Each generous touch conveys something undying and pure.

Your hold on each other slips in the running tap when Steve get a little greedy, his body pinning yours to the rim of the sink.

Immediately, he apologizes, retracting into a shell of chivalry and sympathy.

You swallow to compose yourself, minimal effect achieved.

After a fair few thundering heartbeats pulse past you ears, you manage, “that’s not what I thought would happen today.”

The baby blue irises are the picture of horror. “Bad? No?”

Steve steps back only once before you follow.

“Why me?” you counter softly.

He huffs in his infinite patience with you and rolls his eyes in disappointment with himself. Steve hangs his head, propping his arm on either edge of counter nearest him. A dark, bitter chuckle escapes before he finally confesses.

“Because every other day I feel very little, but with you, I want so much more.”

Is this how you looked to him yesterday? A raw wound begging for help in blinding light? Did he have this fear that he couldn’t offer enough?

It is enough though. It has to be enough to try for what you want, to live even in kindness and duty. He’s taken a step, and so can you.

You smile, close the remaining distance, and whisper one word into Steve’s waiting mouth.

Promise—

Question or statement, it doesn’t matter, or perhaps, you’ll figure it out on any other day. Today it simply means you're both alive.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Hope this turned out okay and that you enjoyed the fluff! If not, don't worry. I've got a smutty lifeguard!Steve one-shot in the works, too!! Tags will be in a reblog since they've been so wonky lately.

[thejujvtsupost]

Filming A Sex Scene

Actor!Gojo has to film his first ever sex scene and he’s nervous, good thing his girlfriend is there to encourage him.

Notes: F!reader, established relationship, fluff, healthy communication, anxiety, and humor. So unedited.

Up until now all Satoru’s done is action films and a couple of comedies, romance films weren’t his style.

So other than a few awkward on screen kisses, he’s never had to do anything intimate.

But this movie was a huge deal with hundreds of people running around in the studio, and even though he had modesty garments on, he still felt naked.

“You pinky promise you won’t be jealous or upset about it? Maybe they can get my body double…” Satoru was slumped against you, arms hugging your middle while you stood between his legs.

“Baby this is your job. There’s nothing sexy about doing these scenes, they’re going to be directing you the entire time. But if you feel uncomfortable, then you shouldn’t do it. You have my full support.”

“Will you stay and watch?”

“Do you want me to?”

He nodded against your abdomen, “I’m the only one in the main cast that hasn’t done a sex scene so I wanna do it but I don’t want to do it alone.”

You hum and kiss his head, “Technically you’re not alone, but I understand. I’ll be right off to the side holding your robe, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Hey I’m serious, there’s nothing wrong with not wanting to do this. Your contract says you don’t have to do the intimate scene if you don’t want to. Plenty of actors never need to and it won’t change your skill. If anything, saying no increases your integrity because you’re putting down a boundary.”

“Can you see if Shoko’s out there? I think I should talk about it with her.” He knew Shoko, the assistant director, would have his back. They’ve worked on several projects together, one of them including the current director: Kento Nanami.

“Of course, I’ll flag her down.” You kiss his forehead and leave but you’re met face to face with shoko when you open the door to his dressing room, “Hey Toru, speak of the devil. I was just about to see if you were around, Shoko.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, Gojo rarely needed anything, a big perk of working with him. “Is everything alright, Gojo?”

“I don’t think I want to have fake sex with Yuki on camera anymore.”

You facepalm and sigh, “There’s so many other ways to word it and you went with that?”

“Okay no big deal, we’ll get your double ready but we’ll need your voice for the scene. Sound okay?”

“It’s that easy?”

“Well yeah, your double’s already on set from the jump scene earlier this morning. You can get dressed, we don’t reuse the garments so just toss them. Heads up though, Kento will probably want you to come in a little early on Friday to record the sound bites for the sex scene.”

A heavy breath left Gojo’s body in relief, “No one’s mad or anything?”

Shoko laughed at him a little, “No, no one’s mad. For this sort of thing it honestly doesn’t matter if it’s you or the double physically. Kento doesn’t mind either way, plus your contract has that stipulation for this exact reason.”

“Oh, then I can go home?”

Shoko confirmed and left with a wave of her hand to make arrangements. “You handled that well, baby. I’m proud of you for communicating your needs.”

Gojo’s cheeks went pink, “I don’t understand how people do it, I feel like it’s too much exposure.”

“Everyone just has a different comfort level, nothing wrong with that.”

“I guess so. Just freaks me out.” He stood up and pecked your lips before dropping his robe, “You’re the only one I want to see me naked anyway.”

“Oh my god just go get dressed so we can get dinner!” You shook your head and hung up his robe in a rare moment of silence.

The quiet didn’t last long, though, because Satoru yelled from the connected bathroom: “You know you love me!”

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open! <3

[boonsmoon]

Would you do a Mu Qing from TCGF fluff request Xie Lian (and by extension San Lang) attempt to play matchmaker between Mu Qing and his god/dess crush (cause Mu Qing refuses to admit liking them despite them being the person he’s closest to since meeting each other)?

I fell in love with this idea instantly A Christmas special for the lovelies Btw for creativity purposes, you can be the goddess of literally whatever

Request Masterlist Mu Qing x f!reader Genres:🎉🌸💞🧪

Kiss of Winter

To the untrained eye you would seem like a subordinate or nuisance to the cold-hearted god; however, this couldn't be further from the truth. You would considered yourself a close friend to Mu Qing, you have known each other for hundreds of years after all.

Though when asked, Mu Qing would refer to you as "a valuable acquaintance," and boy did it hurt to say this. Luckily, there was a very observant god who decided he had watched you two dance around each other long enough.

The holidays were approaching and Xie Lian thought this would be a great time to force persuade both of you to be in each other's company more often. So, with some hard thought planning and input from San Lang, the boys decided on a special celebration for the gods.

Now considering all these higher beings actually have standards, lots of works will have to be put into this. And who better to ask than someone that'll be excited to attend?

"I can't think of anyone more fitting for this job than you," Xie Lian praised, hoping to get you on the project. Everything has to be perfect if he's gonna get you and Mu Qing together.

You hesitated for a moment, "I've been getting many more prayers recently, though I suppose those can be put on hold..." There was a look of pondering on your face, weighing the pros and cons of what this could do to your status among deities and humans.

"Don't you have subordinates? If anything important happens they'll surely yap to you about it," you tensed at San Lang's words. Subordinates yes, deserving of disrespect no.

Unfortunately though, you must admit he was right. Your subordinates were always more alert than you, even when it came to your own temples. You sighed, "fine, I will help you prepare for this celebration."

After tireless days? Weeks? Of work, you all finally finished the super secret super awesome holiday party. Now you may be wondering would Mu Qing even come to the celebration? The answer is yes, but only if you invite him.

And let's be honest, most of the Heaven Official's don't like Xie Lian and San Lang very much, so making you the messenger was common sense from the beginning. So after running around and inviting everyone you saw, it finally came to the one and only.

"It is a holiday that comes each year, what makes this one special?" So far, so bad, he doesn't seem very keen on attending your greatest achievement yet.

"Becauseee we put effort into enjoying it this year. It'll be fun, I promise!" You pleaded with Mu Qing, hoping he'd say yes. "I worked on it the most anyways, so you don't have to worry about Xie Lian's 'bad taste.'"

He crossed his arms, contemplating if that was really a good enough reason to attend. "And when did I say you have good taste? It is likely just as bad considering you dare interact with him." OW OKAY THEN.

You folded your hands and begged, "if it's not I swear to never invite you again! Just please come this once..." This is what convinced him, the pain that in the future deities will get to enjoy your hard-work and he'll be left out. No one could ever appreciate your efforts like he can.

"Fine! I will agree this once..." That was a lie, he will make sure to agree in the future, even if it means forcing himself to attend a celebration that involved Xie Lian and San Lang.

The day of the celebration was fantastic, several deities appeared, many complimenting you on your efforts. You most oversaw everything that was happening, what you didn't see; however, was Xie Lian spying on you and Mu Qing while talking.

He took this as his chance to put the real plan into action. After getting a signal from San Lang that the mistletoe was hanging up a few feet from you two, Xie Lian basically sprinted into the both of you, pushing you under the plant.

Mu Qing turned around, visibly angry at Xie Lian, "would it hurt to watch where you move?!" This caused Xie Lian to put his hands up in defeat and shuffle away.

While rubbing your head to try and soothe the pain, you noticed something bright above you. Realizing it was mistletoe your face got darker. This caused Mu Qing to seem slightly concerned, questioning what was the problem. You only pointed up, and when he took notice his face also darkened.

"We can simply move and ignore this tradition, it's not that important anyways-" He was interrupted by you however, "rules are rules, Mu Qing, we can't ignore them. Plus, I kinda like this tradition."

He tried to get over the initial embarrassment and decided it would be easier to dive into the kiss. What would've been a fleeting moment to others felt like an eternity to you both.

Pulling away you could both tell by the look in each other's eyes that the feeling was mutual. And hidden somewhere else was a very proud and excited Xie Lian.

this was a very beefy fic

not that i'm complaining i liked it

anyways, happy holidays everyone! may all be well for the new year

[97linelover]

Fatal Desires - Lee Seokmin

18+ / mdi

summary: 5 Years of Marriage should mean something, right? Well your Husband did not seem to think so.

content: Husband Seokmin x reader, cheating, marriage, fights, mentions of sex, heartbreak

wc: 2.9k

a/n: angst is my second name, I love drama and I love heartbreak..

As her petite Hand held on to the Sink, she took a deep breath. She felt slightly dizzy; her mind had been clouded for the last few days. She took the pot off the Stove and put the Stew she freshly made into a container.

The steaming stew made the entire house smell like it.

She grabbed the Blue Lunch bag she always packed for him, that he forgot this morning and scribbled down some cute Lines on to the Sanrio-themed paper.

She was a sucker for cute Stationary.

When she got down to their shared Garage, she spotted her Black Audi, the one he gifted her one year ago, as a Birthday gift. She buckled up and drove to the Company Building, She drove towards the security gates, and the Man smiled "Good Afternoon Mrs., are you here to see the Husband?" he smiled sheepishly, and a giggle escaped her glossy pink lips "He forgot his food so I made some fresh Lunch"

"What a Lucky man he is," the elder man grinned. "Enjoy!" he said, opening the gate, and she drove inside, parking in her own spot. Above the parking lot, there was a sign with the letters "reserved for Mrs. Lee".

After their Marriage it was the first thing he did, he wanted to show the world he was taken, and he was proud of it. She remembered exactly how proudly he presented it to her with a red little silk curtain pulling it away with the biggest grin.

Walking along the marble floor was her routine now; she did know the company like the back of her hand. She greeted everyone while walking towards the elevator, and she then drove up to his floor. When the doors opened, she was greeted by the gray and Black Interior, the signature style of her Husband, Everything needed to be clean.

He was a little organize freak.

