#i have so much to say and not enough brain power to collect my thoughts

[mcmuppet]

oh. OH.

[cybernaght]

The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain 

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe. 

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”. 

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours. 

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.  

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we? 

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals. 

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation. 

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth. 

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space. 

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality. 

Part two. Microanalysis 

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling. 

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season. 

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal. 

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal. 

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works. 

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time. 

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever. 

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding. 

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs. 

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain. 

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To. 

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another. 

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership. 

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake 

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why 

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another. 

Three, Intentionality 

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed. 

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media. 

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic. 

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking. 

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way. 

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness. 

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here. 

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all. 

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo? 

I do. 

[celestie0]

MASSIVE gojo x reader fanfic rec (no spoilers)

ok i know a lot of my followers are gojo girlies and i just need to put yall onto this fucking fanfiction because i just read the latest release for it and i’m genuinely tweaking rn🧍🏻‍♀️

@lostfracturess ‘s amazing work called “symptoms & causes” - a medical au

[image pulled from her masterlist]

let me just…let me just try to even gather the reasons why you need to add this to your tbr lists (weekend is comin up too so perfect time)

characterization of gojo satoru.

gojo in this fic is characterized so fucking well, from chapter one. there are so many distinctive ways miss lostfractures goes about building his aura (word of mouth/reputation, dialogue, expository, primary interactions, secondary interactions, etc.) it reminds me of the show where gojo just has this energy to him that you can't tear yourself away from i picture him in this fic to be unrelenting, unforgiving, morally grey, with an undertone of softness yet still feral through it all,, basically gojo during shibuya arc LOL. i looove reading cute silly boy gojo fics sm (he’s so baby) but THIS fic explores the borderline wicked side of him that is so thrilling, unique, and rare to find i think in this fandom’s collection of works. it’s just so fucking good.

forbidden romance.

UGGHH i love stories w forbidden romance. in this one, it’s med student reader x professor gojo (additional power dynamics in that he’s a senior surgeon in her field and also a research mentor in her study of interest…TRIPLE THREAT DAMN). i love how miss lostfractures doesn’t shy away from reminding the reader that it’s wrong, and that they shouldn’t be doing this. that’s my fave part of forbidden romances like yesss remind me again why this is all so wrong but let’s still do it anyways LOL <333

reader’s voice.

i’ve LOVED reader since the beginning, so relatable, emotionally mature, all her flaws are so believable & her strengths are shown seamlessly. it’s just so much fun to read because i’ll literally have a thought like “hmm…that (something a character said/did) doesn’t sound very convincing” and then the next line will be something like “he didn’t sound very convincing” like!!! me and s&c reader?? we’re locked in like this fr🤞🏼 like gojo’s domain expansion fingers

escapism.

everything in this story feels so damn real it’s insane. the pacing is stunning, love the utilization of stacks of scenes that are sort of short but so concise, enough to be a smooth read but still descriptive enough to entirely transport you into the world that’s being built. cannot praise the writing in this story enough. also the variety of ways that scenarios are made that pull characters closer to one another?? so creative. as someone who works in a research lab, studied bio in college (some of the fkn biochem stuff that comes up in this fic gives me heart attacks lmfaooo pls im traumatized), and has worked in clinics/hospitals it just itches my brain so damn good. you’ll be convinced you’re a brilliant med student while you read this fic.

writing.

the writing is just. so. good. it’s so good. better than most PUBLISHED works i’ve read. i really can't say much other than that, you just have to go see for yourself.

—

if any of these reasons speak to you, i highly recommend you check the fic out. just a note tho it does have some dark themes but you can find all the tags/warnings on her page!

OK BYE

[shadowystan]

YANDERE! celebrity x f!reader – he's so pretty, so popular (you really don't wanna be his sweetheart)

No but YANDERE!celebrity with a toxic fanbase.

It's not him you should be scared of. Not his bodyguards or his influential family; not his obsessive ex or crushing best friend.

The fanbase.

Jealous fans would cloud your life. If you have social media, you'd be hacked a few thousand times a week. If you block them, turn off your comments and go private, you'd get doxxed. Plain and simple.

It's upsetting. It's suffocating. And it's downright terrifying whenever you're out in public. Death threats at your face, stalkers outside your door. No peace of mind, none whatsoever.

But of course if you're pretty enough...

YANDERE!fans who want nothing but the best for their idol. Only someone as dazzling as you could deserve him.

(It's set in stone. You have no choice.)

YANDERE!fans who're the epitome of degeneracy. Writing dirty, smutty fanfiction on the side while making ship edits with you and their celebrity. It doesn't matter how many times you've streamed live, asking them to quit it because the both of you weren't official or how much it makes you uncomfortable.

YANDERE!fans who instead of agreeing and respecting your wishes, go as far as to send you everything. Gone are the rules of RPF. They're spiteful, they're overbearing and most of all, they want you to know you have no power.

YANDERE!fans who litter whoever you try to date with messages of "kill yourself <3" or "jump off a roof. respectfully." on their social media comments or DMs.

YANDERE!fans who spread elaborate rumors about you when you do something that remotely doesn't meet their standards.

The air was soothing. The atmosphere lively. You heard the chatter of the birds, the laughs of the couples, the giggles of the teen girls-

"-Let's say she assaulted someone!"

What?

Leaning slightly to the left, you nonchalantly readjusted the dark spectacles framing your eyes. Hoodie pulled over your face and a lone piece of lettuce peeking out of your lips, the thought that someone might recognize you left your mind for the briefest of times.

And you focused on the task at hand. Eavesdropping on the conversation happening two tables to your side.

They were being rather loud. And concerning. Quite concerning.

"-That's too much, Sana." A puff of air left your mouth, a reassured smile curling in it's stead. At least Sana had wise friends-

"I mean how bad would it look for Iseul's reputation? He can't be dating an assaulter!"

You froze.

Iseul. Iseul. Iseul. Iseul Iseul Iseul Iseul-

That damned name.

A bunch of collective "oohs" and "aahs" splattered. The teenagers nodded in agreement, being particularly vocal.

"Let's say she bullied one of us!"

"Or that she has been to prison!"

"We caught her shoplifting?"

"Boring!"

A fry was thrown at whoever said the last word. Useless bickering followed by rolls of their eyes, the girls easily overcame the little hindrance and got back to brainstorming.

You sucked in a breath, spoon limply hanging off your fingers.

They were definitely talking about you.

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. It's not a big deal. This is normal-

"We should break into her house or something. The address is leaked anyway."

The table screeched, you stood up.

Legs having a brain of their own, you paced out of the restaurant, the memories of the girls fibbing and bickering and planning like no tomorrow kept echoing through your mind. Like a broken record. Since when had your life turned to such shambles?

God. Why were things like this for you?

Releasing a shaky breath, you gulped, burying the insecurity deep inside of you. Whipping the lopsided glasses away, you stop caring for a moment.

You don't care. For sure. But then your hands are moving and they're looking through your pockets, seeking for something and my goodness, since when did your phone start feeling so heavy?

Unfamiliar and hesitant, you went through your contact list, heart beating so fast that you felt like it'll rip right out of your chest. Your lips quivered, flushed skin feeling hotter and hotter by the second. A fever? Or was this anger?

You shivered, ignoring the tears and the salt and the aching, aching feel of your soul. You fiddled for a moment – just a moment – but then you're harshly pressing the call button and wiping snot off your nose before placing the phone to your ear and waiting like a madwoman. Impatient and uncalm and-

"My love! You called!"

Him.

Him. Him. Him. Him.

How you hate him.

"I'll-I'll do it,-" You spluttered, very much on the verge of choking on your own spit and mumbling strings of curses at him and them and every single person who's so, SO mean to you- "I-i'll make it official. We.. we will! Just..- just please.."

You've perished. You've perished until this second, this moment and you'll continue perishing but-

"J-just.. make them stop."

Don't you deserve a break too? With everything he puts you through?

A tsk from his side was heard. Iseul sounded amused, almost cross with you. Almost pouty. Almost smiling.

"Really now? This easy? Things were only just getting fun."

You wanted to gut YANDERE!celebrity. Brutally.

[vibingandsimping]

hi! would you feel comfortable writing up something for a godhood!gale after he assembles the crown of karsus and wields the power for himself, seeking out a vulnerable tav as his chosen? i think the darker aspects of gale’s personality, like his ego and his possessiveness, could be really attractive

I like the way your brain thinks. Keep sending me juicy thoughts like this… I am THRIVING. He 100% would seek you out.

I wanted to make this a longer post for one of my follower goal specials. I rewrote this like two or three times because I liked the prompt. Still, was never satisfied with it. I will possibly write something based off this later… but for now enjoy a drabble + some headcanons :)

(also still haven’t finished the game… work is a bitch 🤞)

Gale always sought out knowledge and power. It was how he had gotten so intimately involved with Mystra. He spent his life studying and practicing to ensure he’d be a great wizard- like his mentor Elminster. Yet, nothing ever truly felt like enough to him. The weave in his chest ever-consuming proof of his hunger. That was until the Netherstones. He nearly drooled when you held Ketheric’s in your hand. The power thrumming and sending his veins alight. He thought all to have only a fraction of their power… but these. These stones were unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Everytime he stood near Orin or Gortash, his skin would tingle. He yearned to wield that for himself. To study and debunk everything behind it and nurture his mind with the intellect he could collect. He placed his trust into you. You led the group and held them close to you after killing Orin. Gale was noticeably on edge the entire trip with Gortash. He chalked it up to nerve- partially true. The Elder Brain was a powerful entity and surely would be intimidating. So, you as oblivious as ever, smiled and reassured him. He almost envied you. Once you reached the brain with the Archduke, you handed over the two stones and reconnected the three. Piecing together the Crown of Karsus. After Gortash was slain by Bane for serving his purpose… fate was left in your hands.

He watches as you turn the artifact over to him. He’s trembling as he holds the crown, finally feeling the immense magic coursing through him. He closes his eyes and claims it for himself- finally. When he reopens he is faced with Mystra who is less than pleased. He won’t relent, no, this is what he wanted. She placed a bomb in his chest just to ensure nobody could claim this power. How ironic that he ended up being Karsus’s successor? After winning a mental duel she curses him and banishes him from her realm. Why should he care, though? Mystra was nearly useless to him. He was a god now. When he returns to your realm, his skin glows ever so slightly and his brown eyes are much brighter. You can see his changed form and sense the change of his mind. He takes one of your hands in his- his skin electrifying to the touch. It sends a shiver down your spine. Gale draws the back of your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss. “Thank you,” he hums, “for bestowing this privilege onto me. I won’t let it be for nothing. Join me, my love. I can give you anything and everything you’d ever want.” Quite frankly, how could you turn down a god?

Gale was different from that day on. He was still tender and caring. So doting for your every need. Yet, he seemed to view you much differently. You were a mortal- so weak in comparison to him. His lips would trail your skin as if you were porcelain and he so despised not having you by his side. What if something happened to his beloved lover? Oh, and don’t you dare imply that he’s changed. His usual gentle and… a little overprotective or possessive nature will morph. He’ll become colder and stare at you. How has he changed, his beauty? What do you mean he doesn’t treat you the same? Isn’t this better? In the lap of power and in the hands of a god?

Careful what you say and do. He would hate having to punish you. Stripping you of your magic abilities or casting a spell to dumb-ify you. That, or how about being trapped in his personal quarters for a couple days? With no-one but himself to keep you company? Oh, don’t worry. Those are only if you disrespect his new placement. He knows it’s a lot to adjust to, he’s still adjusting himself. This is a journey you’ll take on together, hand in hand, just like how you started. He’ll do nearly anything for you, only ask. Just promise to never leave his side, okay? He couldn’t bare to let you go.

And if you did leave… it won’t be for long. He will find you and he’ll ensure that you recognize the mistake. You can’t escape your god, love.

[moe-moe-kyun]

Malicious Compliance- Throw in the Towel

Synopsis: A different ending for my fic 'Malicious Compliance,' where things get a lil hot n heavy ;)

Tags/Warnings: Explicit, smut, nudity, lucifer x reader, gender neutral reader, reader receiving, bottom lucifer, pet names (good boy, baby), i like my men desperate and submissive

Minors DNI!!!!!!

