#it is better to understand the history of the terms you're using rather than guessing based on vibes i promise

[notquiteaghost]

not to complain abt the teens but i am developing a twitch abt how some teen-heavy fandoms seem to have extrapolated "queer coded" out to mean "i, the audience, read this character as queer" and now use "X coded" as if it's synonymous with "headcanon"

like, just. queer coding is when the creator adds elements to a character, such as mannerisms or clothing choices, to imply to the audience the character is queer without outright saying so. sometimes it's to get around censorship & sometimes it's to be homophobic and/or transphobic

if two characters' dynamic is "sibling coded" then that is an intentional choice by the creator. but also that doesn't actually hold up, conceptually, because there isn't a handy set of cultural touchstones for what a sibling dynamic looks like. and there's far less reason to imply that rather than outright state it. the same with "minor coded". what makes queer coding possible isn't that 'queer' is a descriptive term, it's that queer people have a defined culture and non-queer people have defined stereotypes. this is not true of every possible descriptive term.

nvm reading comprehension i need everyone to go take a media studies class. go watch the celluloid closet

[tussive]

I'm just going to go ahead and rate all of the text chat Omegle-like services that I can find.

ChitChat.gg: So far, the best. It still leaves a lot to be desired in the number of people you're connecting to, but I've been seeing it mentioned a lot as one of the main alternatives now and I suspect the userbase will grow at least some. This one has profiles/usernames/avatars/etc, which I don't love but I do understand why they would need to implement that. But one nice thing about this, you have access to your chatlogs from previous chats saved. There's a gender filter option but you have to pay for their premium service which is $4.99 or $8.99. There are some other perks to signing up for it, the ability to send pictures or videos, unlimited chat history and increased interest slots (I don't see the limit on interests listed anywhere and I have quite a few [at least 12?] so it can't be that low. To be honest once this site wins the race and becomes the main text Omegle alternative site, I'd consider paying for the premium just for the unlimited chat history tbh.

Emerald Chat: This is the primary alternative that I'm seeing mentioned. It also has a lot of the same functionality as ChatChat.gg, the infinite timer option for connecting with someone with a shared interest over a stranger, the profile/username/avatar, but while this does maintain a chat history, it doesn't appear you're able to actually read your previous chats. They also have a gender filter option available via a premium service, however theirs is $5.89. It also comes with the ability to send pictures, but not videos and also a mention of "more freedom," whatever that means. Oh yes, they also do have a video chat option as well as a group text chat option, which is interesting. So I mean both ChitChat.gg and Emerald Chat are pretty similar but each have their own thing as well. Aside from the userbase seemingly being bigger on ChitChat.gg (or maybe that's just where the people I share interests are going lol) I don't necessarily think either one of them is better than the alternative. I'd go ChitChat.gg, but that's just my personal preference there.

OPAL: So the previous two aren't amazing in terms of usability, but this one still feels a bit unpolished. Same thing as before, account/username/avatar. Oh, I counted this time (I'm using the same interests on each site as long as I'm able to) and I'm currently using 29 interests, so no limit is obviously preferable but a limit that high isn't bad at all imo for ChitChat.gg. Anyway, back to OPAL. Okay so this one is a bit different. Rather than matching with a stranger, you are given various profiles of people who are I guess also waiting to chat. There are also group chats, which just seem to be based on basic chatroom subjects like Music or Philosophy. I did see someone say while I was checking the site out that it isn't an Omegle ripoff, it's more of a Discord ripoff and I think that's probably more accurate. Or some kind of weird middle ground between the two. There does appear to be a limit on the number of profiles you're able to view for potential convos and I believe it was 15. Once you hit it, you can't go back and see how many it actually showed until the timer runs out. But it's around 15 options. There seem to be an incredible small amount of people on here for what it's worth. Basically everyone I saw in the chats, I saw their profile for the one on one chats.

Phori: So there's not much about this one at all, just that it's in the early stages and you currently can sign up to be part of the early access. There's also this Google Docs you can fill out for some additional stuff, if you just want to sign up for the early access you can just put your email address in on the main site. Here's the Google Docs link though if anyone would like it. It all seems great, they pine for the glory days of Omegle when you were still able to connect to another human person and then just chat with them for a bit. But that's what everyone wants, being able to identify that literally every person who wants a new Omegle wants that isn't a skill. The main website kinda gives off a dating app vibe, like some Tinder shit or something, so that does concern me some also. But I did sign up for the early access and will definitely give this a try when it's available to the public.

OmegleMe!: This one is more like classic Omegle. This seems to be an almost total clone of Omegle, text chat, video chat, shared interests, the design is all the same, it has Omegle in the name lol. It's just trying to be the new Omegle, which is fine. Omegle had problems but there wasn't anything inherently wrong with the core of the site imo. But the issue here is it lists active users and there are only 29 of them at the moment.

Randm.Chat: This one seems nice. It's purely text based, no fucking shitty ass video chatting taking up space. It seems to be well moderated and like it may have a decent sized userbase. It looks like on Google the website was first indexed in October of 2022, so it is probably around like a year old so probably a fair amount more established than a lot of these other options, which are almost entirely all brand new. They also call their site 'Randm Chat' one time and then 'Randm.Chat' another time and that bothers me a great deal lol. It also mentions that the chats are moderated/monitored by staff, which is kind of cool and probably helps keep people from jacking off so much. Oh, one other thing. There's seemingly no place to list interests on this and it seems to imply that it just pairs you with a random stranger and you're left to your own devices. But when you're actually chatting with a stranger, there's a gear icon in the corner and if you click on that the only option it brings up is a text box with the question, "What topics would you like to talk about?" so there does seem to be some shared interest related element at play somewhere, I just can't figure it out right now because I've been chatting with just one person from here this whole time and I don't want to accidentally disconnect while I'm fucking around.

Dismegle: This one feels more committal than the others for some reason. I'm pretty high and don't feel equipped to handle reviewing this one right now. I joined the server and it immediately put me in a chat with just another Discord user. Terrifying! I left immediately. I'll come back around to this but I don't think I like it.

OmegleWeb: This is another Omegle clone, exact same basic features as Omegle and OmegleMe! and this time the active users are at least in the triple digits, 141. So a step in the right direction but still an area that needs work if the site's going to be usable.

Omegleee: Yet another Omegle clone, this one so new it only has interests as a planned feature and there was only 1 active user online lmao. They mention future enhancements that would improve on the original's design such as random group video chat. So at some point this one may stand out but it's simply too new to do so at the moment.

Omeglenow: So this one very much went for the Omegle clone thing, but they did change up the layout a tiny bit. Honestly though it looks worse now lmao. But they do currently have 3282 active users at the moment, which is by far the most of any site that listed it's number of active users.

Ralae: Another straight up clone, but made uglier, this time with an an average active userbase of approximately 150-200ish. So, pretty unremarkable, I'm running out of things to say but these are becoming a lot more of the same thing over and over again than I expected. But we carry on.

Actually I lied. It would appear that I've run out of text options, all of the remaining alternatives I could find were video chat sites. Disgusting. I'm still too afraid of Dismegle to try it also, so I'll update that sometime later but yeah. Long story short, ChitChat.gg is probably the way to go for the time being. Though I have actually been talking to someone on Randm.Chat since I wrote my thoughts on it and that's pretty impressive these days so maybe that one is also worth looking more into.

[a-side-character]

Thing I've noticed about my own sexuality is I tend to like using b r o a d e r categories rather than hyper-specific ones.

Like, if I consult the gay dictionary, the words that technically define me the best would be somewhere along the lines of panromantic demisexual. But, like, I don't feel anything for that. I don't know anyone like that. They're just words to me, I feel no connection to them. If you're like that I think that's wonderful for you, but it just doesn't work with me.

Going up a level we have the umbrella terms for those, biromantic and asexual. A little better, I like those terms and don't mind them like that. But even better for me is just bisexual and asexual. No need for people to know any deeper than that unless they're dating me (or, like, the maybe 4 people who will see this post lol).

But most of the time I just say I'm queer. That's the word I use the most, followed probably by bi. Gay or lesbian I use sometimes, with people who know me and are close with me, but queer just feels the best to me.

I guess the reason is that anytime I interact with the LGBTQ+ community it's to look for exactly that, a community. There's more people for me to relate and talk to, more history to learn and understand, more ways for me to learn about myself and support other people in the realm of queer or bi or ace than there are the more specific I get. Technicalities are for me to know and work through with any individual partner, not to define myself to the world with. The smaller of a box I put myself in, the less that will be IN the box. I guess.

I don't know, I have absolutely nothing against microlabels and I understand why people use them and identify with them and love them. I just don't really vibe with any, and I feel much more peace with other, bigger labels.

[gemsofgreece]

Yes there was a part missing between them, which discussed how sexism enabled the west to misuse the term "roman empreror" for the Germanic King rather than the ruler of the roman empire. Namely the excuse to stop recognising the ruler of the roman empire as the roman emperor was, that the new roman emperor (empress) was going to be Irene of Athens and "of course" the romans couldn't be ruled by a woman! The actual reason was that they sought to discredit the romans in order to misuse the term

Roman empires for themselves (aka the "holy roman empire"), and so "appropriate" roman history and exclude the Eastern romans from it. But even so the term does have its roots (partially) on sexism. And that form of sexism was not even present in the Roman empire (I am not saying they were perfect but they weren't as problematic. ) And yes, I believe classical Rome is part of the heritage of those whose ancestors lived in it/under its rule, like Greece, Egypt, France, etc. But most importantly of Italy, who started it all. I am not saying to exclude anyone when they too had been part of Rome. We should use the term "Eastern Roman Empire" to make clear that this was Rome still, but at the same time not let people appropriate it. But there's no reason to start using a foreign term made to discredit east Rome imo. And again, I don't mean to attack you! I hope it doesn't come off as aggressive! You're free to use whichever words you want, of course. I am just wondering if it'd not be better to just use "Eastern Roman" and not care if anyone wants to appropriate it. But that's a problem where different people find different solutions. Thank you for taking your time to read.