"Y/N! What brings you here?" She turned around and was faced by none other than Kim Mingyu, the best friend of her husband. "Hey Gyu, he forgot his food, so I cooked some Stew and decided to bring it over," she smiled softly. "He just finished a meeting, so you can go in."She nodded and thanked him.

When her small fist was knocking, his deep voice let her inside, her shoes clicked against the marble floor, and he looked up from the papers in front of him "Y/N" he smiled slightly.

He looked breathtaking, he was dressed in some beige slacks and a white blue striped shirt.

"You forgot your food and I thought maybe we can spend your time together" She walked behind the table, and he looked up at her, with a smile she pecked his lips "you look good today" she whispered, does not remember the last time they were intimate.

"I really need to finish those papers, so I can't join you!" he said while writing down some terms.

She sighed and nodded "I made Kimchi Jjigae your favorite with some rice, so please enjoy, I will wait at home for you" she tried her best not to sound hurt.

"I have several meetings, so please don't stay up," he said, and she nodded, leaving his office.

"Already leaving?" Mingyu asked, and she nodded "He is busy" She tried to smile, and he sighed "You know how he is".

"Yes work always comes first," she whispered, then left.

The next few weeks, nothing changed; she always did the tasks at home while working, she held meetings and combined everything to be the best wife she could be; after all, that's what she promised at the altar.

She was sitting behind her computer, editing the details on the new Design for the Lotte Tower renovation flyer. It was her biggest achievement by now; she worked so hard for this one project, and in one week there would be a big Party celebrating the new building.

The ribbon would be cut by her opening the doors for the new building.

All of her friends would be there, her Husband watching her with proud eyes, and she would feel the happiness through her entire body.

She got ready to announce the event to Seokmin, and she put on some Lingerie covered with a Satin robe. His favorite Color, red covered her body and she felt Sexy with her hair in curls. And then she heard the door open, She heard how Seokmin was taking off his shoes and then walked inside the bedroom. He opened the Wardrobe and grabbed some Pajama pants. When he took off his coat she walked outside, twirling her hair around her finger, and his eyes found hers "I thought you went out," he chuckled slightly "No, I wanted to surprise you" She took some steps towards him, saying, "I missed you and I missed spending time with you" Her slender fingers traced the buttons of his black dress shirt. 

"I missed feeling you" she whispered while slowly unbuttoning his shirt, but he grabbed her hand "I am tired" he took her hand off and her heart felt like breaking apart "I can make you feel awake" she glided her hand along his pants and grabbed the outline off him but when he sighed she felt that nothing was happening.

She let go off him and took a step back "Then, uh, I will take a shower and let you alone" she whispered and walked inside the bathroom, she took the makeup off and brushed her teeth when he walked inside "next week Friday, I have an event, will you accompany me?" she asked him while watching him through the mirror "Yes, of course, I'll be there" he kissed her head, and they went to bed.

When the night of her Event came, she got styled and then got inside the Red dress she bought, she looked fabulous, and she felt beautiful. She could not wait to meet her friends and family there.

When she arrived at the location, she walked around, looked at everything and smiled at how good it turned out.

"Y/N you look breathtaking" Chan said with the biggest grin and a blush crept on her face "Thank you" she then saw all of her friends, Chan, Jihoon, his girlfriend Luna, Wonwoo with his girlfriend Daisy and Joshua with Minghao.

Mingyu came closer with some Champagne in his hand, and she looked around to see if Seokmin was here.. Where was her Husband?

"We are all so proud of you," Joshua exclaimed and hugged her thight "Thank you all so much," she bowed, and then It was her part where she needed to go up to cut the robe.

She quickly typed a message to her Husband.

'Y/N: Where are you?'

And she quickly gathered all her strength and went up, she took a hold of the mic and smiled "thank you all for coming, today is a beautiful evening with the best people, I can't believe the day has finally come ever since I started working with Lotte Tower my Goal as a young woman was to design the best Business area for Lotte tower, but now after all those years they trusted me and my team to design the entire renovation for the new Lotte Tower, I remember years ago when I signed my contract that I looked at my Boyfriend telling him that one day I'll stand exactly here, and he kissed my forehead telling me that he is sure that this will come true. 4 Years later I am standing here happily married, having an amazing time, and being just thankful for everything" I bowed when everyone clapped.

Her friends in the first row cheered the loudest, and she grinned slightly, looking around with no trace of her Husband, She buried those feelings deep down inside her.

This was her night, she needed to enjoy this.

When she cut the robe up she forgot about this and tried to enjoy her night.

And when she came to her small friend group, they all noticed her slumped shoulders, and she tried to put on the best fake smile she could "I'll go home" she announced when nearly everyone was gone.

"I'll bring you" Chan said, and She nodded "Thank you," but on their way, she decided she would go to his office first.

"Should I come inside with you?" he asked her, and she sighed "No, I'll be good. Thank you, thank you Chan" she smiled and went inside.

She did not smile anymore; her heart felt heavy and she just wanted to see why Seokmin had not come.

Her hands were holding her heels,her naked feet were sore from all the walking; she went upstairs with the elevator and was not surprised to see the lights on in his office, her heart was beating faster, and she felt devastated.

He really chose work over her once again.

Her feet carried her towards the door, and she could hear her faint voices. She halted in her steps and her breath hitched.

"Seok that tickles" a feminine voice stated with his deep voice followed "then I would need you to stay still" he groaned, and Y/N knew this groan, her heart felt like breaking in to a thousand pieces.

She then saw the shadows, she heard the smacking sounds, and she heard her heart, the one he once carried in his hands get thrown on to the ground by him.

"fuck you feel so good" he moaned, followed by her high-pitched moans.

Her feet carried her downstairs, she ran down the stairs, could not wait for the elevator, she felt like suffocating. She did not remember how she got home , everything was a blur from the moment she walked outside, and she just remembers falling asleep inside the bedroom.

The next morning she felt her head pounding from all the crying, she woke up by his alarm, and she heard him stirring, she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to cry. She felt like she was just a corpse, completely empty inside.

She thought the love between them was one of a kind, a rare gem, but it turned out it was all just a joke.

When he went into the bathroom she quickly got up putting on some dress pants and her blouse, she ran downstairs grabbing a cereal bar and putting on her loafers "you're already going?" his deep morning voice made her tense and she grabbed her bag "yes uhm I need to be in the office today" she grabbed the car keys and Seokmin hugged her from behind "and you don't tell me goodbye anymore?" he turned her around, just the look at him made her heart hurt so bad "I thought you would shower longer" she whispered and he smiled slightly "have a fun day at work" he kissed her temple and she hurried outside.

And when she was at work she realized that she promised him forever, in good times and bad times she knew she still loved him so much, their time could not be over and she will not give up, maybe this was a misunderstanding, maybe she was to drunk maybe it was a mistake.

But the next two months Seokmin blocked everything, he was only in the office and so Y/N decided it was time for her to visit him. She knew it was real and that this needs to end.

She went to the office but to her surprise her parking spot was not free, there was a Pink Lamborgini standing there and she sighed, she tried to calm her heart while she was riding the elevator upstairs.

Mingyu looked at her "Y/N, did he forget his lunch again today?" he joked, but she shook her head "It's a little more serious this time" she had a sad smile on her face, and he sighed "he's inside the office, Lee Jia is with him signing her Model Contract"

"I think for this he needs to send her out" and without hesitation and without a knock she walked inside, Lee Jia was standing next to him, she was basically pushing her cleavage into his face while reading the contract and Seokmin looked up his eyes widened slightly.

"Y/N" he whispered, Jia took a step back the diamond necklace around her neck catching your eyes, remembering the scenario two days ago.

As she cleaned the bedroom she grabbed his dirty clothes and put them in the washing machine, she grabbed the basket full of folded laundry and put everything inside when she found a little velvet box she smiled opening it she was greeted by this beautiful diamond necklace.

And maybe after all, Seokmin still would remember their 5th Anniversary.

Reality hit her harder than she would've thought "what brings you here love?" he smiled, and she gulped "can we maybe talk alone?" he furrowed his eyebrows "no it's alright I know her, she can stay" and now you knew, she is the new woman in his life. 

"Did you park on my spot?" I turned towards her and she gulped and nodded "But kook.. I mean, Seokmin told me it was okay because you never come here" and in those five years, he never cared.. She thought "It's my spot, there is a sign that says that this is mine" she muttered "Y/N enough, I did not thought you would come here today. So why are you here"

She blinked the tears away "I just wanted to remember you that our friends will be at our place tonight" you simply decided that and he nodded "okay I'll try to come home earlier" he mumbled.

"You will be home early Seokmin, I don't ask for much so please be home tonight, this will decide everything" and with that she rushed out.

She rushed past Mingyu and just hurried home. She laid in her bed crying, praying for the time to turn back to the moment where he changed, to the moment where she fucked up where she did go wrong.

It must be her fault, right?

And when Chan and Jihoon arrived, she felt the mood lighten a bit. She talked to them, and then the others arrived, even Mingyu arrived, telling her that Seokmin was once again in a meeting. She just smiled.

She was no longer strong enough; she let her guards down.

The liquor was burning her throat but she could not care less, and when two hours later only Chan and Mingyu were left the door opened and Seokmin strolled inside. He took his Suit Jacket off and she directly spotted the fresh red patches on his neck.

"I'm sorry the meeting was longer than expected" he said while sitting down and she just scoffed "of course" Seokmin furrowed his eyebrows and shrugged it off "so is there something to celebrate tonight?" Chan coughed his eyes widened. He could not believe that his best friend was asking this right now.

He knew that you were suffering, but he would never think Seokmin was the reason for it.

"Nope, nothing" she spat dryly and got up. Chan winced "Y/N, Please" he whispered but she shook her head and looked at Mingyu "did you know?" she asked while balling her hand to fists "what?" confused Gyu looked around.

"That he fucks Lee Jia" she stated dryly, and Seokmins eyes widened. He felt his heart ready to burst at any moment.

"No, he would never, Y/N he is married?" Mingyu said shocked and she laughed "Yes, you would think that. I thought that too. I thought maybe I meant enough to him that he would tell me the mistakes, that he loves and cares about me" the tears were now rolling down her cheek

"Do you know how long I know?" she asked before continuing, "since my Lotte Tower event, where he never went to, where I wanted my Husband, where I talked about him like he was my biggest supporter because I thought he was my biggest supporter, but in reality he fucked another woman in that time, and when I looked for him, I had to witness him fucking her," her voice was full of venom.

She wiped some tears away but they continued streaming down her face "and whenever I tried to approach him he pushed me away; he was busy he was tired, and I always knew It's because he did not want me anymore" she hiccuped. "I always spotted those dumb Hickeys combined with her perfume"

Seokmin still could not find his words.

"And when I continued being a good wife, I thought maybe he would realize how much I love him. I found a necklace in his underwear drawer and thought, Wow, maybe he still remembers our anniversary, but guess who was wearing the necklace when I came to his office and guess who just fucking asked why we are celebrating" she was now furious.

