#but the gist. you know. whatever to you says HOT.

[hotvintagepoll]

not me, who finds no one "hot" in the traditional sense (either men or women) still voting on these polls on "which is more aesthetically pleasing" (is that ok if not ill stop sorry)

That's absolutely ok. I've said before that I want people to vote on whatever feels hot to you, in whatever way that means, and I stick by that. Let your vote be guided by looks, lust, aesthetics, desire, vibes, values, politics, scrungliness—whatever helps you decide: if both these hotties came over to you in the bar, which one would you take home?

[ririblogsss]

Danny in central City pt2

part 1

Danny is chilling in the dorms rooftop again, when he feels a very powerful gust off wind. Looking to the side he finds impulse the local teen hero of Central City. Danny only nods his way and mutters that the stars look very pretty tonight. Impulse manages to hear him and looks up, but the night sky isn't visible because of all the light pollution. Super-eyesight he notes it down In his brain. Impulse asks for his name while he sits down besides him Danny responds meekly.

The silence is so loud even though there's cars and overall noise of the city. Their science is tense. Danny thinks that one wrong move and he'll get handed to the GIW for experimentation and extermination. Impulse is thinking of the best way to approach Danny without spooking him away.

In the end Danny decides to break the silence, as he's always hated awkward silences and feels the need to constantly talk in order to make it feel less tense."Did you know hot ice exists? yeah like about 33 light-years away is an exoplanet called Gliese 436 b. The planet is composed of different water elements, which form burning ice, so in essence there is a thing that is hot ice" Danny just continues to ramble all the facts he learn past midnight during high school. Hoping that impulse would just get tiered of him or get called back by whoever is behind the coms. But it doesn't happen Impulse lays next to him looking up at the sky listening to him ramble making humming noises and nods to show he is listening.

Danny doesn't know what to do he's running out of topics and facts fast and its not like he can just leave. So Danny does what anyone that's in the same type of situation does, he starts trauma dumping on accident. Well Dannys not sure its trauma dumping it has nothing to do with his half death or ghost or really anything after his 13 th birthday.

"You know my parents have a lab in our basement" Impulse chokes on air but Danny continues on "yeah its pretty cool when I was 4 I was allowed to go in and experiment with all the substances along as my older sister was there" Impulse face, or what Danny can see of it looks contorted in a grimace/sad look, so Danny immediately tries to back track."Wait wait that sounds like I was in danger, I wasn't I only made mustard gas twice before I learned all the components that made It and made sure to never mix them, and I only burned my hand 6 times with the surface mix lamp, and I got pretty good at using it. look see this" Danny holds out his wrist with an intricate bracelet made out of glass, it has green, blue and black accents on it swirling. "WAIT you made that, brUHHH that's amazing likeomgyoucouldsellthisiwouldbuythisitssocool......." Danny had to strain his ears in order to fully understand what impulse was saying as he went on a tangent about how cool the bracelet was.

"Here" Danny says holding out the bracelet, Impulse blanches and tries to refuse saying that he doesn't need it or whatever but Danny is stubborn he keeps holding out the bracelet unrelenting until impulse takes it and puts it on. "Consider it a gist from a fan and a thank you for sitting with me and listening to me ramble about space" Then Danny stands up stretching himself and starts heading towards the stair case. Leaving a dumbfounded impulse behind.

Danny hears a whisper of 'What the fuck' before he hears the distinct break of air that only comes from speedsters running off.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Anyone that has breast tissue knows that shit can HURT . Like, o-u-c-h. And our darling Mikey from TR seem to like to push that envelope a little passed where it should have stopped. Listening to THIS playlist right now but got so hooked on #4 that I'm already tired of hearing it.

C/W ::: Rude bf, boob stuff (play, teasing, mean and not mean, sucking, licking, flicking, pulling - whatever I come up with along the way but that's the gist of it).

WC ::: 2,169 (actual body of fun reading part)

* Gets an unmistakable smirk on his face when you wince and retreat from his touch because he knows for the next week or so, your tits are going to be at their most sensitive. And he can't wait.

* Lays low for a while (hours, not days - because he doesn't want you to think he's up to something, even though he most definitely is.)

* Will hug you from behind and cross his arms over your chest and pull you close.

* Doesn't let go right away when you say "Ow, loosen your grip, my tits hurt."

* Turns you around and presses himself right against the front of your body and buries his nose in your neck, kissing you sweetly and softly.

* Absolutely comes off like he cares and like he feels genuinely bad for you but this is too good an opportunity to pass up.

* He'll pull you into the bathroom and turn the hot water on, making it a little hotter than you usually like it and tells you to trust him.

* You give him the side-eye because what the actual fuck is he up to right now. (You already know because he doesn't let a month pass since this started with him where he doesn't give your aching tits the attention he 100% believes they deserve.) But you go along with it because a hot shower would feel really good right now and neither of you have anywhere else to be - for once - so you play along.

* He undresses you like you're a porcelain doll that is about to shatter if he moves too quickly (don't worry, he'll start moving faster.)

* With each new square inch of skin that he uncovers he lays down the most breathtaking kisses. You can't help but melt under his touch.

* Once he's got you nice and pliable beneath him naked, he will take your hand and look you in the eyes like he still can't believe you're with him.

* He takes you into the shower and turns the water to a light spray (because oh my fuck, those harder sprays can KILL).

* Runs his hands over your body, not paying any attention to your breasts and nipples just yet, he's getting you needy and wanting his touch elsewhere (you both know how much you fold when he's playing with your tits in his special "Mikey way."

* He'll start at your shoulders, rubbing deep circles into the muscle with his strong thumbs.

* His dick starts to twitch to life when you let that first sigh/moan out.

* Knows he's on the right track as soon as your head falls forward/backward - that all depends on where he's standing.

* Asks you if that feels good - knows fuckin' well it does feel good, he just likes to hear you say it.

* Works his way down, kneading your lower back and buttocks - making sure to give them a cute little smack every now and again.

* Finally, he'll come back up and stand behind you, his chest pressed up against your back, his cock rubbing between your cheeks (but not in a "let me fuck you" kinda way - more in a "I wanna make you feel so good you won't be able to handle it" kinda way.)

* He'll snake his hands down to your waist and bring his arms around to your belly and slide them up to cup your tits - one in each hand, of course.

* You'll tense up for a second as he starts to massage your breasts.

* He'll ask you to relax and just enjoy the sensation, and that it's all for your pleasure.

* You'll lean back against him, letting him take your weight and he'll start to move his hands up and down, side to side, making sure to hit every inch of your chest.

* He'll tell you how he loves your tits - loves the way they feel in his hands, how they fill up his palms and then some.

* He'll let his thumbs brush over your nipples, slowly, gently at first.

* You'll shiver against him and he'll know he's onto something good here.

* He'll start to work your nipples over more - circling, pinching, flicking, and pulling - all still very gently ... for the time being.

* He is always on the right track, though. It's fucking Mikey. He knows more than he lets on sometimes.

* Will start to ask you how you're feeling - knows the answer but, again, wants to hear you whisper it to him.

* When you say it - whatever "it" is - he will turn you around and drop to his knees.

* His eyes will be dark and full of lust, but his touch will still be gentle - he knows you're already on edge and he doesn't wanna push too far/too fast/too much.

* First you'll feel his breath against your skin and it only escalates from there.

* He'll kiss your nipples, barely grazing them with his tongue.

* Then he'll latch on and suck, hard.

* Your legs will start to shake and you'll wonder why you didn't just let him do this to you when you had your period when you two first got together.

* He'll remind you, "There is pleasure to be had in pain, sometimes. It's all about context, mamas."

* Waits patiently for you to roll your hips forward because he is the king of calling you the right name at the right time - also, made a mental note that you like to be called "mamas" ONLY when you're ovulating/on your period. Something about the way he says it all breathy like against your ear or your neck or your pussy. The man could start his own religion and you're sure many would follow it to a T.

* He'll keep sucking and licking and biting at your tits until you're squirming against him, desperate for some attention elsewhere.

* He'll reach down and slide a hand between your thighs and start to ghost his fingers over your clit in slow circles.

* You'll buck against his hand and he'll let out a low groan.

* He'll pull back just enough to look at your face as he traces 8's over your, now really, wet hole.

* Asks you if you want him to put his fingers inside you.

* You'll nod and beg him to - you can't help it.

* He'll push two fingers into your cunt and curl them upward, hitting your g-spot just right.

* You'll moan so loud that you're sure the neighbors will be able to hear you. (Neither of you care what they hear, though. If they don't want to hear that shit then they shouldn't be listening.)

* He'll start to fuck you with his fingers, slow at first - and then faster and deeper, his thumb pressed against your clit.

* You'll wrap your arms around his neck and he'll hold you close as you come undone around his fingers.

* When you start to come down, he'll give you a minute to breathe before he gets down on his knees in front of you again.

* He'll spread your legs and bury his face between your thighs, licking and sucking at your clit while you thread your fingers through his wet, blond hair.

* He'll suck and slurp and moan against you, sending vibrations straight to your core.

* He'll push you back against the shower wall and keep going until you're cumming on his tongue, calling out his name and telling him to "never stop, never stop, never stop."

* You'll regret your choice of words because he WON'T STOP and you will have to literally push him away because you're too sensitive and you know he could make you cum a million times before the sun comes up.

* He'll give you that smug look that you can't help but love and he laughs and pulls you in for a hug.

* After you've both caught your breath, he'll wash your hair, his hair and both of your bodies.

* He still looks at you like a starved animal. His eyes are as dark as they were when he first got you in there and there's something so primal about how his muscles move beneath his skin. It makes you want to fuck him.

* And yeah, he knows. He sees you looking at his back when he reaches for the towel on the rack. You're so oblivious right now to things that otherwise make perfect sense that you forget he can see you in the mirror.

* You get out and dry off and he wraps you up in your robe and asks if you want him to rub some cocoa butter on your nipples for you.

* You nod and he grabs some from the cabinet and tells you to go lay back on the bed.

* He'll straddle your waist and scoop some out until he has a generous amount on his hands.

* He'll warm it up in his palms and then start to gently massage it into your breasts, taking his time and making sure he gets every inch of skin.

* He'll look at you like he's waiting for you to say something, but you won't - not yet. You know he's working up to something.

* He'll finally ask if you feel better and you nod.

* He'll smirk and lean down and start to kiss your nipples, one at a time, slowly.

* You'll ask him what he's doing and he'll just smile and continue kissing and sucking your nipples.

* He'll suck hard and bite gently, then pull back and blow on them.

* Your pussy will start to get wet (again) and your hips have a mind of their own (again) and he'll know he's doing something right (again.)

* He'll crawl around your body until he's positioned just right and start to kiss your neck, your collarbone, your chest, your stomach, and your thighs.

* He'll push your legs apart and tell you to keep your eyes on him.

* He'll get back down on his knees and push your legs further apart and start to lick your pussy from top to bottom.

* He'll bury his tongue in your folds and suck at your clit until you're begging him to stop.