END OF MAIL

Don't worry, I didn't feel attacked at all :) I understand what you 're saying. I also believe you hit it on the nail by saying it's a problem with many different potential solutions. We have a similar understanding of the situation / issue, we just think of different approaches as preferable solutions.

I am a little sceptical though about the term Byzantine being invented for the sole reason of discrediting East Romans. For whomever might not know, the term comes from Byzantium, the Ancient Greek city upon which Constantinople was founded. The term was of course later used in order to marginalize the east, but the term itself has no problematic connotations, I don't think. I believe the original intention was for historians to explore at what point the Roman Empire had changed so drastically in character (in language, religion, ethnic make-up, capital city, artistic expression etc) to be thus studied as an independent entity. I don't think historians don't acknowledge the East Roman Empire was produced by the Roman Empire, it's just that they stress that at some point it had changed way too much and that is kinda valid IMO

Now the term Byzantine or East Roman is misused, but that depends on the person using it and not the intrisic meaning of the word. My idea was to help change the misconceptions surrounding East Romans / Byzantines rather than use the term "Roman" interchangeably and continuously fight the confusions, conundrums and appropriations that will rise non-stop in this case. But again it's just my idea, my opinion. I don't believe there is a definite 100% correct answer to this or if there is, we haven't found it yet. We sacrifice something in order to protect something else, I guess.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing iii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 393

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“You’re bailing again?” Taehyung looks up from his stack of books for the first time in the last hour since the two of you have started your study date. Granted, he meant no spite but he didn’t understand what set you to flee. The name that was almost taboo to you; the name that brings more tugs to your heart that hurts than one that’s fond.

You glance up at him with meek eyes, “I have an office hour with my economics professor in half an hour.”

Taehyung purses his lips.

“This is the fourth time this week you’ve ditched.” Taehyung sounds mildly irritated and you don’t blame him. You made a promise months ago before mid-terms coming up that you’d help him with statistics. But before the two of you could ever get into the nitty-gritty details of math; somehow the forbidden name comes up.

“I know.” You say softly. “I’m sorry …” You don’t say anything else because your heart is speeding up in a way that is anxiety-inducing. Because Taehyung off-handedly mentioned that Jungkook would be dropping by in a few; and you didn’t know when he’d turn up and you rather not stick around to find out.

His words still linger in your mind and every time there was any prompt to remind you of his face, or his name—you remember the way his words sounded so assured in the context of the situation first. You remember the malevolence that lied behind his usually kind eyes. But it’s like the eyes filled with desire in a one-dimensional view of your body replaced the youthful mirth you grew up with.

“Look.” Taehyung sighs, pushing himself up to look at you with a stern stare. “If you don’t want to tutor me that’s fine. I can find another tutor. But I’d appreciate if you’d let me know beforehand so I don’t have to come all the way just for an hour then have you leave once the content begins to get tougher.”

Taehyung was by no means being rude or outwardly offensive. He was straightforward and you appreciated that he was honest with you. And rather, you feel guilty of the fact that you bailed for your own selfish reasons.

“I do want to tutor you.” You tell him, fiddling with your fingers as your eyes dart to the doors of the library. “It really just slipped my mind.”

It sounds lame, even to you; and Taehyung picks up on it too.

“You don’t forget things like this.” He says pointedly. “It’s like every time I mention—”

Taehyung stops himself and your eyes dart away, hands already tugging your bag over your shoulder. Maybe if you sped up, he wouldn’t stare at you with an inquisitive stare that looked similar to one of realisation.

“Did something happen between you and Kook?”

You wince. Taehyung is observant.

“Are the two of you—?”

“I’m fine.” You snap, tone defensive and on edge when you hear the bell of the library door ring. You don’t dare to turn to look. “We’re fine.”

“_____ …” Taehyung frowns.

“I gotta go. Okay?” You huff, offering one last apologetic look before you turn to leave. But in your haste, you bump into a solid figure and you’re terrified that it’s—

“Careful.” A deeper, unfamiliar but welcomed voice murmurs.

When your eyes look up, it’s just someone you recognise from Jungkook’s football games. You were sure he was a key player too. His stature was definitely one of an athlete. He was tall, broad, and firm; and the black shirt that hugged his chest only emphasised your guess.

“S-Sorry.” You squeak, looking down.

You brush past him before he can get another word in, and only when you slip past him do you see Jungkook lingering behind with a frown on his face.

“______—” He calls.

You’re able to leave before he can get a hold of you; and that only causes the frown on Jungkook’s face to harden.

When the door rings once more to signal your departure, Jungkook is already sat with Taehyung and the other person that bumped into you.

“What’s up with the two of you?” Taehyung asks.

Jungkook stiffens and responds with a grit of his teeth. “Nothing.”

Taehyung doesn’t look convinced and Namjoon—though recently enlightened with the fact that there was potentially something brewing between the two of you—was also observant enough to pick up on the tense atmosphere that you left with.

“Aren’t the two of you super close?” Namjoon says offhandedly, already shifting through his assignments while he lays them out.

Jungkook wants to let out a dry scoff at the assumption. Sure, the two of you were close. He isn’t so sure about that anymore.

“You’re clearly lying to me.” Taehyung snorts. “So whatever it is the two of you are keeping a secret please just sort it out because I need _____ here to tutor me and you’re getting in the way of my education.”

Taehyung mostly says this as a joke, but it strikes Jungkook straight where it’s vulnerable. He wasn’t going to be the first to break, nor will he indulge Taehyung into what he said to you in the same library they were in at this very moment.

So instead, Jungkook brushes it off like he’s been doing so more recently than ever.

“Whatever.” He mutters.

For some reason, you see Jungkook again on the same day—accompanied by the same person that you bumped into.

You realise that you’ve spent more time avoiding him than dealing with your feelings after what transpired. But you’re weak and you suppose you’ve always been weak when it came to Jungkook.

It was difficult … to say the least. Because while Jungkook’s words were malicious and filled with the intent to hurt and break you; the better (and foolish) part of you wanted to believe that he was angry. Driven by emotions that he wasn’t thinking straight. But while you were naive, you were also substantially aware that there had to be some form of truth to the words he’s thrown at you.

But this was the same Jungkook that you grew up with, the young boy you’ve somehow seen transition from awkward and endearing teen to … to the confident and assured man he was. You didn’t want to make any excuses for him but you’ve always been soft. And you hated that your eyes somehow still linger on his approaching figure when the rational side of your brain tells you to run away.

However, it’s not him who greets you. It’s his friend. The one you vaguely recognise but can’t quite put a name to a face.

“Hey!” He calls out to you.

His smile is easy with a dimple appearing on his cheeks. He looks kind and soft for someone that was easily a head taller than you were, and despite his height—there was something oddly comforting about the way he approaches you as if he knows you.

You try to ignore the coldness from Jungkook’s end and remind yourself that you should’ve felt angry—not the other way around.

“Hi?” You say, or more appropriately ask.

Jungkook’s expression is still blank; every time your eyes briefly linger on his face you wonder how it’d ended up this way.

“_____, right? I’ve seen you at a few of our games.” His friend enters a conversation so seamlessly. “Kook’s never introduced us, though.”

You clear your throat and you hope your face isn’t a dead giveaway of your discomfort. Especially when you blatantly ignore Jungkook’s piercing stare on the side of your temple.

“I don’t … mingle around that much.” You say softly,

And it’s parallel to the image that Jungkook has of you. The quiet, timid girl that’s free time is consumed with books and assignments than a social life to make up for it. You used to think that maybe you weren’t the type that enjoyed large or loud gatherings. But Jungkook’s voice only makes you wonder if you were the problem instead.

“Well, I’m Namjoon.” He smiles at you, offering a grin filled with teeth that you find yourself unconsciously returning, albeit awkwardly.

“Nice to meet you … uh … Namjoon.” You mumble, and your eyes nearly land on Jungkook’s face out of pure habit, but you stop yourself before you hurt yourself even more.

“It’s nice to formally meet you too. I’ve been asking Jungkook to introduce the two of us since forever ago but he seemed dead set on keeping you to himself.” Namjoon jokes lightly. And you almost miss it, but you swear Jungkook stiffens by his side.

“Ah …” You reply lamely, fingering your strap as you shift on your heels.

It feels awkward to not acknowledge Jungkook; you’re wondering if Namjoon picks up on the cold air between the both of you. Namjoon looks like he’s thinking of something, but before he can say anything—Jungkook is tugging his arm roughly.

“We have practice.” Jungkook grits, finally making himself known.

Your eyes dart to your feet, and you hate how small you feel in his presence. It should’ve been easy but this was the hardest part of it all. Pretending like you were objectively okay when his words constantly lingered at the back of your mind.

“Go ahead without me. I want to ask _____ something.” Namjoon shrugs Jungkook’s hand off of him. And this time you catch the venomous glare that he shoots his friend, accompanied by the clench of his jaw.

“Coach will—”

“I’m the captain, remember?” Namjoon snorts, but it’s not condescending. Just a reminder.

Jungkook purses his lips and his eyes dart between the two of you; and you know him well enough to know that there’s something on his mind, especially with the way he nibbles on his bottom lip.

“Don’t be late.” Jungkook grits, stomping off in the other direction without even sparing you a glance.

You frown at him because he was the one that came to you that day unwarranted; treating you like absolutely nothing as if there weren’t years of history behind the two of you.

But Namjoon is large enough to distract you because he quite literally blocks the view of Jungkook’s disappearing body with his own when he stands right in front of you.