"I FUCKING LOVED YOU WITH EVERY FIBER IN MY BODY" she sobbed, and Seokmin felt his heartbreak. "It's alright that you don't love me anymore; it's alright that you stood me up, but it's not okay to cheat; you could've told me you want to break up, and I know it's hard, but you broke me" she whispered, pulling out the papers she had for months now.

"I want a divorce" and with that, she walked to the door "Chan can you please take me away" she whispered and Seokmin felt the wet tears rolling down his cheek.

Within seconds, his marriage fell down the drain. 

[evenmoreofadisaster]

EMD ONE-SHOT

As promised I’ve written One and Two being protective siblings since we passed the prelims. Read below 🖤

One

Consciousness pulls to the forefront of One’s mind. The slider snaps awake to the quietness of his brother’s lab. He blinks once. Twice, before registering the fact that he had passed out. 

One sits up attentively from where he was sleeping against Two’s desk. “Oh, crap,” he hisses. “How long was I out?”

Nothing.

He’s trapped under a soft purple blanket that had been tossed lazily across his previously relaxed shoulders. One’s limbs fight for freedom, flailing around, eager to detangle from the cozy blanket, which he has no memory of cuddling up with. Finally free from his bounds, One climbs to his feet, clutching Two’s blanket in his hands. “Hey, if you were trying to get me to sleep, it didn’t work.”

Nothing. 

One frowns. Now that he’s more awake, he realizes that it’s dead silent. Not even the sound of light tinkering reaches his tympanum to put him at ease. The slider spins around, hoping that maybe Two had just fallen asleep as well, but no. His chair is empty. 

Dread seeps into his chest and his heart rate hammers as his eyes dart around the lab. 

Where is my brother?

One curses himself mentally and searches the rest of the house. Every room he passes leaves him feeling more and more anxious. The last time he left Two unsupervised, it didn’t end so well for his brother. One’s spent every day since then trying to prevent another accident from taking place and risking Two’s life. He was lucky that he only lost an arm that day.

Every room, he ends up back-tracking and walking through the hallway empty handed. He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not—

It hits him suddenly, like a wave crashing into a mountain of rocks, and he stops. A fuzzy memory resurfaces. Before he nodded off, Two had been talking about needing to stock up on scraps for future projects. One curses again, silently, in case Huginn and Muninn were perched somewhere nearby and heard him. It’s not unlike them to tattle to Dad whenever he misbehaves. This, especially, Draxum can’t find out about. 

There is only one place Two goes to to find junk for his toys. That’s on the surface. The one place that’s more dangerous than their own home. 

One rushes to his dad’s lab, thankful that his pops is out running errands, which makes stealing the blue mystic sword much easier. He’s only used it a couple of times before, under Draxum’s surveillance… but he can’t wait for his dad to come home and show him the right way to swing. 

He pauses, then slowly reaches for it. When his fingers brush the handle, he almost flinches away, but remembers that Two is up there alone. He picks the weapon off its display and draws a breath, concentrating. In a quick sweep, he makes a portal just big enough for him to squeeze through. It’s not perfect, he thinks to himself, but it’ll do.

One loops the weapon through the sash along his waist and steps through. 

Two

Repo’s scrapyard is just a few miles from the closest portal into the Hidden City. Two took the opportunity to slip away while Number One slept, figuring it would be a quick trip. After several days of sleeplessness, Two was sure One would not be awake for a while yet. By the time he noticed, Two will have returned with a wagon full of scraps. 

The sky is dark and the moon shines bright. Two pulls his wagon through a narrow alley and takes the route he’s less likely to run into humans, the route he always takes to get to the scrapyard. The paved path takes Two through the woods that are behind the junkyard. It’s usually quiet, which Two appreciates. One accompanies him on most of his trips, unless Two manages to sneak out while his brother is occupied with training or asleep, like today, for example.

He’s almost there. Just a few more steps, until he reaches the torn back fence that gives him full access to the human’s metal scraps. 

Something rustles far off to Two’s right, making him stop abruptly and swivel his head in that direction. An unsettling chill runs up his spine; the only weapon Two has is the brand new mechanical arm attached to his left shoulder, but even that is still in its early stages of development. He hasn’t had the chance to test out the new upgrades… 

Two hesitates, but continues forward slowly, trying not to make any sudden moves too quickly. He takes a step and hears a growl coming from the same place, and that makes him freeze. He turns his head and stares into the darkness, where he finds two glowing orbs staring right back at him. The animal snarls, baring its sharp, hungry teeth. It inches forward, its crazy eyes glued on him as if he were its prey. 

Two’s blood turns ice cold. His whole body tenses, prepared to fight. He’s certainly trapped, he can feel it even without looking. A fight would put him behind schedule, especially with untested weaponry and the months he’s spent out of practice. Two glances to the fence, thinking maybe he can make it if he runs. That was his first mistake. 

The animal attacks while he’s distracted. The next thing he sees is the animal’s teeth gnashing into his face. Two throws his new arm out in defense, hoping to fire a blast, but the machine's transformation stalls. Two curses sharply. The animal’s jaws lock tightly around his metallic wrist. It tugs and thrashes, jerking Two forwards with too much strength. He stumbles. The arm creaks and cracks and Two can feel the wires in his shoulder start to tear. Panic screams at him in spite of him and Two aims a fierce kick at the mutt. That was his second mistake. It pulls and Two loses his balance. He falls back and the animal rips the mechanical arm off with one violent jerk. Pain explodes in his shoulder, but he doesn’t even get the chance to cry out before the canine pins him to the ground with its claws. 

Something hard pierces his shell, probably a rock. The dull tip digs uncomfortably into his shell’s soft tissue, making him squirm and kick. The animal snarls in his face. Two flashes his teeth in a threatening hiss. But that’s all he can do. The thing is much bigger than he had anticipated, almost twice his size. 

A flash of blue blinds him and the next sound he hears is a sharp whine when Number One tackles the beast to the side. All at once the pressure lifts. Two sits up and scrambles back, his whole shoulder throbbing. 

He stares as One fights off the creature, apprehension stirring deep in his stomach when its teeth sink into One’s forearm and draws blood. It starts to pull him, like it had with Two, but One is much harder to throw around. He wrestles it to the ground, shoving its head into the ground until it’s forced to still. Two sees One lift his sword back and hears him swiftly bring it down through the animal’s neck. 

Silence hushes through the alley as the rabid canine draws its last breath, and One gets to his feet and steps back. He doesn’t move after that. 

Two stares at his back with wide eyes, silent, until One finally turns around. 

“You okay?”

Two frowns. One’s stare is vacant. He’s been seeing that a lot lately. 

“Are you?” He counters with a raised eyebrow. 

One’s eyes trail to his bleeding arm, but he just shakes off the injury as if he’s had worse. “What, this? This’s like a papercut.”

”Scoff. It certainly is not.”

He watches One cautiously as he comes over and kneels in front of him. He places his hand over Two’s and gently moves it so he can assess the damage to the stump at his shoulder. 

“You snuck out on me,” he says after a while. 

Two turns his head away dismissively. “I needed my supplies. You needed to sleep,” he huffs. 

“No, I needed to make sure you didn’t run off and get your fake arm torn off,” One retorts.

Two narrows his eyes and shrugs him off.

Number One rises and picks Two up by the back of his shirt. “C’mon, let’s get that shoulder cleaned up, okay?”

“I didn’t get what I came here for,” Two protests, but One is already waving the sword around, making a portal home. The blood-stained ōdachi falls at his side, then One faces Two and stretches out his injured hand that Two notices is shaking. 

“I’ll come back with you tomorrow,” he promises. Two bites back an argument and swallows it thickly. There’s a slight lump in his throat that makes him avert his gaze.

He hates to admit it… but if he had One to tag along as usual, this entire debacle, most likely, would not have happened. But now he’s lost a prototype prosthetic without even reaching the gates of his destination. If there had been people around, the commotion he stumbled into could have gotten him into much more trouble than he’d been equipped to handle. The whole thing was just another disaster. All of this he knows just as well as One, which is why he complies, taking his brother’s hand and follows him home. 

Two sits on the floor of the lab while One starts to assemble the tools needed to put his arm back in place. The softshell scowls when he sees Number One’s blood seep through the poorly wrapped bandages around his arm.

“Did you even clean it?” Two asks with a hint of distaste.

“I can do that later,” One crouches beside him and lays the tools out onto the floor. “So, what first?”

Two narrows his eyes. “No, you won’t.”

One lifts his gaze and holds Two’s stare. Two doesn’t look away. He raises an eyebrow. “You won’t.” 

“If you don’t tell me which thingy-majig does what I’m going to start guessing.”

Two’s eyes widen. “Do not do that, you’re going to mess it up!” One’s hand drifts towards the screwdriver and Two just about loses his mind. “Not that one!” he barks. One stops and gives Two a smug look which he meets with a glare. He huffs, then sighs and starts to explain the process of attachment, making sure One follows his directions to the letter. 

It takes much longer than Two would like, but finally, they reattach the mechanical arm and he can move it freely again. 

One leans back. “There, done.”

Two flexes his fingers and rolls his shoulder. It could do with a few tweaks, but it’s good for now. He looks at One again as he gathers the tools and puts them away. The previously white bandages are now a much darker red. 

After a moment, Two stands and approaches One. “Give me your arm.”

“What?”

Two stops and scowls. “Your arm. Let me see it.”

“I told you I was gonna—”

“Let me see it.”

One shifts, but stretches out his arm. Two grabs his wrist and unwraps the bandage around his forearm. Two’s nose scrunches up at the sticky mess under the wrap. One pulls back. “Don’t worry about it, I can take care of it.”

“I let you fix my arm,” Two retorts. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t really have a choice.” “Neither do you.” Two turns around before One can protest and takes out the medical kit in the back of his lab. He gets One to sit then sits in front of him just close enough that he doesn’t have to reach to clean One’s wound. 

Two drenches a cloth with alcohol and wipes away the blood staining One’s scales. Aside from a few grimaces and quiet hisses, One doesn’t complain any more. Neither of them say anything for a while, until Two cleans up enough red to be able to see the full size of the bite. 

“You need stitches. And something to ensure you haven’t contracted a virus.”

“You think so, doc?”

Two glares at him and One closes his mouth, which is usually impossible for him to accomplish. But Two’s been noticing that a lot as well. A lot of things have started to change recently and Two’s not sure he likes it. 

After a few beats of silence, Two retrieves a needle and wire. “I can sedate you, if you’d like.”

“Nah, I’m okay. I should stay awake in case you forget what Dad taught us.”

“I don’t need your help,” Two remarks sourly, then starts stitching. 

“Are you mad?”

The question takes Two off guard. He pauses, sensing One’s frown, but continues to poke the needle through. He doesn’t know the answer to that, so he doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re mad,” One states. “Why? Because I saved you?”