Notes: uhhh first time writing smut. i try not to describe readers sex characteristics in depth. not proofread and not the best but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

'They've known what they were doing this entire time,' the realization hits him as you slide farther back onto his lap. Lucifer's hands grip the armrests so hard his knuckles turn white.

The coy smile spreads greater across your face when your ass comes in contact with Lucifer's dick practically twitching in its confines. Just when it seemed you were about to grind against him, you stood. Relief flooded Lucifer's veins. How embarrassing this situation was- he prayed you would leave him with a shred of dignity and not acknowledge his arousal.

Unfortunately for him, your plans were much the opposite. You turned and positioned yourself to straddle the demon's lap. You kept your eyes on Lucifer's face even as the towel around your waist came undone and slid to the floor with a muffled crumpling. His blush deepened but he maintained eye contact.

Lucifer moved to stand, to remove you from your seat on his lap, to do something, but was halted in his tracks as you gently pushed him back against the seat.

"If you want me to get up, you have to ask nicely." Your voice was soft yet firm, and your demon clearly didn't know how to react. You watched his brain short circuit in real time and felt his cock jump against where it came into contact with your groin.

You provided him a moment of silence before speaking again, grabbing his chin to ensure he was looking you in the eye as you did so. "You also have to ask nicely if you want me to do anything else," smile continuing to bleed through your voice. Oh, to have the most powerful avatar of sin a blushing mess underneath you. It was truly a beautiful feeling.

"So? Do you have anything to say?"

"I- Please," Lucifer's voice had gained that desperate lilt. 'So pretty,' you thought.

At his plea you began grinding against his clothed erection, pulling sweet little moans from his lips. You bent down and left open mouthed kisses against his neck, unbuttoning his shirt just enough to expose his pectorals.

"Haah~" he moaned when you pinched a nipple, rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger.

You paused in your ministrations against his neck. "Good boy, Lucifer. You wanna start preppin' me, baby?"

Lucifer nodded, and you brought his fingers to your mouth and began to suck on them. Once thoroughly lubed with your spit, you released them for Lucifer to use on your hole. He started with one digit, gently pumping in and out as you ground down against his hand.

"Just like that," you whispered encouragement into his ear, small moans and panted breaths excaping your throat as he inserted a second, scissoring them to stretch you out.

You undid his belt, then the button and zipper, finally freeing his dick from his pants. It was red and swollen, weeping precum from how desperate you made him.

"So pretty for me, are you ready?" you asked, pumping him a few times to coat him with his arousal.

"Fuck- yes, MC," Lucifer was practically incoherent, and you hadn't even fucked him properly yet. 'Damn, how long's it been since he got laid?' you wondered.

With permission stated, you slid yourself down on his cock, both of you gasping at the sensation. Fuck, he filled you so nicely. You paused for a moment as you bottomed out, giving your demon a final chance to collect himself before you began bouncing vigorously on top of him.

Lucifer's hips bucked up into yours as you rode him, groans and moans coming from his lips as his head fell back against the chair.

"No," you pushed him down, "I'll tell you when you can fuck into me." He shut his eyes at the command, concentrating on keeping his own hips still as you continued chasing your own high atop the Morningstar. You kissed him, biting on his bottom lip to seek entrance, pushing your tongue into his mouth as reward for following orders.

It didn't take long for your legs to tire, your human stamina almost nothing compared to that of an ancient being. "Okay, baby, you can move," your words were gentle but halting as they stuttered with your breath.

Lucifer, ever your obedient demon, was quick to begin moving in time with the rhythm you had set. You moved in tandem, sucking on his neck and toying with his nipples as his cock slid in and out of your soaking hole.

The pleasure mounted, and you felt the coil deep in your stomach tighten. "Luci, 'm close," you murmured amongst pants and moans.

"Ah, MC, same, 'm gonna-"

"Cum with me, please, baby," and you clenched around him, eyes rolling back in your skull at the intensity of the orgasm. Lucifer came in time, cock shooting thick ropes of semen into you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

You rode out the orgasm, movements slowing as your breathing slowly came back to normal. Lucifer sat below, placing gentle kisses against your shoulder in between shuddering breaths, your hand tracing patterns against his back. The blissful silence continued, Lucifer cuddling into you even as his dick softened and slid out of you.

You spoke eventually, his quiet starting to concern. "Lucifer, are you okay?"

He simply nodded in response, a contented sigh escaping against your skin. You smiled, bringing your hand up to pet his head, a sweet whisper of 'good boy' parting your lips.

[machinesonix]

Somehow I have made it this long without realizing that none of the screen adoptions of Dune so much as mention the Butlerian Jihad. Like I guess it's burned into my brain so hard I sort of assumed it was part and parcel of the universe. Don't get me wrong, I think that's probably the first thing you learn if you want to dive deeper into the setting, but it still hits me like if the LotR movies showed us the big flaming eyeball tower and was like ‘Oh, that's why there are bad things, but don't worry, that's just background stuff.’ Yeah, you can understand the movie, but if the story is just like Frodo vs. The Witch King you are losing out on any of the conversation about the corruptive allure of power or theological undertones. So without further ado let's pretend this is for the benefit of interested new fans roped in by the movies and not part of my desperate attempt to silence the howling specters of literary analysis that live in my blood.

The Butlerian Jihad is an event set ~10k years prior to the events of Dune in which humanity won their freedom from the machines that they had enslaved themselves to. As a result, it is a religious taboo to create a machine that thinks like a human. That's frankly the bulk of the information presented by Frank Herbert in the text without dipping into books 7+, but whether or not those are canon is frankly an enormous can of worms, which really makes sense when you consider the size of the worms. But boy howdy, Frank loved his subtext and parallelism. Everyone has a foil character, every theme is hit from multiple angles, and Villinueve has been doing an excellent job of capturing a lot of that in repeated imagery and dialogue. The Butlerian Jihad happens off camera, but it's themes are absolutely critical to the big picture.

The Butlerian Jihad was a holy war. It was not merely a rebellion against the machines, it was a crusade against them. The prohibition against thinking machines isn't just a law, it's in the pan-universal Bible. Absolute psychopath Pieter DeVries himself claps back at the Baron for insinuating he might have a use for a computer, and this is a guy who has been hired specifically for his preternatural absence of morals. Let's hold onto that idea for a minute. 

Probably my favorite scene in the first book is the one where planetologist Liet-Kynes is dying out in the desert. As the last of his strength fades to dehydration he hallucinates conversations he had with his father concerning terraforming Arakkis for human habitability. He's told that the means are not complicated. There is already enough water on the planet, the Little Makers just have it all trapped deep underground as part of the sandworm reproductive cycle. You just need to isolate enough water to start irrigating plant life, and once it's established that'll keep the water on the surface on its own. The hard part is making sure everyone on the planet is environmentally conscious enough to foster a developing ecosystem. Nobody can drink any of that water while it's being collected, because they'll just introduce it back into the water cycle where the Little Makers are. It's going to take generations, so that sort of water discipline is going to have to go above and beyond a social convention. People need to be willing to die before they'll take a sip and compromise the plan. Ghost Dad Kynes concludes that the only mechanism in the human experience to enforce this consensus is religion. 

In the context of this whole parallelism thing, you have probably noticed that the Butlerian Jihad is not the only holy war in the narrative. Paul sees a new jihad as the only way of creating a future where humans can flourish. Now you might be saying ‘Wait now, Machines. I thought the point of Paul’s holy war was to avenge Leto and disempower established power structures by taking away the control of the spice!’ And you’d be right. The thing is, without getting into spoiler territory, Dune Messiah is not going to be about how everything just gets so much better now that Paul has destroyed the economy, government, and untold billions of human lives. This isn’t the endgame. Dude can see the future and the way he does it involves looking into the past. Paul lives in a society defined by a holy war and his goal is to redefine society. 

Putting it all together you can see what I mean about the Butlerian Jihad being essential to the themes even though the story never shows us a thinking machine or a narrative beat where the absence of computers changes the outcome. It helps us see the big picture. I’ve seen a lot of dialogue lately on whether Paul is a tragic hero or a consummate villain and I’m not here to answer that, but I am here to underline the critical detail. Paul intends to be seen as a tyrant. Just like Kynes’ hallucination says, religion is the lever to make a value stick around forever. He wants to traumatize humanity to hate chosen ones and emperors the same way the machines traumatized humanity to change them forever. The Water of Life ritual doesn’t invert his values, it lets him realize these visions of war are the means, not the ends. He is absolutely not happy about it, but this is Paul’s terrible purpose. 

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter pt. 3

Hello beautiful people! I have so many ideas for a camp / long rest scene but we gotta collect the companions first so please enjoy the obligatory Gale and Lae'zel chapter.

pt 1 | pt 2

Word count: 3.8k

You must be seeing things. You blink and rub at your eyes but when you open them again nothing about the morbid scene in front of you changes. There’s a mind flayer on the ground ten feet from you.

You turn to signal as much to Astarion, who must have fallen behind on the way up the hill, and jump out of your skin when you realize he’s standing an inch away- if that. 

“Good Gods you scared me!”

“You should be paying more attention. What if I were a blood thirsty vampire trying to sink my teeth into your pretty neck?” He teases. 

You point to the clear blue sky with raised eyebrows. The sun is mercilessly beating down on you both. The waves of heat are visible if you squint hard enough, and sweat slicks your clothes to your skin.

“I’d say under normal circumstances that would be unlikely.”

“True. And yet,” he grins, leaning down and snapping his teeth so close to your throat you feel his breath kiss your skin. Some self preservation instinct kicks in and sends you flying before you even process what’s happening. You jerk so hard you surely would have hit the ground if he didn’t catch you by the arm, cackling with self satisfied laughter. 

You rip your arm out of his grasp and glare.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Aw come on, it was a little funny.”

“Can we focus please? There’s a mind flayer up ahead.”

The amused look is wiped off of Astarion’s face, replaced with surprise and then accusation.

“Why didn’t you say something?!”

“I’m saying something now aren’t I?” You hiss, returning your gaze to the twitching mass of purple amidst the wreckage up ahead that you believe to be a mind flayer.

“It looks injured. I’m gonna talk to it” You decide, more speaking your thoughts out loud than anything else.

“I'm sorry, did you say you were going to talk to it?! It doesn’t even have a mouth- get back here!” Astarion protests, but it falls on deaf ears.

You step toward the mind flayer, its tentacled face limp. This thing knows more than anyone how to get the worm out of your skull, and it is dying. Before you even decide to do it, your feet are carrying you forward. Astarion follows reluctantly behind.

The mind flayer is a disturbing looking creature. Purple in hue, covered in a film of viscous slime, oozing wine-colored blood. You turn to Astarion, a curious look in your eyes. You wonder if there are creatures even a vampire wouldn't drink from.

“I would rather starve.” He answers the question you hadn’t even asked yet, his nose wrinkling as he glares down at the monster.

That answers that. 

You turn your gaze back to the mind flayer, and notice its one visible orange eye is rolling in its socket. You resist the urge to put your knife through the twitching pink flesh of its brain. You need information more than you need revenge. You take a few steps closer, just a foot from it now, and when you glance back at its face you see that orange eye is now focused unblinkingly on you. You can’t look away. It looks pitiful, the poor thing, mangled by wreckage and its own crushed armour. When it comes to creatures who consume the life forces of others, miraculous things can happen when they feed. Perhaps you could find someone to sacrifice to this dying creature. No- it only has minutes to live, you need to sacrifice yourself. It’s for the greater good. This mind flayer has powers beyond your understanding, and you are but a lowly mortal. 

“Tav?” A voice somewhere very far away echos.

You ignore it. The fledgling that’s taken up residence in your brain would have turned you into a mind flayer within a few days anyway. Wouldn’t you rather save a life than create a new one? Your mind made up, you take another step towards its welcoming embrace.