“Sorry about that.” Namjoon looks sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind …” He trails off as he scratches the back of his neck.

Your eyes widen as you shake your head, “N-No! It’s fine. Just … uh … what’s up?” You wince inwardly at your horrible social skills and you have a slight understanding of why Jungkook pointed out the things he did. Maybe he was right—

“I—well …” Namjoon mumbles, and he seems less assured than he was earlier. “I think—you’re really—cool?—and smart—you seem nice so … sorry! God.” He rambles as he brushes his hands over his face.

You blink at him.

Namjoon takes your reaction as a bad one as he winces, chuckling lowly.

“I’m sorry. I’m not this … awkward.” He tells you.

You nod your head slowly trying to process his words. And you feel a little guilty knowing that your lack of response probably pushes Namjoon further into his shell. But he has a glare in his eye that shows that he won’t be affected so easily.

“Well.” He clears his throat. “I follow your podcast. And I think it’s really great. You offer some really interesting perspectives on the War on Drugs—or as you mentioned—the disproportionate effects of racial tension that lead to unjustified or mass incarceration rates in the U.S.”

Somehow you know you’ve said the exact same words in the monthly podcast you do with the International Relations department for extra credit. But when Namjoon speaks, it’s as if he’s carefully picking apart the context and nuance of your words so carefully before he quotes it back to you; as if he treats your opinion with heavy regard and not one of the light matters.

You feel flattered.

“Oh.” You blink. “Thank you?”

Namjoon offers you an easy grin. And you recall: captain of the football team, he says? He doesn’t really … fit the stereotype. Besides the fact that he looked insanely fit. He was gentle, that much you could tell. But you also were a little biased when it came to footballers because you only had Jungkook to compare him with.

“Sorry for just springing that on you.” He apologises sheepishly and you’re even more confused as to why he feels the need to say sorry. “It’s just that Kook was always so bitchy about introducing me to you whenever I asked so … I thought why not take the chance myself?”

You gape at him. You don’t know what to do with the set of new information you’re presented with. Firstly, the fact that someone like Namjoon paid attention to a nobody like you? And secondly, the weird revelation that Jungkook somehow gate kept his friendship … or whatever the fuck it was … with you.

“No, no.” You shake your head, “I’m really flattered. Thank you. No one’s ever … told me that before.” You give him a gentle smile because that’s all you can muster.

Namjoon returns it tenfold as he hikes his bag across his shoulder.

“Well, I gotta go now. Practice calls.” He jokes, waving at you. For a moment, he stills; as if remembering something before he fishes out a piece of paper from his pocket and shoves it to you in a haste.

“What is—?”

“My number. You know—if you ever want to talk. About … stuff. I think you’re super smart—and intelligent. They’re synonymous but yeah. If you want.” He rambles.

You blink up at him and before you can muster a response, he’s darting away.

You watch his figure retreat and notice that Jungkook is waiting for him a good distance away. But his eyes aren’t on Namjoon’s somewhat giddy figure—but on you.

He stares at you long and hard, and you feel conflicted. The paper in your hand nearly chafes, but the feeling is easily forgotten when his expression hardens.

When Namjoon reaches him with a clasp to his back, the pair walks off. Not before he gives you one passing glance over his shoulder that leaves you feeling more restless than ever.

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Demon in Disguise x Angel Undercover

Summary: Being a demon was boring, particularly in peacetime. For Freed, passing the time consisted of sneaking into nightclubs and forcing men off the moral path. Thankfully, the angel with beautiful wings and almost rigid set of morals was always there to make things interesting.

Notes: This is Day Two of Fraxus Week, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. Be sure to look at their blog, I'm sure there's lot of other great Fraxus content on there for the event already.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

Off The Moral Path

Year: 2025

Location: Paris, France

"Come now, Darling," Freed purred, gently stroking the raven-haired beauty on the cheek. "You know you want to."

To think he'd come to this. Freed Justine – Albion the Slayer, Absolute Shadow, The Nightmares of Angels – resorted to flirting with men in a bar. It was humiliating. He was a soldier, a demonic mage whose power was the stuff of legends, and by rights everyone in the damned club should be bowing for him, on their knees and begging for his mercy. He would have been kind to them, were they giving him the respect he was owed, and perhaps he would have made their night more interesting with a display of his power.

But he couldn't. The war between demons and angels had long since ended, humans had forgotten about the battles and all the people who had been part of it, and as such they didn't know him. To them, Freed was nothing but another human. Better looking of course, but otherwise no different.

Frankly, it was boring.

War between unkillable forces was fun. You didn't have to worry about being hurt, because you couldn't be, and a demon didn't care for guilt. It was simply posturing, and it had allowed Freed to show off the magic that he'd been slowly building from his creation. He was explosively powerful, and he'd sent many of the enemy forces back to heaven time and time again. It was fun seeing them disintegrate as they screamed, but now that was gone.

Technically speaking, he shouldn't have even been in the nightclub at all. Earth was off limits, but he was hardly doing anything too bad. He wasn't poisoning a water system, or luring a man to his death. He was just having a little fun. Nobody could begrudge him a little magically fuelled flirting.

Well, one angel might. But he hadn't arrived yet.

"I dunno," The raven-haired man shrugged, swirling his drink absently.

"I do. You want to do it and you know it," Freed smirked, and his eyes glowed red for a moment. He placed his hand on the mans exposed forearm, and magic flared in his next words. "I'll do it if you will. And you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

A lie, but a fun one.

"You know what," The man said, confidence in his words now. "You're right."

The man was standing up a moment later, walking towards the raised stage with a pole attached to it, removing his shirt. Hm, if the sounds of the cheering at the sight were reflective of the mood, Freed had been right about him having nothing to be ashamed of. It was good guess; Freed really had no idea what a human saw as attractive anymore.

Freed watched from the bar, drinking his wine with a smirk as the man began to gyrate over the pole. Men and women alike cheered, and Freed liked to think that he had done his good deed for the day. Of course, the dancing man might disagree when the spell wore off, but that was hardly a problem.

He'd dispel his magic as the man was dancing. It would be fun to see him crumple.

"The hell are you doing?" A loud rumbling voice came from behind, and Freed smirked.

Right on time.

"What does it look like, my dear," Freed said, not looking towards the angel looming over him. "Exercising my Devil given right to annoy you. Is it working?"

"Take the spell off him," The angel demanded. "Now."

"During his dance. Imagine the embarrassment, it would be debilitatingly humiliating," Freed laughed quietly. "Would he be able to look himself in the mirror? Would he be allowed back out of his home? Would he cry? Rather cruel, aren't you angel?"

"Shut it, devil," The angel growled.

"So rude," Freed tutted while grinning. When a hand planted itself firmly on his shoulder, Freed turned to look to the man. "Good evening, Laxus."

It was always disheartening to see Laxus disguised as a human. He was good looking in their terms, with broad shoulders, a thin waist, handsomely rugged features, and a damn cocky smirk when he used it. But Freed always missed seeing his wings. They were long stretching, tinged and scarred by lightning, with feathers so soft that Freed couldn't decide whether he wanted to stroke them or to pluck them out to see the man scream. He was a magnificent beast of an angel – the counterpart to Freed's demon – and very fun to annoy.

"Hypnosis on humans is fucking illegal," Laxus growled.

"Then it's good that I didn't use it," Freed dismissed, placing the wine on the bartop. "I only lowered his inhibitions. He's lost all doubt and regret, and he's simply doing what he wants to do. Hardly a war crime."

"Tell him that when the police come," Laxus murmured, and Freed laughed. Would the man be arrested before he was naked? Freed hoped not; human anatomy always made him chuckle. "You ain't supposed to be on earth. The hell is wrong with you?"

"You're here," Freed retorted, ignoring the question. "Won't you get in trouble too, angel?"

"I'm only here because I knew you were pulling this shit," Laxus whispered harshly, hand on Freed's shoulder tightening. "And I wanted to get you to cut it the hell out before," he jutted his chin up, "they figure out what you're doing."

"But the danger is half the fun," Freed smirked.

Laxus said nothing else, instead surrounding them both with a wave of angelic magic. As was natural for a demon, the overall holiness of the gesture sent a shooting of pain over Freed, but he grit his teeth and allowed the spell to take effect. A moment later, he was teleported to a blank, bland, nothing room nestled in the middle of limbo.

This was always how his little dance with Laxus went. Freed would sneak down to earth, annoy, and torment a human in a way with very few long-lasting consequences so that he could get a fill of fun, Laxus would somehow be informed of what Freed had done and would stop him before any other heavenly figures realised what he was doing, and he would be teleported away. It had happened hundreds of times, and always ended with Laxus yelling at him for his stupidity but never actually doing anything to stop him.

His face would soon be angry, and his wings would be spasming and flickering. Anger was a good look on the man.

But, truly, this dance was getting boring. They were all-powerful beings, opponents by very nature, who had met in the middle of battel and had underwent fights that would be studied for history in years to come. They shouldn't have gotten stuck in a rut. It was almost insulting.

"Why don't you leave me alone?" Freed asked before Laxus could begin shouting.

"What?" The angel asked, taken unaware.

"Well, I understand that your side likes to preach forgiveness and repentance and so on, so perhaps I can understand you trying to stop me the first ten or so times, but we've been doing this for years now," Freed smirked, leaning forward and leaning against a white table. He looked up at Laxus from under his lashes, flirtatious and smirking. "I'm not changing my ways, and you know it. So why not leave me to get killed by your darling overlords?"

Laxus tensed his jaw, grit his teeth, and let his wings shoot out from his back. What a lovely sight. Freed quickly removed his own human disguise, horns cracking from his skull and eyes turning a red and purple swirl.