Two feels the corner of his mouth twitch. “That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mutters. 

“What, that dog thing showing up and attacking you?”

Two doesn’t answer that either, though his jaw tightens around an argument. He doesn’t want to fight right now. He hears One huff quietly. He doesn’t say anything else. Two continues to stitch him up in silence. When he’s finished, he wraps Number One’s arm with a fresh set of bandages. While Two puts away the medical supplies, One cradles his arm close to his chest. 

“Don’t tell Dad about this or we’ll both get in trouble,” he murmurs while rubbing his wrist. 

Two zips up the kit then lifts his head to look directly at One. 

“I would never.”

[lola-la-cava]

If You’ll Have Me

gif not mine !

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The sunlight peeking through the blinds shone. Two bodies on the bed laid, intertwined. Timothée laid with his stomach against the soft mattress. His arm wrapped around Y/N’s waist.

She opened her eyes, waking from her slumber and gazing at the sight she’d grown familiar to and loved. Y/N admired his slightly parted lips and his unruly curls covering the top half of his face. She pushed them upwards only for them to slowly come back down. Y/N giggled at this and tucked it behind his ears.

“Hm? What is it?” he asked with a raspy morning voice that gave her so much butterflies.

It had been a few months since they started going out and he never failed to make her feel all giddy and giggly like a school girl.

“Nothing, don’t worry. Good morning”, she grinned resting her forhead against his. Timothée chuckled at this and pecked her nose.

They laid like that for several minutes, bathing in each other’s presence. Whispers of sweet nothing and light grazes on each other’s bodies are exchanged. The couple cherished moments like these before the day ultimately pulls them apart like it always does.

Only this time it was different. Timothée was leaving for LA again to promote a new project. It would still be a few weeks before they got to do this again.

Y/N continued to long for a time when she could spend time with her boyfriend without getting interrupted by press junkets, reshoots and award shows. They both did, but most of her job kept her tied down here. In New York. All the way across the country from LA.

Until now.

She’d recently resigned to pursue a more free lance job.

She groaned as she pushed herself up to sit up against the headboard. “Oh God, I can’t believe you’re leaving again”.

Timothée sighed as he looked up at her admiring her features. “I know, but it’ll be shorter than the other trips, I promise”

Y/N raises her eyebrow at this.

He sits up, putting his hands up in defeat, “Honest to God! I just have around 15 interviews scheduled. I’ll be done with in 3 days. I have a talk show to do and a fitting for the-“

Timothée continued to talk, but Y/N also commented. “-Hey, don’t worry. Take your-“

“And I have a bunch of open houses to go to”

Her heart drops at the sudden statement.

The room silences. “Open house, huh? When’d you start looking?”

He scratches the back of his neck, “Around 3 months ago?”

She inaudibly scoffed.

The audacity this man had. They’d been dating for months and not a single word of this came out of his mouth. Was he just gonna lead her on? Make her make a drastic decision about their relationship on the brink of him moving to the other side of the country? Y/N didn’t even know anymore.

But of course, she had no right to influence his choice in this. He’d been working toward where he was for years now. And he had nowhere to go but up. Y/N couldn’t help but be proud of him and support him. No matter what he does.

She put on a small smile.

“That’s great, Timmy. Oh, I’m so happy for you”

“Well, nothing’s really sure for now, but yeah fingers crossed.” he smirks optimistically with a blank stare on the comforter.

He zoned out, imagining their life there. He kind of expected her to handle the news with more enthusiasm. Of course, this wasn’t the ideal way he thought to reveal it, letting it accidentally slip out in a vent, but still. Y/N seemed solemn almost sad. Like the way she seemed whenever he’d leave for another trip.

Timothée’s body tensed all of a sudden. He looked at Y/N with a confused expression

“Y/N?” he called out to her, letting his hand rest on top of hers. She hummed earnestly. “You don’t think I’m moving by myself, do you?”

She sat up at his words, her e/c eyes trained on his. “You’re not?”

He started laughing. Loudly. As if he was teasing her for thinking that. Truly he was cackling because it was so appalling to the point that it was funny.

She frowned at this, “What are you laughing at?” He pretends to wipe away tears threatening to come out of the corners of his eyes and pouted. “Aw, did you really think I’d leave without you?”

“God, Timmy! Why’d you have to scare me like that!” The heart that was previously in her stomach soared. Y/N looked into his eyes for a second before she jumped into his lap to give him a bear hug. She remained clinging onto him.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that. Y/N fiddled with the curls in the back of his head as he rubbed her back. His hand all of a sudden rested on her cheek, bringing her gaze to him. “So, how ‘bout it?”

“I’d love to”

He grinned at her words and placed small kisses all over her face.

“If you’ll have me”

“It would be my pleasure, mon ange”

[mj-iza-writer]

I wrote a story like this on Pinterest in the comments a while ago. I forget the prompt I used and who had posted it. I did an abridged version on their because you can only write so many characters in the comment section. Please enjoy. -MJ

Whumpee had almost fully recovered from their time with Whumper.

Caretaker spared no expense on Whumpee's care. Of course, money wasn't an issue for Caretaker either. The aristocrat had enough to spare.

Though Caretaker had promised several times, Whumpee was certain they were just a project for Caretaker. Something like a charity case for Caretaker to take care of until they were bored or to melt the hearts of the public so Caretaker was seen as a good person.

Whumpee understands this. They were just another penniless social outcast. They didn't belong amongst Caretaker's friends.

They heard the whispers of those social elites.

The party had only just begun, Whumpee stayed close by Caretaker. That was the plan at least.

"This party is for you, Whumpee", Caretaker smiled, "in celebration of your progress in recovery. You don't need to stay by me all night."

"Could I please stay with you?", Whumpee frowned, "you know I'm clumsy. I don't want to embarrass you in front of your friends."

"Anyone who finds you embarrassing are not friends of mine, but yes, you may stay with me if you wish."

Whumpee awkwardly followed Caretaker as they mingled amongst the company.

"Are you feeling parched at all?", Caretaker turned to Whumpee, "I'll go get you some punch. Wait here please."

Caretaker stepped away.

Whumpee watched timidly from the side. Of course they watched Caretaker get side tracked with another guest.

"May I have this dance", an all to familiar voice came up beside Whumpee.

Whumpee gulped as they turned.

They hoped a guard or Caretaker saw what was happening.

"Don't make a scene", the person grinned, "I only want you aware that I am still close. You can't get away from me that easily. You are not as safe as you thought."

"Why.... Whumper?", Whumpee's lip quivered.

"No water works", Whumper gently reached for Whumpee's hand and led them to the dance floor.

They awkwardly danced for a few moments before Whumper leaned in.

"Remember this. All of this is just a phase in your life. I will have you again, and you will not be so easily removed from my hands", Whumper whispered.

A guard sounded an alert signal.

Whumper quickly kissed Whumpee's cheek before running off and mixing into the alarmed guest.

"Find them... find them now", Caretaker quickly ran to Whumpee's side as they yelled at the guards, "I want to know how they got in, and how they were allowed so close to Whumpee for so long."

Whumpee's knees buckled. They fell to the floor. Fear and shock etched across their face.

"Whumpee... Whumpee?", Caretaker quickly knelt and embraced them in a hug, then quickly checked them over, "d-did they hurt you?"

A guard came up, "Caretaker I apologize. The subject left the building, guards have confirmed they have escaped. We already have police looking for them. They have license plate and vehicle descriptions."

"How the heck did they get in?", Caretaker didn't turn their attention from Whumpee, "someone's going to be fired if they don't give me a straight answer."

"We are looking right now Caretaker. We will let you know when we find it", the guard frowned.

"The party is over, I need to attend to Whumpee", Caretaker frowned as they felt Whumpee shake, "I know they escaped. Still check everyone as they leave."

Caretaker made a few announcements to their guest to explain the situation.

A guard assisted Whumpee to a separate room and remained with them until Caretaker came in.

Whumpee was quickly changed into warm comfy pajamas.

They cuddled into a blanket and listened to Caretaker and the guards communicate.

They played back the video and found how Whumper had gotten in.

A door was left unattended, and a few guards and staff had gotten sidetracked with a mess Whumper had caused. That's how they got so close.

Whumpee was still fairly shaken up at this. They stared off at nothing. A blank expression on their face.

"Whumpee, how are you doing?", Caretaker gently stroked their arm.

Whumpee blinked out of their dissociation and turned to Caretaker.

"I'm sorry... what was that?", Whumpee looked down.

"I just wanted to know if you were okay", Caretaker sighed, "I am so sorry."

"I-I'm okay", Whumpee weakly smiled.

"Right", Caretaker stated not believing that at all.

"Did they say anything to you?", the lead guard spoke up.

Whumpee nodded and told them what Whumper had said.

"We need to tighten security. At least until Whumper is stopped. We won't rest until Whumper is behind bars", Caretaker watched Whumpee stare off into space again, "Whumpee needs to be protected."

The guards agreed and went off to secure the location, and start working on the security.

Caretaker returned carrying two cups of hot chocolate.

Whumpee turned to them and took the cup.

"Thankyou", Whumpee whispered.

"You're welcome. Be careful it's hot", Caretaker sat down, "now that it's just us, I want you to really tell me how you are feeling."

Whumpee looked down and allowed some tears to come out. They had held them in too long

"Scared", Whumpee whispered, "terrified."

Caretaker nodded, "I am truly sorry. This should have never happened. If I hadn't of left you by yourself or had a guard stay with you. Had a butler get you a drink. There are so many things that could have been done differently to protect you. You shouldn't have been left alone, even if it was just with my friends. You never know what someone's true intentions are", Caretaker sighed.

Whumpee frowned, "you didn't know... no one knew. It even took me by surprise since they haven't shown themselves at all since you took me in. To know they've been watching this whole time", Whumpee shook their head at the thought of how close Whumper had been.

Caretaker nodded, "I know. We are working on finding them. For right now, a guard will be with you at all times. If it's okay with you, I want you to be closely monitored until this mess is sorted."

Whumpee nodded.

"Whumpee I promise. We will get this taken care of. You will be kept safe here", Caretaker almost pleaded that promise.

"I believe you Caretaker", Whumpee nodded, "thankyou."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @clevah-girlboss

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie

[valyrfia]

I am VERY skeptical about the RBR Charles thing but they (see: Charles, RBR personell of all kinds) keep being SO WEIRD AND SUSPICIOUS about it

Yep yep yep. I go through cycles of being completely convinced and then calling myself delusional, but the fact remains that Max changed his tune on being teammates with Charles recently, Charles keeps talking about Max in interviews praising BOTH his performance and the car, Christian Horner is posting Max and Charles on Instagram as is the RBR account. I genuinely believe Red Bull are at LEAST trying to seriously poach him.

I'm still unsure as to whether they're working towards 2024 or 2025 (as Red Bull have proven with the recent talks with Lando, they're more than happy to buy out someone's contract), but I am leaning more towards 2025, and I believe that Charles at RBR is a real, serious possibility in 2025. Let me explain why.