* He'll push two fingers inside you and start to pump them in and out of you as he sucks your clit.

* You'll buck against his hand and cum on his fingers, crying out his name - repeatedly.

* He'll give you a minute to catch your breath before he starts to line his leaking cock up with your entrance.

* He'll ask you if you want him to fuck you and you'll nod yes, pleading with your eyes for him to fill you up.

* And he'll tell you that's not sufficient, that he wants you to tell him how badly you want his cock.

* "Wanna hear the words, mamas." He leans down and kisses your neck until you're practically crying from being so turned on. "Gonna give that pretty pussy a high-five with my cock, don' leave me hangin', love."

* You have no idea how you're completely and utterly enchanted by him, but you oblige and turn your head so your mouth is against his ear, "Mi-key, wan' you n'side uh'me, pl-please ..."

* He gets that cocky look on his face because he got you to do exactly what he wanted and he'll push into your pussy - slowly - inch by inch, until he's balls deep inside you.

* The way he moves should be criminal. Like, he hits you right every time - your clit, your whole pussy is so happy.

* He fucks you hard and deep and slow - then fast and shallow - then hard and deep again.

* He'll change positions at least five times, all while fucking you like he's never going to get another chance.

* You'll cum again before he even starts to get close, but he's not done with you yet.

* He'll pull out and turn you around, bending you over the bed and pushing into you from behind.

* He'll reach around and play with your tits while he pounds into you - telling you how much he loves the way they - and all of you - bounce and jiggle against his touch.

* He'll start to rub your clit again and you'll cum around him, hard and surprisingly drawn out.

* He'll keep fucking you from behind until he cums, filling you up and saying your name.

* He'll pull out and collapse on the bed next to you.

* You'll lay there and catch your breath, wondering why you didn't let him play with your tits from the get-go.

* He'll wrap his arms around you and pull you close.

* Asks you if you feel better now.

* You'll say yes and thank him.

* He'll kiss you softly and tell you that he loves you and he knows you love him too.

* You'll smack him in the arm and laugh. "Oh, so you think you can just get whatever you want because I love you? Is that it?"

* He'll shrug and tell you that he's just that good.

* And you can't deny that he is. So you'll snuggle up together and fall asleep with your tits pressed against his chest.

@katshimizuu @kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku @darkstarlight82 @viburnt @arlerts-angel

[milfbrennan]

bones sexuality headcanons

yeah i dont have proof (except angela) i just Know. call it my lesbian spidey senses. disclaimer that those are MY headcanons, you can have your own opinions on those ofc

main characters:

brennan: bi (preference for ugly men... but i digress). she probably started exploring her sexual orientiation in college and came to the conclusion that she's attracted to every gender to varying degrees. she's probably tongue kissed angela a few times pre season 1

booth: cishet ally! ⭐️ he's a bit confused but he's got the spirit, i'll give him that.. bi wife energy start playing whenever he walks into the room

zack: gayboi with a bad case of hero worship for dr brennan. naomi from paleonthology made him realise this isnt really what he'd like to excavate, if you get the gist... ;) (ew)

angela: imo? bi, but it's up to anyone. canon queer and i'm very happy about it

hodgins: bi. putting my foot down on this one- to me, hodgela is bi4bi. one day early into the series angela goes "why is everyone so hot... being bi is so hard" and hodgins is like "yeah, tell me about it" and they have a Oh, You Too? moment

cam: distinguished (ex-disaster) pan. she's all cool and collected now but in middle school she was probably stuttering whenever she saw a pretty girl

sweets: pan. boykisser. i just KNOW. that man is not heterosexual. probably had a few boyfriends in high school too

aubrey: bi? preference for women but in an alternate universe he and sweets are a thing

goodman: token straightie along with booth except i actually like him even tho even tho he took a 2 month sabbatical and never came back

squinterns:

clark: bi. a bit repressed and only realised it after breaking up with nora but as long as he gets there it's fine

daisy: pan. absolute girlkisser. she has the wlw equivalent of whatever zack felt for dr brennan. swaisy is a disaster pan couple.

fisher: pan- and i wont have it any other way. he was 100% checking sweets out when he came over to b&b's in s8, so i like to think when hodgins asks sweets "what is it with you and interns?" in 9x23 he's including fisher

wendell: bi and in a lab au he's dating vincent thank you

vincent: english twink and i think he and wendell should kiss in the lab lost & found

arastoo: straightie but we still love him. pan wife energy since he and cam are married

finn: god, i have No Idea but i have a feeling he doesn't either

wells: aro, and maybe ace too, but fyi even if he wasn't no one would want him

jessica: ... i used to say lesbian but i kinda let the jaubrey of it all get to me... pan vibes perhaps? i'll have to think it over. in another universe she and daisy are a thing too btw

other characters:

caroline julian:... lesbian. no i will not give an explanation for this one. sham marriage and all.

karen delfs: big pansexual energy coming from this random profiler?? i like her

villains: (do not take those seriously, but also...)

pelant: unlabeled. getting strangled by hodgins awoke something in him but he didnt have the time to figure it out between 8x01 and 9x04

taffet: very VERY mean lesbian

epps: heterosexual incel

broadsky: internalised homophobia over booth, clearly

kovac: the man pretended to be married to his sister. i'm not sure i even wanna know

[olisephart]

Short ezkayn comic loosely inspired by the song "Figure you out" by VOÍLA. God they live rent free in my brain.

Details on the backstory and the comic under the cut <3

Starting pre-relationship, heartsteel is established. Ezreal and Kayn have been heavily flirting (maybe even friends w benefits) for months already, but always danced around actually saying anything. Both are too prideful to make the first step, because it's one thing to flirt or (want to) hook up and a whole other thing to admit you have actual romantic feelings for your friend/band member/prank partner.

After an Incident (whatever it was) that made Ezreal uncomfortably aware that he's In Love, he tries to distance himself from their usual flirtatious banter and starts publicly dating/fooling around with another guy; to distract himself from Kayn, to prove to himself he doesn't need Kayn, and though he wouldn't admit it, to make Kayn jealous.

Predictably, Kayn does get jealous but holds his tongue for a surprisingly long time, since voicing his jealousy risks showing his feelings go deeper than physical. Still, he can only take so many obviously staged pictures of Ezreal Definitely being Super Happy and Not At All Faking it with another guy before he confronts him. He swallows his pride and corners Ez, which is where the comic starts.

I didn't feel like writing dialogue, so here's the gist of what I was envisioning. Kayn confronts Ezreal, telling him to drop the sharade with the other guy. It's Obvious he's not genuine with it, the guy bought him (insert thing that Kayn Knows Ez doesn't like as much as another thing; ice cream flavour, flowers, what have you) which Ez would usually scoff at. Because it's Kayn, he can't help but tease with smth like "Just admit you like me and spare us this performance".

Ezreal, defensive, starts denying everything Kayn said, insisting he's dating the guy for real and bc he likes him, and Kayn's ego is just too big etc etc. Unfortunately for him tho, he's been missing Kayn a whole lot, so having grabbed Kayn's wrist, he can't help himself but caress it with his thumb. He stops himself the moment the realized, but Kayn noticed as well and takes that as the sign he needs that Ez is full of shit.

He pins Ezreal's hand above his head and starts teasing him in earnest. Listing all the little tics he noticed about Ezreal, embarrassing things he likes that no one outside of Heartsteel (or maybe even just Kayn, since he's paying extra close attention to Ezreal) ever gets to see, how easy it is to get him hot and bothered and how cute he is when he's flustered like this. He keeps going until Ezreal, overwhelmed with this barrage of confusing emotions (Kayn is paying attention to him, he remembers what he likes and dislikes, he just confirmed all his teasing are On Purpose to fluster him-), decides to bring it back to familiar ground. He grabs his jacket, pulls him close and tells him to shut up.

If they have hooked up before, Kayn knows what comes after he says "make me" - the kiss is expected but simultaneously way more emotionally charged than ever before, because they have essentially both admitted their feelings. Post comic, they make out/hook up and then confirm it in actual words. They like each other, theyre going to be exclusive (bc I love them being possesive over each other) 

If they haven't hooked up before: Ezreal would usually find a comical way to shut Kayn up once he says "make me" - be that smothering him with a nearby couch pillow, pulling the leash on his stage outfit, etc. Kayn feels the electricity between them but this hasn't happened before. He leans in and says "make me", but he leaves the ball in Ez's court. Once Ez grabs the back of his head to pull him closer, Kayn shifts his other hand to hold onto his waist in turn.

[butmakeitgayblog]

I shouldn’t speak on anyone else’s behalf, but I’d like to hear about the new angsty not-fake-dating au idea please

Ok 👀

Gonna preface this by saying Clarke's overall character in the first half is... questionable. But listen just, set that aside for a minute and think of Clexa and also endgame 😅

So I was thinking something along the lines of Lexa gets recruited by a friend of a friend of a friend/distant classmate/ad in the college paper? Idk, whatever. But anyway, someone she's not at all close with or really has any ties to, and she's basically hired to pretend to be this girl's girlfriend for a group vacation her and her friends are going on (She's a nice girl, but a lonely gay/bi in a group of party girls/ habitually dating girls who always have Someone™ dangling off their arm, but this girl does not. Always looked over, the eternally single friend, etc. You get the gist.) And Lexa's hot. And kind of intimidating. Has that whole smokey eyed badass, femme fatale aura about her. It's... a reach, but also kind of perfect because it'll make this girl look fantastic to her friends in the street cred department and also possibly give her confidence the little boost that it needed. And considering Lexa grew up the only gay in her town, and didn't grow into her very gangly and awkward body until senior year of high school, she gets what it's like to always be the one passed up. Plus she could use the cash. So she's more than down for this. Everything's great, right? Right.

Except for the fact that one of said girls on the trip is in fact, Clarke. Who does have her own date. Now, I can't quite decide if Clarke would know about the arrangement or not, but regardless, Clarke has always been the main one in the group who is this girl's cheerleader. Very "you're better than how you treat yourself. You deserve everything, and it's not fair that people don't see it. The right person will fall in love with you in an instant, believe me. You're worth it." Very that supportive friend. She's ride or die until the end.

Now, Lexa's technically "on the clock" so to speak the entire trip, which means she is laying on the charm thiccc af. It's not exactly a stretch by any means because she is naturally a doting girlfriend in relationships (when she has one), but ya know, she's giving this girl her money's worth. She wants her feel like a princess for the entire trip. Yes it's a job, but it's also nice just making a girl feel special when she's not used to it.

The only problem is... Clarke is also seeing all of this. All of Lexa's sweetness and all of her thoughtful actions. Her attentiveness and her softness beneath the edgy exterior. The little presents Lexa surpises her friend with, the way she remembers her friend's little quirks. Always remembering her food preferences, her favorite drinks. Lexa's got this girlfriend thing down to a science. She's just so goddamn thoughtful and charming to boot. And also hot. Can't forget hot. Like really, unfairly hot. But mostly it's the way she's so gentle and sweet.