"Everyone can improve," Laxus retorted. "I think that, given-"

"I've known you for centuries, Laxus, I know when you're parroting that ridiculous heavenly mantra," Freed cut off the argument before it could be made. "I want to know why you, angel supreme Laxus Dreyar, is being ever so kind to me so often."

He said nothing, and Freed grinned.

"May I offer my thoughts, since you don't seem to want to answer," Freed continued. "I think we're more alike than you think. You and I, you see, we're fighters. You can claim pacifism all you want, but I know you loved every moment of engagement. Showing off your power, proving yourself to be an overwhelming force of nature, it was everything you ever wanted. And then it was taken away from you, and you were at a loss of what you could do. Everything was peaceful and there was nobody to do battle with. Nobody to impress. Nobody but me."

"That ain't what happened," Laxus grunted. He walked towards a door Freed assumed would take him back to heaven, and Freed quickly intercepted.

"It's exactly what happened. I'm your opponent, in this little game we've created for ourselves," Freed smirked, took a single step forward so he was in Laxus' space and yet not quite touching him. "It was fun, as games go, but I think we should move past it. Flip the board and do something a little more," he smirked, and raked his claws over Laxus chest before hissing, "tactile."

Laxus' face held an expression Freed was familiar with. He was on the brink of doing something he wanted to do more than anything, but knew it was wrong. A look that, on humans, brought Freed a giddy thrill.

Seeing it on Laxus was euphoria.

The angel swallowed slightly, looking over Freed's face, his claws, his horns and then back to his face again. His eyes were dilated just a little, body tensing and muscles hardening as if he was trying to steel his resolve. He was so close to breaking, and making both of their lives both more pleasurable and much more interesting. He just needed a nudge. Freed was happy to oblige.

"That was the problem with the war, I feel," He purred, voice like silk and seductive. "Place men of unsurmountable power together and make them fight. It fuels passion. We were purpose built to feel strongly about one another. To obsess over one another. To rely on one another," He raised his hand and dug his claws into Laxus' jaw. "What did they think would happen when we could no longer fight? Falling for each other was inevitable."

"I ain't fallen, not for you," Laxus murmured as he leant close to Freed, tenseness giving way. He was even smiling, ever so slightly, and that was all the encouragement that he needed.

"Aren't you?" Freed grinned, stroking Laxus' cheek and loving the restrained mewling that bubbled in the angel's throat.

"No," Laxus murmured, bringing his lips closer to Freed, and his grin was just as unhindered as Freed's.

"Well," Freed purred, pressing into Laxus' chest. "Put your money where your mouth is then."

He closed the gap between them, and two millenniums of tension exploded to life in a slow, tender kiss. The mixture of magics gave their kiss a burning, fizzing sensation that spurred them both on. The contrast of their bodies stung and felt fantastic, addictively peculiar and driving them to kiss harder.

Laxus' wings outstretched behind him, then wrapped around them both. The comforting feathers tingled at Freed's back, and he leant against the man with a smirk as they pulled apart. Laxus was smiling at him, not a lingering sense of doubt in sight, and Freed grinned.

As fun as it would have been to taint an angel, bring him to his knees and make him turn his back on his culture, Freed had truly believed his words. They were fated to be together; it only made sense. Freed had broken countless rules set after the war, and he should have been struck down by lightning or burned at the stake for his crimes. Even with Laxus looking over him, the powers of fate were more powerful, and breaking of the rules came with immediate punishment. He hadn't been killed, despite his flagrant disregard of the rules. There was a reason for that, and he liked to think he'd been saved for Laxus. The fact Laxus had showed no regret, nor no fear about what he had done, seemed to suggest Laxus agreed with the sentiment.

Now, Freed was in a new game, a much more fun one. A game where it wasn't simply a demon fighting against an angel. No, this game had only one side. A flirtatious demon with an abhorrence for boredom, and his darling, virtuous fallen angel. Who would dare oppose them?

Le Parisien – 02.11.2025

Une Célébrité Populaire Prise Dans Le Scandale De La Nudité En Public.

Hier soir, le chanteur et danseur populaire Grey Fullbuster a été arrêté à Paris. Les rapports ont affirmé que, dans une démonstration de confiance ivre, il est monté au sommet d'une scène dans la discothèque Devil's Door, et a commencé à enlever tous ses vêtements et à danser contre un poteau. Les réactions à la situation vont du dégoût moral au plaisir divertissant. Dans une déclaration faite par le manager du chanteur, Fullbuster a affirmé que "Le diable m'a fait le faire".

[fatehbaz]

Hello, I hope you're well. Do you have any recommendations about where to start with decolonization theory? I've heard a bit about it but nothing substantial.

Hey, thanks for the question. Before I start rambling, I’ll just give a really short, blunt response: Despite all the jargon-heavy academic content written about decolonization, especially as a trend in the past 15 years, I think that the way to learn about decolonial thought and practice is to read the work of people living in the Global South; the work of marginalized environmental activists and agricultural workers, especially in the Global South; and the work of Indigenous scholars, knowledge holders, and activists who are explicitly willing to share their knowledge with non-Indigenous people. That said, I’m not too well-versed in technical decolonial theory per se, and instead I try to read more of the ecological/environmental, social/anthropological, and activist writing of Indigenous people and people from the Global South, what you might call decolonial thought. Rather than focusing on the technical theory and writing of wealthy Euro-American academics, I prefer more radical decolonial writing that integrates local/Indigenous cosmology, environmental knowledge, and ecology alongside the social and political aspects of radical anticolonial resistance. Something that I’m really interested in, regarding decolonial thought, is the importance of Indigenous and non-Western cosmology (ontology, epistemology, worldviews) because these ways of knowing actually provide frameworks that stand in contrast to extractivist thinking, suggesting alternatives that could be implemented. So, below I’ve listed just a couple of the most accessible authors that I’ve been reading recently, and I’ve split recommendations into four categories: (1) Indigenous authors writing about sovereignty and ecological consequences of colonialism; (2) technical decolonial theory and Indigenous resistance; (3) decolonial theory and ontology; and (4) synthesizing technical decolonial theory with writing on Indigenous worldviews and environmental knowledge. This definitely isn’t meant to be an extensive or definitive list of resources; and I know other people might have some better or different recommendations to make. But I hope this helps, if only a little bit, as an introduction!

-

Y’know, I think there’s a tendency among a lot of Euro-American academics to make the concept of decolonization much more mysterious, obtuse, and complicated than it needs to be; there’s an awful lot of discourse about metaphysics, ontology, and other intellectualized aspects of decolonization that are probably less important right now than concrete actions like reforestation and revegetation projects; healing soil integrity, health, and biodiversity; dismantling monoculture plantations; ending industrial resource extraction; ending de facto corporate control of lands, especially in tropical agriculture; allowing local Indigenous autonomy; preserving and celebrating Indigenous languages and ways of knowing; etc.

So, I’m not all that knowledgeable with technical decolonial theory. Instead I mostly just try very hard to read the environmental, anthropological, activist, etc. writing of Indigenous and minority communities, people from the Global South, and Indigenous traditional knowledge holders. Often, this kind of writing doesn’t always take the form of “theory.” A lot of decolonial theory - that I’ve seen, at least - is concerned with discussing trends/currents in academia and Euro-American discourse about the Global South. (In other words, a lot of decolonial theory written by white authors seems more concerned with talking about what decolonization means for academia and discourse, rather than actually exploring the worldviews of Indigenous peoples and the Global South.) Instead, the kind of stuff that I try to read explores Indigenous and non-Western resistance, community-building, and ecology; and so the resources that I recommend might not qualify as decolonial theory but they are decolonial, if that makes sense?

In my experience, some of the works that best demonstrate or embody decolonial thought are not works of theory, but are instead works of social history, nature writing, natural history, or works that explore bioregionalism, food, and local folklore. I also like to note that there is a trend among activists and scholars in Latin America to use the term “anticolonial” instead of “decolonial” or “postcolonial.” These latter two terms might imply that existence or identity in the Global South is doomed to always be defined by its relationship to Europe, the US, or imperialism generally. However, “anticolonial” might connote a more active role; you may still suffer the effects of imperialism, but you’re also an active opponent of it, living and thinking outside colonialism, with a unique worldview that exists autonomously rather than being defined always in reference to colonial actions or standards.

Indigenous authors writing about sovereignty and ecological consequences of colonialism:

So here are a few Indigenous scholars that I read, who write not just about decolonial thought, but also about place-based identity, environmental knowledge, and how decolonial theory can often be Eurocentic:

– Zoe Todd: Metis scholar and environmental writer, who famously criticized academic discourse about decolonization for itself being Eurocentric and colonial; here’s a nice interview (from 2015) about decolonial theory, where Zoe Todd criticizes Western academics and the ontological turn in anthropology.– Kyle Whyte: Potawatomi scholar, who writes about Indigenous sovereignty, Indigenous food systems, colonization, contrasts between Indigenous and Euro-American worldviews, and preservation of Indigenous enviornmental knowledge; here’s a list of Whyte’s articles and essays, most available for free.– Robin Wall Kimmerer: Potawatomi ecologist, bryophyte specialist, and educator, who discusses contrasts between Indigenous and Euro-American ways of knowing; here’s one of my favorite interviews with Kimmerer.

Technical decolonial theory and Indigenous resistance:

And here are two recommendations on more technical anticolonial/decolonial theory. These texts are both a bit dense:

– Boaventura de Sousa Santos wrote a wonderful work of decolonial/anticolonial theory and thought, titled Epistemologies of the South: Justice Against Epistemicide (2014). This work is a bit technical but very interesting and thorough, and explores how a major function of imperialism is to deliberately dismantle Indigenous worldviews, ways of knowing, and environmental knowledge, to replace Indigenous ecological relationships with “extractivist” and “industrial” mentalities.