First, Checo still has a contract through 2024 and while Red Bull aren't always great with honouring contracts, I think the recent popularity and love they've witnessed first-hand for Checo in Texas and Mexico might change their mind on letting him go early. Ultimately, Red Bull Racing is marketing for Red Bull, and Checo obviously brings in sales in North America, and them mistreating Checo might lead to a sales dip in that region. This is why I think, despite the media frenzy, RBR are highly unlikely to drop Checo for 2024. There is no way that RBR is renewing Checo's contract, but at least he can see it out and they can part ways without much damage to either of them at the end of the F1 2024 Season.

Charles's current contract with Ferrari is also up at the end of the 2024 season. Again, even though 2023 has been absolute dogshit for Charles and Ferrari, I don't see that contract ending early. For one, Charles has apparently been promised that the 2024 car will be developed according to his needs and preferences, and it is ridiculous to leave a team who has made you that promise, even if that team is as flakey as Ferrari. I think Charles is waiting to see if the team does change in 2024 before he pushes for contract renewal. It's important to note here that contrary to popular opinion, I believe the ball is completely in Charles's court here when it comes to renewal. He is the Ferrari golden prince, he is Ferrari in a way that no driver really ever has been before, I think it was evident in Monza this year most of all. Carlos drives for Ferrari, and Charles is Ferrari and you could see it in the way that the tifosi treated them. They love Carlos, they adore and worship Charles. This is how Charles managed to convince them to build a car for him in 2024, and it's how I believe Charles is putting off the contract negotiations. This is a key point. Carlos's extended media team and family have complained several times about Carlos not being able to begin contract negotiations because of Charles in some way and Ferrari unwilling to negotiate with Carlos until they've settled Charles (I think this is due to the fact that they only intend to keep one of them and they'd like it to be Charles, but that's an essay for another day). So Charles has himself in a position where he doesn't have to commit to the team unless he sees that it is going to grow in the way he wants it to.

To quote Charles, "I view it in a way that whenever I won’t believe in the project anymore, that probably will be the time when I’ll have to go away. Because it’s in these kinds of situations that you don’t get the best out of yourself, that you don’t help the team as much as it needs to be helped. But this is definitely not the case at the moment. I believe in the project as much as I’ve ever believed in the project before. Especially since Fred arrived. So for now it’s clear. Then it’s also clear that I want to win. But I believe in this project and I’m sure we are working in the right direction.”

So maybe 2024 happens and Ferrari brings a championship-contender car, in which case Charles signs with Ferrari, they get rid of Carlos and probably bring in Alex Albon as a n2.

But I'm not interested in that outcome, I'm interested in what is (in my mind anyway) the far more likely outcome, sheerly due to money and Ferrari internal politics (which again, whole other essay!) which is that nothing really changes for the better at Ferrari. Maybe Charles gets a win by sheer luck and a slightly better car, but overall the strategy continues to not favour him, and Charles in general loses faith in what he refers to as the project. And we know from Charles himself that when this happens, this is when he goes away.

So I've presented an argument for why Red Bull are going to let Checo see out his contract, I've presented a strong possibility for why Charles might be looking to leave Ferrari at the end of 2024. Now I'm going to try and convince you of why out of all the options it'll be Charles joining Red Bull.

First of all, from Charles's point of view regarding teams. I'm going to rule out Alpha Tauri, Haas, Williams, Alfa Romeo, and Alpine, either because they're junior teams or I don't see them willing to fork over huge amounts of money to get Charles onboard. This leaves Mercedes, McLaren, Aston Martin, and Red Bull.

Out of all the non RBR options, I'd say that Mercedes is the most likely, but both their drivers are signed until 2025. There is always a possibility that Lewis Hamilton decides its time to leave the sport and buys himself out of his own contract, but I think that's not likely to happen next year.

Similar to Mercedes, both McLaren drivers are signed until at least 2025 and both look likely to honour that contract. Red Bull have tried to poach Lando multiple times, and Lando doesn't seem too keen on it yet, so we can assume that he intends to at least see his current contract out. Aston Martin is slightly trickier because I see them as being willing to fork over the millions needed to get Charles Leclerc to drive for them, but on the other hand they don't look close to producing a championship car, and Charles Leclerc is not switching away from Ferrari to not win a championship.

So, this leaves RBR as Charles's best destination for 2025 were he to leave Ferrari. Not only do they have a seat opening up, but they also have shown themselves capable of constructing recent championship-winning cars, and outclass every other team almost every weekend on strategy at the moment. Now that we've established that Charles's team of choice would be RBR, the final point of the argument has to be establishing why Charles would be RBR's driver of choice over let's say, Lando or Daniel.

To me the answer is simple, as so eloquently illustrated by my great friend and scholar Nat (@tsarinablogs) in her The PR of Lestappen in 2023 Essay (also known as Lestappen Gate 2023), Charles is not just good at PR, he's brilliant, and Red Bull isn't a racing company, it's a marketing venture. Having Charles on board would be their greatest asset and Charles has done much to make himself desirable, from being personable in almost all fan interactions to building a solid digital following, to being sometimes sneaky and subliminal with his sponsorship messaging (him always putting on APM Monaco immediately after a race, even before the podium and interviews, hell even Charles and Privateplanegate yesterday), to signing with a literal US entertainment agency. I cannot stress enough how the timing of the WME signing is not accidental, this is Charles making himself be seen as a highly desirable PR asset. Charles has the second highest following on social media out of any current driver, second to only 7 TIME WDC WINNER LEWIS HAMILTON. That sort of audience, and the kind of exposure it can bring to your team and your brand is insane.

Also, as an addendum to Nat's essay using something she herself brought up to me yesterday: any PR for RBR is good PR because it means that Red Bull as a concept is sticking around in people's heads, which means they're more likely to notice and buy the drinks off the shelves. Extrapolating from this we can see that Red Bull signing Charles would ultimately be better marketing than Red Bull signing Lando just because of the absolute uproar it would cause. Whether you think that Red Bull saved Charles from Ferrari, or Charles betrayed Ferrari for Red Bull, or Charles saved himself from Ferrari, or Red Bull as the Big Evil Team poached the Prince of Ferrari, there's a compelling narrative in there and people will talk about it for years to come.

Finally, not to talk about the driving aspect of motorsports, but Charles is the best fit for Red Bull driving-wise as well. Him and Max have spoken in the past about how they both prefer very similar types of car (ie. strong oversteer, borderline undriveable to anyone else) which would make car development much easier for the team. Christian Horner has also been pretty candid about wanting two n1 drivers à la Lewis and Nico (although without the toxicity), and whether you believe that Charles matches Max in equal machinery or not, Charles's racing record is a lot stronger than Lando's or Dan's (the two other possible competitors for the RBR seat). Charles fits the bill, driver-profile-wise, of the complement to Max that Christian Horner is looking for.

So, long story short, I am watching Ferrari VERY closely these next few months. If the SF-24 doesn't make Charles happy, I am going to make a bold claim that we will see Charles Leclerc driving for Red Bull in 2025.

[sysmedsaresexist]

im a system trying to learn more about endos.

so far in syscourse ive only seen proof of cdds being traumagenic but they dont disprove non-cdd plurality, so what sources are there that have evidence of endogenic systems, if you have any?

Right now? There isn't any hard evidence that would satisfy anti endos. There's TONS of papers and articles talking about the recent emergence of endogenic systems, but they're mostly interview based. I debunked a lot of them when I was still anti. Small sample sizes, personal bias about dysfunction levels, all interviews. Those won't stand for those who are skeptical.

Now that I've calmed my gender neutral tits, though, I can look at where all this research is heading, and I can look back and find all the different terms that have been used to describe this same phenomenon. Those terms don't fall under psychology, they appear in journals about consciousness and self and philosophy, and they go all the way back to the 1800s, developing right alongside theories on hysteria and split personality, and the TOSD.

I don't need to do the work for you (/nm), just Google multiple self theory and fall down the rabbit hole. Trust me. One Google search, move at your own pace. It'll mean more when you find all this yourself and make the journey on your own. It was way more effective when I went alone.

That said, I'm not heartless.

The most promising research coming out is the tulpa studies.

Tanya Luhrmann and Michael Lifshitz are incredible, but it's Luhrmann who really stole my heart. She has a long list of work on religious communication with God and "others", and was a huge part of putting tulpas, and several other different voice hearing, religious communities into the fmri scanners to see what's going on. The reddit AMA is being passed around now, and it's largely being ignored by antis, without understanding what it was.

The tulpa studies began... shit, 5 years ago? Covid put a hold on the project, but it's back up and running and they're working on the final paper. The AMA was a chance for people to ask questions to the lead researchers about the project, including whether they found anything.

And they did.

The brains of tulpamancers and other practitioners lit up in unexpected areas and outside of conscious control (very basic overview).

Luhrmann also wrote about how this kind of research can help other voice hearers, and could potentially point to some new therapy opportunities for those struggling.

No, Luhrmann and Lifshitz are not dissociative specialists. Endogenic systems have screamed for decades about how they don't have CDDs and we just refuse to listen. This research is occurring in other areas and specialities. They don't need to be dissociative specialists to work fmri machines and see there's something happening.

My hope is that once the final results are published, we'll see some very quick movements comparing CDDs and endogenic systems. We're not there yet, but I think we'll actually have firm answers within the next couple years.

And after looking into other areas of research, and seeing the potential positives, and that they DID see some unexpected things on the scans...

Not to mention that I've spoken with Colin Ross, THE dissociative expert, who in the 1980s, wrote about "endogenous multiplicity," a subsection of those with MPD that had no trauma history, no dysfunction, no amnesia, etc, and he still stands by that to this very day. I've spoken with several other experts. Go look at Jamie Marich on Twitter and see all her colleagues in the notes.

Anti endo is a dying stance.

Learn nuance while you can (CDDs and endogenic plurality are different, occasionally overlapping), and jump ship before it's too late to take the harm back.

Happy googling and good luck!

[bluemooniegif]

Let's talk about Coats in Bungou Stray Dogs, and what they mean

[i.e. a repost of perhaps my most famous BSD analysis ever]

Mild spoilers for Beast, Dark Era, and Dazai, Chuuya, 15 ahead! (I'm thinking of posting an explanation of how the Beast Universe works soon anyway... lmk if that's something you'd like!)

If you've come across this theory before (uve most likely seen me talk about it on tiktok or youtube), you've probably heard already that the coat or outerwear a character is wearing (especially if it's different from the rest of their outfit) is indicative of the persona that they're trying to project.

You may have noticed, for example, that the colour and the way that Dazai wears his coat changes depending on the organisation and universe he's in. Let's start by taking a look at his Port Mafia outfit from the Canon universe:

As you look, remember that Dazai joined the Port Mafia against his will. He only joins because Mori promises that if he's useful to him, he'll provide Dazai with a quick and painless way to die:

And now I want to get into why Dazai doesn't actually want to die, but that's a whole other post for a later time.