The other issue is, Lexa sees that in Clarke too. She sees that out of everyone, Clarke is pretty much the only one who actually treats this girl with kindness and respect. Never talking down to her or placating her, never just treating her like an afterthought. Clarke is so damn sweet and thoughtful, beautiful and fiery sometimes to a fault. She's funny, and warm, and just... the entire package. She understands why Clarke is never single.

But. It quickly becomes A Problem™. Because it's in the moments that Lexa is trying very hard to just focus on her "job" that she constantly finds herself in Clarke's orbit. In the mornings when she's up early making ~her girl~ her fancy coffee, late at night when she's tinkering around in the kitchen making her a lil snackie snack so they can watch a movie before bed. Those stolen interacting becomes moments of them just talking, Clarke on the counter as they chat while Lexa feels her eyes on everything she does. Them lounging by the pool while the others run into town for supplies. Dinners out with Clarke sat close on one side,,, while the girl sits on the other.

And there's flirting. Way too much flirting whenever they're in private. Effortless flirting that Lexa isn't really aware of until it smacks her in the face that they're both just idiots smiling. But it's all very cloaked in joking and throwaway moments because, technically, they're both supposed to be attached.

And as most things are, everything is fine. Until it's not.

The whole situation comes to a boiling point when they just get lost in one of those moments. A night of too many drinks and way too much flirting, finding themselves entirely too close in their villa's bathroom. It feels dangerously like the period on the end of a sentence that was written the second they'd layed eyes on each other. Before they realize what they're doing, Lexa's hoisted Clarke up onto the bathroom counter, her fingers pumping between Clarke's legs. It's a heated rush of moans and licks to sex-sweetened skin, both grabbing at each other through messy kisses meant to leave bruises. Both way too far gone into the release of all the tension to realize that... Clarke's being kind of loud...

It's a fucking catastrophe after that because yeah, well, Clarke definitely just cheated. In front of everyone. Including her "boyfriend". Though granted she'd only been seeing the guy for like a month so it's... it's not as earth shattering for her as it could be. But the real issue, the real vomit inducing kick in the moral gut is that she's just ruined the entire facade for het friend. Made her a look fool in front of everyone. Basically fucked the entire thing up for this girl who had only wanted to feel like she fit in. Just once. It honestly makes her feel awful. It's not like she just accepts it and feels ok with it, she is thoroughly disgusted with herself.

Obviously Lexa returns the money, letting herself be branded a homewrecker and cheater rather than embarrassing this girl further with exposing the truth that they were never actually together. She can carry that stigma as long as it means she's not doing anything to hurt this girl worse. She's caused enough problems as it is.

In the end everyone goes home. Pissed off or hurt or with a new bit of gossip to tell. Clexa going their own separate ways, without a single other word to each other.

The girl never talks to Clarke again when they get home and despite Clarke's efforts to try and make amends, she doesn't blame her. It was the single worst fuck up she'd ever made in her life. Which is why she takes the time to stop dating altogether and start really working on herself. Because she didn't like the version of herself who would do something like that to anyone, much less her friend. Feelings or not. Tipsy or not.

Lexa also never hears from the friend again, though that is not even remotely a surprise after everything. But she still wishes she could have done something to make things right. Some gesture or, or... something to fix what she'd fucked up so royally. It's a guilt she carries with her for a long, long while.

Eventually though, a few years down the line when it's more just a distant memory that still stings but doesn't burn quite as bad as it used to, the friend reaches out to Clarke in the form of a very opulent and beautiful wedding invitation that says she's... getting married to the guy Clarke cheated on that weekend. Clarke doesn't want to go, at all, but kind of feels obligated because not only is this the first olive branch she's ever gotten from her old friend, but also like,,, tf??? You're marrying that guy?!??! What the hell happenesd??? So she's gotta go. She has to, just to make the final amends for what she did.

Which works out well because the girl is all smiles and that bubbly laughter that comes from real, true happiness. She seems so easy and free when she tells Clarke that she is total over it. That they'd found the love that they'd been searching for in each other while commiserating through the pain of that trip. "Eh. Burnt toast theory and all that," is how she puts it with a lift of her champagne in response to Clarke's very thought-out apology.

So it's good. It's not great, and it doesn't make up for what Clarke did, but at least she now knows that her friend is at peace with what happened.

And then aND THEN Clarke catches a glimpse of Lexa at one of the tables across the room. Looking awkward and unsure and still disrespectfully hot in her formal wedding attire. And her friend, in all of her wedded blissed out glory, is like "Oh right. So. Speaking of blasts from the past. I invited another old friend... You should go say hi."

With the bride's blessing, she does exactly that despite her absolute terror at the prospect of seeing Lexa again. They have drinks and reminisce over wedding cake about that fucking shitshow of a vacation, catching each other up on where they are in their lives now and how they've been. They talk about how stupid they were. How awful and, honestly, immature. But through their embarrassed commiseration and disgust with their past selves, they both carefully (and not so carefully) toe around the subject that while they both do regret the way it happened... neither actually regret that it did. Because the sex had meant something. Because the feelings were entirely real. Those late night talks and time spent together still mean something today. Even through the messiness and the people hurt in the aftermath, the connection had been real, and in the end it had always sort of felt like the other was 'the one who got away'. So, drinks turn into dancing, which turns into Lexa catching a ride home with Clarke in a designated cab. And before either of them know what's happening, it's Clarke that Lexa is making breakfast for in bed 👀

[theloveinc]

tw: prostitution probs

OMG I know your shinsou drabble about him faking being your pimp for an undercover mission was like a little long ago, but it changed my atoms molecular structure

Like maybe you both are discussing what you've discovered that night on the couch you're sharing with the criminal and you hear somebody coming and than you gotta act like you're having... YKNOW??? 😫

Like maybe you noticed it first so then you like throw yourself on top of shinsou, fake moaning that sounds real, bouncing a little on top of him so the couch creeks a little to really sell it and it takes a little for shinsou to catch on but he's a mess because you sound real 😣😣😣

And from the criminal's POV, it's dark so he can't see your clothes that are on and is like well don't like me interrupt you before he heads back to whatever he came from 🤭

(link to ref. post here!)

SFAJKSDHJKAFDSHK it only takes him about five seconds to get the gist of the scene but... those five seconds change his entire perspective on the both of you, don't you think??

Because I think for the first few moments when he thinks it's real... he forms an entire confession in his head that's ready to spill from his lips just as fast, going hot where your hands splay on his chest, his cock jumping in his jeans when he tries to say your name. Even the hands he immediately puts on your hips to help guide you are genuine, not just to make the whole thing look... less pretend.

But then your eyes are shooting back down to his face and they're not filled with love or lust, they're filled with panic in waiting for him to play along....... and the whole moment he was able to build up comes crashing down, forcing him to realize exactly how he feels about you and....... how doomed your situation is, if you're gonna have to physically, now, keep up the charade rather than just label it.

(Especially because he's supposed to be the one in charge, the pimp, and it kinda makes him want to vomit thinking about treating you like something he owns, and yet he still has to pull himself together enough so that the criminal doesn't get suspicious if he actually acts like he loves you..............)

Then they're gone and you're all relieved (still sitting on his crotch) and now he has an entirely NEW problem that has to be faced (gasp, his feelings!!), and that's aside from the chub he's praying to god you can't feel.

Good. Grief.

[yacinthemorning]

Birdsongs

Chapter 6

[first] [prev] [next]

Summary: The Life Pilgrimage is the biggest music festival of the century, set to take place all across the continent. Small-time rock band, GIST, and the up-and-coming alternative band, Empire, are both lucky to be among the hundreds set to make appearances, but there's just one problem. Neither can afford the travel expenses on their own. For better or worse, they're stuck with each other for the next five weeks as they try to make their dreams come true.

And, perhaps, among the chaos and music, two unsuspecting souls find one another...

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic), Jimmy & Scott (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, peer pressure, mild homophobia, bar fight, life crisis, anxiety, dancing

It was just after seven that they all walked down to The Mineshaft Pub, the favoured locale for dancing according to a woman in town. The decor was western, with the walls covered in historical pictures of the old miners that used to frequent it. Not the place to find anything fancier than a rum and coke.

It was surprisingly packed for a week night, though half the patrons were vaguely familiar. The second they entered the bar there was a shout in their direction, and Scott’s face lit up. A large woman pushed through the crowd, a lanky man on her tail, in neon everything like they expected a rave rather than Tim McGraw. “Scott, dear! You made it!”

“Cleo! Joe! I thought we were ahead of you.” He laughed, happily accepting a hug which quickly continued on to Pearl. Scott vaguely turned to the rest of them. “This is my band. Lizzie, Joel, Jimmy, this is Cleo and Joe from HHH.”

“And those are my guys,” Pearl threw her thumb over her shoulder to the rest, “Gem, Impulse, Skizz, and Tango.”

“A Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Joe bowed like he was in a medieval court, which contrasted greatly with his thick southern accent. Gem giggled. “I didn’t happen to catch your bands playing a the last venue, but I hope fate is kinder to us at the next.”

“I think I heard a bit of you guys!” Intruded Skizz, pushing past Scott in his excitement. “You guys have crazy range, real interesting mix of folk and disco you got going! Especially with your poetry.”

It sounded like a horrendous mash-up to Jimmy, not even able to picture how it came together in his mind. Until he heard it himself, he’d just have to trust the event organizers’ tastes. The three groups exchanged a few more pleasantries, Scott and Pearl slowly drifting to Cleo’s side. Then, both were being beckoned away with promise of free food and dancing. “Watch your drinking, Jim. You know how you get.” Scott called before they disappeared into the crowd.

Jimmy huffed. Well, that was two less people to pay for, at least. Fwhip shrugged, and waved down a waitress as they found a pair of tables, “We’ll see them later. For now, lets get some wings and beer.”

“I think I’ll just have a coke.” Jimmy murmured while he slipped his guitar onto the back of his chair. He read through the tiny menu, only for it to be snatched away from him. “Hey!”

“Nuh-uh. C’mon, Jim, you’re a big boy now. We ain’t smokin’, it’s just a drink.” His manager insisted, ordering full pitchers of whatever beer was on tap for the whole table immediately along with the wings platter. “Joel can be our good little sober boy today.”

The man’s head shot up off the table immediately, “Uh, excuse me? I need at least two mugs of pisswater before I’m touching that dance floor, and Lizzie isn’t gonna let me not dance.”

“It’s fine, Fwhip, really.” Jimmy tried to insist. Some of GIST were looking at their table with concern. Tango’s brow knit behind his bright red sunglasses. He could feel his ears get hot, shrinking in on himself. “I’d rather do it then risk no one.”

Fwhip wasn’t going to take no for an answer, though. Not tonight. “You’re only saying that cause you’re still embarrassed about how you acted at Sausage Fest after downing those seven mojitos.” He teased, and god were those memories Jimmy would rather forget.