An arm catches you around the waist. Someone pulls you backwards, away from the mind flayer. The tadpole in your brain wriggles violently in a way that causes splitting pain inside your skull. You wince and fall back into something, someone.

“It’s in your mind” They whisper, or shout, it reverberates in your pounding head regardless.

You wrestle with your battling emotions, the real contempt and the imposing compassion. The influence of the tadpole lessens now that you have been made aware of it, and you tamp it down to a dull throbbing at the base of your skull. You’re still connected to the mind flayer. You feel its disgust and hatred toward you. Similarly to what happened to you on the path with Astarion, your consciousness is ripped from your body and thrust into the mind of the dying monster. It is fantasizing about your subjugation. It wants to whip you and your companion until the skin is ripped from your backs while you bow before it. The rage you feel destroys whatever vestiges of influence the thing still had over you, and you use it to dive intentionally into the mind flayer’s intellect, searching for answers. You see through its eyes flashes of its story, its rebirth from man to monster, its care for the pool of tadpoles that now live in the brains of the ship survivors, and you feel its fear. 

It is terrified of death. 

You feel it’s consciousness slipping away quickly like sand through your fingers. Its brain is shutting down and misfiring. You have no idea how to pinpoint the information you’re looking for in the hurricane of foreign memories flashing before your eyes. Still, you are in control here. The mind flayer’s tadpole was meant to kill you, but as you stand over the dying illithid, holding what’s left of its life hostage in your hands, you realize that along with a time bomb in your skull it has gifted you a fraction of the power it wields. A sick sadistic pleasure fills you when you realize you could bend the mind flayer’s will to your own, just as it had done to you. The feeling terrifies you.

You let go of your grip on its thoughts and are flung back into your own body once more. The creature's eyes are unfocused and dim. With an angry shout you lift your foot and drive the heel of your boot into its squishy head.

It jerks, and then falls still- dead.

There is still an arm around your waist you realize, once you've come back to your senses.

You look down to find a pale hand, fingers splayed across your abdomen. You glance up at the owner of that hand, and find Astarion looking at the mess of a mind flayer carcass with a comically shocked expression. He glances at you, then back at the body.

“Perhaps I should do the talking from now on darling.” 

You roll your eyes and step out of his hold, striding toward the path again, but as you turn Astarion grabs the strap of the supplies pack flung across your shoulder and uses your momentum to turn you back around again. 

“Well hold on just a second! What was that?”

“What was what?” you bluff.

Astarion drops the strap of your bag to cross his arms over his chest.

“Oh so we’re going to pretend I didn’t just watch you offer your brain up for a snack, change your mind, practically pass out, then wake back up again moments later and squash the mind flayer’s head like a cockroach? Great. Carry on then.”

You shrug, nod, and turn on your heel.

“I was obviously being sarcastic!” He shouts, jogging to catch up with you.

“Are you mad at me for killing a mind flayer?” 

“Quite the opposite, I quite enjoyed the little show you put on. I just want to know why I had to restrain you from letting that thing snack on your skull. If you want someone to take a bite out of you darling I guarantee you’d have much more fun with me.” 

“I can’t imagine how being exsanguinated would be fun in any way,” you deflect. He takes the bait and smiles.

“No need to imagine it when I can show you,” his voice drips with a dark promise that heats your blood. Intrusive thoughts bombard you with images of him following through with that promise, and you dig through your pack for a bottle of water, taking several long sips. He tosses his head back and barks a laugh at your nervous reaction.

“This is fun. I’ve spent two hundred years hiding what I am, smiling with closed lips, hoping my charm or the dim lighting of a tavern was enough to distract whoever I was talking to from the fact that my eyes are crimson. There’s no reason to hide what I am with you, you already know. It’s nice to just be as I am.”

You stop so suddenly it takes Astarion a second or two to realize you’re no longer next to him. He tosses you a worried look over his shoulder and turns around to face you.

“Did I say something wrong?”

A warm feeling you’re not entirely familiar with but could get used to fills your chest. You’re honored to be the first person Astarion has been able to be himself with, even if that person is a relentless flirt with fangs. In a way, you feel the same. You have a lot of experience pretending to be someone you aren’t too, and Astarion seems to be bringing out a whole new side of you. Whether that's a good thing or not has yet to be determined. You have a feeling he wouldn't want you to make a big deal about this, so you say the first thing that pops into your head.

“They’re not crimson." You clarify when he gives you a confused look, "Your eyes I mean. They’re brighter than that, like this.”

You hold up one of the poppy-red colored health potions.

“What?” He asks in a low tone that you can’t quite decipher. The purple runes on the boulder you both stopped in front of begin to glow, but you don’t perceive any magical threat from them, so you return your attention to the vampire.

“Your eyes… they’re bright red. Startlingly so.”

Astarion places a hand on his chest. He looks absolutely devastated.

“Please tell me you’re lying,” He begs.

“I… I’m lying?”

“Oh this is bad. Really really bad.” He begins to pace a short line back and forth. You’ve never been so confused in your life.

“Do you not know what color your eyes are?”

He stops pacing and looks at you incredulously.

“Of course I don’t! I haven’t been able to see my reflection since this happened!” 

He pulls down the collar of his white undershirt and reveals two perfectly spaced scars on his neck. A bite wound.

You nod, still confused.

“Right… that makes sense.”

“I can’t believe no one told me my eyes were bright red. I'm going to have to throw away an entire wardrobe.”

Your concerned expression drops instantly, and you close your eyes, pressing your fingers into your temples.

“For the love of- please tell me you aren’t freaking out right now because your eyes don’t match your outfit.”

Astarion doesn’t appear to hear you, he continues to pace, muttering to himself.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What?” You shout, and he finally stops pacing, startled to a stop.

You genuinely can’t tell if this is an elaborate bit, or if he’s being serious.

“You were enslaved for two centuries and the worst thing that has ever happened to you is that you found out your eyes were a slightly lighter shade than you thought they were?”

Astarion doesn’t break your stare, he holds your gaze and without any discernible hint that he’s lying or telling the truth he says,

“Absolutely.”

You shake your head in mute disbelief, and reach into the bag you took off one of the dead passengers from the beach.

“What are you looking for?” Astarion asks, peering over your shoulder.

“Holy water.”

“Now wait just a minute-”

“Ahem”

Both you and Astarion leap into action at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

Astarion whips the short bow off his shoulder and knocks an arrow so quickly you would have missed it if you blinked. 

You follow suit and pull your knife from your belt, turning to face the newcomer.

Your knife arm falls to the side, forgotten, when you take in the sight before you.

The glowing purple runes of the boulder were now spinning around a black hole, and sticking out of that void is a man’s arm.

An impatient and strained sounding voice, as if the owner is somewhere far away and has to shout to be heard, echoes out of the hole in the stone.

“I seem to be interrupting something, but I could really use a hand… anyone? Please?”

You sheathe your knife and step forward, glancing back at Astarion. He nods at the hand, his bow aimed at the swirling sigil. The unspoken message is clear. If anything goes wrong Astarion will shoot.

Comforted by that thought, you sidle up to the portal, an impulsive thought taking hold of you. 

What if you gave him a high-five?

You slap the hand.

Astarion snorts behind you, and the owner of the hand wags a finger at you.

“Perhaps I should have clarified. A helping hand please? I’m not sure how much time I have left before this portal closes, or what will happen if it closes while my arm is on the other side of it.”

With that in mind you abandon any notions of using magic to calm the sigil and just grip the hand in both of yours, pulling with all your might. There’s a terrifying moment when your grip slips, and you’re pulled partially into the portal as the owner of the arm falls back, but you regain your footing and try again.

This time it works, and a man launches through the portal a moment before it seals closed.

He lands half on top of you. Raising up on his arms, he looks down at you in wonder.

“You did it! I can’t believe that worked.” He laughs, sounding relieved.

“Ahem” Astarion clears his throat, much like the strange man did earlier.

His bow is trained on the stranger’s chest, his face passive, but in his eyes you see something darker than you’re used to seeing from him. 

The stranger scrambles back on his hands, standing quickly and dusting the dirt off of his robe. It looks expensive, the fabric is a thick rich purple overlaid with brown leather around his shoulders.. 

Astarion shifts the bow into one hand, and reaches the other toward you, eyes never straying from the man you just saved. You take his hand and allow him to pull you up, dusting yourself off as well. The man waves awkwardly at you both.

“Um. Hello. I’m Gale of Waterdeep.”

He lunges forward to grab your hand for a shake, but quicker than a snake strike Astarion’s bow is drawn again and aimed at his eye. He stumbles back, hands raised, and clears his throat nervously.

“Thank you for the rescue. My apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“No need to apologize.” You place a hand on Astarion’s shoulder and he reluctantly lowers the bow.

“I’m Tav. My friend with the trust issues here is Astarion. Don’t worry, he warms up quickly. Are you okay?” you ask Gale.

“You were on the nautiloid weren’t you?” Astarion asks before he can answer, and now that you take a closer look you can see that yes, Gale does look familiar.

You study him for a moment. His shoulder length brown hair is swept back, revealing a silver earring in one of his ears. Your eyes travel down to his well kept beard, and further to a fragment of a tattoo that starts at the base of his throat and ends somewhere under his robe. He looks remarkably put together for someone who just fell out of the sky. 

“I was about to ask you the same. Back on the ship, you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region were you not?”

You and Astarion both nod.

“This insertee that we speak of, the parasite - are you aware that after an excruciating gestational period it will turn us into mind flayers? It’s a process called ceremorphosis, and let me assure you: it is to be avoided.”

Astarion side-eyes you, his eyes seem to convey a message.

I don’t like him.

You give him what you hope is an admonishing glare in response.

Be nice.

Gale doesn’t seem to notice.

“You don’t happen to be a cleric by any chance do you? A doctor? A surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” He asks with a hopeful lilt to his voice and a flourish of his hand.

“Oh yes, Astarion here can knit with the best of them. Can’t you Astarion?”

The vampire twirls an arrow between his fingers and levels Gale with a bored look. 

“Define ‘needle’.”

Gale to his credit only eyes that arrow for a few moments before moving on.

“Well that’s not exactly what I had in mind. We’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

You nod and smile at the charming, if not a little long winded stranger.

“I say the more the merrier. Astarion?”

Astarion turns to you, a bit taken aback.

“You’re asking my opinion?”

“Yes.”

Astarion looks at you, then at the grinning stranger in the purple robe, and sighs.

“Fine. You can keep the wizard, but if he has an accident I’m not cleaning it up.”

Gale furrows his brow.

“What is that supposed to mean? And how’d you know I was a wizard?”

“Because you smell like a library-” You clap a hand over Astarion’s mouth and immediately regret it when his eyes light up with what you know is the urge to bite your hand.

You pull away before he can make up his mind one way or the other. 

“Ignore my pale friend here, he gets cranky when he’s hungry, we should get going.” you say to Gale in an overly cheerful voice, who is now looking at you two with thinly veiled suspicion of some sort.

“You two seem close.”

You laugh, a bit hysterically.

“Would you believe me if I told you he tried to kill me an hour ago?”

Gale looks the pale elf up and down. He's still deftly twirling an arrow in his hand.

"I would actually." He says.

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, I was just prepared to do so if you didn’t answer my questions.”

“Oh okay, you should have told me that sooner Astarion that makes all the difference.”

You begin trudging along the path before you, unlikely companions in tow.

Astarion nods, his expression serious.

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

Gale walks in conflicted silence for a moment before curiosity seems to get the best of him.

"So if he tried to kill you, why are you traveling together?"

Astarion addresses the wizard before you can.

"Strange times make for strange companions Gale of Waterdeep."

~

The sun lowers steadily in the sky as you walk. It feels like walking is all you know how to do at this point. Gale and Astarion bickered for a little while over Astarion's refusal to call Gale anything except his full title "Gale of Waterdeep" but even that had died down as the heat and exhaustion caught up with them, too. Your legs burn and the temptation to turn in for the night plagues you, but you know the wilds of the sword coast are no place to sleep, and you repeat the mantra that has pushed you along these last few miles.

One more step. One more step. One more step.

You're brought out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder.