So, Dazai joins the Mafia, rather begrudgingly, and dons the relevant 'uniform' as he does. This is necessary to show Mori and he other members of the PM that he is committing to the role; it is necessary for survival.

The important thing to note here, however, is that he wears his coat off-the-shoulder. Of course, this could just be chalked up to the questionable fashion standards of teenage boys, but when we consider that the coat is like a representation of the Mafia's values... it becomes an indication that Dazai is putting on a persona; one that he's ready to throw away at the drop of a hat. The are three reasons I know this is how he feels for sure:

we saw the exact moment Mori recruited him, and how reluctant he was to join;

he actually did throw it all away the second he had the chance;

Beast. let me explain.

Have a look at Dazai's outfit in Beast, where he takes on the role of Mafia Boss:

There are several notable differences here, but for a moment I just want to focus on the fact that he's wearing his coat properly. That was the one thing that really struck me as significant the first time I read BEAST: in the world where Dazai has to fully commit to the role if he wants his plans to work out, he pushes himself to play the part, regardless of how he feels.

The next huge difference lies in the bandages: here, his left eye is covered, whereas in the Canon manga his right eye is covered. There are several theories we could derive from this: a popular one is that each eye represents light and dark, respectively. In the Canon universe, Dazai covered the eye that saw the light, so he could more easily resign himself to living in darkness. Then, Oda pulled the bandages away, and he found himself running towards the light. I could talk about this for hours, but for the sake of brevity... ouchies.

Moving on. Another thing to note is that, duh, there's a bigass scarf around his neck here. Why? How? It looks an awful lot like Mori's... which could mean nothing. Just like how his ADA coat looking like Oda's could mean nothing. Haha so normal guys don't even worry about it!!

ANYWAY. Coats. Isn't it interesting that Akutagawa also properly wears his coat (a hand-me-down from Dazai, nonetheless) and spends a vast majority of his time trying to prove that he is worthy of being in such a high position within the PM? Isn't it interesting that his ability, the entire reason he became the Mafia's guard dog, relies on that very coat? His entire personality and reason for living becomes so entrapped within Rashoumon that the two are practically inseparable.

In Beast, when he's given a coat that echoes that of Oda's, he still uses it (via Rashoumon) like a shield, and like a weapon... but he tries to learn how to be more gentle. The beginnings and intentions are almost the same, but the outcomes are totally different. Which is very telling. I'll let you connect the remaining dots on that one.

Now, there is one more Mafioso character who wears his coat off-the-shoulder in Canon. But for some reason, in BEAST, he doesn't wear a coat at all... Strange, right?

I am, of course, talking about Chuuya. And the thing about Chuuya is that defining the representative idea of his coat is much more difficult than it was with Dazai, purely because there was so much going on at the time he joined the Mafia. He was betrayed by his closest family, while simultaneously feeling like he betrayed them. He had no choice but to accept Dazai's offer, which was actually Mori's offer. He'd been backed into this corner by Dazai, but also by the Sheep, and he'd lost everything, but was being offered all the things he used to pine after: answers, protection, relative safety. Maybe even family, something he could devote himself to- but all this lay in the hands of the organisation he'd promised to eradicate. He was going through it, as the poets say.

Personally, if I were to assign his coat with a specific ideal/persona, it would be this: acceptance of the Mafia, and hatred towards Dazai. Just like Dazai, wearing his coat off-the-shoulder indicates that he doesn't fully prescribe to their ideals... but in this instance, it also means that he doesn't truly hate Dazai like he claims.

I know, fork in the kitchen. But I also want to point out something that helps drive this perspective home for me: whenever they fight together, as Soukoku, Chuuya takes his coat off. He has a lot of fighting quirks, actually- he always keeps his hands in his pockets (something that is echoed by Dazai ohmygod I cry whenever I think about it), takes his hat off for Corruption (this is discussed in-depth in Storm Bringer), takes off his gloves when he wants to ramp up Tainted Sorrow. But, just like the coat, this only happens whenever Dazai is around. Chuuya literally and figuratively bares himself to Dazai, which can be read as something necessary for him to be saved by No Longer Human, yes, but it would be remis of anyone to ignore the fact of their trust in one another.

There's one more reason that I think these two ideals are so intertwined: it is, you guessed it, Beast!

The interesting thing is that here, where you'd almost expect him to wear something similar, Chuuya simply doesn't have a coat at all. Why is that?

If we follow the same logic that we did for Dazai, we can assume immediately that Chuuya doesn't want to hide behind a facade here. He has no facade to consider hiding behind. He's honest about his work with the PM, and open about his complex feelings towards Dazai- mostly his hatred, though that manifests purely because he's frustrated; a part of him knows Dazai can be doing better, or working differently, but he can't understand why. Or maybe he does understand why, and this frustrates him even more.

It's extremely complicated, and I feel like the way I've said things makes no sense, but I hope it's at least got you thinking. What does this truly mean for Chuuya? What does it mean for Atsushi, who doesn't wear a coat in canon, but does in Beast?

(I already have a post delving into Atsushi's character design, which I think is genuinely one of the coolest things ever!! I don't discuss Beast in it, but it's a great starting point if you're interested <3)

I feel like I've rambled on too much, but I'm fighting brain fog rn so this is as coherent as it gets. I hope this has helped you learn something, or made you interested in delving deeper into costume design in BSD as a whole. I kiss you mwah!!!

[echo-rambles]

yours to keep

words: 1,728 tags: bang chan x f!reader, established relationship, fluff, kissing, attempt at humor. mentions of marriage. vague adhd!reader. notes: this is filled with nothing but fluff. tooth rotting fluff almost. I was feeling so incredibly soft for chan and I just had to get this out of my system. also the movie playing in the bg is absolutely kiki's delivery service.

-o0o-

You’ve refreshed the same three social media apps at least four different times each, falling into an incredibly boring spiral of doom scrolling, before you remember that if you’re bored enough you always have a boyfriend you can bother. It’s one of your favorite activities actually. Because he’s such a good sport about it. 

Shifting closer to him on the couch, you perch your chin on his shoulder, pressing close. He immediately leans into your touch, making a small little noise at your proximity. It makes your heart melt a little. 

For a few moments you silently watch him work. Clicking about on his laptop, pulling up various recording and editing programs, adding in and taking out bits of audio. You wonder what the track sounds like, but Chan has his big headphones secured to his head, so all you can do right now is imagine. 

It’s not completely silent. There’s a Studio Ghibli movie playing in the background that neither of you are watching, volume low enough to be nothing but white noise because you kind of extremely hate when there’s long stretches of absolutely no noise. It’s this weird thing your brain does; where it sort of feels all fuzzy and prickly if things are quiet for too long. 

Gently, you push one side of his headphones away from the ear closest to you. “Baby.” 

Chan hums in acknowledgement, but his attention is still focused entirely on his laptop. 

You’d be more annoyed if you weren’t so used to it by now. It’s kind of his job to be attached to it any second of the day that he’s not either preparing to perform or actively performing. Besides, you’re both sitting together and quietly enjoying each other's company while doing your own things and it’s kind of perfect. Except the thing you were working on has steadily lost your attention and now you want to ask your boyfriend a very important question. 

“On a scale of 1-10, how busy are you?” That’s not the question. It’s one of many lead up questions to accurately gauge how invested Chan is in his current project and how easy it will be to distract him. 

Another hum, and you watch his cursor rifle around in several different lists and menus. “Maybe a 6.7? Even 6 if I can find the specific snare I’m looking for in the next few minutes.” 

Below a 7 is promising. “So you can totally pause what you’re doing and give me like, five minutes?” 

Chan clicks around some more, and you recognize a little bit of what he’s doing. Going through the process of saving his progress before shutting his laptop entirely. “Actually, I can give you ten minutes.”

“You’re so generous.” You absolutely take that as your cue to crawl into his lap, taking the place of his computer as he places it somewhere safe off to the side. 

“I think I’ve been staring at the screen too long, my eyes are starting to rebel.” He groans, tipping his head back and scrubbing his palms over his face. 

Of course you still have that very important question to ask him, but he looks so soft and touchable and you really can’t help yourself. Moving his hands away, you lean in, pressing kisses to both of his cheeks, under each eye. To the tip of his nose, and even kissing his dimple when you feel him smile under your mouth. Using your hands to tilt his face, you kiss each side of his jaw. You move back up, placing a kiss to the curve of his forehead. 

Finally, finally, you kiss his mouth. He’s still smiling, but he kisses back happily. 

“Feel better?” 

He nods, eyes still closed. “I think your kisses might be magic.”

“Oh, they absolutely are.” You kiss him again simply because you can. It’s the sort of kiss that makes your bones all liquid and warm. A kiss you can feel in the roots of your teeth and the hinges of your jaw. It makes your stomach flutter, filled to the brim with colorful wings. 

It’s the type of kiss that almost makes you forget the question you wanted to ask him. 

“I actually have a very important question for you.” You declare, placing your hands firmly on his shoulders to try and keep him at arm's length. Lest you be drawn back into that mouth of his. 

Blinking up at you, breathing heavily and gaze a little dizzy, Chan nods. He mirrors the gesture, anchoring his hands at your hips. “Lay it on me, boss.” 

Settling into his lap, you try to ignore how stupidly wrecked he looks. You want to dive back in so badly, but you must stay strong, soldier. 

“If, for some unknown reason, you had to leave me to be with someone else, who would you choose?” 

That, at least, seems to sober him. Instead of looking soft and kiss-drunk, he comes back to himself, the gears behind his eyes starting to turn and grind together as he processes your insane question. 

You like to ask him things like this from time to time. Completely unprompted but thought provoking questions, because they really do feel important. You like to know these things. Not in a paranoid jealous sort of way. It’s all genuine curiosity. You just like to know.

“What kind of question is that? I don’t know. I can’t say I’ve ever thought about leaving you, or being with anyone else.” 

“That is the sweetest sentiment and I need you to know I’m feeling very warm and mushy over it, but it’s also incredibly boring.” 

“Wow, ok. I don’t know! Who would you choose?” He tries to throw the question back at you, but you’re ready. Of course you are; why would you even ask the question without having an answer of your own? 

“Changbin.”

It makes Chan laugh. It knocks its way out of him, causing him to lean to the side just a little bit with the force of it. “No hesitation!”

“No hesitation needed. He’s Seo Changbin.” 

Chan is still laughing. Little giggles as he nods along to your declaration. His fingers press into your waist, slipping between the hem of your shirt and your sweatpants, skin seeking skin. 

He didn’t ask for an explanation, but you have one. Because of course you do. “He’s the type of guy who would probably introduce himself as my boyfriend. Like, he’s the famous one, but I’m not his girlfriend. He’s my boyfriend. Does that make sense?”

“I hate to agree, but it absolutely does.”