A mug slammed down in front of him, and the biggest pitcher Jimmy had ever seen saddled up beside it, Fwhip’s shit-eating grin distorted through the ruddy liquid. Jimmy glared right back, but eventually he gave in. If only to stop a scene. “Just one glass.”

“Hell yeah!” Fwhip cheered, stealing the pitcher away to fill all their glasses before holding his own up in cheer. “Grown ups table only today, men- and lady,” He winked at Lizzie, who stuck her tongue out. “Here’s to that amazing performance, and all the amazing performances to come!” Their glasses clinked, separating for Joel and Fwhip to almost instantly chug half their glasses. Lizzie took a much more modest sip. Jimmy swirled the glass for a moment, bringing it to his lips when Fwhip and Joel put their glasses down. He’s not sure he got more than a taste of the foam, but he pulled the same sour face the rest of his band did.

“I didn’t mean literal pisswater, jeez.” Joel coughed, but took another swig anyways. It certainly smelled bad enough to be true. There was probably nothing fruity on the menu to mask the alcohol in a bar like this.

Skizz held up his glass, shouting over almost the whole bar, “That’s the taste of freedom, my friend!”

“From what? Regulation?” Tango snickered.

“From modernity! Civility! Authority!”

Gem rolled her eyes. “Sooo, yes.”

“Hey! This is a sacred place of debauchery and hedonism! Feast upon the grapes of whatever and dance till the sun rises upon us! Let us make our great father Dionysus proud!”

Both tables clapped, GIST shaking their head in amusement. Wings soon arrived, though, and they all dug in. Jimmy nursed his drink at a snail’s pace, hoping Fwhip would simply think he was hungrier than he was thirsty. It got a bit more difficult when Lizzie dragged Joel to the dance floor when a song she like came on, dinner be damned.

There was a few minutes when a man, another band’s manager apparently, passed by, and Fwhip spun around to chatter with the man. Someone tapped on his shoulder at that moment. Jimmy spun around to see Tango holding out his mug, near empty except the foam slowly sliding to pool at the bottom. It took him a moment before he realized what was happening, and grabbed his own mug. The transfer was far from smooth, slopping onto the floor a bit. When Jimmy’s mug was mostly empty Tango pulled it back with a mischievous grin and a wink before bringing the mug up to his own lips. Jimmy returned it with the same smile and turned back to his table. Behind him, he heard Tango wretch. He tried not to laugh.

-

It was a little over an hour into the night. Most tables were cleared of real food, replaced with glasses of various substances, and the air had become thick despite the no smoking signs. Tango was having a lovely time shouting with his friends when one song ended and a mic came on. Gem shrieked with glee, “Oh my god, guys! Come one, come on!” She dragged Impulse out of his chair, abandoning their table for the dance floor while one of the bar tenders tried to get the place pumped up for a line dance.

They nearly crashed into Scott and Pearl, who were already rosy-cheeked and giggling nonstop alongside Cleo. The three were linked hand-in-hand, pushing to the front of the group at Pearl’s insistence. It’d been a while since Tango had seen her let go and have fun. Not that she wasn’t always a joy, but... Well. Tango was still convinced waking up at five am to work for a band that had never once taken the gig seriously was crazy people actions.

He knew in the grand scheme of things it was for her career. GIST was her first foray into management and they weren’t going to be around much longer. Pearl was destined to move on to bigger and brighter bands, and he had all the confidence in the world she would with how brilliant and hard working she was. He just wished she took the chance to let loose while she still could. And the fact Scott and this Cleo person were able to get her to was enough to put them in Tango’s good books.

Joel and Lizzie were at the far end where they were previously dancing alone, and Fwhip dragged Jimmy into line right behind GIST despite his protests of leaving his guitar alone. The bar tender was up on a small stage, and began demonstrating the moves. Half of them hadn’t realized they were starting already, causing gem and Skizz to smack into the other two. Eventually after many bumps and giggles the whole crowd was on the same page doing the cupid shuffle. Skizz was the first to wrap his arms around Tango and Gem’s shoulders, until all four were linked, at least until they were asked to turn. It switched up to the cha cha slide, at which point Tango lost all coordination, much to his band’s amusement and their neighbour’s bemusement.

By the end they were all cheering and out of breath, Impulse being the first to retreat back to their table, Fwhip not far behind. Skizz swept Gem back over to the dance floor where Lizzie was happily dragging around Joel. Cleo, Pearl, and Scott tried to navigate into the crowd but nearly fell into a cackling heap with how drunk they’d gotten, and chose to bow out for the time being. Tango was in the middle of contemplating whether to do the same when a bright eyed face invaded his vision.

“You’re not throwing in the towel already are you?” He said with amusement.

It was almost wrong, to see Jimmy sans guitar on his back. His face was flush, not drunk on alcohol but some sort of adrenaline. His hair had fallen out of how he’d had it styled, sticking slightly to his forehead and up where a hand had been run through it. The sweetest smile stretched across his face, a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. There was a stain on his cream button up, presumably from the hot wings, which Tango desperately wanted to point out just to say something instead of staring like a brainless goldfish. Before he could have the chance to say anything he was being pulled over to the centre of the dance floor.

“You know how to dance without instructions, I hope.” Jimmy laughed as they came to a halt.

Tango crashed right into him. Taking a moment for his brain to restart he put on the cockiest grin he could muster and confidently informed the men, “Pssh, I’ll have you know I’m an expert.”

“Oh yeah?” They’d began to sway with the crowd, nothing specific.

“In fact I’ve take a whole half a dance class before.” He did an awkward exaggerated jig for emphasis, which got a laugh.

“Oh, please tell me it was-”

“The tango? How’d you know?”

Jimmy cackle-cheered so hard he had to stop dancing for a moment to recover. When he calmed he reached out for Tango’s hands and they turned with the rest of the crowd, finally adding a few little cowboy steps to their swaying.

In truth, the sum total of Tango’s former dance experience mostly involved swaying cross-legged in the mud high out of his mind, headbanging in in a pit, and the macarena at a wedding. That hardly mattered now, especially when Jimmy just as uncoordinated. Whatever dance they were doing involved at lease one person’s foot on the others with each step and a lot of giggling. Tango was beginning to wonder if Jimmy had slipped away to grab his own drink at some point or inhaled a bit too much of the smoke, but his eyes were too focused for that. No, he really was just absolutely delighted to be moving around in the crowd, singing suspiciously well alongside Shania Twain. It was absolutely...

Well, Tango tried not to think too hard about what it was. Especially not when his gaze momentarily slipped away to avoid going blind and instead landed on Lizzie, who was giving him a knowing look. He couldn’t tell what emotion it was on her face, only able to presume she was still mad at him. A suggestion was on the tip of his tongue as the last stomping beat of Any Man of Mine played. Out of guilt or nerves. But he felt Jimmy back away with another airy sort of sound and he was dragged back in. He beamed, “Wanna go sit and grab a drink?”

They wound up at the bar rather than with their friends, where Jimmy could order a coke in peace while Tango could grab a nice whisky instead of more Molson. Jimmy was still giddy, his heel bouncing on the stool as he smiled down into his drink. He glanced over, though, to Tango’s glass. “Can I try?”

Tango slid it over, “S’bout as good as reasonably priced whisky gets.”

Jimmy rolled it a bit, took a sniff, then a sip. His nose wrinkled a bit before he passed it back. “Yeah think I’ll stick with mine.”

“Not for everyone.” Tango concedes.

“I just don’t like the taste much, or the feeling.” He brushes his chest, chewing on his lip and side eyeing Tango. “Just not...”

Ah. He shrugged, trying to act as casual as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself, partner.”

“No, I guess I don’t. Not to you.” Jimmy smiled, then took a sip of his coke.

“So, you like to dance?” Tango said, approximately as smooth as a cactus made of sandpaper covered in barnacles.

Jimmy by some miracle didn’t notice, and lit up once more as he went on a tale of childhood fairs and forced square dancing lessons and learning that dancing could actually be fun after years of spiteful refusal to ever perform again. It devolved into another story, and another. The bar tender was happy to slip yet another glass in front of Tango after each one.

Their chatter was only interrupted by Joel, who practically screeched across the bar from the stage, calling for his ‘babe’ which was apparently not Lizzie. Jimmy laughed and screeched back, back to full energy, and darted away back to his table to grab his guitar. They quickly took over the bar’s attention as they both began wailing away with the song, Jimmy strumming scratchy notes on his guitar. Some shouted, some cheered. Tango watched with great amusement, entirely missing when the seat next to him became reoccupied.

“Having fun?”

Tango’s head spun around. Lizzie was staring into Jimmy’s empty glass. He cleared his throat and swivelled back around. “Think so. You?”

“Of course.”

An awkward silence befell them, a not very silent one given the screaming and music and thudding and clinking. It all sounded like a distant whisper right now.

Lizzie huffed, and looked up, “Look, Tango. I’m not sorry about earlier.”

“Oookay.” He quirked an eyebrow. He hadn’t thought she was, but it seemed rude to come and say to his face.

“I’m not.” She insisted looking frustrated. “But I guess I can’t exactly tell you to not speak to my brother when he’s the one speaking to you. So, I’ve decided to call truce.”

“Thanks? I think.”

The silence was back. Lizzie chose to ignore it this time, flagging down the bar tender to get her own drink. Tango continued to sip his own.

He cleared his throat. “I liked your set.” Wow, way to go. Might as well call myself a climate-denyer with all this ice I’m not breaking.

That of all things got her undivided and startled attention. “Really?”

“I mean, yeah. You guys got some serious talent. I don’t think I saw anyone with as much range.”

“Well, I’m glad.” She said, stuck between wanting to be mad and soaking in the praise. “I’ve been working for this almost my whole life, you know. Since I was eight.”

Tango whistled, genuinely impressed. “Ain’t that the sorta dedication and ambition we all wished we had. Definitely shows. You’ll have to show me how you did that one bit in... What was it called? The one that was all-” He squinted in frustration, drawing shapes in the air to hopelessly illustrate his point.

Lizzie blinked, then clapped happily, “Oh! Destiny?” She beamed, and that was the first time Tango had been sure she and Jimmy were siblings. “Yes, well, it only really works with my keyboard specifically...” She descended into a rant, explaining what she had done with modes and foot pedals, completely forgetting to actually tell Tango what model she used in the first place. He could ask later. For now he nodded along, making mental notes. Now and then he asked questions, the conversation on the brink but never quite fully petering out to chase away the awkward silence. Tango wasn’t even sure it would still be there if it ended, but he much preferred happy Lizzie elaborating on how she played the keyboard over grumpy Lizzie ready to punch him in the throat.

Jimmy’s voice carried over the crowd, who roared to life as he started singing along with Dolly Parton. Tango took the briefest moment to watch, smiling to himself.

“Suppose...” Lizzie began, the words dying momentarily before she took in a new breath. “Suppose I was wrong.”

“About?” Tango tilted his head in confusion.