Astarion holds a finger to his lips and tilts his head toward the rocky hill in front of you. He hears something. Someone.

"Zorra was right. Yellow as a toad, and twice as ugly." a masculine voice spits.

"The thing's dangerous. Leave it for the Goblin's to kill." pleads a feminine one.

You reach the top of the hill. Shock freezes your blood when you see the thing they are arguing about. It's your Githyanki ally from the nautiloid, suspended in a tiny cage several feet off the ground above two tieflings. Your tadpole squirms as she meets your eyes, and this time instead of swapping minds, your minds seem to connect. She stares at you intently. Her lips don't move, but you hear her next words all the same.

You again. Get rid of them.

Well. The Gith are not exactly famous for their manners so you suppose the abrasiveness is to be expected.

"And if it escapes? How will you- oh. It appears we have guests."

The man catches your eye as you step into view.

You raise you hand in greeting and nod toward the trapped Githyanki.

"Oh she'll escape alright. The Gith are horribly tenacious creatures. Incredibly dangerous too. We have some experience with them. Why don't you leave her to us and we'll take care of it."

You lie through your teeth. Astarion and Gale nod along, but the three of you make a rather odd little group. Astarion looks the part of a Baldurian noble high elf, except his pupils are red and there's dried blood on his hands. Gale, the human wizard, would have no reason to have any experience with the Gith. And you, well you look like you just fell from the sky.

The tiefling hesitates. He's obviously suspicious of the three odd strangers who have appeared seemingly out of nowhere and offered to solve his problems, but the desire to no longer have the problems wins out and he nods, turning to his companion.

"She's right. Let's go. We need to check out that blast."

Your curiosity is piqued, but you want them gone as quickly as possible, so you don't ask about the blast. They take off down the path.

You turn to Lae'zel, suspended in what appears to be a goblin trap.

"Enough gawking!" She barks, "Get me down."

Maybe you're gaining some confidence out here in the wilds, maybe it's Astarion's influence, but the next words out of your mouth shock you.

"Say please."

Astarion laughs.

Lae'zel is less amused.

She rears back as if you just insulted her.

"Never."

You shrug, turning back to Astarion.

"Those teiflings looked well fed. I'll bet you there's some sort of civilization near by."

"I'll make that wager." He turns towards you, hiding his face from Gale, and gives you a devilish watch this smile.

"What say you Gale of Waterdeep?"

"If you say 'Gale of Waterdeep' one more time I will incinerate you."

Astarion winks at you before rounding on Gale, hand over his heart in mock betrayal.

"That's rather rude Gale of Waterdeep. I thought we were friends."

"Free me from this cage before I slaughter you all like the chattering animals you are!" Lae'zel hisses.

You look up at her with a frown. She sighs deeply.

"Please" She mutters.

Recognizing that's as good as you're going to get, you raise your hand, aiming for the ropes that tie the base of the trap to the rest of the cage.

"Ignis!"

Flame shoots from your hand and snaps the flimsy ropes. The bottom drops out of the frame and with it an angry Githyanki.

She lands in a crouch and stands slowly as you approach. You have to admit the move is pretty badass.

"It appears the tadpole hasn't scrambled all of your senses. Auspicious. But the longer we wait, the more it consumes. My people possess a cure for this infection. I must find a creche, you will join me."

How curious. You know a fair amount about the Gith, and you're quite sure lending a helping hand to others is not written in their doctrine.

"And what exactly is a... creche?" Astarion asks.

Lae'zel turns her withering stare to him.

"It is many things. A hatchery, a training grounds, a shelter. Githyanki protocol is clear: When infected with a ghaik tadpole, we must report to a caretaker for purification."

Gale crosses his arms.

"A simple thank you for saving your life wouldn't be amiss"

Lae'zel glares at the wizard, and he takes an intimidated step back, raising his hands.

"Or not."

She smiles, satisfied with that response.

"You might as well suggest a wyvern bow to worms. The cure I offer you will suffice as thanks."

It seems almost too easy, a solution to all your problems stands before you.

"I'm not so sure about this." Astarion mutters, and Lae'zel scowls.

She doesn't get a chance to respond, however, before the sound of pounding footsteps somewhere further in the distance has you all pausing to listen.

That's when you hear the screaming.

--------

Tag tiiiime

If you asked me to be tagged and I didn't include you please let me know, and if you didn't asked to be tagged and you are ~ You're stuck here now and I'm not sorry :b

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[the-solar-system52]

INK DEMON AND BENDY THEORY

So Bendy's official Instagram account just posted something very interesting, and I want to theorise about it!

For awhile the social media account for Bendy have been doing these posts where Bendy takes a photo of a location from BATDR and steals an item from that location, and people have to guess what he took. I thought it was just an unimportant game to give the social media managers something to do, like Steelwool's 'Guess The Sketch', but now it's actually important.

The picture shows that Bendy built all his stolen items in the shape of his Ink Demon form, with an interesting caption. Some fans have took this post to mean that Ink Demon ordered small Bendy to make a statue of him, but I don't think that's true.

I'm a big fan of the "Bendy is the Ink Demon with the mind of a child, and they are NOT seperate people" theory, and I don't think this post disproves that.

So if you know my past TPOH and FNAF theories, then you know its time for another round of:

SOLAR NEEDLESSLY OVERANALYZING THE GRAMATICAL STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES TO MAKE A THEORY EVEN THOUGH MOST PEOPLE DON'T PAY THAT MUCH ATTENTION TO HOW THEY PHRASE THINGS

Lets dissect this single sentence like a frog!!

"His inner Ink Demon is always on his mind-"

If Joey Drew Studios had phrased this as "IN his mind", then I see how this would be more literal. Meaning that the Ink Demon is a separate entity to Bendy and is literally living IN his mind.

But they didn't, they said "ON his mind". This phrase is usually used more metaphorically. If I'm hungry, I can say that dinner is 'on my mind', but that doesn't mean my dinner is actuallly INSIDE my brain. All this means is that Bendy has been thinking about his memories of his Ink Demon form, and therefore made a statue of him when he looked like that. Possibly to try and communicate his complicated feelings through art, or maybe he collected those specific items almost subconsciously.

Second of all, if the Ink Demon really was ordering Bendy around from inside his mind to make that statue for him, then I don't think it looks right. In BATIM, there are multiple shrines made by followers of the Ink Demon like Sammy, that look more demonic. As you can see, Bendy's statue doesn't look anything like that. Not a candle or pentagram in site! I feel like if this was made by the request of the Ink Demon, it would look way more like the ones from BATIM. But it doesn't! Instead, I think it looks more like it was made by Bendy on his own accord, like a children's drawing.

"His inner Ink Demon-"

Again, Joey Drew Studios decided to take the less-literal more-metaphorical route of this phrasing. If they just said "THE ink demon" then it would imply the Ink Demon as his own separate entity. But saying "inner" when referring to a buried memory of someone's past is not uncommon to do for regular use as well. For example, if I draw cats a certain way then I can say it's my "inner warrior cats fan" coming out. That doesn't mean there's actually a warrior cats fan inside my brain ordering me around, it's symbolic.

"on his mind, searching for an exit."

This also doesn't disprove my theory. The Keepers technology is preventing him from turning into his Ink Demom form. This means he can't use his powers and is weaker and smaller. It's clear he at least vaguely remembers what the Keepers did to him because of how scared he is of the GENT building.

Since he is in an incredibly hostile environment, it's no surprise he'd be thinking of a time where he wasn't as vulnerable. And he would also be trying to find a way to be strong again, in his own child-like way. Which explains the statue.

Personally, I find this all way more interesting then "rrr ink demon scary rrr", but to each their own.

I have more evidence for my "Bendy is the Ink Demon with the mind of a child, and they are NOT seperate people" theory outside of this instagram description, but I've already written enough for this post. I may make another post about it but we'll see. Please comment if you have anything else to add ^^

[spinji]

How old is AFO and OFA

[Mile long post incoming]

Long story short this is a theory/headcanon/thought exercise to keep my brain busy while I'm bored at work. I wanted to figure out a more precise estimate for how old All for One is since his birth is essentially the earliest moment of quirk society emerging and so his life spans the entire timeline of this story which I find interesting. And then the whole thing spiraled into a full One for All timeline of headcanons, so enjoy that.

To start though, it would be easy to guess that he's 120-and-some-change because of Garaki. Mic claimed Garaki would be about 120 (and we're just assuming he's exactly right instead of guesstimating for the sake of things) and Garaki confirms that his quirk allows him to live longer than a regular human lifespan, and when they met, All for One was given a copy so he could also live absurdly long. But I want to try a more exact method to ensure that his generations of adversaries could have actually reasonably worked time-wise. So, we can use Garaki's age to check our work but, reasonably, All for One should fall somewhere in the 120-140 range.

Right off the bat, we do have a frustrating lack of information regarding ages and time passing but there are a few things we can establish. Firstly, we know AFO and Yoichi are twins, so when determining age we can start both AFO individually and the OFA users as a collective at the same point. Secondly, Yoichi and AFO are shown to be the first people to have developed a quirk in the way we see in current time. There were vaguely quirk like mutations in people before that (like with their mother) but quirks as we know them are presented to us as originating from these two twins.

I bring this up because while Yoichi, Kudou, and Bruce are all in the same vague realm of "adult" at the same point in time, Yoichi has to be the oldest of the three. Even if it is only by a few years, Yoichi and AFO preceed any characters with a quirk. And while we're on the topic of Kudou and Bruce, we can safely say Kudou is the older one of the duo. He's confirmed to be the head leader of the resistance group against AFO and Bruce is second in command, so, frankly it would just be bizarre if Bruce was older in age but lower in rank. That being said, I don't think their difference in age would be significant.

Exact ages is where things get vague and headcanon-y. There isn't really any hard evidence I can point to other than "that sounds about right" and "I guess they look about that age" in an animation style that is notorious for just slapping a, borderline arbitrary, age on any design regardless of logic. So, rather than trying to justify it too much, my personal choices for their ages are, at Yoichi's time of death, Yoichi is 32, Kudou is 28, and Bruce is 27. At this point in the story AFO has been amassing power and followers for a while now, long enough for a resistance force to rise up against him but not long enough that he's considered it more than a nuisance for other people to handle until now. Early thirties seems pretty reasonable, possibly a bit too young but this man has also been killing people since he was 0.

For Kudou and Bruce I aimed for the older side of military age. Old enough to lead an operation like this but still young enough that AFO's rise to power was during most of their lifetime. Also, there's the issue of the age ceiling. Thanks to Shinomori (who I will get to), users 2 through 7 cannot have lived to be over 40 years old. That is a hard, non-negotiable cap on their ages as the strain of OFA alongside a different biological quirk drastically shortens a person's natural lifespan.

Anyway, back to AFO's age. If Yoichi dies at 32, this would also make him 32 (duh) and given the climate of the world at this point, I think Kudou lasted the shortest with OFA, personally. He receives the quirk immediately upon Yoichi's death after getting his blood in his mouth (Yoichi probably thought of him in his dying moments aww) and likely a week or two later is when Kudou and Bruce find out about it. The chapter frames Kudou finding out Yoichi carried on into him at the same time AFO has the same epiphany so, generously?? I give Kudou a year. Max.

All for One is now filled with seething hatred for Kudou specifically after Yoichi's death, so everything has been put on the back burner so he can both take the quirk from Kudou to get his "possession" back (ew) and to kill Kudou along with everyone he ever knew, loved, spoke to, looked at, or had any genetic lineage with. Even for a guy this powerful that is going to take a bit. A year gives AFO time to find information and strike down the entire resistance and time for Kudou and Bruce to think of a counter strategy and gain an understanding for how OFA works. So, Bruce takes the quirk at 28, Kudou dies at 29, and All for One kills him at 33.