“Right! Unfortunately I’m stuck with you.” You ignore his breathy wow, drawn out as he tries his best to not laugh again. “Because you’re the only person who plays into my jokes in the exact way that I enjoy.” 

You make sure to punctuate your explanation with a pout and shrug, truly playing into being overdramatic. Teasing him because it’s fun and easy and all he really does is smile so wide at you. The things you would do for that smile. 

He leans forward, close enough to place a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before he’s settling back into his seat. “Aw, I love you too.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m stupidly in love with you. It’s whatever.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Though,” You start, thoughtfully. “If I had to choose someone to get drunk married to in Vegas, I’d 100% no questions asked, pick Lino.”

Chan leans forward once again, into your space. The tilt of his brow and the line of his mouth spell out genuine concern, and it makes your insides twist up for the briefest of seconds. “Wait, what? Not me? But babe, I want to drunk marry you in Vegas so bad.” 

Ok, that makes you laugh. The weird little guilty knot immediately dissolves at his incredulous tone. “Absolutely not! We’re never getting drunk married in Vegas by some celebrity impersonator. Are you crazy?”

Well now he’s frowning. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms and never let him go. Tuck him away safely in a spot behind your ribs, where no one can get to him and nothing can hurt him.

You’re smaller than him, not only because you’re shorter by a good few inches, but also in sheer mass and bulk. But you’d try your best. It’s probably a little morbid, and he’d absolutely give you a look if you ever mentioned it out loud. But it’s true nonetheless. 

You’d crack yourself open and rearrange everything if it meant you could fit him perfectly in the space next to your heart. 

Cradling his face in your hands, you make sure that he’s listening, tipping your head to meet his eyes and smoothing your thumb along the swell of his bottom lip. “We’d get sober married, on a beach or something, by one of our very good friends that got their license online!” 

Without missing a beat, Chan is nodding. “Seungmin.” 

“No question. He’d show up with a print out certificate from Ordained.com that he managed to get the night before.”

Chan’s eyes disappear as he laughs, and you press both of your thumbs into the apples of his cheeks as his smile transforms his face. There’s always something about the way Chan smiles that is contagious. Without fail you can’t help but smile too, scrunching up your nose and feeling your heart overflow with love. 

The things you would do for that smile. 

“Hold on. Did you just propose to me?” Chan asks, once his laughter has trickled off into intermittent giggling. You’re still holding his face, and his fingers have fully migrated up under your top to spread out along our back. 

You scoff, shaking your head. “No. We’re too young and you’re too busy for us to be married. Hell no. If anything I pre-proposed to you.”

“Aw, well I accept.”

“Good. We’d have a problem if you didn’t.” 

It’s his turn to pull you into a kiss. Both of your smiles pressing against each other. 

The credits of the movie neither of you were watching have started rolling, the familiar music washing over the both of you, and you could really spend the rest of the night here with him. The rest of the weekend. Maybe even the rest of your lives, some day.

[whohasthecards]

Top Gun Drabble

How Mav views Jake vs how Penny views Jake

---

Maverick flopped down on Penny’s bar with a long groan, pillowing his head in his folded arm with a sigh.

“What trouble did you get to this time, mister?” Penny asked, setting down the man’s favorite beer.

“Not me, Hangman, the kid’s a brat, it’s like karma for all the times I fuck around when I was younger,” Mav sighed, taking a long sip from his beer.

“Hangman? Jake? I’m sure he’s not that bad, Mav, he’s a sweetheart,” Penny said, rolling her eyes at the dramatic man. “Don’t compare him to you, Mav, he'd practically be an angel,” Penny said as she started drying a glass with a towel.

Mav burst out laughing, almost hysterically, as he had to put down his beer. He looked back at Penny expecting her to share his amusement, when she simply just raised an unimpressed brow at him.

A sense of dread washed over Mav.

“No, you’re, you’re serious???” Mav exclaimed, forever denying that his voice raised an octave at that.

“Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin? Tall, blond, young man, plays pool, and darts? Yes, I’m serious,” Penny said, putting her hands on her hips. “Come on, Mav, he’s a good kid.”

Mav’s jaw dropped in shock.

—

Earlier that day

“Hey, hey, pops, pops,” Hangman said, jogging to keep up with Mav who was starting his pre-flight checks.

“Yes, Hangman?”

“Do the death spiral with me,” Hangman said grinning wildly.

Mav turned to look at his student/co-instructor/subordinate, “... We’re surrounded by rookies, kid.”

Hangman shrugged, “It’ll show them what we can do.”

“It will set a bad example, they’re still arrogant little shits.”

Hangman pouted, genuinely pouted, dear god were his students getting too comfortable with him, “You and Bradshaw did it.”

“And we broke the hard deck.”

“Since when did you care about that?”

He, unfortunately, had a point. “I’m trying to prevent what’s happening right now, but to this Top Gun class.”

“But it could also be us asserting ourselves as skilled in front of the students, while simultaneously allowing us to practice a maneuver we don’t usually get to do.” Hangman said, nodding resolutely.

“And when are we using the death spiral in a real dogfight?”

“Who knows? But the death spiral isn’t just about practicality, it’s also about getting to know your jet more.”

“Still a no, kid.”

“But you and Bradshaw did it! Come on, pops, favoritism ain’t allowed!”

“No.”

For some reason, the kid managed to get him to do a spiral with him anyways. Little shit knows how to push a man.

At least the rookies were too intimidated to even think about copying them.

Hopefully.

—

“Hey pops, I got you something,” Hangman said, giving him a box with a wide grin.

“It’s not a bomb, isn't it?” Mav said tentatively, holding the box in his hands.

“Not today at least,” Hangman said, flashing a grin bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Open it,” he practically whined.

Mav rolled his eyes and sat down on his desk as he gently removed the ribbon on the box and watched as the walls of the box fell down revealing a mug.

Keep on smiling!

That was surprisingly sweet.

“Thanks, kid, a bit corny, but thank you, sweet of you,” Mav said, smiling and thumbing the cheesy font.

“Yeah, it’s for your dentures!” Jake said, smiling toothily.

What.

“Figured you should have a specific mug for it,” Jake said as he looked at his watch for the time. “Gotta go, pops, don’t forget to put it in your bathroom, I’m glad you like it,” Jake said walking towards the door, a hand held up in a wave as he rounded the corner.

Little shit.

“I don’t have dentures!” Mav shouted at the younger man’s retreating back, making the young secretary passing by jump and look at him with severe judgment.

—

"Jake! Come on, you promised to help me do my science project!" Amelia exclaimed as she thundered down the stairs to Hangman.

"Aye, aye, captain, I'm here to help, when you actually decide what your project is going to be," Jake said, crossing his arms.

"I wanna make an info sheet on how fighter jets work, you'd help me, right, Jake?" Amelia asked, pleading with her hands clasped.

"I dunno, what do I get for helpin’ ya?" Jake asked, smirking lightly as he chewed on his toothpick.

"My overwhelming gratitude and the cake mom left for both of us in the fridge?"

"All ya gotta say was the cake, you better not eat all of it while 'm not lookin', missy," Jake said jokingly wagging a finger. 

Amelia rolled her eyes, "Just don't leave the cake unguarded, and you're supposed to be a military sailor."

"Naval aviator," Jake pointedly said. "You know, the aviator who flies the jets you're gonna be makin' a project on?"

“I’ll choose a jet you don’t fly,” Amelia said.

“Yeah? What jet do I not fly?”

“You could do the F-14 tomcat, that’s what I flew back in the day,” Mav interjected. “Hangman definitely doesn’t know how to fly that.”

Amelia gave Mav the stink eye, nose scrunched up, “I gotta do something more recent, Mav, that isn’t cool.”

“Yeah Mav, your jet is ancient,” Jake mocked, giving Mav a smirk.

“That ancient jet managed to shoot down 5th gens.”

“And I shot the last one just in time, with my amazing type of jet.”

“Pretty sure you bent the airframe, kid.”

“Did I?”

“Anyways,” Amelia said interjecting. “I’m not gonna do your plane Mav, you haven’t proved yourself yet.”

“Prove myself!? And Hangman did??” Mav asked in shock. “Yeah, Jake’s cool,” Amelia said, crossing her arms and nodding resolutely.

“And I’m not? I’m an aviator ace,” Mav exclaimed. He didn’t know why he was trying so hard to please his ex’s kid, but to be ranked lower than Hangman? Absolutely not. He didn't school the Dagger Squad on the first day of class for no reason.

“Old. And you broke my mom’s heart,” Amelia said, nodding resolutely before whirling around to Jake. “I changed my mind, let’s do your jet. You know so much about it, it’ll make the project easier.”

“You got it, memorized the thick ass manual, back to back,” Jake boasted. 

“Yeah like any good aviator worth their salt, like me.  I can help, right?” Mav said standing up.

Amelia looked Mav up and down. “I need to decorate it, and you have no taste in design. If you did, it would be 40 years outdated.” Amelia turned back towards Jake, "Can we go to the store to buy some stuff? I need my project to be great, please?"

"Yeah, let's roll, also, aren't you already getting straight As-?"

"Yeah, and I need one more," Amelia said, nodding resolutely.

"Copy that, missy, let’s go," Jake said, slinging an arm around her shoulder to lead Amelia to his truck. 

"Can I drive?"

"Not right now, little miss, your mother will kill me."

"Fine. Do you think we'll have enough money to get those plastic models of the planes?"

Jake shrugged, "If you don't I can buy it for ya, always wanted to make one of those anyways. "

"Nice, you're the best Jake," Amelia said grinning wildly as she leaned towards Jake giving a one armed hug.

"I know, and the old man should know now too," Jake said, smirking back at Mav. "I'm the best in the air and on the ground."

"You little–"

"Watch the house while we're gone, pops!" Jake yelled back as he shut the door.

—-

“And that’s only some of the shit the brat does,” Mav whines at Penny before taking a shot of tequila.

Penny simply gave him an unimpressed eyebrow, “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you say it is, Mav, and even if it is.” Penny shrugged before refilling Mav’s shot. “It’s karma for all the shit you did when you were his age, you should tell Viper about him.”

“That’s a great idea!” Mav said, shooting up from his seat. “Maybe Viper would school some sense into him!” 

Penny simply gave him a mysterious smile, “Sure, Mav, that might happen.”

—-

“What are you talking about, Mav? Jake’s a good kid, not near as much of a hellion as you are,” Viper said.

He hid his gleeful smile behind a sip of his beer as he watched Maverick groan as if he’s in physical pain.

Karma’s a bitch.

Viper mused on whether or not he should pay the boy to make Maverick’s life hell for the duration he’s here. Maybe he will. Young men like him would take food and beer as adequate training.

And even if the boy was perfectly respectful when he met him, he had a certain cheekiness in his words, and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Reminiscent of a pilot he trained many years ago.

Plus, the bribery may protect him from the kid’s schemes.

He's too old for another kid, but maybe old enough for another grandson.

—

“Okay, I’m cutting you off, pay your tab and get out now,” Penny said, setting down the bill in front of the severely inebriated man.