“Someone Jimmy met.” Her gaze was permanently fixed on her drink, obscuring whatever complicated emotions were passing over her face. “Suppose I was distracted with my own relationships and dreams. Suppose I was bias cause I knew them, and too young and stupid to notice it just wasn’t right for him until I had to forever hold my peace.” Fingers tightened around her glass. Tango worried it might shatter. “Suppose afterwards I had to help him unpack everything I helped him pack up before. Comforted him when he cried then go comfort the person who made him cry when they cried too, and couldn’t tell which was wrong, if either was. Suppose even after it was over it still wasn’t, and I couldn’t stop thinking it was for my sake it wasn’t.”

Her eyes were glossy when she timidly looked back up, threatening her perfectly done eyeliner. “Is there something wrong with trying to protect him from something like that happening again?”

And Tango couldn’t say no. He knew what it was like to be on both sides half a dozen times over. Maybe not the exact scenario she was alluding to, but ones similar enough. Hesitantly he reached out, and when she only shrugged he place his hands gently on her shoulder, giving her a comforting rub. “I think the only person who can answer that for you, is Jimmy.”

“And what am I supposed to do if he doesn’t want help?”

“I dunno, be there for him in other ways? You’re both adults, you’ll figure it out.” He snorted, his own bittersweet memories playing out in the back of his mind. Mostly of himself. “Some people just need to make their own mistakes to learn, even if you can tell them exactly what will happen if they do. It’s a lot better than feeling like you aren’t allowed to make mistakes at all, I can tell you that.”

“He’d make so many.” Her laugh was humourless. “And don’t think I don’t know what you stand to gain from this.”

Did he? Tango glanced over his shoulder to where Jimmy was, laughing and leaning over Joel as they belted along with the song. The guitarist paused, their eyes meeting, and an enormous grin stretched across his face as he waved to Tango. Tango waved back and turned away. He supposed he did. Was he just being biased? He hoped not. It was hard to think clearly through the buzz. “Well, you could always just beat the crap outta me. He can’t do much about that, can he?”

 That got a real laugh, so he turned back to her. Her eyes were still wet, but there was determination there now. “Don’t think I won’t!”

“I ain’t gonna defend myself!” He threw up his hands in concession. “Seriously, though. Jimmy never has nothin’ but good things to say about you. I think he really admires you, y’know? Just my two cents. You should just talk to him yourself, can’t imagine he’ll be rude about it.”

“He wouldn’t.” She agreed, shaking her head. “It’s just hard to have some conversations with younger siblings. Hard to see them as grown up when it feels like they were shoving crayons up their nose just yesterday.”

That was where Tango’s expertise ended, as an only child, so he shrugged. “When I was a kid we just ate them.”

“Oh, that was Joel’s thing. I was the smart one, you see. The only one who knew to draw with them.” She turned up her nose, dramatically sweeping her bubblegum pink locks back.

“... Sooo, on the walls?”

“It was a big canvas!”

Their conversation was cut short by a crash and commotion in the crowd. It didn’t take much else than spotting the mop of teal poking a few inches above the rest of the crowd to send both racing over.

There was a shit-faced cowboy, oddly familiar but Tango wasn’t sure from where, in a soaked flannel, flanked by two similarly dressed friends. In front of him stood Scott stuck somewhere between ‘ready to fall over and puke’ and somehow still high and mighty sass. There was an upside down cup in his hand, barely held there by three fingers. Tango didn’t need to see the pool of ice on the floor to put the pieces together. Especially not with Pearl huddled behind him in Cleo’s arms as she too glared daggers into the strangers.

The rest of their group quickly showed up, Jimmy and Joel shoving their way through the opposite side of the forming circle while the rest appeared beside Tango and Lizzie. Gem’s eyes narrowed as she snarled, “It’s that creep!” It took all of them to hold her back from marching into the conflict.

A fist wrapped around the front of Scott’s shirt and dragged him down to eye level with the cowboy, “The fuck’s your problem?” He snapped. Behind him his buddies jeered.

It took Scott’s alcohol addled mind a visible moment to register what just happened. His nose wrinkled, turning his face away. “Not my fault you can’t take a hint. Or a shower.”

There was a chorus of laughs, mostly from his own bandmates and Gem. All except Lizzie, who was giving Jimmy and Joel a nervous frown. The two weren’t paying attention, looking far too amused by Scott’s antics. Joel whispered something into Jimmy’s ear and Tango could only guess it was another one of their bets.

The cowboy spluttered, entire face red at this point, and shoved Scott back. His glass crashed to the ground. “Ain’t none of your business sniffing me, fairy boy!”

Scott’s eyebrows went up. Behind him, Pearl tried to whisper something to him, but it went ignored. Then he laughed, throwing his hip dramatically and leaning in. “Flattery won’t get you on this dick, princess.”

Then his fist connected with the stranger’s jaw.

“Jesus Christ, Scott!” Pearl shrieked, her and Cleo dragging him back as the cowboy went down.

Completely chaos broke loose. Gem ran free with a battle cry and launched herself onto the back of one of the cowboys just before he swung for Scott, her brother not far behind. Others broke through the crowd, friends or just rowdy patrons. It took Scott only a moment to get back into the fight, Jimmy and Joel cheering the three on. Joe jumped up on the bar with the mic, attempting to implore the crowd to calm down, but someone snatched his ankle and he quickly went down. Skizz shouted, though it was so incoherent Tango wasn’t sure if it was for peace or war. A plate smashed against a post. Both Tango and Lizzie shrieked as they ducked behind Impulse.

“Oh- those-” Lizzie blabbered while the three backed out of the main conflict. Her eyes suddenly went wide. “Jimmy, Joel! No!”

Tango turned just in time to watch the blond slam his guitar case into a guy who’d latched onto Gem’s pigtails. It was swiftly retaliated with a kick to his gut. He dominoed into a small crowd, from which Joel slipped passed and decked the offending cowboy in Jimmy’s stead.

People began pouring out of the bar, some fleeing and others fighting. “You two grab your boys before they get their teeth knocked in.” Impulse directed. “I’ll find Pearl and we’ll grab the rest when it’s safe.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Tango cleared a path behind the main brawl, Lizzie close on his tail. By the time they reached Jimmy and Joel they sported matching dark bruises on their cheeks, and there was blood dripping from Jimmy’s nose. That’d been enough to get them to bow out, but not to back off as they egged on their bandmates. Lizzie wasn’t having any off it, grabbing the strap of Jimmy’s guitar and the scruff of Joel’s shirt. Tango squeaked as Jimmy was practically tossed into his arms. “Let’s go!” She shouted.

All four stumbled out into the cool night air. They didn’t stop moving, not until they were halfway down the street and wheezing. “Oh my gosh!” Jimmy gasped for his life while Joel doubled over beside him. There was still adrenaline pumping wildly through Tango’s whole body, giving him the shakes.

Lizzie took just a moment to lean against a stop sign before her face twisted with rage and marched over to the two, shoving her finger into each’s chest. “What’d the matter with you two?” She screeched. “You could have gotten killed or arrested or- or- Gyahh!”

“Never been to jail.” Jimmy mused, which was the wrong answer. Despite Lizzie berating, the two devolved into giggles and bolted on ahead towards the campsite.

Lizzie was absolutely furious, read to chase after them if not for Tango’s hand on her shoulder. “Let ‘em run it off, Jimmy’ll make sure they don’t get far.” He assured. Jimmy may be high on the excitement of it all, but he was still sober. Just as he thought so the man in question nearly face-planted into the gravel road, saved only by his guitar case hitting it first. Joel paused to laugh at him before dragging him back to his feet and running once more.

“you see what I deal with?” She said, shrill and throwing her hands out towards her husband and brother, before they flopped to her sides. Tango couldn’t hold back a small giggle. “Well at least they weren’t stupid enough to throw the first punch.”

 They jumped at the sudden tone of Tango’s blackberry going off. It took the man a moment fiddling in his jeans’ pockets to find the thing, then nearly dropped it. A small reminder of his own numerous drinks that night. “Hello?” He answered. Lizzie leaned in.

“Tango! Are you guys okay?” Pearl’s frantic voice shouted over the sounds of a crowd. “We can’t see you, Impulse said-”

“We’re fine, Pearlie-pop, don’t worry.” Tango hastily assured, double checking that the other two hadn’t passed out on the road ahead or something. “Got out of there, heading back to the campsite right now.”

“Oh, thank god. Listen, everyone here’s mostly okay, but I think Scott, Joe, and Fwhip need a couple stitches. So Impulse is gonna bring Gem and Skizz back and steal the van from you to take us to the hospital.”

He nodded, smiling at Lizzie who visibly deflated with relief. “Roger dodger, boss-lady. We’ll get everyone tucked into bed, don’t you worry.”

The walk back was quiet, only a few bats and an owl filling the crisp night air. Tango had to pull out the flashlight on his keychain as they turned down the dirt path that took them directly to their end of the campsite. Despite their earlier stress they couldn’t help giggle as they found Joel passed out against the running kitchen sink, a sticky note stuck to his sleeping face telling them Jimmy went to see if the store was still open. Tango wished he stayed long enough for someone else to check out his nose, but he was ready to crash.

“Do you mind-?” Lizzie began, practically collapsing onto her bed after she dragged Joel over.

Tango smiled, “You go to sleep, I’ll wait for everyone.”

She nodded, that being all she needed to roll over and get comfy. There was a brief moment, in which Tango nearly left before she called out, “Tango?”

“Hm?” He leaned back inside.

There was a strained smile on her face, “I am sorry about earlier.”

He let out an airy noise, and waved her off. “Don’t be, I was an ass. Wish I had a big sister like you. He’s lucky.”

“I don’t think anyone would accuse Jimmy of being lucky. But thank you. It means a lot.”

“You just worry about getting some sleep for Hangover Road Trip Electric Boogaloo tomorrow.”

There was a groan of realization, which finally got her to nod and roll over.

Tango closed the door as quietly as possible, and sat down on the steps to wait. He hadn’t realized how out of it he was, not until there was some sort of strange sound that knocked him back into the world of the waking. When had he even nodded off in the first place? There was the sound once more, though. Tango stood up, eyebrow and flashlight raised. “Hello?”

There was a rustle from the other side of the trailer, and a screech. Jimmy’s head popped out from between the bushes they were pushed up against. He had leaves stuck in his hair, and the buse on his cheek had become yellow and purple. Another was forming on his chin along with a half dozen on his arms. But the blood from his nose was wiped away or dried and it didn’t seem to be broken. “Um, hi.”

“Jim? What are you doing?”

“Uh, nothing!” He squeaked, and stumbled out. The top of his case smacked against the back of his head, getting a wince from Tango. “Just got- got lost in the dark. The store was closed.”

“Closes at dinner time.” Tango pointed out.

Jimmy’s face went red, looking away. “Yeah... Sorry.” He eyed the trailer warily. “Is she mad?”

“Don’t think so.” Both moved to the picnic table. For once Tango thought he must look more tired than Jimmy. Something had torn open one of their chip bags while they were gone, the crumbs strewn about. Jimmy paused to wipe out towards the bushes, then plopped down with his arms slung over his guitar case.