– Arturo Escobar wrote a good work of anticolonial theory in direct response to de Sousa Santos’ work; Escobar’s text is called Thinking-feeling with the Earth: Territorial Struggles and the Ontological Dimension of the Epistemologies of the South (2015).

Both of these texts and authors explore the Global South’s active resistance to industrial/extractivist worldviews; they both also largely focus on Latin America and reciprocity, communal relationships, agroecology, and active resistance in Latin American communities.

Decolonial theory and ontology:

The ontological turn in anthropology is kiiind of a manifestation of decolonial theory, though it’s kind of problematic and often Eurocentric, popular among wealthy academics. The Metis scholar Zoe Todd, referenced earlier in this post, has written about the problematic aspects of the ontological turn. The ontological turn was big news in academia around 2008-2012, happening alongside the rise in popularity of Mark Fisher, “capitalist realism,” and Graham Harman’s object-oriented ontology. Basically, I guess you could summarize the ontological turn as an effort to decolonize thinking in anthropology departments of Euro-American universities, to better understand the the worldviews/cosmologies of non-Western people. Here’s a summary by environmental scholar Adrian Ivakhiv, which references the role of Eduardo Viveiros de Castro and Phillipe Descola, two anthropologists working adjacent to decolonial theory.

Synthesizing technical decolonial theory with writing on Indigenous worldviews and environmental knowledge:

– Phillipe Descola: A renowned anthropologist whose work inspired much of the decolonization trend in US anthropology departments and the ontological turn in anthropology; Descola’s work deals with epistemology and ontology (so it’s often pretty dense) and takes a lot of cues from the work of Eduardo Viveiros de Castro, the Brazilian anthropologist who popularized the study of Amazonianist cosmology. Other Euro-American anthropologists who write about technical decolonial theory: Bruno Latour (kind of problematic); Isabelle Stengers.

– Eduardo Kohn: An anthropologist focused on decolonization and Indigenous worldviews; Kohn also takes cues from Viveiros de Castro and Descola. Kohn authored How Forests Think, which is a study of Indigenous Amazonian worldviews and how Amazonian people perceive nonhuman living things and the rainforest as a community. You can look up interviews with Eduardo Kohn

– I don’t know if you saw this post I made recently, but it shares a fun publication called The Word for World is Still Forest, which is an exploration of the cultural importance of forests from decolonial and Indigenous perspectives, and it’s a good example of decolonial theory being explored by visual artists, geographers, poets, anthropologists, and activists.

-

So, these are just the first examples that come to mind. I’m sure other friends/readers/followers might have some better recommendations. [ @anarcblr ?]

Often, I feel like a lot of technical decolonization theory is written by white professionals and academics, and I, personally, don’t think it’s important to have a white academic acting as a “middle man” whomst “translates” the thinking of Indigenous theorists and people from the Global South. In my experience, there’s a lot of “decolonization theory” content in journals, books, etc., over the past 20-ish years, mostly written by white academics who seem to have just recently “discovered” the “utility” of decolonization theory for “improving their field” or something. Discussing the “utility” of Indigenous knowledge is itself a kind of colonialist way of thinking, since it sees the knowledge as profitable or valuable or something to be employed like a machine, a way of thinking that is itself extractivist. (I’m not anti-intellectual, and anti-intellectualism is a problem, especially in the US. But I’ve not really found academics willing to just straight-up say radical things like “capitalism has to be confronted if we’re going to be serious about decolonization.”)

Like, they write about decolonization as if it’s major benefit is its practical/pragmatic application to improving science, metaphysics, conservation, or climate crisis mitigation. One example of this behavior is a huge amount of headlines in mainstream US news sources and environmental magazines, from late 2018 and 2019, that say some version of “Indigenous knowledge may be the key to surviving the climate crisis” or “planting trees might be the single best defense against global climate collapse, and Indigenous peoples’ knowledge can help us implement it” And this just doesn’t sit well with me. Firstly, because it frames Indigenous knowledge as an inanimate resource to be “tapped,” appropriated, employed, “put to use.” And secondly, because this not news. This - the role of vegetation and healthy soil microorganism communities in mitigating desertification, biodiversity loss, and local adverse climate trends - has been well-known to Indigenous peoples for centuries or millennia, and has also been very well-known to Euro-American environmental historians and academic geographers for decades.

I guess I’m saying that the current Euro-American discourse of decolonization has a lot of issues.

Anyway, the theory that I personally like best isn’t too academic or jargon-heavy; I like the work that which synthesizes human elements (anticolonial; anti-imperialist; anti-extractivism; anti-racist) with ecology (cosmology and folklore; traditional environmental knowledge; place-based identity), since ecological degradation and social violence and injustice are inseparable issues, and this is an interconnected relationship that decolonial theory and Latin American worldviews seem to understand very, very deeply.

And, I guess another element to the kind of decolonial writing that I enjoy is the importance of Indigenous and non-Western cosmology (worldviews, epistemology, ontology, ways of knowing) to providing alternatives to imperial, colonial, and extractivist mentalities. This is how decolonial thinking is not just about finding ways to defend against further imperial violence, but also proactive in promoting healthier alternatives that can be implemented.

I hope that some of these recommendations are useful!

[mbti-notes]

(1/8) Yayy, I love Fleabag and I love your blog and everything you write, so I hope you're up for a discussion of your typings (and I hope all the asks come through). Agree about Fleabag, the Godmother and Harry's (his frequent breakups with Fleabag seemed INFJ door slams, but his endgame points to Si) typings. Boo and Fleabag seemed to have been the sort of BFFs who matched because their personalities were quite similar... What made you conclude ESFP rather than ENFP? Same goes for Martin...

Boo’s interests are all concrete, her thinking is always immediate and short-term, Ni grip was apparent in her hasty death.

Same goes for Martin. While I see signs of tertiary Fe in his deliberate manipulation of Claire and pleasure at bringing Fleabag down, and also the overall recklessness of unhealthy EPs, I couldn’t be sure whether he was Se or Ne dom.

I see no evidence of dominant Ne nor inferior Si but many vulgarities and desires that are indicative of unhealthy Se.

What about the Bank Manager? My memory of series one is fuzzy, but he makes an effort to work things out with Fleabag (and women in general) even if he judges too quickly, which could point at aux/tert Te-Fi, I guess.

He is honest and straightforward, no pretension, but severely limited in his perspective. His moral reasoning ability is rather rudimentary, which makes F unlikely. His life is in a deep rut and he is drawn to Fleabag because she is his opposite and helps spark his lower function development. She comes to symbolize the key to understanding his failures and frustrations (both in terms of how he treats women and his lack of function development), therefore, helping her succeed is also helping himself find his own way. He’s reconciling who he is by reckoning with his past mistakes through Fleabag.

The Father clearly struggles with expressing his feelings. He wants to communicate better with Fleabag, but he understands and prefers Claire (a T), so probably IxTx, perhaps Ti-Fe if we consider the main issues presented in the story plus the fact that he quickly fell for Godmother, a Fe dom? I’d like to know your reasoning for him. Anyway, I’d typed Claire and the Priest as ISTJ and ENFJ respectively, and these ones I was sure to have gotten right. xSTJ was clear for Claire, and episode 203 was the one that cemented her as ISTJ for me. She is constantly anxious and full of routines and rituals and micromanages everything, from actions to looks to even jokes, implying a lot of overthinking (I); she clashes with Fleabag because she’s insecure about the possibility of not being as interesting and funny as Fleabag (tertiary Fi). Also, she tries to pretend that she enjoyed the night, that her marriage is going well and that she thinks Fleabag kissed Martin rather than the opposite because of Si’s need to maintain security and stability and not lose what she’s conquered. By accepting her individuality, her feelings and the possibility of something better for herself, she takes action to improve her life, which implied much needed extraverted development. Also, most ESTJs I’ve met, despite being control freaks privately, are more adaptable and relaxed as well, especially in public (higher Te-Ne).

The show centers around Fleabag’s dysfunction. In Si grip, Fleabag tries to pinpoint Boo’s death (and her own hand in causing it) as the “point of origin” but her problems go far deeper than that, all the way back to her family relationships. Everyone in the family is equally messed up despite appearances. The show doesn’t go very far into the historical causes of their collective dysfunction, but it does a good job of illustrating the dysfunctional patterns as they exist in the present. The characters are largely products of old family patterns, therefore, it’s hard to understand each member individually without the context of their collective family dynamic.

A very common family dynamic involves projecting all of the family’s history of dysfunction onto the “weakest link”, aka, the black sheep. The black sheep is usually “chosen” according to their so-called inferiority for failing to live up to the family’s unspoken values, then they are routinely criticized and shamed for being something that is perceived as contrary to the family’s survival and well-being. Over time, this dynamic places an unspoken duty/expectation onto the black sheep, namely that they should always be “the one that ruins everything” whenever the family requires a scapegoat to deflect responsibility for dysfunctional behavior. Fleabag is obviously the black sheep, so everyone uses her as the punchline (for easing tension), the punching bag (for displacing their frustration), and the punch down (for a cheap win during power struggles).

As a defense mechanism, Fleabag believes that she is actually the superior member of the family because she’s “clever” enough to see through people’s fakery or hypocrisy. Despite the concrete proof of her own life being a total mess, she likes to think of herself as being more self-aware than others, i.e., she implicitly blames her life failures on the fact that she can’t fake it or lie to herself like everyone else. However, she doesn’t realize that playing the black sheep role is her form of self-deception. She is deeply caught up in a logical contradiction of knowing she is less than but also believing herself better than, and we see this over and over again in her asides to the audience. By exercising crude power in exposing other people’s fakery, she doesn’t have to look at her own and expose herself, and this plays perfectly into the family pattern that always ends up ricocheting back onto her. Whenever she exposes anything resembling the truth of the family’s dysfunction, regardless of whether she does it kindly or maliciously, she is roundly blamed for “acting out”, being “cruel”, “screwing up”, “ruining everything”, etc etc. The family immediately comes together to activate the scapegoating pattern and, in the end, nothing changes and the pattern repeats the next time they get together. Her twisted way of “caring” for her family is to play the black sheep, and their twisted way of “bonding” is to collectively reinforce their status as not the black sheep.