After Kudou's death is a very big blank spot where I need to unfortunately just blindly headcanon again, so bare with me. Kudou and Bruce's plan was for Bruce to take the quirk and slip away from the massacre of the resistance to build OFA stronger and come back to finish the job. I believe that Bruce met Shinomori while he was lying low. Judging by the one image we have of Bruce confronting AFO, he did seemingly attempt to rally people together to defeat him, which would have taken a bit longer than when Kudou was leading an established resistance, since he didn't already have people under him. But he clearly thought to pass the quirk on again as a backup in case he lost, which is why he chose Shinomori to take it. With time needed to plan this attack and also get AFO's sights off him, I'd give it about five years between AFO's fight with Kudou and his fight with Bruce. It's estabished that Shinomori takes the quirk at 22 so, Bruce dies at 33, and All for One kills him at 39.

Shinomori is actually a very clear-cut piece of the timeline. He takes the quirk at 22 and dies at 40, having passed the quirk to the next user shortly before that because he realized his health was rapidly declining. He keeps the quirk for a total of 18 years, making All for One 57 at the time of his death. Judging by how the flashback panels are structured, AFO has received Garaki's quirk by this point.

Also, we have reached the point where every following user of OFA has been a professional hero, so I think it's safe to assume that each link in the chain met through either being colleagues or possibly through a sidekick internship. I doubt All Might was the first one to think of scouting hero students for successors. I'm going to assume that users 5, 6, and 7 were somewhere in the 16-24 range when they received the quirk for that very reason.

Moving on though, Banjo is the next user. I do think Banjo knew Shinomori for a somewhat significant time before his death. Banjo clearly knows about Shinomori's reclusive nature in some level of detail based on how they interact as vestiges and while it is possible for the already deceased OFA users to peer into the thoughts and memories of the current user, it doesn't appear to be the same retroactively, unless it's something the vestiges want to show the current user. All this to say I came to conclusion that Banjo was already likely a pro hero when he recieved the quirk from Shinomori. Shinomori realized what was happening and reached out to one of the few trusted friends he had to carry on the burden because he knew he could handle it. So I'm going to peg Banjo at being about 22 when he took the power as well. Old enough to be experienced as a pro with enough time to have actually met Shinomori before he died. Just like all the others, Banjo died to All for One after being trapped under rubble and gave the power to En just before he croaked. Given his bordering-on-middle-aged appearance, I'm going to put forward Banjo dying at 37 and All for One killing him at 72.

En also has very little information on him but since we only have speculation to work with, might as well stop apologizing for it. En appears to be significantly younger than Banjo, so I suspect he was an internship student to Banjo while he was a pro. Putting En at 17 when he recieved the power is both enough time for them to meet and get to know each other with En having to take the mantle from him sooner than either of them anticipated. En's appearance is still quite young, but he was confirmed to be a pro hero for a time, so he didn't have as short a run as Kudou. Nana was also already some level of hero (whether student or pro is unclear) at the time she recieved the power. Rather than mentor and student I believe they were fledgling colleagues, since Gran Torino fills the role as Nana's older pro mentor. All of this makes me vaguely place En dying at 25 and All for One killing him at 80.

I already mentioned Nana potentially being colleagues with En as their way of meeting. I still think she may have been younger than him at the time but not significantly so. En is another user that is shown passing on the power while at death's door and the following panel that shows Nana accepting it doesn't make her look significantly younger than how she does in any given scene in the series. So I don't think she was a child when she took the quirk but I'm going to set my guess at 20. But! While Nana is another character without a listed age, surprisingly, we can figure it out a good guess with actual evidence this time. Her son Kotaro, grandson Tomura, and pupil All Might all have stated, confirmed ages that we can use to make a feasible timeline for Nana.

Currently, All Might is 57 and Tomura is 21, meaning All Might was 36 when Tomura was born. Kotaro was killed at 32, when Tomura was 5, making him 27 when Yagi was 36. Nana died when All Might was in his last year at UA, making him 18, meaning Kotaro was 9 at the time. Nana gave All Might OFA when he was in middle school, judging by his uniform, so we'll assume he was 14 and Kotaro was 5. When Nana and All Might first meet, Nana states that her family is all dead, in a cold and distant manner. But that wouldn't be true if Kotaro was still in her life. This would mean that she met Yagi after the death of her husband and after Kotaro was sent away. And I'd wager to bet it was very soon after. Assuming Nana gave birth to Kotaro at around 25 years old (perfectly reasonable) then she would have passed the quirk to All Might at 30 and died at 34 after having the quirk for 14 years, making All for One 94 at the time of the transfer.

From here things get a lot less speculative. All Might is listed as 55 at the beginning of the manga, adding on Izuku's last year of middle school and first year of high school puts him at 57. We already established he received the quirk at 14, meaning he held the power for 42 years + 1 year quirkless before All for One was finally killed at the grand age of 136. Which would mean that quirks have existed for just shy of one and a half centuries now and we fit comfortably inside our estimate goal!

Now, I'm one of those bad at math gays so if you have other thoughts on this, feel free to speak up. And you're more than welcome to adopt these age headcanons if you want. Later.

[jennarations]

Would love your landoscar fic recs 💌

your wish is my absolute command 🫡🫡

i’ve gone back to college and started student teaching and gotten covid and adopted a kitten all in the last two weeks so i haven’t gotten to read as much but here is what i’ve got! the key is the same as the lestappen fic rec:

> (Title) +/= (Multichaptered/One-Shot)

(Summary)

!!! (Link)

• (Tags - please note these are just the tags I saw relevant to myself, double check the fics themselves for any other tags you might deem relevant!) *(Word count)

Here we go! I’m also tagging some of the bestest and loveliest authors at the bottom of the post, go send them some love!! (Putting it under a Read More for all of our collective sanity)

My one (1) work (shameless self plug heheheh):

> Thunderstruck =

Lando has a childhood fear of thunderstorms and in a record-breaking year for rainfall, Oscar Piastri becomes his new teammate.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50579323?view_adult=true

• Falling in love, Slight pining, Fluff, Humor *8.1k

—

> If You’re Barbie, And I’m Barbie, Then Who’s Driving the Bus? =

Anyways, the driver room is largely quiet at the moment. But not entirely, much to Lando’s enjoyment.

Buzzing from Oscar’s headphones, loud enough for Lando to hear the words, is a song from Barbie.

Charli XCX, no less.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48940792#main

• Fluff, Comedy *800 words

> Mortifying! Anyways, =

Mortifying interaction, but he’d survive. Besides, it’s not like the cashier was that cut–

“Cute enough to make you stupid, huh Norris?” He could hear his smile before he saw his face, a proper Cheshire grin.

“Fuck off mate,” Lando groaned, already trying to scrub the cashier from his brain. Except for the Australian accent, he decided; that bit could stay. Maybe his eyes, too, as tired as they had seemed. And his hair, which looked so soft in that kind of ridiculous side part.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49328047/chapters/124474876?

• College AU, Clumsy Lando, Meet-cute *2.3k

> The New Normal =

He wears a lot of shorts.

Lando had thought that Daniel wore shorts a lot, and then along came Oscar. It must be something about Australians.

Carlos never wore shorts.

Oscar’s pale, unblemished, muscular (and hairy) thighs spill out of the team issued black shorts whenever they sit to film content, or sit in meetings, or whenever Oscar sits in Lando’s general vicinity while wearing them.

They’re not a distraction.

OR Lando’s very healthy obsession with his new teammate’s thighs.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49335997/chapters/124496539?

• Pining, Slight smut *8k

> Invocations One Fall Away From the Concrete = ♥️

“Okay,” Lando says. “What’s your power?”

“Telekinesis,” Oscar replies a little too easily, like he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it. In fact, he’s already looking back down at his form. Lando doesn’t miss the way he seems completely stumped by the ‘Birth date’ square though.

Telekinetics are far and few between. You’re probably more likely to be struck by lightning twice than to meet a telekinetic. They’re so highly sought after in the hero industry that any telekinetic baby would automatically have a net worth of at least three hundred billion US dollars the second it was born. Moreover Oscar's an Oxy. It’s like, the jackpot of jackpots. This guy’s simply unreal on paper.

Lando scrunches up his face, rolls his eyes and says, “alright.” He shrugs. “Nothing to write home about, then.”

--------------------

AKA the low-key superpowers au where they have to activate their powers doing a really specific thing. Oscar's activation is a mystery to Lando, but it involves a lot of good stuff, pinky promise. (Lando Wink™)

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49508506/chapters/124953475?

• Non-Driver AU, Superpowers AU, Roommates, Slight Angst, Fluff, Humor *10.3k

> Only Found = ♥️

“Hey, well. No strings attached, right?” Oscar says, strategically.

Lando smiles and says, “hell yeah. And now that that’s established, what’s your stance on aliens? Also, do you still want your cake?”

--

cinderella soulmates au where whatever you lose, your soulmate finds. except: oscar has a soulmate and lando is a No-Match, a person who doesn't have a soulmate.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49218676#main

• Non-Driver AU, Soulmates AU, Lawyer!Oscar, Streamer!Lando, Angst, Fluff *6.8k

> Carried Away =

"Oscar," Lando said. "Don't hate me, alright, but I've—”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48871015#main

• Non-Driver AU, Fake Relationship, Angst, Fluff, Humor *22.1k

> Little Bit of Love =

“I’m freezing,” Lando says. Whines, really. “Don’t be mean, Oscar, I feel like shit.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49143811

• Sick fic, Fluff, Realization of Feelings *4.7k

> Signed Sealed =

Delivered

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48959461#main

• Text fic, NSFW pics *4.3k

> Smokeshow =

Because Oscar won the American football challenge, Lando had to wear the cheerleader uniform.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48546973#main

• Smut, Cheerleader uniform Lando, Brat!Lando *3.5k

> I’ll Kiss You First =

“Uh,” Oscar says, when they’re in the car on their way to the airport. “I think you’re—um. Going into heat, mate.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/47264011#main

• A/B/O, Alpha!Oscar, Omega!Lando, Smut *3.1k

> Sunflower Seeds =

Not worth dwelling on, really. Oscar doesn’t have to understand him to be on his team. If he were a pitcher, it would be different; Oscar has to get his pitchers in order to do his job as a catcher well. Lando isn’t a pitcher, though. So it’s fine.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49596088/chapters/125175172?

• Non-Driver AU, Baseball AU, Realization of Feelings, Fluff *8.6k

> Chronically Bitchless But Still Wifed Up = ♥️

Lando wasn’t above throwing his weight around in order to get what he wanted, at least in some circumstances. And he wanted to meet Oscar Piastri.

In general, he wanted to go to a MotoGP weekend and probably could have either bought tickets and waited around there like a normal person or asked one of his actual sort-of friends in the paddock to hang out in their garage, but the more specific desire was to meet Oscar Piastri.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49301212#main

• MotoGP!Oscar, Driver!Lando, Fluff, Humor *8.3k

> Negative Splits =

So officially, Oscar Piastri, pretty good steepler and pretty bad pacer, was now a professional runner.

They wanted him to steeple, mostly, though he’d be doing cross country in the fall, and Lando had pinky promised him, mid-distance guy to mid-distance guy, that if he wanted to get into the 3k flat indoor then he would get him in.

Oscar didn’t really want to ask how he planned on doing that. Felt safer not to ask.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48161206#main

• Non-Driver AU, Professional Runner AU, Injuries, Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort *10.1k

> Thinkin Bout Your Touch =

Lando’s brain gets so occupied by the thought it shouldn’t come as a surprise really, when a few rounds later Oscar says, “Dare.” Lando blurts out, “Let me suck your dick.”

There’s a long, awkward silence in which they just stare at each other, Oscar’s expression completely unreadable. “Uh,” he eventually says. “I think a dare is something I’m supposed to do.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48704749?view_adult=true#main

• PWP, Blowjob *2.3k

> I’ve Tasted Blood (And I Want More) =

Lando grabs a pillow and hits him with it, while Oscar laughs loudly. His fangs are on full display, white and sharp and pretty. “You know what I mean, you dickhead!”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Oscar says, eyes twinkling. “You want me to use you as a human Capri Sun. You know, like a weirdo.”