“Do you wanna set up the tent?”

“Mmm, too much work now.” Tango would much prefer the air mattress to the table, but he was drunk and it was almost midnight.

There was a moment where Jimmy leaned back, puttering a three note beat against his case. “She yell at you? She said she was gonna go yell at you.”

A noise escaped Tango, too much of a reaction to deny it.

“Sorry for whatever she said. She likes playing big sister, all brave and smart. Forgets she fell from the same tree.”

“Nah, I ran my stupid mouth, I probably deserved it.” Tango shook his head, also leaning back.

There was a shift, and Tango felt the guitar bump his hand. “You know I was hanging out with Skizz today.”

“Yeah?”

“Made me think.” He hummed, not continuing until Tango nudged him back. “I know why we’re here. To make Lizzie and Scott famous. But... I don’t know why you guys are here.”

Tango blinked. He turned to look at the other man, who’s face darkened as he realized what he said. “Not like- I mean- Not that you don’t deserve it or anything-”

“No, I get what you mean.” He snorted, a bit lost in memories. Old ones from when they first met in college, new ones of Zed leaving and the girls joining. Promises they made to Pearl as they worked up professional contracts for the first time in their so-called career and sombre conversations between just him, Impulse and Skizz.

“You can’t say this to Gem.” Is all he asked, tone a bit desperate. Jimmy made a small noise, an agreement. Tango sighed. “Truth is, this is probably our last gig.”

Jimmy didn’t seem surprised.

“Dunno what we’re gonna do after this. Maybe we’ll make one last album, maybe we’ll leave how it is. Depends on how we feel I guess. Been living our whole lives doing this first and everything second. And not that I ain’t thankful for every minute of it, but, y’know. We ain’t rockstars. Got bills to pay and jobs to start taking seriously. Impy and Skizz do, at least. And if I can’t play with them I ain’t sure I wanna.”

He shifted his position, pulling his legs up to chest to rest his chin on them. “Honestly, we were thinking about it a few years back, after Zed left for his career. Then we met Gem, though, and- well, you met her. Shines like the sun. Something about her. She’s gonna be a star, we all knew it.” A smile sneaked onto his face, remembering the first time they heard her sing. “Never had big dreams like you guys, but we loved what we did and she loved playing with us. It was different, but it was like the good old days where it mattered. But life’s been catching up. I guess we just wanted to do one last big show together, something to remember. Y’know?”

It seemed like Jimmy did. At least, that’s what Tango hoped his sleepy smile meant.

Tango relaxed himself running a hand down his face to try and keep himself awake until their bandmates got back. “Told Pearl already, back when we signed her on. Don’t expect this too last too long. But we’re still trying to find a way to break it to Gem. Think she suspects it, but it’s still hard.”

“What about you?” Jimmy asked. Had he always been sitting that close, or had one of them scooched over in the breeze?

“Hm?”

“You said, Impulse and Skizz have plans. But what about you?”

There he was, a fish drowning in the sea. The question he’d not even realized he’d been avoiding. Imp and Skizz had full time jobs and family and homes, Gem and Pearl had their whole careers ahead of them, and he had- what? “That’s the question, ain’t it.” He murmured, suddenly feeling quite lost as he stared up at the night sky through the trees.

It wasn’t as though he’d taken their band any more serious than the rest of them, but somewhere along the way they’d all managed to build their own lives between the margins. Probably while he was passed out after playing roller coast tycoon all night or doing one of his other dozen going-nowhere hobbies.

A hesitant hand slipped onto his shoulder, massaging comfortingly. It brought Tango back down from wherever he was floating off to a lot easier than he’d ever like to admit. Jimmy didn’t bother to say anything. Not that he didn’t seem to want to. Nothing ever quite made it out until his mouth snapped back shut into a sympathetic smile. He didn’t have to. For once Tango thought he could understand. He really hoped it wouldn’t be the only time. It felt good.

Leaves ruffled and there was a loud, familiar whining. Both men stood up in time to watch Impulse drag Gem and Skizz under each arm into camp. “Almost there, guys.” He announced, shoulders falling as he spotted Tango and Jimmy.

They put the new pair to bed first against their whining and waved Impulse off. The little sleep demon in Tango’s mind screamed to finally get into bed. He heard Jimmy’s laugh when they both collapsed, creating a bounce back that shook the whole trailer and the pullout off the ground. “You’re makin’ breakfast, by the way.” Tango grumbled, already curling up against his cuddle buddy.

“Not fair!”

“Shh.”

Just as he drifted Tango heard a strange little whistle. Please birds, let me get at least a few hours of sleep, was his last thought as he drifted off.

[aiura-stan]

1-2, I am here for you!

Another whopping post, the very next day, you say?? How far ahead exactly did you write these?!? Well, you see. The smoke alarm in my house went off at four am on Sunday.

And so it begins! Kurumi is so sweet, making Saiki some kindergartner bento.

Ah, Kusuo. If only you knew how things would change… alas. That’s Aiura’s power. Hehe.

I like how Kusuo is like, yeah, I was totally the self indulgent guy I described in the beginning. In kindergarten though.

Also, Kuniharu has a blog?? What does he post about on there… maybe his model building hobby?

I find it interesting that people kicked up a fuss about it and Kusuo’s very mature kindergartener response was NOT to simply brainwash the world into accepting psychic powers as normal. I guess his mom told him not to or something.

Nendou is the only person who can sneak up on Saiki… and the explanation of this is changed from “his thoughts are at the same speed as his speech” to “he doesn’t have any thoughts at all” which is… interesting. I personally like the speed of speech explanation better; it makes more sense to me. But that would also mean that Saiki would in fact be able to hear his thoughts from afar. (Like Akechi, who also thinks at the same rate as he speaks and says practically everything he is thinking.) He’s a little different in that sometimes, like in the chapter where he plays against Kusuo. He doesn’t say what is on his mind immediately if he’s otherwise engaged. Whereas Nendou just says whatever whenever. He’s the kind of guy who would be really loud in a movie theater.

XD always been one of my favorite gags. Nendou wouldn’t know what CPR is, of course.

Love that Saiki’s response to Takahashi complaining that people will spread rumors about him that he’s gay is essentially ‘You aren’t hot enough for that’

Here Saiki just uses body language to suggest that they check his temperature. I also notice he doesn’t directly talk to people very often. It makes me wonder if he can, in fact, telepathically talk to people, or if it’s just a function of his hypnosis, allowing people to interpret his thoughts based on the general gist of the idea + what they expect him to be saying. I always assumed it was a mix of these three things: body language first and foremost, low level hypnosis second, and direct telepathy third, for when he really needs someone to know exactly what he’s saying… but based on the amount of misunderstandings, couldn’t it be just the first two? We shall see as I continue to read the series. It’s just one of the things that I am always wondering about in the Saikiverse. I know I say this a lot... maybe by the end of this reread I'll have a more solid theory.

I do wonder how his time at the hospital went. He avoids hospitals normally, since his biometric readouts wouldn’t be normal I guess? And Kuusuke ends up being his stand-in doctor. But I’m guessing that he would simply teleport away before the ambulance arrived. How he tricked the paramedic, who knows. Maybe he used the nana-shaped object to erase his memory.

Alright, the end of 1-2💫

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Sorry in advance for this long ask.

So I've noticed with kpop that most of them just go with whatever the hype or narrative fed to them is. This includes the fans or even the groups themselves.

No matter how annoying ARMYs are, I actually feel they do this slightly less than the core kpop stans because so many armys start off as locals but still within the BTS nexus also we have so many dumb narratives that just get baked into the fandom. VMin being soulmates, Jungkook being the golden maknae, Bighit being 'different' from other KPop labels, Jimin being the king of fanservice, Namjoon and Yoongi being the best at rap (so presumably over Hobi) - all this is just bs with little basis in reality. Within kpop, things are even worse imo - literally sometimes it feels like they don't listen to songs, they just decide whether things are good based on concepts or vibes or some superficial crap like that.

Anyway, so the Jungkook is the golden maknae thing, the one who will breakout narrative has been pushed for ages. The reality is that the entire maknae line is somewhat recognised among the GP and pretty popular overall. If Like Crazy had the same push as Seven, it would have done the same or better. But for better or worse, JK is the chosen one. And the reason JK acts so bratty is because he knows this too. At his core I don't think JK is a bad guy but being positioned as "the one" for years and then being actively told so by 🛴 and Bang PD now has just fueled his negative traits. The latent bratty and cocky vibes just went up exponentially during the seven promo.

I also think JK got the gist of what fans were saying about his interviews and BB Hot #1 acceptance from last week and perhaps about the preferential treatment because this week he's been doing a lot of damage control. Oh I'm so surprised I won Mnet, omg you guys I /never/ expected to win Inkigayo. He acted so weird for BB #1 but suddenly he's back to good ol' humble Jungkook. Suddenly Jimin's commenting on his lives. Tae's coming to visit him at the music show. Look how happy the members are for his success everyone. Meanwhile JK does multiple lives almost everyday this week. Seems like he's going overdrive cleaning up all the missteps from last week.

Jimin is starting to piss me tf off as well. Who keeps laughing while they are getting whipped and humiliated? A fool. He wasn't always like this but I think Bighit's harsh contract and the other members gaslighting him with fake concern and love have trapped Jimin into this zombie puppet state. I just wish he leaves Bighit. They don't care about him. They care about their chosen golden maknae and he knows it but he stays there like a fool. The mistreatment has been going on for a long time so he could have left years ago before Bighit became this powerful Hybe but he chose to spend his time drinking and being unmotivated. Although I also think its the company's fault for not motivating him. Maybe he has PTSD that Hybe is using to manipulate his behavior, in addition to his harsh contract, and that's why he played along with JK on lives to do fanservice.

***

How odd. Did you actually mean to send this ask to me? Because the way this is written reads exactly like how I'd expect a solo stan to think. And you can't possibly have sent this to me, expecting me to take you seriously.

Anyway, I'm not sure what's happened in the last week for me to be receiving the barrage of weird asks I've been getting. Did one of you suddenly stumble on my blog and send it around a GC or something? Jung Kook got #1 on the Billboard Hot100 last week but it's not like it was unexpected. I mean, I did say shortly after Jimin's achievement in early April that others in the maknae-line will possibly achieve a Hot 100 too, and that was before we knew Seven was coming, that it was an English release that would get the PET treatment, that D2C sales were banned and Hybe America got involved meaning it would get even more support. So, that can't be the reason y'all are this animated. Really, nothing unexpected has happened so I don't understand why y'all are so agitated you've taken a liking to my inbox recently.

Anon, I have nothing to tell you except that if you had any self-awareness, you'd realize what's happening to you and take a clean break away from everything k-pop for a good long while. Not even just BTS, cause this, especially that last paragraph, all reads like it was written by someone who has gotten completely sucked in. And you need to get out.