When people treat you like a black sheep long enough, you believe it and it becomes your identity, and playing this role so well leads her to blow up all of her relationships outside of the family. In accumulating many failed relationships, it’s very easy to slide into settling for less or settling for what you think you deserve, and she has been trained over a lifetime to feel less than deserving. As a defense mechanism, she’s romantically attracted to people who aren’t capable of knowing who she really is, which in turn gives her justification for blowing up each relationship as they are always shallow and meaningless anyway. But this automatic and destructive pattern hits rock bottom when she destroys the only person who’s managed to really know her. She then gradually becomes more aware that she’s repeating unconscious conditioning and could perhaps choose otherwise, but ingrained patterns are hard to change without help and guidance, which eventually invites the influence of the priest.

You might think that their father bears the brunt of the blame for the family being so dysfunctional, but he has plenty of his own unresolved issues that make him more like a child than a parent. The show does not offer any explanation for him but everyone has a history. It seems that he has always been emotionally absent and socially inept in that he allowed their mother to do all of the parenting and caregiving. He is not aggressive, obsessive, or controlling as you would expect for unhealthy TJs, rather, he is detached, distant, avoidant, and indifferent. When you talk to him face-to-face, there is some natural warmth there, but once you are out of his sight, you are out of his mind. You know that he loves you in his way, you know that he tries to empathize, but you also know that he utterly fails to understand anything about you no matter how hard either side tries to bridge the gap. It’s hard to fault him for what is clearly a “disability”? Because of his ineptitude, he traps himself in a codependent relationship with his shadow opposite type, a narcissistic person who calls all the shots in the relationship so that he never has to lift a finger, i.e., he never ever has to bear moral responsibility for anything, and taken to an absurd conclusion, he lives in a pitiful state of learned helplessness. You never have to feel bad if you never do anything, right? Wrong, he is still guilty of sins of omission, and for that he’s never able to truly be at ease no matter what he does to shed away every difficulty. Ideally, a good stepmom takes care of the step-kids, but he was not lucky enough to snag one, so he must accede to the bad stepmom’s judgment or else, heaven forbid, he loses his easy life by having to take responsibility for the girls on his own.

Unhealthy TPs need uptight Js to help them keep life in order, but they often prefer Ps for their amusing company. The father does not “prefer” Claire for what/who she is, rather, he merely appreciates that she doesn’t make any trouble for him, which he wants to believe absolves him of blame. He can say, “See, I have one good daughter, so it’s not my fault that the other one is bad”. There are many parallels between Claire and her father in how they approach relationships very passively and helplessly. Deep down, his heart actually prefers Fleabag for the fact that she more closely resembles her mother and the fact that she is braver than him and challenges him (to be better). He wishes to have a better relationship with her, similar to what he must’ve had with her mother, but he’s unfortunately incapable of containing the dysfunction that bad parenting and unresolved grief has wrought upon her.

You say that Claire should be more flexible if tertiary Ne, but why would you expect her to have any healthy functions? She clearly suffers inferior grip quite often and thus cannot use any of her functions optimally. Every SJ with unhealthy Si-Ne uses micromanagement of routines/rituals as a crutch, so this is true for both dominant and auxiliary Si - your claim here only proves SJ. She’s just as fucked up as Fleabag is, only she is better at repressing her feelings, and for this alone, ISTJ is very unlikely. ISTJs are introverts and they prefer to give up and be at peace rather than double and triple down on stupid behavior in the manner that Claire often does. Her main problem in life is that everything she does to “manage” situations results in her betraying herself in some way, which is strongly indicative of infantile Fi. I disagree that stubbornness is her fatal flaw ala Si-Fi loop; if that were the case, she’d be more than happy to give up everything to Fi loop and disappear into the background. She would also never ever go near Fleabag nor trust her with anything due to the fact that she has already encountered countless past experiences of Fleabag blowing up situations in awful and unpredictable ways. ISTJs are at their least forgiving and never forget whenever it comes to delegating important tasks.

I argue that what gets Claire truly upset is not being unprepared for “all negative possibilities in the abstract” but rather the possibility of LOSING FACE, i.e., being publicly humiliated and exposed as the uncool simpering hypocrite that she is, which is indicative of deep-seated fear of Fi (she envies Fleabag for her “cool” factor for this reason). Unhealthy Te doms, falling apart internally, are still capable of maintaining functionality in external life far longer than other types. She suffers from serious grip problems but still manages to perform her duties at home and at work, which simply wouldn’t be possible for Ne grip. With Fi grip, she instantly switches to very ugly self-pity and irrationally self-protective behavior when threatened by anything. Her instinct upon feeling the vulnerability of exposure is to go on and on and on about how “successful” she is, which usually includes a few rounds of punching down at everyone in an attempt to disown her bad decision making. ISTJs are rarely capable of bullshitting themselves to that extreme; they are more likely to react with humility and even resignation when presented with incontrovertible proof of their failures (see: Bank Manager).

Claire was probably expected to be “the responsible one” (aka elder/caregiver sibling archetype) because there was no one else to take responsibility. However, at this point in her life, she has achieved enough career success to be independent from the family. The fact that she can’t help herself from enacting her old role speaks to the lack of self-insight that is characteristic of inferior Fi, i.e., as much as she complains about hating the pressures and headaches of being “the responsible one”, she unconsciously LOVES it because it grants her a superior position in the family. She’s not willing to give up the pain because she’s not willing to give up the payoff, and this internal love-hate contradiction is what makes her relationship with Fleabag dysfunctional despite the love and affection they have for each other. I don’t think ISTJs are able to bear such obvious internal contradiction and still manage to claim integrity. ISTJs find it much more painful, if not impossible, to pretend and posture for the sake of appearances, because they are supremely stubborn people when it comes to preserving their subjective sense of integrity. By contrast, inferior Fi makes it very easy to ignore subjective integrity and choose destructive methods of obtaining feelings of power and superiority, hence she ends up betraying her own well-being all the time.

As for the Priest, we both agree on him being a Fe dom. What made me choose Ni rather than Si is that he admitted to have been quite a different person in the past by alluding to his many sexual experiences, probably a hint of Se as well. But then he met God and everything took a 180 for him (N, not S), implying that he was uncomfortably adrift for a while and needed a sense of meaning and a clear vision of his path ahead to feel whole (Ni). Also, PWB has said that Fleabag was drawn to the Priest because he has an established sense of purpose, which she’s been looking for, which highlights their P vs J and Ne vs Ni differences. You could argue that he was drawn to her because of tertiary Ne, but I don’t see signs of Si’s typical grounded outlook (he uses a lot of abstractions to explain his ideas) or typical adherence to traditions (the path to his faith wasn’t primarily through this motivation as it happens to many) or typical narrow-mindedness (quite the opposite, he used to be quite open to experiences due to Fe+Se). Oh, and I forgot to mention, the Priest can read and understand Fleabag so well that he even gets to enter her internal world and listen to her personal thoughts. To be able to understand people with this level of depth is, of course, more natural for xNFJs rather than xSFJs, who help people on a more practical level (Fe+Ni v Fe+Si).

I think your understanding of Si is still quite stereotypical. ESFJs have a common pattern of using Ne to “find themselves” only to end up lost because what they’re really doing is Ne loop. ESFJs tend to grow up feeling very pressured to be rule abiders and it is common for them to go through a rebellious stage a bit later in life compared to other types, once the pressure finally reaches a breaking point. After swinging from the painful oppression of “rule observant” behavior in youth to the painful failures of “rule breaking” behavior in young adulthood, they eventually boomerang back to old touchstones, i.e., they ground themselves by rediscovering comfort in the known. IIRC, the priest felt lost and eventually revisited religion for guidance, he made the beliefs his own rather than blindly following dogma, and he chose to commit his life to doing good because HE genuinely wanted to, not because family/society told him to. A healthy ESFJ establishes a stronger sense of self once they reconcile with the past and make “rule following” more palatable by turning it into a personal choice (rather than feeling obligated to constantly self-sacrifice). I disagree that he “transformed” from one person into a completely different one, I think it’s more accurate to say that he had no idea who he was and got increasingly lost until he discovered himself by looking backward and making sense of his past experience. 

Religion is an abstract concept, there’s no avoiding abstract discussions about religious beliefs when you’re debating a non-believer, especially when that non-believer is Ne dom. Ne is tertiary and people often use tertiary functions for relief, therefore, ESFJs tend to enjoy abstract discussions, especially of the Ne variety that is full of humor and playfulness, exactly like the kind that he gets with Fleabag. I dare you to try joking around with a “true believer” ENFJ. Their beliefs are deadly serious to them, so they show far less patience for sacrilegious play (unless, for some reason, they have developed an irrational fear of being criticized as dogmatic and pretend to be open-minded). Also, why would an *N*FJ be shocked and alarmed or seem resistant to using intuition to “read” people? Why would their intuition seem so painfully accidental? NFJs generally LIKE using intuition and do it naturally as part of who they are, they embrace it and feel more confident the more they are in touch with it.