“God, you’re making this so much worse than it is,” Lando says, burying his face in his hands. It’s. Well, it’s embarrassing, but Oscar also hasn’t outright said no, so. You know what they say. In for a penny, in for a pound. “So, will you?” And then, just in case, he adds. “Suck my blood?”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48136999#main

• Vampire!Oscar, PWP *5.6k

> Legerdemain =

“You’re so modest it’s disgusting,” Lando says. “Michelle’s told me all about it. You winning against some master back in Australia. Anyways, she wants to hop on the bandwagon, get us to play chess, take photos after the weekend. She thinks you could teach me. It would show that you’re pedantic and that I’m pushing past my comfort zone...”

Oscar scoffs. “If Michelle’s only taking photos, why do I need to teach you it? Couldn’t we just pose with a chess set, like the Williams drivers?”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49690744/chapters/125422075?

• Chess, Humor, Sexual Tension *5.8k

> What You Do To Me =

“Oh,” Oscar says, because what else are you supposed to say when your teammate says ‘I wish I still had a girlfriend so I could fuck some of that frustration out of me’. “I mean. I uh. I could give you a blowjob? I’d suggest a fuck but I don’t have any lube on me right now and I’m guessing you don’t either.”

Huh, would you look at that. Looks like the award for ‘most insane statement of the night’ doesn’t go to Lando after all.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/47993518?view_adult=true#main

• PWP, Blowjob *2.5k

> Purring in My Lap (cause he loves me) =

The cat thing ends up getting sort of explained in Bahrain, when Lando walks into his driver room and finds a small orange cat sitting on his couch.

Oscar’s cat, presumably.

And he kind of looks like Oscar, too. Slender, lean, and with a slightly grumpy, unimpressed expression on his face. It makes Lando laugh a little. Like owner, like pet, clearly. “Should I just call you Oscat, then,” Lando jokes, giving the cat a little head scratch.

The cat, Oscat, stops rubbing at Lando’s hand and just stares at him instead. Lando would almost say he was looking at him disapprovingly, but it is a cat, so he’s probably just imagining things.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/47878867#main

• Cat!Oscar, Fluff, Slight Angst *5k

> In Limbo =

“So what, you like me?”

Tick this box for yes, and this box for no. Fold it tight. Slide the paper under the desk. Don’t let anyone see.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49619383#main

• PWP, Dubious Consent *2.3k

> Eyes on Me =

He just doesn’t understand why Oscar stares so much.

It first comes to his attention at the pre-season media shoots. They have to be photographed in the new gear, and the new suits, and all the while a video camera is rolling to capture content for some behind the scenes pre-season footage. Lando likes to look back at the content they film, just to see how awkward he is.

He looks over some of the test photos while the videos load, and he sees Oscar’s eyes on him a lot of the time. Lando’s own are on the camera, his posture relaxed as he goes through the motions of what the team asks of him.

OR

Lando notices just how much Oscar stares at him, until one day he realises just how much he stares back.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49769368#main

• Mutual Pining *3.8k

> Home Is Wherever You Are =

‘You know, we could ask Carlos to babysit tonight,’ Lando mumbled against his mouth.

Oscar pulled back and hit his husband’s chest while laughing at him and shaking his head.

‘The man just arrived, babe, we can’t ask that right away!’

Lando pouted and pulled Oscar back against his chest. ‘But it’s been so long since it’s just been the two of us.’

OR: Lando and Oscar spend the day with their daughter and friends before finally having some alone time

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49909321

• Kid!fic, Established Relationship, Fluff *4.1k

> Grand Theft August =

Oscar Piastri, eh? It's not the worst idea he's ever had.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49975555?view_adult=true#main

• Angst, Humor, Smut *6.9k

> We’re All in the Butter But Some of Us Are Looking At the Cars = ♥️

Under it, the cross stitch with the Mandela quote, there was another one. A different one. Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars. Stars, again. And then the one beneath that was also about stars. Weird, he thought, then went to the till to wait for his sister.

Above the pile, too high for twelve year old Oscar to read, a sign was stamped. SECTION #13: REACH FOR THE STARS.

Twenty two year old Oscar rests his nose to the glass and looks at the clouds.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49696357

• Angst, Slow burn, Prose, Realization of Feelings *14.3k

> Terraforming =

“WORMHOLES! An Einstein brain child. They are created when FTL objects puncture the bed sheet that is our universe. Going through them should be a trip through timespace, which sounds cool, except it’s not because we never know what’s on the other side—”

“I think you meant fabric, not bed sheet,” Oscar says.

Lando rolls his eyes. “It’s a metaphor, mate.”

“For what?”

“For like. The fabric of the universe.”

“Huh.”

“Shut up.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50099659

• Space AU, Non-Linear Narrative, Angst, Happy Ending *8.8k <- I literally haven’t read this yet because it was uploaded today but i love enzo and all their stuff is fantastic so i’m rec’ing it anyway :)

> Superdense Neutron Star//Post Supernova +

It felt good to laugh. Thursdays already kind of sucked, all of the walking and talking and nothing to do, even when he wasn’t being drilled on the abrupt shift of his career. It was manageable because it had to be; because there was half a season left and a championship spot left to fight for and a team that was still his home, even if he’d just been delivered the eviction notice.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49981615/chapters/126195823

• Angst, Fluff, Ambiguous Ending *21.8k <- i also have not had the time to read this one because of life, but i trust leaf with my feelings (and my life) so this also goes on the list.

EDIT 11/5: More additions to the list!

> Unraveled =

Lando does not have a thing for his roommate.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50085112/chapters/126476167?

• Non-Driver AU, Roommate AU, Bartender!Lando, Realization of Feelings *7.1k

> It’s Not Queerbaiting, It’s Saving the World =

Lando bursts into Oscar’s room without knocking. He’s red in the face and panting, sweat collecting on his forehead like he just ran a marathon.

“You need to kiss me.”

or, the drivers stage a protest, of sorts. Oscar might lose his mind.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49710619#main

• Fluff, Humor *1.6k

> Melepathic. Or Something =

“Thank God we used condoms,” mutters Oscar later, when they’re presentable, no doubt thinking back to last week when they. Well. Lando peeks out the door to check if the hallway is clear. It is.

“Yeah,” he says as he gestures Oscar out. “See you in a few, mate.” Oscar slips through and Lando picks up his phone again, sees a new message. Up for some fun tonight?

sure, says Lando after a moment. Amen to short refractory periods and all that.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/47589115#main

• Smut, Miscommunication, Happy Ending, FWB *8.5k

> What Would You Do (If I Went To Touch You Now?) =

“Okay, so they both like each other. We need to get them together.”

“How? Lando’s too freaked out to think straight and Oscar is the human embodiment of the standing man emoji.”

Charles purses his lips for a moment before he snatches his boyfriend’s phone up from the other side of the table.

“What are you doing?”

“Initiating Mission Landoscar.”

“Did you just make that up?”

Charles waves at him dismissively as he begins texting, and Max lays his head down on the coffee table and prays for strength.

***

In which Max tries to prove to an oblivious Charles how glaringly obvious it is that Lando is head over heels in love with Oscar. When Charles finally gets with the program, Lestappen go on A Mission™ to get the two idiots to admit their feelings for each-other, but it’s easier said than done.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48745483/chapters/122963314

• Lestappen as a plot device, Angst, Slight Smut, Fluff, Humor, Texting, Escape Room Shenanigans *29.7

> Soft Vanilla Foreplay = ♥️

“Oh shit, you’re,” Lando gasps, smiles. “You’re a. You’re Robin Hood. You’re a kitty Robin Hood.”

Oscar stops grinding. “Can we have this talk tomorrow?”

Lando laughs and comes down to place a kiss on Oscar’s lips. “Yeah. Oh yeah. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be great. I’m sooooo busy right now. Hmm.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50382910/chapters/127293583?

• Vigilantes, Cat!Oscar, Hacker!Lando, Non-Driver AU, Slight angst, Humor, Happy Ending *8.6k

> Is it Gay to Watch Your Teammate on TikTok? (Asking for a friend) +

He’s sitting on the bed, dinner long since picked at, with his knees pulled up to his chest. He feels close to hyperventilating.

It’s playing on loop, some sappy little edit captioned “i need to find someone to look at me the same way oscar looks at lando”.

And really, who the fuck was going to tell him that Oscar smiles at him like that?

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/127611460?

• Fluff, Humor, Ship aware Lando (containment breach of RPF), Pining *4.6k

> HOCKEY!!! Shrimp Colors :) =

Montreal puts Oscar on waivers after years - years of bouncing from the feeder team up to the league, and then back down. Edmonton picks him up.

Edmonton keeps him. Lando does, too.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50562061/chapters/127728067?

• Non-Driver AU, Hockey AU, Leaf puts sports boys into other sports, Angst, Fluff *13.8k

> My Shelter in a Hurricane =

Oscar wants to help Lando get better after the disappointment of Qatar's GP qualification. He doesn't know how...

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50639854/chapters/127923673?

• Fluff, Established Relationship, Post-Qatar Quali, Slight Angst *1.4k

> Pretty When You Cry =

Lando wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry, rip his hairs out, punch a hole into a wall, maybe shove someone, or maybe all of the above.

Or: the mclaren boys comfort each other after that shipwreck of a qualifying.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50624551?view_adult=true#main

• Fluff, Slight Angst *1.4k

> Already Home = ♥️

Lando takes a deep steadying breath. “I think I might be in love with Oscar.” He says, and hates how immediately when he says the words, he knows it’s true.

“Right,” Max says, nodding. “And?”

“What do you mean, ‘and?’” Lando says, a little outraged. “I can’t be in love with him! We’re married! This is like, a disaster waiting to happen!”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50704861/chapters/128087614?

• Non-Driver AU, Fake Marriage, Falling in Love, Angst, Humor, Fluff *32.5k

> Do You Like Me? Y/N =

oscar & lando have an awkward plane conversation, aided by uquiz.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50706235/chapters/128091004?

• Fluff *3.8k

> Recreate the Sun =

“You know who you sound like when you say that?” Lando asks absently, tossing the open bag of Skittles to one side and hoisting himself up the bed to rest against the pillows, head tipped back, the jut of his Adam’s apple catching stark in the TV’s flickering light.

On some level, Oscar already knows what’s coming. The Cheshire cat grin Lando gives to the ceiling near enough confirms it.

“Who?”

“Mark Webber.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48632239

• PWP, Weed use, Oscar/Mark mentions *3k

> Landoscar Cooking Show =

Lando and Oscar's love story through food-related posts on Instagram

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50825998#main

• Picture fic, Social media fic, Fluff *0k

> Little Renaissance = ♥️

And Oscar - people said he didn’t like the spotlight, didn’t know how to capture it and keep it the way Lando did. They always compared the two of them, in that regard. Even after Oscar left. But they weren’t right, the strangers, not after the first year at least.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50824324/chapters/128393929?

• Future Fic, Retirement, Angst, Pining, Acceptance, Happy Ending, Prose *14.2k

> Those Magic Changes =

“Yeah, right.” Oscar’s beer tastes stale in his mouth. “Sure there’s other perks though, right?”

Logan’s attention has been taken by his phone. Probably a girl, Oscar thinks, or his Mom. Maybe there’s a particularly big fish being shared in the family group chat. He types out a message then locks it with purpose, chucking it face down on the table.

“Yeah, I mean. You know what they say happens when you podium, right? The girl thing?”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49308133#main

• Fem!Oscar, Smut, PWP *7.8k

> Sometimes I Start To Think You Hate Me Too =

Lando seems to have come to the conclusion that his strategy of appeasing him isn't working, so he opts for being impersonal, objective. "You were optimistic, Carlos locked up, you both crashed. It was a racing incident, and you - you are being dumb about it."

It doesn't work.

He scoffs, upset, he has never left anything well alone, he digs his heels deeper. "I wasn't too optimistic, I was inexperienced, was I not?"

OR,

The deep fear of yearning, wanting and needing without understanding the jealousy that consumes you. Breaking and breathing heavily under an awfully put facade of everything going well.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49659349/chapters/125339467?