[lakesbian]

How do you think Alec and Blake would get along? Your choice of the circumstances of their meeting, whether it's Alec being subjected to The Horrors or Blake being subjected to whatever the fuck Bet has going on

okay i know blake well enough to answer this now. if we tossed him in bet there's no feasible way to force him to interact w/ alec so the significantly more fun option is going with the premise of: - alec is teleported into pact around blake's arrival at hillsglade house. he does not get to keep his power :( no tripping people allowed - the above facts aren't actually distressing or confusing to anyone, but other than that everything about alec's history & personality remains identical to in worm - everyone involved is aware that alec is on team blake & rose and he will be treated as such

anyway some really freaky awful shit would happen and alec would just be totally unperturbed about it while blake is shaking sniveling crying so blake and rose would conspiratorially whisper to each other like Okay There's Definitely Something Up With That Boy. Keep An Eye On That Strange Little Teenager. meanwhile alec is cross-legged on the couch cheerfully + obliviously sipping his hot cocoa (unlike blake he is not above powdered cocoa and tapwater in a house where the only other options are oatmeal, beans, or a sad moldy grilled cheese), nose-deep in a book about demons, infrequently sharing what he thinks are Cool Educational Helpful Fun Facts with them (it is the most nightmarish shit they have ever heard. ever).

furthermore it would not take very long for him to think well, i guess i should be a Pragmatic and Communicative Team Player by bringing up the demons so we can all get on the same page. surely, alec vasil says to himself, i can grasp the finer points of the ethical connotations of the matter and open convincing dialogue on this subject! which he would express to blake and rose suchly: "now, hear me out before you guys bite my head off, but would using the demons really be so bad? it's not like people aren't already dying every day, right? the world already sucks, we probably couldn't make it that much worse."

and then he would nod in satisfaction with himself like he just said something intelligent and quite patently true.

which blake and rose would, very understandably, interpret as meaning that there is something deeply wrong with him and if they don't intervene he will rapidly make it literally everyone else's problem. blake would 100% refuse to stop pressing him to swear that he Won't Use The Fucking Demons.

to which alec--a boy severely traumatized by being forced to do horrible things to other people against his will, who would Immediately imagine a Conquest scenario in vivid detail upon being asked to swear off demons--would promptly think "FUCK no, that's Asking For It." but then he would also be like. "even though they're being Dumb and Stupid. i, alec, will bravely nobly and humbly compromise in the interest of keeping the peace and indicating that i don't actually intend to use the demons i was just floating the idea like a totally regular person would." and his genius idea for a compromise to indicate that he didn't really intend to use the demons would be promising not to use the demons [insert alec calculating the maximum amount of time he thinks it can safely be assumed that they won't be forced by some circumstance or other to use the demons here] In The Next Week.

which would result in blake being like SO YOU WANT TO USE THE DEMONS RIGHT AFTER THE WEEK ENDS??? and you get the gist it would be an absolute comedy of alec being a freak and blake and rose furiously trying to keep the freak on a leash. the funniest part is that he really wouldn't use the demons unless there was no other option, he's already tied his own leash to a nearby fence, he's just entirely cavalier about the Idea and subsequently keeps giving blake persistent heart attacks over (relatively) nothing. he would realize pretty quickly that he's coming off wrong and genuinely attempt to course correct so that they'll quit fucking bothering him but he has zero frame of reference for how to make that course correction happen and would thus just be weird in a different direction. i could go on. in fact i Will. this will be an extended posting saga.

[aheavenlycreature]

So, I’ve had this idea for a fic for a very long time. Maybe one day I’ll actually have the discipline to sit down and attempt to finally write the damn thing, but I still wanna share it and get it out there in some capacity. Hell, if any of you reading this want to steal it and write this for yourselves or get inspired by this in some way, please feel free to!!!

Anyways— we always see Dean react to Cas’ death but Cas never sees the aftermath/fall out from it because well duh– he’s dead but the deaths are also very quick like the stabbings from angels or the Empty swallowing him whole pretty quickly after the love confession. Even when Castiel was stabbed with the spear, even though it was a little slower– it was evident that it wasn’t by much.

But, what if Castiel was suffering from a poison that would take days to kill him. Maybe even weeks?

I had this idea where it’s set in season 13 with the apocalypse hunters because that was the best way I could come up with for why this sort’ve poison even exists in the first place but like I said, if you wanna steal it this idea you come up with whatever origin for the poison you want.

But the gist is the poison was specifically designed to kill angels in the most brutal way possible by turning their own grace into something deadly and essentially becomes the poison. The worst part– once the grace has been corrupted like this it cannot be extracted from the angel.

So their grace is killing them slowly and burning them from the inside out and feels like torture the entire time because it’s basically like if your blood was replaced with acid. You can’t do anything about it other than to wait to die.

And Cas starts suffering from this– likely from an enemy who hates him or just hates angels in general and sees them all as threats to humanity. Point is, Cas’ grace gets corrupted from this and Dean has to witness Castiel slowly die in front of him.

This has never happened before. Cas has never been sick to begin with, let alone this kind of sick where they know it’s gonna end in death. Dean’s freaking out and trying to figure out a way to save him.

(In my head, there is an elixir Rowena cooks up to save Castiel but they have no clue on whether it’ll work or not and worst of all– it feels like acid for Castiel to drink and there’s a lot of it. Too much of it. Like an entire gallon or MORE for Cas to drink like this and Dean pretty much has to force him to get it down because he doesn’t want Cas to die and if there’s a chance this thing will work, he’ll try. But he hates seeing Castiel in even more pain from taking this medicine.)

Anyways, it’s hopeless and Cas is getting worse and worse. Eventually Castiel knows his time is coming to an end and things are only gonna get uglier for him. He says his goodbyes to Jack, not wanting Jack to see him get worse. He says goodbye to Sam.

And Dean stays by his side, even laying down in bed with him despite the sweat and odor. He doesn’t care because this is Cas and he’s not leaving his side until the very end.

With Cas dying as slow as he is, he confesses his love for Dean and he doesn’t want Dean to say anything about it. Because however Dean answers, anything Dean could say in response to that, won’t make him very happy.

And based on how Dean’s been acting throughout Castiel’s sickness, the way he’s never seen Dean act about anyone– Cas thinks maybe, just maybe Dean does feel the same way back and that’s terrible. Because the idea of Dean loving Castiel back when he is on death’s door, will not make Cas happy.

But he still confesses because all he wants is for Dean to know he’s loved and deserves all the things he thinks he doesn’t.

Cas dies.

Dean sobs.

Dean doesn’t leave Cas’ side, still holding him like he did when he was alive. It’s horrible. Feeling Cas’ skin go from searing hot to cold. It’s the worst thing he’s ever experienced, feeling the life leaving Cas’ body. All evidence he was breathing only minutes ago. Hours ago…

Cas comes back to life somehow. But now with the knowledge of how much Dean cares, how much he really cares for him and that’s something he doesn’t want to ignore.

[atopvisenyashill]

I don’t get how you’re a Rhaenyra fan but a Dany hater 🤨 like Rhaenyra committed a lot of atrocities in the end.

I don’t hate Dany! She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s got some of the best magical scenes in the series - she’s got some of the best scenes in the series, period, her last dragon fever dream in agot is like top 10 for me easy - and she’s a character that is conceptually similar to like, theon or ned or cersei in that she is really firmly rooted and informed by her past traumas, and I love characters like that from a writing standpoint. I have definitely talked more negatively about her bc it’s basically impossible to not be constantly inundated with takes i feel are just the most vapid or deranged or whatever takes in the world, but you can say that for anyone who feels anything at all about dany bc she is a very polarizing character! i think some of her narrative is frustratingly written, i do not mesh well with a large section of her fanbase, and i actively hate her show counterpart, but show dany is a vastly different character than book dany is (i mean just age alone, like with robb and jon, some of your sympathy evaporates bc they are too damn old to be acting this stupid). ultimately, a lot of the "hate" people think i feel for her is directed at what i feel are stupid opinions on her character or her show counter part's place in pop culture, or just like, normal analysis and critique that i do of every character in this series.

i will acknowledge that i tend to describe myself as "pro stark, pro blacks, pro smallfolk" so people know the general gist of what they're signing up for when they start interacting with me, but that is such a simple way of diluting all of my feelings for all of these characters. like "pro stark" in the sense that they are the most rational of the leaders we get in the main series, and have a connection to the land, people, and culture that is important, but i've pointed out plenty of times that robb's war is harmful to the people of the riverlands, regardless of whether he's justified or not, and i've been posting about how ned and cat fail to properly prepare their children (and the north in general) for Real World Politics, to the detriment of their kids. "pro stark" in the sense that i thought show dany wasn't just deranged from season 1 she was also wildly unlikable and nauseatingly stupid, you could see her "dark dany" turn coming from a mile away because these were not subtle writers interested in exploring why dany would decide "dragons plant no trees" and instead focused on her looking hot while she set shit on fire (same way they were less interested in looking at why jon failed as lord commander and had him be the action hero fighting at hardhome). definitely most of my aggravation at "dany" is at the show version, and while i do get why people feel that if you're a proponent of the "dark dany" theory that you're "anti" dany, but I am not anti book dany! i just think like rickon stark, shireen baratheon, jojen reed, aegon vi, etc she is very much doomed to die a very tragic death.

and i do not like characters based on how little atrocities they commit lmao, like, if i were to list my top 10 favorites, probably half of them have committed some extreme war crime. theon is a rapist! jaime is a shitty ass partner to cersei, a deadbeat dad despite living in the same building as his kids, and a failed child murderer! bran is mind raping hodor, understands on some level that what he's doing is morally repugnant, and keeps doing it anyway! pretty much every targaryen i like has committed some sex crime heinous enough to get them life + 25!! bobby b raised joffrey!!! i know i facetiously say shit like "rhaenyra did nothing wrong" but i'm well aware she's out here torturing people, same as like 75% of the characters we interact with in the whole series. so "rhaenyra commits atrocities" or "dany commits atrocities" is just not how i look at these characters (and not to get into stan wars here, but good lord, "rhaenyra commits atrocities" she is not the only or even the worst person in the dance! like 85% of these people suck and the ones who don't - which is limited to like, helaena, jace, nettles, and addam almost exclusively - either die or disappear because That's The Point. also, i was raised SDA alright, you gotta be a really compelling character for me to get past being super catholic, it's in my dna to be a spiteful hater of catholics!! catelyn stark is my one exception to this rule folks!!!!).

as to why i like rhaenyra - for one thing, saying that emma d'arcy is a better actor than emilia clarke is like saying cillian murphy is better than bradley cooper. they are just not on the same level lol. i definitely have my critiques of show!rhaenyra's writing but i also think she's miles better written than show!dany and her story is also more interesting because her writing is much less nonsensical. for another, i think book rhaenyra and book dany are wildly similar characters (for a reason!) meant to be in conversation with each other, and i very much enjoy what that conversation is saying about power, nobility, gender, sex, war, and identity. on a more technical level, while fire and blood is a mess writing and world building wise, the one thing it does better than the essos chapters (because it doesn't take place in essos, it takes place in westeros, and george struggles much less fleshing out "western poc" than he does "eastern poc" ya know) is that rhaenyra is not the only insight we get into the conflict. the people she loves, the people she rules, the people she harms, they all have a pov and a voice in a way that missandei, irri, jhiqui, rakharo, jhogo, grey worm, on and on, do not, the way that basically every single character that isn't westerosi except mmd (who was killed in book one) is not afforded. it's just a lot easier (as of right now) to talk about rhaenyra as a character because we have her beginning, middle, and end and the povs of people who hated her vs dany, we have the beginning and middle, a lot of arguing over what her end will be, and no one in the narrative as of yet who has even the barest criticism of her decisions besides cardboard cut out villainous slavers.

so like...no i do not hate dany, and i don't feel it's necessary to asterisk every post about rhaenyra with "i know putting a hit out on nettles and addam, locking the smallfolk into KL without easing their burdens of the war, positing herself as an exception to male line primogeniture instead of pushing for absolute primogeniture, and using torture on tyland and vaemond's family was fucked up, i acknowledge that she's flawed" when i talk about her, nor do i feel the need to defend my position on dany on the off chance one of her more annoying stans finds my posts and decides i hate women because i said i didn't like her sexual relationship with irri.