Ns tend to speak in abstractions but not everyone who speaks in abstractions is N, similarly, every NJ needs a sense of purpose but not everyone who seeks a purpose is NJ -> beware this logical fallacy: “every cat has four legs but not every four-legged creature is a cat”. NJs need a purpose for materializing their personal potential, SJs seek a purpose for the sake of grounding themselves in something unshakable within - you point out the behavior without grasping the true motivation. When ESFJs develop Si well, they recognize that what makes them happy is to be of service, to be a positive contributor to their community, to be a reliable source of help and comfort to those in need. He is not a charismatic and boastful preacher of the ENFJ sort, rather, he sees himself as a humble servant who uses reliable traditional beliefs to help ground people who feel lost in hectic modern life, using his own past experience as the starting point. The fact that he has the strength to end the relationship with Fleabag before it becomes negative and destructive is a testament to Si steadfastness and how strongly the rules matter to him (Ns are very masterful at rationalizing that the rules don’t apply to them, and that’s often how they end up in bad places). Why would you expect him to display all sorts of negative signs of Si if he is meant to be the positive moral guidance for the show? And wouldn’t it make sense for him to use his well-developed Si to reveal to Fleabag the true extent of her dysfunctional Si? Would an ENFJ instinctively know better than an ESFJ how to remedy Si specific identity dysfunction?

Can you please allow us to submit things to you? In the case of long asks like mine, it helps to avoid any part not getting sent.

I have considered this before but I’m not sure I want to do that.

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter 10

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About 4 hours later, George stirred awake as she began getting hit in the face with the bright morning sun. She was surprised to find Sam driving, with Dean passed out next to him. Castiel looked like he hadn't moved an inch since she'd closed her eyes and she smiled at his resolve. When she finally shifted, she noticed a large unfamiliar, tan jacket laying across her lap.

Reaching up to lightly touch Sam on the shoulder, gently alerting him to her presence, she whispered, "What time is it?"

"Hey, morning. A little after six. You doing OK? Need to pee?" He teased gently and she smiled.

"I'm alright at the moment, though I wouldn't turn down a chance to stretch my legs." She sat up in her seat, stretching as much as she could without invading Cas' space. Sam watched in the rear view as she crossed her arms above her head and arched her back for a stretch. He caught himself admiring the way the fabric of her shirt lifted up just enough for him to catch a fleeting glimpse of the skin on her waist. There was more bright ink peeking out from the top of her khakis, he noticed. She released the stretch much too soon in his opinion and then leaned over to pick up the jacket that had fallen off of her lap. She held it up questioningly to Sam and he adjusted himself in his seat, clearing his throat.

"Oh, that's, uh-mine." He stuttered, reaching back and taking it from her outstretched hands. "The backseat can get cold."

"Mm," She smiled and nodded appreciatively. "Thanks. How long have you been driving?"

"Just about 3 hours. I could use a stretch myself; I think there's a rest stop ahead a few miles." She nodded lazily, still brushing off the sleep, and looked over at Cas.

"You been keeping a weather eye out, Castiel?" She asked teasingly.

"Yes ma'am. Can never be too careful with these two." As nervous as she made him, he actually liked George. She eagerly included him in conversation and car games, which he wasn't used to. He also enjoyed her attempts to banter with him and he was getting better at deciphering them and even participating.

"Good man." She patted his shoulder appreciatively.

Cas nodded in solidarity, then he raised an eyebrow at her inquisitively. George smiled and raised both her eyebrows in response, waiting for him to speak. Based on his expression, she assumed he wanted to ask her a question. When he didn't speak, she raised her eyebrows more to encourage him. He darted his eyes to Sam; his face dropped quickly.

George followed his gaze to Sam and was startled at the daggers he was staring at Cas. She asked, "What? What's with the eyes?"

When Sam noticed her looking, he dropped his angry face and shrugged, "Nothin'? No eyes." Cas shrugged awkwardly in agreement. George looked between the two of them skeptically. She knew what she saw.

Narrowing her eyes, she demanded, "What?"

"Nothing," Cas stated with an incredibly unconvincing tone. George's head whipped to look at Sam as he rolled his eyes at Cas before he could stop himself.

She was annoyed now, "Seriously, guys-what?! Do I have a zit? Was I drooling in my sleep or-?" Her face fell suddenly and she winced, "Did I say something embarrassing?" She'd had partners mention her sleep talking once or twice and she'd been having a strangely vivid dream about Sam just before the sunshine woke her up. Considering the content, she prayed she hadn't said anything.

At her question, Cas and Sam exchanged a confused look. They both shook their heads as Sam answered, "Nope, no drooling, no talking. And no zits," he ended with a smirk.

George looked relieved for a moment and then frowned, "Then what? Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked Cas and then looked at Sam, "And why are you trying to keep him quiet?"

Sam pulled an innocent face, "I'm not-"

"Save it, dude! I saw you," George laughed at his innocent-little-brother face. "What's goin' on?"

Cas folded, "We were just wonder-"

Sam cut him off with a "No!" so loud that Dean startled awake with a snort.

"The hell?" Dean grumbled. Sam sighed defeatedly. He knew it was too late to stop the inevitable now, but he'd really tried. This was going to be painful.

"I believe your thug brother is threatening Castiel into keeping secrets," George stated annoyedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Dean responded with a confused, "Huh?"

Castiel explained, defensively, "I was just trying to ask George if she's a 'Deangirl' or a 'Samgirl'."

George's eyes went wide. Large, angry red splotches began to appear on her pale cheeks and a sweat broke out on her brow. Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly, clenching his jaw and looking mortified.

Dean let out a loud, "Ha!" Chuckling, he sat up right and murmured, "Definitely glad I got woken up for this."

"What?" Cas huffed, seeing everyone's reactions. "I know you said we weren't supposed to say anything when she woke up, but you two were having a lively discussion about it earlier and I j-"

George choked on nothing and sputtered, "The two of you were having a lively discussion about wheth-" Dean and Sam both pulled the same innocent expression, though Dean couldn't hide his glee.

Sam cut her off with a stutter, "We weren't-It-it wasn't exactly-there was no-"

Dean shook his head, cutting him off with a matter-of-fact, "We were just trying to explain to Cas more about the reality you came from-with the show and everything? Naturally the subject of the fans came up..."

"They weren't sure which 'girl' designation you fell into. I didn't see what the issue was with just politely asking?"

"It's not a polite question, Cas!" George snapped in humiliation.

"Oh…" He frowned, "why not?"

"Because!" She explained fully.

"There are just some things you don't ask a woman, Cas," Dean offered with a bemused chuckle.

Cas' brows furrowed, looking curiously at George, "Does this question somehow relate to your age or menstrual cycle?"

"Sweet Jesus," George laughed to keep from crying in embarrassment, hiding her face behind her hands. She knew this was how Cas was but she wasn't prepared to experience his naivete in real life. The Kegel comments she could handle but this was beyond.

Sam desperately tried to re-rail the train wreck that was happening, "Cas, what Dean meant to say was, there are some things you shouldn't ask people. Humans, in general. Private things."

"Mortifying things," George groaned from behind her hands.

Cas was still confused, "And asking someone whether they're a 'Samgirl' or a 'Deangirl' is private?"

George dropped her hands and nodded emphatically, "In the context of our current situation, yes!"

"Why?"

"Because!" When he looked at her with a patient expression on his face she realized he'd need more than that. "Because… because…" she looked to Sam and Dean for help but neither one offered any. "Ugh, because it's the same as asking... 'Hey, Cas, if you had to, who would you rather sleep with, Dean or Sam?'"

"Don't answer that," Dean said slowly, with a frown.

"Not so amusing now, is it?" George smirked triumphantly at him.

"Well, I don't sleep but if you're saying I have to, then I guess I'd rather not-sleep with Sam," Castiel determined, after some thought.

"What?!" Came a half offended, half surprised echo from the front.

George's eyes lit up with far too much glee, "Oooooh?"

"Yes, definitely Sam," He nodded, more sure than before. Seeing their expressions - George's filled with joy, Dean's slightly hurt, and Sam pleasantly shocked - he explained, "Dean is an angry sleeper. The risk of getting shot is high. Sleeping-or not-with Sam would be far safer."

"Oooh, darn!" George laughed disappointedly at Cas' unexpected-yet-entirely-expected literal interpretation. The brothers looked relieved and also mildly amused.

Cas was lost, "I fail to understand what this has to do with-"

Dean 'ughed' deeply before explaining, "It's about sex, Cas." Sam cringed, eyes focused on the road. George groaned painfully and turtled her head inside her shirt as much as possible. "You essentially asked George which one of us she'd rather have sex with. Which-while incredibly entertaining for me-is a personal question," he finished uncharacteristically kindly.

George peeked her eyes out, surprised to see the sincere look on Dean's face, "Hmm, that actually wasn't as bad as I thou-"

Sam cut her off with a quiet, knowing, "Wait for it."

Just as George made eye contact with Dean he added, "I mean, it's none of our business how much sex George wants to have with Sam."

"And there it is," Sam finished knowingly with a frustrated eye roll.

"Ass!" George shrieked and punched Dean in the shoulder before retreating back into her shirt. Dean laughed heartily, flinching a bit.

"So, anyway," Sam began helpfully, trying to change the subject. "I'm kinda curious how much the show-the one of us, in-in your reality-how much it matches up with our real lives?"

George slowly came out of her shirt, blinking quickly, and thought for a moment, "Uhm, well I don't really know. I mean I've watched the show but like I said before, I wasn't the biggest fan in terms of… for lack of a better term, 'the lore' of it. I know bits and pieces here and there, but I'm by no means an expert."

"But you don't have the books?" Dean followed up curiously.

"The books are in the show, but I'm pretty sure they aren't published in… my 'real life'-who knows what the hell that is anymore. If I understand correctly, each book was supposed to equate to one episode in a season of the TV show. The published books stopped when Dean went to hell right?" Dean grumbled a yes and George continued, "OK, for the TV show that's the end of season three."

"How many seasons are there?" Dean asked curiously.

"Uhh, I think fifteen, so far?" Had it been canceled? She couldn't remember.