• Angst, Inner Turmoil, Fluff, Happy Ending *3.7k

> Mine =

All in all, it’d been a shit weekend for Oscar. He knew he was beating himself up over understandable, expected rookie mistakes, he knew it was a great learning opportunity, he knew that the damage to his car hadn’t been entirely his fault on both occasions. Even if he didn’t show it or express it outwardly, it stung to watch his teammate stand on the podium - P3 - after all that’d happened. It hurt even more when that P3 became P2 before they’d even finished celebrating.

Lando moved up in the championship, so did the team. He deserved it, but it hurt like a bitch.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/51053692?view_adult=true#main

• PWP, Dom!Oscar *2.8k

> Sanctus = ♥️

“Nessun maggior dolore che ricordarsi del tempo felice ne la miseria,” Oscar read. Recited. Proclaimed.

“There is no greater sorrow than thinking back upon a happy time in misery,” Lando echoed.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50752399/chapters/128207113?

• Renaissance AU, Non-Driver AU, Angst, Master/Servant Relationship, Religious Imagery, Fluff, Happy Ending *5.5k

> Anything Less Than Human =

Oscar doesn’t really do entrances. Sure, in high society, it’s deemed necessary to stand at the top of some ridiculous staircase and wait for someone to announce your arrival. But that really only works in your favor if your name has any kind of good status associated with it.

Oscar’s not fortunate enough to fall into that category.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49902154/chapters/125979850?

• Vampire!Oscar, Masquerade Ball, Consensual Blood Sucking *2.7k

That’s all for now folks!

Authors (i love and cherish u all, you’re simply the light of my life):

@wanderingblindly @eisenberg @ocontraire @celientjeee @nyoomfruits @gaslybottoms and @ venerat (ao3 user)

P.S. whoever the nonnies are that wrote “Grand Theft August” and “We’re All in the Butter but Some of us are Watching the Cars” i would literally pay you to step on me, thanks and good night.

[dogbunni]

[begins coughing like a cat about to throw up a furball] [spits up several nendo headcanons and then looks at u proudly]

-nendo collects hot wheels. I have no justification beyond this except that I also collect hot wheels and I think we'd have that in common. if he was real I would take nendo to a toy shop to look at all the hot wheels. just stand there and observe them for an uncomfortably long time. my friends aren't deeply autistic enough to do this with me so I can never observe the little cars for long enough before making a purchase :(

-nendo trans ally #1

-nendo has no idea what his sexuality is but not in a confused/questioning way, in a "I have never thought about it longer than 1 second" way. he likes who he likes and has no thoughts beyond that. he is label-less in a [shrugs shoulders] way. (saiki is also label-less but in a "fuck you" kind of way)

-nendo loves rollercoasters and watches weird essay length youtube videos about theme parks and animatronics. its a hobby that deeply disturbs everyone around him bc this guy cannot do basic math but he can and will channel the spirit of akechi rambling about defunct animatronics. sometimes he shows saiki pictures of animatronics in late stages of decay in horrible pitch black nightmare settings and saiki reacts as if nendo has placed a live cockroach in his lap.

-he has a condiment problem. steals sauce packets from restaurants with diagnosable compulsion.

-he doesn't Get memes. everyone has tried and failed to show nendo a meme. it's like trying to show your mother a funny picture and she holds the phone as far away from her face as she can and then stares at it for way too long before silently handing it back. he just doesn't Get It.

-hes like, really good at making memes though. he will just absently turn a phrase or take an image so absurd that everyone is still saying and reposting and reacting with it years down the line. he has no idea that he has this power

-he feeds stray cats and makes little shelters for them outdoors <3

-nendo and kaido roleplay together sometimes. I'm talking like, warrior cats roleplay. sometimes dark reunion but kaido gets pissy if nendo messes up The Lore. nendo calls it "playing pretend" bc he has no concept of cringe culture and kaido dies inside every time

-he manages to forget his own birthday. every year. saiki remembers though, and it's the one and only day he will ask if nendo wants to get ramen with him, instead of the other way around. it gets to the point that saiki asks if nendo wants ramen, and he says "what, is it my birthday ahaha" and saiki is just like. you goddamn idiot. good grief.

-last time I did one of these I said that nendo loves cute things like sanrio plushies and holds them so gently. well I see that and I am correct, but I raise you nendo thinking that SAIKI is the cutest thing he's ever seen. something about the pink hair and glasses and the little limiter bubbles on his head and his purple eyes and little frowny eyebrows- nendo wants to. hold gently. sometimes he just grabs saiki by the shoulders and stares at him blank in the face and saiki is like [nervously] "what the fuck? what the fuck????"

-he and aiura actually get along weirdly well. they're unhinged in similar flavours and it gets saiki's blood pressure up. he tries at all costs to keep them away from each other. their singular brain cells cancel each other out on sight.

-akechi makes nendo's brain hurt a little. he just can't process all of akechi's akechi-ness and it makes him feel dumb. he's fine with being dumb most of the time but akechi just makes him feel a little self conscious for some reason. (definitely not because he's jealous that akechi was friends with saiki first)

-he still likes the funny lil guy though. akechi's the only one who will enthuse with him about rollercoasters and he values those talks. so much.

-toritsuka is afraid of nendo for some reason. no one is sure why but nendo LOVES it. he's always trying to jump out and scare him. saiki supports nendo in this endeavour ardently. toritsuka suffers.

-nendo falls down the weirdest tiktok rabbit holes. it got so bad once that they got teruhashi to distract him while kuboyasu lifted his phone and deleted the app off of it. it took nendo several months to realise he could redownload it.

[lace-coffin]

Hii! I hope your having a good day/night so far, but I js now thought of this and I lowkey cannot stop having brain-rots over it… so yknow how like, men are sometimes called ‘bears’? I was wondering if you could write a fic abt Asa getting his hands on a so called ‘bear’ of a dude who’s much beefier and taller than him, but still submissive asf? 👀

How would Asa Emory feel about a gay bear s/o? (Nsfw)

Asa Emory x male!bear!reader

Tw for kidnapping, power exchange/power dynamics, general Asa Emory things

Requests are open!

I was literally about to go to bed when I saw this request and I was like I NEED TO DO THIS NOW OMG. Safe to say I absolutely love this idea and loved writing it💖 hope you enjoy!

Asa didn’t think he had a type until he met you..now he’s sure he couldn’t ever go back.

You were the lecturer in the classroom next door, sure Asa knew of you but he didn’t know you personally, never caring enough to go introduce himself to other lecturers like some kind of newly moved in house warming party, he was solely interested in teaching his classes, getting out, and tending to his collection, hopefully managing to cram a few hours sleep in until he has to wake up and repeat it again.

The class had finally began to pick up as all the students had settled and the lecture was underway, until a timid knock sounded on the door. Asa was pissed. If he has to sit through his students fussing again he’s going to lose it.

That was until he pulled open the heavy wood door and revealed you, looking professional but still boyishly handsome. Your tucked shirt pulling taught where the largest part of your belly settled, folding softly over your belt. Sleeves rolled up to reveal thick arms, spattered with an ample amount of dark hair, knuckles equally hairy to match. Asa’s face heats up and he curses in his head, only making matters worse as he drags his eyes over your ample chest subtly, well as subtly as you can when your practically eye fucking the bear of a lecturer that just interrupted your class.

“-came to ask if I can borrow some empty work books…excuse me..sir?” Asa’s head snaps back up to the stranger’s face, realising he hadn’t been listening to a word the man was saying, completely lost in eyeing him up. “Ah, my apologies, I’m a little out of it today, this way.” Asa tries to recover the interaction and guides him to the empty work books, picking up a load with a grunt and placing them in your hands, not missing the way your knuckles brush his during the exchange.

You take the books from him like it’s nothing, not even a strain or flinch, fuck, that was hotter than it should’ve been. You thank him and leave, presumably back to teach your class, whatever it is you actually teach, he’d been to caught off guard to ask anything of importance.

For the rest of the day Asa can’t forget the way “sir” sounded coming from your lips.

He wants to find out more about you and he does, under the guise of bumping into you in the teachers lounge or offering you a ride back to your house. he now knows you teach English, it’s not really what you wanted to do but it pays the bills. He knows you usually wear suits apart from on Fridays when you choose something more casual for the end of the week. He knows you live alone and your daily schedule, knows when the best time to strike is. He knows no one will look for you.

It’s Months later and everything has changed, Asa has more of a spring in his step as he returns home, the weight of the day not affecting him as harshly when he knows he’s coming home to his favourite pet.

It wasn’t hard to gain your trust, easy to believe in peoples kind words and actions, it was almost laughably easy to find out where and how you live, oblivious to the turtle neck clad figure trailing a few blocks behind. You hadn’t gone down easy into the box but that’s the way he likes it, likes a bit of a struggle.

Now Asa has you at his beck and call, only needing to snap his fingers or say one word to have you scrambling to follow, eager to impress. You would think due to your large structure that you would be in control, no questions asked but it was obvious to any onlooker that wasn’t the case. Asa had you wrapped around his finger, always following his heels like a well trained attack dog willing to do anything for his masters approval.

Now Asa had you where he wanted he wasted no time in admiring you, all soft curves and dark hair, masculine and sexy. Your daily wear now mostly consisted of leather harnesses, loving the way the straps wrapped around you, making your flesh spill over them but constricting you at the same time. He could stare at the way the harness pushed forward and presented your hairy tits to him for hours, now adorned with two shiny barbells to Asa’s liking. Tugging on your harness when he needed to move you was always a plus in the design, and always and excuse to run his hands over your warm skin.

Despite what anyone may presume you actually turned out to be naturally submissive once broken down, “the bigger they are the harder they fall” as they say, Asa’s not sure that applies to kidnapping grown men but he can’t find it in himself to care. Your doe eyes look to Asa for guidance in even the simplest things, loving the attention and not having to think for yourself. Just wanting to be a mutt for your master and nothing else.

Asa thought you were perfect, the way your eyes water as you drool dumbly behind the bone shaped gag tightly in your mouth. The way your hairy thighs wrap around him as he fucks into you obscenely. The way you sit at his feet obediently and keep his cock warm in the back of your throat as he works at his desk, only making small noises of complaint when you run out of air. Nothing asa can’t fix with a sharp slap on the cheek and a kiss on the forehead.

You take well to the cage, having just enough room to stretch out and sit up but that’s it. You crawl back in when ordered, letting sir lock you in with one last kiss on the lips and a request to be good and sleep well. You’re always excited to see him again in the morning, pressed against the cage needily and wiggling your behind in a cute imitation of a dogs wagging tail.

“Bark” you let out a sound similar to a woof, not completely the same as an actual dog but you’re not completely confident in it yet, still humiliated by the action. Asa’s lips thin out into a straight line, not completely satisfied with your effort.

“Again, put your voice into it” you let out a sigh of embarrassment and close your eyes, breathing in and letting out a more solid bark. Asa smiles this time, running his gloved hand over hair, abruptly grabbing a handful and wrenching your head back so you can meet his dark eyes. “Good boy, always so eager to please master, aren’t you my mutt?” You make a weak noise at being grabbed so harshly but reply “y-yes sir” Asa tugs your hair harder causing your scalp to sting in a way that makes your thighs rub together. “Again, louder.” He orders back, not making any room for excuses. “Yes sir! I love being a stupid mutt for you! Love following orders and making you proud!” You pant back, a lot louder and more desperate this time.

A satisfied smile slips onto Asa’s face as he releases your hair from his grasp, easing the pain in your scalp. Your master tugs the ring of your collar, pulling your chin up with it to look at him.

A moment passes and looks are exchanged, yours of need and Asa’s of smugness. Your lips meet in the middle for a searing kiss, lips and teeth clashing. “Good dog” Asa mutters in between kisses.