“Naahhhhh, I wanna another one–” the man slurred, standing up and suddenly slammed his hands on the bar counter. “ANOTHER ONE.”

Penny crossed her arms and glared resolutely at the man, “No. Pay now.”

The man grumbled and squinted at the bill, swaying unsteadily, “T-This ain’t fucking right, it’s a goddamn joke!” The man angrily shouted leaning forward towards the bar owner. “There’s too many zeroes.”

Penny’s eye twitched and was about to make a retort when a cue stick firmly pushed the man away from the counter. 

“Respect the lady, man, calm down,” A blonde man said, stepping forward, slamming the butt of the cue stick to the ground. “She said you’re done, so pay, and then leave.”

“What’s it to you!? This is between me and that bitch!” The man shouted, darting forward towards Penny.

It ended quickly.

The newcomer barely had to do anything. Or at least he made it seem so seamless. Sidestep, grab the collar, cue stick to the back of the knees, and throw the drunkard away from the counter. 

The drunk fell on his ass, and stumbled forward on all fours trying to get up before stumbling back down again. 

“Y-you asshole!” He slurred as he flopped down on the floor and buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“Sure, buddy, I’m the asshole in this situation,” the newcomer said, rolling his eyes before resting the cue stick on his shoulder.

Newcomer turned towards Penny, giving her a small, shy, smile, unlike the confident man who just assisted her, “You doing alright, ma’am?”

“Doing good, thanks, kid, but I could have handled it myself,” Penny said, smiling warmly.

“I know,” the kid said in a matter-of-fact tone. “But if I could help, why shouldn’t I?” The kid said shrugging.

Penny gave a small laugh, “You seem new in town, what’s your name? Your tab is free today for all the trouble you just had to go through.”

“Jake Seresin, ma’am, at your service,” Seresin said, giving her a two-fingered salute.

“Penny Benjamin, welcome to my bar,” Penny said, extending a hand for him to shake.

“May I offer one suggestion ma’am?” Seresin said after a moment. Penny nodded in consent and Seresin offered her another grin. “Don’t cancel my tab, just charge it to this guy, he was an ass anyways,” Seresin said, jabbing a thumb towards the still groaning man who was acting like a dying fish on her floor.

Fish. Boats. Overboard.

“Good idea, EVERYBODY, A ROUND ON HIM!” Penny, exclaimed at the whole bar.

The bar cheers.

[scoobydoodean]

Hi! I just wanted to start off by saying that your analyses on the characters are awesome and they really helped further my understanding of the show, so keep up the good work! :D

I was wondering, if you don't mind answering, what did you think of about Dean giving permission for Gadreel/Ezekiel to possess Sam in season 9?

I'm still a bit on the fence about how to feel about it and I thought your particular brand of wisdom might be able to help me out.

Dean had just a few pieces of information at the hospital in 9.01.

Dean knew that Sam had every intention of surviving The Trials in 8.14 and in fact Sam promised he would survive them and show Dean to the light at the end of the tunnel, because Dean was suicidal: "I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. [...] I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it."

Dean observed that Sam became suicidal over the course of The Trials and that this culminated in Sam forsaking his promise and his desire to live and falling into a tailspin where he wanted to die to make himself "pure". Disturbing dialogue from 8.21: "Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and— and light streaming over his face, and— I remember... thinking, uh, I could never go on a quest like that. Because I'm not clean. I mean, I w— I was just a little kid. You think... maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that— I had... demon blood in me, and about the evil of it, and that I'm— wasn't pure? [...] It doesn't matter anymore. Because these trials... they're purifying me."

Dean pleaded with Sam not to kill himself in 8.23, and Sam agreed, asking, "How do I stop?"

These are the details Dean has prior to Sam falling into a coma. He believes that his brother wanted to commit suicide, but that he did change his mind and decide he wants to live.

Two other notable details:

First, Gadreel earns Dean's trust quickly by risking his ass to help Dean, and then on the phone (after being given the fake name "Ezekiel") Cas, relieved and pleased, vouches for Ezekiel. So Dean has no reason to suspect anything nefarious (and in fact, at this point, Gadreel doesn't have particularly nefarious intentions besides staying in hiding away from other angels).

Second, Dean is not the one who pleads with Sam to live in the dream sequence, getting him to say "Yes". It can't be Dean, because 1) "Dean's" face morphs into Gadreels which is clearly intended to indicate to us that this wasn't Dean speaking 2) If Gadreel was somehow projecting the real Dean into the conversation to give that speech, then Gadreel wouldn't be the one receiving the consent. It would truly be Dean receiving it and not just Gadreel pretending. Those words HAVE to come from Gadreel's mouth for the possession to work—not Dean's. We've seen angels morph into loved ones and mimic their voices perfectly several times.

With all that in mind:

After Gadreel pitches his plan to possess Sam, Dean immediately says it isn't his call to make—it's Sam's. It's after Gadreel shows him Sam falling back into the same suicidality from 8.23—wanting to die so that "no one else can get hurt because of me"—that Dean wavers. Still—at the end of the day, whether Sam agrees to live or not was never Dean's choice, and this is something I often see people get mixed up about. Dean doesn't get to choose whether Sam dies or not. It is still Sam who chooses to live. Sam does this by saying "Yes" to Gadreel. This could not have happened if Sam hadn't changed his mind about living. He doesn't know he's going to be possessed, but he has once again beaten back his suicidality and chosen to live. Sam still had hope in a good future.

Sam chose to live. He did not know he was going to be possessed. That's the issue. However, Dean did not intend to keep Gadreel's possession from Sam after it happened. Dean and Gadreel have this conversation upon leaving the hospital:

DEAN So? How's it look in there? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY Not good. There is much work to be done. DEAN Yeah, but he's gonna wake up, right? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY He will. DEAN So, what he does – what, is he gonna feel you inside, triaging his spleen? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY He will not feel me, no. There is no reason for Sam to know I'm in here at all. DEAN You're joking. No, this is – this is too big. EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY And what will he do if you do tell him he is possessed by an angel? DEAN Well, he'll have to understand.

This conversation suggests that Dean's initial thought process was "We perform supernatural life-saving surgery". He just wanted to get Sam to a point where he'd wake up and they could talk. Like any situation with a relative in a coma, that person in a coma can't consent to surgery. The next of kin is the one who gives consent, because their loved one can't. They can only consent to a procedure if awake to do so. So Dean doesn't stop Gadreel from performing life saving surgery, but his intial belief and intent is that they'll put all of this back in Sam's hands when he's awake.

Up to this point, I don't actually have a problem with what Dean's done based on his knowledge. It's here at the end of the episode, where Gadreel convinces Dean to depart from his intial intent and stall, that in my opinion, the "Dean doing something wrong" part starts:

EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY And if he does not? Without his acceptance, Sam can eject me at any time, especially with me so weak. And if Sam does eject me, he will die. DEAN Then we keep it a secret for now. Or until Sam's well enough that he doesn't need an angelic pacemaker or I find a way to tell him. I - I... As for him being in a hospital, I'll have to figure something out. EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY I can erase it all, if you like. He will not remember any of this.

Dean doesn't feel good about it, but he agrees to keep quiet, because he's scared Sam will yet again make a suicidal play. Dean is riddled with guilt in the following episodes over lying to Sam, and in 9.08, Dean tries to tell Sam he's possessed, but Gadreel takes over Sam's body and stops him. Dean comes clean again in 9.09, only for Gadreel to stop Sam from receiving the news again.

So. Dean's mistake is lying to Sam. He shouldn't have lied to him. Point blank. At the same time, had Dean pushed the issue, would Gadreel have been willing to be expelled? Would he ever have allowed Dean to tell Sam the truth, from the moment he was... installed? Or was Dean screwed from the beginning, and was the idea that he got to choose any of this—any bit of it—really just... an illusion to keep Dean compliant with the possession that was keeping Gadreel under the radar?

Think about it for a second. Why did Gadreel ask Dean's permission? He didn't ever need Dean's permission to do any of this. He didn't need Dean's permission to trick Sam. He didn't need Dean's permission to remove Sam's memory of the hospital. He didn't need Dean's permission to keep the fact that he was possessing Sam a secret. He could have done every bit of this without asking. The problem was, Dean probably would have caught onto the disappearing angel act, and Gadreel would have had to get violent, and for the first part of season 9, Gadreel doesn't want to get violent! He just wants a place to lay low, and sees an opportunity to prove he's a good angel who helps humans—not just the angel who let the serpent into the garden. Getting Dean's "consent" might ease his own conscience about nonconsensual possession or be a way to keep Dean compliant or both, but ultimately, these are more questions worth weighing imo, because Supernatural loves to toy with the illusion that Dean has power in situations where he doesn’t, and in this case, he doesn't... actually have any power at all... does he?

That said, when it comes right down to it, Dean still did something wrong by helping keep the secret—by not trying to tell Sam the truth immediately because he was scared. And well. Okay. So what?

This is a show with characters who have good intentions but still make mistakes. As Cas will say about this later, "You were stupid for the right reasons". We get some great insights into the pitfalls that lead Dean down this path, and it's interesting to watch that happen and then later, see a broken mirror as Sam endeavors to prove through season 10 what Dean is willing to do can't touch what Sam is ultimately willing to do to keep Dean around.

Here's the thing—I don't believe for a single second that Sam wouldn't do the exact same thing in 9.01 had their positions been reversed. Sam and Dean have a conversation along these lines at the end of 9.13 "The Purge":

DEAN All right, you want to be honest? If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing. SAM No, Dean. I wouldn't. Same circumstances...I wouldn't. 

This genuinely wounds Dean and gets brought up a few times, but then in 9.23 when it's brought up for the last time in another context:

DEAN What happened with you being okay with this? SAM I lied.

Sam never gets the chance to do the exact same thing to Dean, but he has already gone behind Dean's back to try and save his life before. He's used Dean's death to justify doing things Dean begged him not to do on his behalf. He kept the case they were actually on under wraps as he inched toward a plan to turn himself and Dean into Frankenstein's monsters in 3.15 (and really the only reason it didn't work is that Sam got captured by Doc Benton and Dean had to save his ass, and then Sam morosely helped dig the grave). Sam went behind Dean's back directly against his wishes to threaten a crossroad's demon in 3.05. In season 10, he violates Dean's consent by removing the Mark of Cain from Dean's arm using the Book of the Damned, which not only requires an overt human sacrifice of Oskar and gets a woman named Suzie killed in "The Werther Project" because Sam refuses to heed her warnings, but also results in the apocalypse... and all of this was something Dean asked Sam not to do, and Sam did every bit of it to get his brother back, and while standing in the wreckage in 11.01, echoed Dean's line from 9.13, saying, "I would do it again". Dean signed the supernatural possession next-of-kin consent form, and the fallout was Kevin and Sam. Sam violated Dean's consent and tens of thousands of people died and he said he'd do it again while they died around him.