[musical-chick-13]

I'm sure everyone is tired of me complaining about this phenomenon, but. NSFW discussion below the cut.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST, I MEAN IT

This is probably a really nit-picky thing to get frustrated over, but I actually really hate that post that's along the lines of, "This just doesn't have enough accurate character exploration to get me off," or whatever it says.

Like, I get the gist of what it's trying to say, in the sense of "Just writing about the act of sex isn't enough" and, more broadly, "It's more sexy when you see how what's going on interacts with the characters' personalities and psychologies" but I just...question why the assumption is always that a sex scene is written for titillation? (Yes, this post specified porn, but that's...actually a very hard category to define writing-wise, especially since the op seemed to be very clearly talking about fanfiction.)

There is nothing wrong with writing something solely for the purpose of other people (including yourself) getting off to it. Seriously. At all. This is more just...aggravation over the idea that everything needs to be sexually appealing. If someone finds c2g Sexy™ and jerks off to it, great for them! (<-Meant completely seriously.) If they want to leave a comment saying "this is hot" or "this is sexy" or "I Need A Moment Alone," then go for it! But in this particular case, that is simply a bonus. This story was never written with that in mind. There are a lot of complicated personal reasons that led to me writing this, that I actually do not ever have to explain to anyone, because I don't owe anyone that information.

And this really isn't me trying to say, "MY explicit writing is Elevated™ and Artistique™ with a Point™ unlike the rest of you degenerate plebeians." For one, I don't and will never have the "moral high ground" in regard to creative projects, and for another, there is no "moral high ground" here, because sex and writing (about anything) are inherently morally neutral actions. They simply exist. Whether they're good or positive depends on how people approach them and treat any other people involved. I just see this constant pressure for everyone and everything to be as "conventionally" sexy as possible, and I am quite honestly just exhausted. It feels like an extension of performing your sexuality and curating your appearance to gain some measure of general acceptance, and I really cannot deal with that anymore. That threshold was obliterated long ago.

Maybe someday I WILL write something that is meant to be Sexy™ to the audience and nothing else, I don't know. But if someone reads a smut fic*...you don't actually know why the person writing it decided to create it. If you can't get off to something, then it's possible the purpose wasn't ever for anyone to get off in the first place.

*I am specifically talking about fanfiction/transformative works here. Published erotica or filmed sex are a completely different conversation.

[avvail-whumps]

the eye is the jewel of the body

content warnings: captivity, eye gore, needles, mutilation, blood, passing out from shock, restraints, manhandling, sadistic whumper

–

The whumpee’s vision was dizzy, but through the speckled black dots, they could briefly see Whumper in their peripheral vision, tugging gloves onto their hands. The whumpee shuddered, a horrible feeling rushing down their spine.

“What...What’s that?” They whispered, their throat rough and dry. Even talking hurt them, their eyes watering instinctively at the unwanted pain.

Whumper let them squirm in silence for a moment, before finally answering. “Don’t ask, if you’re not ready to know.”

Whumpee couldn’t even swallow the growing lump in their throat. They fidgeted weakly in their restraints, scratchy rope digging through their skin and keeping them bound to the arms of the chair. It coiled around their chest too, pressing uncomfortably against their ribs, and making it difficult to breathe.

They considered not saying anything, but the silence was suffocating.

Whumper was uncharacteristically quiet today, and that scared them more than anything. Did it mean they were angry? Were they willing to let go of their stress by using Whumpee instead?

Their stomach pooled with hot dread, churning at the thought. Whatever they had in store for them today, was better than being left to scramble in the dark like this.

“I-I want to know,” they hesitantly whispered, their fingers curling in fear. Their was voice nothing above a breath. “Please?”

Whumper’s brow furrowed, their expression hardening as they dragged out the table of tool, wheels sliding along the floor. The whumpee couldn’t bring themselves to look at it, drowning in anticipation. They heard the clinking of tools, metal scraping against metal, ringing in their ears.

“If you want to know so badly,” Whumper spoke, picking something up between their fingers. It wasn’t big enough for Whumpee to even get a gist of what it could possibly be. “Then sure, alright. I’ll tell you.”

The whumper’s fingers wound through their hair, and they yanked their head backwards, so violent the whumpee was sure they had whiplash. A gasp tore from their lips, face wrinkling uncomfortably. They jerked against their restraints.

Whumper’s knee settled between their legs, pressing against the chair to give themself more stability. Their scalp burned as they tightened their grip.

“You know the black circle we have in our eye, the pupil?”

The whumpee’s eyes fluttered open. Their lip quivered, trying to distract themself from the stinging pain. They knew it would be worse if they didn’t answer, so they pushed down their pride and choked out a strained response.

“Y-Yes?”

Whumper almost smiled. “I remember learning in high school, the pupil is essentially a hole in the eye. One thing I always wondered, was whether or not you could stick a needle through it, and it would go straight through.”

Whumpee’s breathing picked up. They couldn't see what they were holding in their other hand, but they prayed it wasn’t what they thought it was.

“Of course,” they sighed, voice dejected. “It's not as easy as that, with all the jelly stuff and whatnot, but it never hurt to imagine.”

Whumpee felt the grip on their hair being released, but it was quickly shoved back into position by the same hand, pushing against their temple. They felt two gloved fingers pry open their eyelids, leaving their eye uncomfortably exposed. The whumpee panicked, tugging at the rope in a pathetic attempt to break away.

“Which is why it also won’t hurt to indulge in a childhood fantasy, right?”

Their heart began banging against their ribcage. They weren’t going to, were they? Whumpee began to lose their ability to breathe. Their chest heaved up and down in panicked spurts, unable to stop themself from begging.

“No, no, please,” they whimpered, their shoulders jerking widely. Whumper’s grip was too tight, and their eye was starting to burn. They tried to blink, their body aching for it, but their eyelids felt like they were glued into place.

“You said you wanted to know,” Whumper shrugged. “I gave you the courtesy of preparing yourself. You should be thanking me.”

Tears formed in their eyes and slid down their cheeks, dampening their bruises. “Please, I’m begging you please, please don’t do this, I’ll do anything!”

“Too late,” they hummed. “Have you ever worn contacts?”

Whumpee dissolved into hysterics, thrashing against the ropes until they chaffed their skin raw.

“No!” They sobbed, desperately trying to pull away from their unwielding grip. “No, please! Please, don’t!”

Whumper glanced below them for a moment, before lifting their head, tilting it. “That’s a no to contacts? Okay. Try not to look at it then. You’ll want to blink.”

They paused for a moment, before Whumpee felt them let go, and their head dropped lazily, shaking with sobs.

“Fuck, your tears are making the gloves slippery,” they groaned, wiping them briefly on their pant leg, before moving to seize the whumpee’s trashing head once more. They screamed loudly and deteriorated into more broken sobs, incoherent pleas on their lips.

“Keep snivelling, and I’ll cut your eyelids so you have none,” Whumper warned, their fingers like daggers against their skin as they pried their eye open, glazed over with tears. Whumpee’s whole body was gripped with a terrible panic, shaking violently under the horrific stress of it all.

They saw the small, pointed needle between their fingers, angling it towards the center of their eye. They jerked at the restraints involuntarily, their sobs rising to terrified screams.

“I’ll do anything!” They shrieked, gripping the arms of the chair so hard they were sure they were going to break. “Anything! Just please, please, don’t blind me, p-please!”

The whumper didn’t seem phased by their attempts at a compromise. They simply clicked their tongue on the roof of their mouth, drawing the needle back slightly.

“Deep breath.”

They mercilessly jabbed it into their eye, and it was almost comical how easily it punctured through the organ. Whumpee let out an agonising scream, their thrashes wild as blood trickled down their cheek, mixing with their tears.

It didn’t take long for them to pass out from the shock of it all.

[tspud-whiteboard]

Update 2023-06-25

OH. Oh geez. Okay. For a good while now, the idea has been floating around that there really should be a space for some other characters as well - Mariella being the most requested one.

Now what do we do, what do we DO. It's one week before the deadline? You know what, fuggit. Submit your Stanley, Narrator, Settings/432/Timekeeper, Curator or ANY OF THE OTHER G'DAMN TSP CHARACTERS that also mean a lot to you.

Characters, items, places. Where even is the Line™ when it comes to being a character in the Stanley Parable. Get creative!

The same 300x400px format applies.

It HAS to be someone or something in the actual game (Original Characters would be their very own can of worms that I'm not willing to open at this sweet, precious moment).

You can submit ONE picture per character - but that does mean you can send, say, one for Mariella, one for Line™, one for Stanley's Wife, one for Pencil Sharpener, one for Broom Closet... you get the gist.

I suppose you kind of have to hurry up with that now because I don't want to extend the deadline into Forever... sorry about that! But it could potentially be very fun to see what other characters deserve a spot in our hearts and on the Board!

This is overwhelming? Dang straight, you're telling me. You don't have to draw ALL OF THESE, oh my god. You only want to submit your Narrator? Yes please! Stanley's computer is the only character you ever cared about? Yes, that's good, too! Nope, you want to draw the entire cast and that terrible green wallpaper with the eye pattern? I dare you. This is meant to be a fun collab, so you better only be doing what's fun for you. Ignore my constant prodding you with a hot iron poker, that thing's just for show. Much like the deadline is. I mean, no, the deadline is real, of course, but it's not like this blog will instantly fold back up into its tiny suitcase form on July the 1st and be gone forever. I'll more go into idling mode. Whatever that means.

AnyWAY, I put a Secret Fifth Thing option in the tags for [Submissions]. Huhuhuh. For your convenience.

I'll draw a few as well, yes yes. Might stick them all on the Curator board - she still seems a tad lonely over there, and what better place to put More Cast Members than a museum!

Well, you heard me. Go go go, draw draw draw! No pressure or anything. I'm. I'm as confused as you are, honestly.