[naturegirl555]

Ranting about supernatural because I hate this show so so much (I’m so so obsessed with it to the point where it’s concerning) and I’m on season 6 episode 20 “the man who would be king” and can I just say how incredibly annoying the boys are! Like can you maybe hear cas out maybe! His reasons for doing these things aren’t malicious or demonic. He is fighting a war in heaven which they couldn’t give to shits about and now they are gonna be mad because he was MANIPULATED by crowley (I love the man but still) like can they use their brains for one moment. And I feel this may come off like I hate Sam and dean and I do not in any way they are very complex characters with trauma and trust issues but cas has done everything for them. He was trying to save them. He didn’t know the outcome. Like Sam and dean have never made a mistake before. Because I remember a couple seasons ago where Sam was going crazy gorging on demon blood because he thought he could do good with that power! So why be so hypocritical and get mad at cas in the way they did. And can we just talk about how broken cas looked when they trapped him in the holy fire! Like Sam said to him did you bring me back without a soul on purpose and his eyes god! Like in what world would castiel who saved you both from hell do that purposely! It was already hard enough to save dean it was a group project in a way he didn’t have help with Sam! And cas is also doing all of this because he thinks its what god wants. He is so blinded by his faith again because he got brought back to life. He had the idea that he was brought back for this reason and chuck did absolutely nothing because all he wants is drama and trauma for the collective and not caring about how his kids feel! Castiels faith breaks my heart because no one could understand it. Dean couldn’t and Sam couldn’t. Castiel has been an angel since the beginning it’s not so easy to give up everything you’ve ever known even when you know that it might not be the right thing. Was it easy for dean to see his father the way everyone else saw John. No. So why can’t it be difficult for cas. They truly never give cas a break. And yes I’m a major destiel shipper. But the way dean acts towards cas sometimes makes me so enraged. But this “breakup” dean looked heartbroken. Castiel had lied to him. Him of all people. The man who he had a profound bond with. He just wanted cas to ask for help and cas didn’t because he doesn’t do that. He’s never been not capable before things have never been this difficult for him before. And when you look at what castiel did there was truly nothing wrong with it. He was blinded and manipulated and he didn’t want all of the shit they endured to stop the apocalypse to be for nothing. He didn’t go to dean because he saw dean living a normal life he saw him getting out and he wanted to respect that. How could castiel have known dean wasn’t happy in that life. Castiel isn’t very good with human emotions and his thinking is very black and white while the winchesters have shades of gray thinking. So how is it fair to blame cas for all of it. I’m sorry about this rant i just feel so much about this! Like castiel is my favorite fictional character of all time and I wish I could’ve teleported into the show and been his lawyer because no one would listen to him no one ever does. I love all of them very very much but it would be dumb to think castiel doesn’t deserve better. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk about castiel. It may happen again

[itsclydebitches]

The Ring

Summary: Omeluum gifted them one ring of protection... and seven people need it. Pairing: Gen, but there's Tav/Astarion if you really squint Word Count: 1,491 Part of the Little by Little, Step by Step collection

“So,” Karlach said, knocking her boots together. “Who gets to wear it?”

Everyone sat in a circle around the fire, staring at the ring Tav had set delicately on a pillow. It was an ordinary trinket by all appearances. Brass. Small, emerald insets. Yet they could feel the Weave pouring off of it—wave after wave of tingling energy that set their teeth on edge and left a chill sinking into the back of their neck.

Tav couldn’t be sure if they had an innate aversion to the ring simply by virtue of not practicing magic themselves... or if that feeling stemmed from the parasite lodged in their brain. They suspected the latter if the others’ expressions were anything to go on.

Halsin coughed. “I really have no say in the matter...”

“Don’t you?” Wyll lifted his head so that the fire left warm shadows across his cheeks and sparks settled on his horns. “You are a member of this party, are you not? You may not be infected, Halsin, but you reap the benefits of our triumphs; you suffer the consequences of our mistakes. You have as much right to help us decide this as anyone else.”

Lae’zel released a low growl in the back of her throat. “What is there to decide? The ring goes to our leader.” She stuck her nose in the air, a gesture which Tav had learned wasn’t a haughty expression, but one of respect for the Githyanki. “You demanded the right to be cleansed first and instead suffered a psionic attack within the zaith’isk. You drank the Mind Flayer’s toxic brew and came out the other side alive, but with your parasite stronger than ever. You alone have the honor of receiving that which might cure us—or destroy us.”

Well, that was certainly one way of putting it. “Thank you?”

“You are welcome.”

“Yes, just take the thing, darling.” Astarion waved a languid hand towards the ring. “The Gods know I don’t want it. A bauble that interferes with the influence and powers of the tadpole? No, no, no. You won’t catch this vampire handing over any weapon in his arsenal.”

“It is not a knife,” Shadowheart hissed. “It is not a sword, or a spell, or anything else we can wield with confidence. You think of the parasite as a key but it is truly the shackles that bind us!”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed. He smiled, but there was nothing there except the glint of a fang. “Do not talk to me about shackles, little girl.”

Tav saw Shadowheart’s dominant hand twitch and instinctively threw out an arm between them. They’d learned the hard way that Shadowheart could be goaded into a fight with almost no provocation and she wasn’t above cheating to win. Clashing that against Astarion’s own dirty style and supernatural advantage was a recipe for disaster. “You can have it then,” they said, noting that the others had begun preparations for an intervention as well. Tav re-directed their barrier hand to nudge the ring towards Shadowheart.

All at once the fury on her face melted away.

“Ah... no. No thank you, I suppose. It’s just... well. I’ve already lost so many of my memories. I don’t relish the idea of putting another barrier around my mind. Even one that Lady Shar would approve of.”

Astarion let out a dismissive scoff.

Determinedly ignoring him, Tav let their gaze drift to Karlach. She immediately threw up her hands.

“No way, soldier. There are three things I never touch: cursed books, watered-down beer, and Mind Flayer rings dosed with enough magic to give you a headache.”

Oh, Tav had a headache all right, but it had more to do with this conversation than the ring. They cut their gaze to Wyll.

To his credit, he seemed to give the offer some thought. “I stand by what I said before,” he finally said, nodding towards Halsin. “What we do we do as a group. We share the wealth we accumulate, the armor collected, the reputation earned—and any chance at salvation most of all. It does not sit right with me that only one of us should be protected.”

Astarion scoffed again. “Seriously? If we can’t all survive we should just die together? What sentimental rubbish.”

“So I take it you’d like the ring?”

“No. I just need you to understand what an idiot you are.”

Tav resisted the urge to rub their eyes. “Astarion, play nice or I’m not feeding you tonight.” Ignoring his head whipping around in shock they nudged Gale’s knee with their own. “Any chance we can... duplicate it? Or divvy up the magic somehow?”

Gale had been staring intently at the ring this whole time. Now he gave Tav a familiar look. It was his You Know Shit-All About the Weave and Are Embarrassing Yourself look.

“No,” he said shortly. Then he continued because Gale, by his own admission, had never been concise a day in his life. “If rings this powerful were easy to replicate don’t you think everyone would be doing so? Just imagine it. Instant protection! Instant profit! No, Omeluum was right when he said that this artifact is nearly priceless. Dividing the power? Well, then we’d have seven rings, each with a seventh of its former protection... and functionally useless. Even if such a thing were possible it wouldn’t benefit us. As for whether I myself would take it," Gale smiled sadly, gesturing to his chest. "A bit of a moot point, don't you think?"

Silence descended.

Astarion practically crawled over Lae’zel—eliciting another growl of disgust—and squeezed himself between them, swinging an arm over Tav’s shoulders. “I think what our dear leader meant,” he said, “is that not everyone has a Gale to do the duplicating and that this ring is clearly so powerful that perhaps splitting it would be negligible. Isn’t that right, darling? The boorish, downer wizard just didn't catch your brilliance.”

“Sure,” Tav drawled. “Also, your attempts to butter me up aren’t subtle.”

Halsin let out a sound suspiciously like a cut-off laugh.

“Whyever would I need to butter up so talented, intelligent, and gorgeous a specimen as yourself? On a completely separate note, I couldn’t help but hear the words ‘nearly priceless.’ If none of us will wear the damn thing, why not sell it?”

Wyll immediately shook his head. “And draw that much attention in the process? Not a wise decision, my friend. Besides, who do you propose we sell it to? No one we know would be able to afford it. A buyer might be found in Baldur’s Gate, but...” He spread his hands and as one the group let out a sigh. Yes, if they were in Baldur’s Gate many more problems than just a ring would have been solved already.

“Can't we just... give it back?” Karlach asked. “I felt kinda bad taking it in the first place.”

Astarion gasped. "Give it back?"

“I doubt Omeluum would accept it." Shadowheart worried at her bottom lip. "We traded for it fairly and though I know little of Mind Flayer honor—”

“They have none,” Lae’zel spit.

“—I would assume it wouldn't allow one to re-take what was given in good faith.”

Astarion swept out his arms, nearly whacking Gale in the face. “So let’s trade it back! I’m sure that tentacle-y scholar is loaded with interesting goodies. Oh yes, we could squeeze a fortune out of the squid."

Tav watched fondly (despite themselves) as Astarion seemed to sink back into the shadows after speaking, the move as thoughtless as it was effortless. It was a real shame they hadn’t had a chance to make use of his skills lately.

A real shame he’d been pissing them off too.

“I have a better idea,” they said sweetly.

***

Omeluum paused in the act of casting. Something was... different about the Weave around it. It didn’t take long to pinpoint the source and Omeluum lifted a familiar ring from the folds of its robs.

“Fascinating,” it murmured.

Blurg hustled over at the word, like a bloodhound on the scent of intellectual discovery. “What is—oh. Didn’t you give that to our mutual friends?”

“Indeed.” In fact, it had seen the band of adventurers just fifteen minutes before. They had been purchasing supplies from Blurg before seeking the duergar across the lake. The invaders’ defeat was a perilous task they had agreed to undertake and Omeluum had noted, in a detached way, that they seemed to be missing their vampire. Surely they would need him to return victorious.

Evidence. Hypothesis. Proposed conclusion: the vampire had indeed been among them, performing an action quite contrary to its nature.

“I believe,” Omeluum said, holding the ring up to one of the crystal’s light, “that I have been given a gift.”

Blurg smiled up at it as Omeluum slipped its ring back onto its chain. As the familiar weight of magic settled around it, it felt a stirring of... something, deep within it.

An emotion, it thought, though not one it had any name for yet. It was warm, and heavy—like a well-made bedroll—and it was, unfortunately, quite distracting.

This required further study then. Clearly. Omeluum only hoped it met the adventurers again soon so that it could continue such interesting research.

[icy-watch]

So the mayor works for Lady Bone Demon, and they now have the lamp.

All they need now is the staff and the flower. I'm guessing the staff will be the last thing collected bc they know where it is. The flower... I'm not too sure on. There hasn't been any hints about it yet that I've noticed.

So that's going to be the next episode's adventure.

The skull made of bobba in the tea for Mei feels like some foreshadowing as well. It was there when MK came back with the snack, again when he went to hand it to her, and finally when Macaque was speaking to MK before he revealed himself. I don’t think she’s going to die, but something really bad will happen to her.

There's some parallels to Macaque and Wukong's story and to Wukong and MK's story of the warrior and hero. Even tho Macaque told it thru his POV, the puppet for the hero (the sun) was very much MK and the warrior (the moon) was Wukong.

Something is going to happen to Wukong and he's going to fall to the darkness. There was a shot from a few episodes ago where one of the people in the parade dressed as Sun Wukong was infected with the spider venom. Something like that will happen to Wukong.

It's going to have to do with MK becoming very powerful and casting a shadow over Wukong. Something with his self doubt? His fear that Wukong chose incorrectly?

I've never put much thought into why Wukong gave his powers to MK in the first place. I know that he said that he's ✨retired✨, but it feels like there's more to that. I'm putting a pin in that thought for now, bc I'm not entirely sure on it.

I feel like I have the right strings, but my brain can't form everything into coherent words. But I think I'm picking up on things. Enough that I have a sense of where this season is heading - Lady Bone Demon manipulating MK enough to be able to create her weapon and get revenge on Wukong.

That feels right.

Ok, so tomorrow is Wednesday (and yes, every time I write or type that, I do say "wed-ness-day"). And I didn't prep much for dinner tomorrow, so squeezing in an episode will be Difficult. I'm thinking 1 episode on Thursday and 2 on Friday to finish off the season, and picking up with s3 on Saturday. Sound good? Until then!