"Fifteen?! People have been watching our lives for-" Dean cut off and took a breath. "I can't decide if I'm annoyed that people are watching our boring ass lives for that long or that our lives are dramatic enough to be a television show for that long."

"What season did we come to your reality?" Sam wondered. Dean 'ughed' loudly at the memory.

With an amused shake of her head, she answered, "Season six, I think? Such a great episode! That whole season was pretty solid, actually. A great combination of funny yet emotionally gripping. I think that was also Cas and Meg kissing-" She looked at Cas earnestly and interjected into her own rambling, "That was awesome-and the posse magnet episode-which, btw, of course, people made shirts of that." For once in this conversation Dean looked happy, giving Sam a pleased expression, which garnered an eyeroll.

"If I'm not mistaken that was also the season with soul-" she was about to say "soulless Sam" but her heart twinged and she realized she couldn't be so flippant with the fandom created monikers anymore. These were no longer just characters, they were, inexplicably, very real people whom she now knew.

And cared about, she heard a tiny voice add.

"Er, it covered Sam's time after hell…without a soul," She grimaced a bit in sympathy, not knowing how best to fill in the blanks.

Sam's face went from startled to shame on a small delay. Further confirmation that she knew of the million awful things he'd done, he grimaced. If she knew everything it could not bode well. The thought filled him with a surprising amount of disappointment.

She'd seen the look on his face and quickly added with a hopeful smile, "And it also covered the time after you got your soul back! Which included the French Mistake!"

"The French Mistake?" Castiel asked.

"The one when they came to my reality!" George grinned and Dean made a yuck face. "You guys had so much great chemistry that episode. Making fun of their names and the alpacas, it was golden. Can't say enough about how hilarious that episode was. I was surprised by the dialogue about their tension on set because that's actually always been rumored to be true. It seems weird that they'd talk about it if it was true, though, so who knows what to think?" The men in the car certainly didn't but they nodded politely and let her ramble. "So, either it's all just stupid rumors and they find it funny or-HOLD ON!" Suddenly her face fell and she looked at Sam in shock upon realizing, "Did you sleep with Jared's wife?"

Three pairs of eyes were boring into Sam and he shrunk down in his seat, looking stunned and stuttering, "Er-I-Uh-You-you know abou-"

"You had sex with fake Ruby?!" Dean was beyond indignant.

"Who's Jared?" Cas asked.

Sam looked mortified and George instantly felt bad about starting them down this path. She hadn't meant to embarrass him, she just failed to think before she spoke sometimes. Especially after realizations like that. Obviously, this whole "Supernatural is real" had more ramifications than she'd realized.

Making a mental note to maybe ask him about it later, she quickly changed the subject, "They were filming the French Mistake when we lost Misha." Frowning sadly, she patted Castiel's knee, "I want you to know I was devastated about that. Misha was my favorite Castiel."

Castiel looked confused, glancing at Sam and Dean, "Thank you?" She smiled and squeezed his knee gently before letting go. "So, in your reality, I'm dead?" Castiel asked with a contemplative look.

"Well…" She paused, trying to think of how to explain it so he would understand, "you're not-er Castiel is not. But the actor who played the vessel you're currently inhabiting is."

"Jimmy Novak?" Castiel confirmed and George nodded a bit.

"That sounds right," She agreed; she'd only seen the episode once so she couldn't be sure. "When Misha died tragically in that horrible stabbing 'accident,' the writers were just going to write Castiel out of the show but the fandom fired upon them with the white hot rage of a Deastiel shipper left unsatisfied," Her eyes were wide with emphasis; Sam snickered, Dean huffed and Castiel was oblivious, "so they quickly brought you back in a new vessel a couple episodes later." {author's note: yes I prefer 'Deastiel', it makes the most sense for the mashup of both their names IMO and it's my story}

The three men considered the scenario for a minute. Sam seemed unsure, Dean wondered what the new actor looked like, and Cas paused, then nodded, "Well, I suppose that makes sense. If I could find another vessel willing and able to hold me I'd want to still be around to help." George smiled at his loyalty. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed MishaCas. The replacement actor was fine but to her, the chemistry was never the same.

George said absentmindedly, "As far as I can tell-though my knowledge is obviously limited-most of the rest of the story line from the show has been the same here? Castiel's the only major difference I recognize."

After a long, pregnant pause, Dean asked tentatively, "So… exactly, how much do you know about us?"

George squinted a little at him and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well… like, do they show everything?"

George smirked and shook her head, "It's basic cable not HBO. Maybe a handful of shirtless scenes but nothing Game of Thrones graphic. The focus of the show is the supernatural-is you guys, hunting and saving and all that, so not really a lot of romantic, naked stuff. The focus of the fandom, on the other hand? Well that's a very different story," She cracked with a chuckle.

The next nine or so hours of their car ride passed fairly uneventfully as George rambled about the show, asking them questions and comparing notes about their lives. Dean took over driving after a pitstop and as the hours turned into nearly day(s), everyone-including Cas-started getting a little punchy, not to mention ripe. Nice, fun friendly games of I-Spy or the license plate game had dissolved into butt-hurt bickering and the silence that returned to the car for the last two hours had been welcomed by everyone.

Finally, though, George caught a road sign for Reno, Nevada - 30 miles and decided she couldn't take it anymore. She was sore, tired, tired of wearing a bra, in desperate need of a shower-or three, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep silently farting and blaming it on Cas. Luckily for her, he remained his usual indifferent self but Dean certainly seemed to be getting suspicious of the smells emanating from the back. She also made the startling realization that she had no change of clothes with her during one of her earlier daydreams about a long hot bath. Hopefully she'd made enough headway with Dean for him not to be too pissed when she mentioned it.

"Hey, I have a fun new game we could try." George paused to allow the three grumpuses to groan in unison before continuing, "it's called let's stop in a real town-say Reno!-and get some actual food and maybe a hotel room for some actual sleep for the first time in 24 hours! Any takers?" She tried to keep her expectations low. "Dean, I bet Reno has great pie."

"You know what George?" Dean began in a mock angry voice, pausing for dramatic effect. "They have some damn good pie in Reno. Remember that one place just off the 659, Sammy? That pie was orgasmic! What was that place called…"

"Brown Cub Diner?" George offered.

"That's it! How'd you know?"

"I'm from Carson City; I grew up around here. Brown Cub Diner is famous in our area. Have you tried their pancakes? They have a special sweet cream batter and those flapjacks just melt in your mouth." She saw Dean's reaction and could almost taste the hot, bubbly bath water and nice soft warm (flat!) mattress. She pressed on, "I think we're only about 30 minutes from there?"

"Ya know Dean, we have been driving for about 24 hours. Obviously, we need to get to Jack but we're of no use to him if we're sore and exhausted. Wouldn't be such a bad idea to take a break, get some good food, take a shower," he gave an exaggerated, unpleasant smell look in George's direction and she swatted his shoulder, "and recharge before hitting the road for the last stretch?" George could have kissed Sam for the assist, even if he did use it as an excuse to call her funky. Rude.

"Fine," Dean huffed and everyone, well Sam and George, Cas was pretty indifferent, celebrated with high fives. "But we're getting pie-and pancakes-first!"

"Uh, if I could just interject one quick additional favor?" George asked, causing Dean to let out a low exasperated, yet questioning growl. "I literally only have the clothes on my back and seeing as how there also happens to be a Target just off the freeway on Sparks Blvd coming up in 2 miles," she pointed to the excellently timed street sign they were passing, "then perhaps we could make a super quick stop so that I could get a change of clothes or two?" It all came out in one breath and she stopped to catch her next. "Pretty please?"

Dean remained silent as he drove the next two miles and George was starting to feel deflated. But when he pulled off the Sparks Blvd exit, she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind for a thank you hug, causing him to swerve slightly and curse before gently sloughing her off. They arrived at Target and Dean parked toward the back, keeping his baby away from any other riff raff cars. Turning off the engine, he then produced a wallet from his back pocket. He dug out a small stack of $20s and handed it to her.

"We typically like to pay for things, Sticky Fingers." Dean began.

"With all your stolen money?" She asked cheekily, because she just couldn't help herself either. He was the quintessential big brother and it set her little sister mode on 11 every time.

He paused and gave her a squinted stare before continuing, "In and out in 30 minutes; those flapjacks are calling my name!"

She thanked Dean for the cash, promising to pay him back before realizing how impossible that was, and the three boys decided to wait in the car while she ran in.

Heading first for the toiletries for some personal essentials, she then doubled back toward the front where she picked up a generic pair of tennies-comfort and function seemed more important than style in her current situation-and a packet of white socks. Next she grabbed up two half-decent bras and a pack of underwear before crossing over to the racks of outerwear. She'd tried to work out in the car how many items she'd need and to keep things conservative she figured a two-three pair of pants and the same amount of plain shirts would suffice. She'd finally settled on two pairs of dark denim boot cut jeans and one pair of black cotton joggers, along with two fitted, v-neck, long sleeved t-shirts, one in navy, one in maroon, a black sleeveless undershirt, and couldn't help grabbing an oversized pink and black madres plaid button down. She also grabbed a black pull over hoodie with the Friends logo, since she knew that the redwoods could get pretty cold and she was stoked that Friends was still a thing in this reality. Lastly, she grabbed a pair of plain, flowy black PJ pants and a large men's pale blue v-neck tee for sleeping, and made her way toward the register.

As she waited in line with her cart, spacing out about whether or not she grabbed too much or not enough of each clothing item, she caught a glimpse of something familiar out of the corner of her eye. Three lanes away from her a short, chubby woman with mousy, short brown and graying hair, wearing a familiar pale green jacket was also checking out. From behind, the woman looked exactly like George's mother and she felt whiplashed back to her reality.

"Mom?" Her voice came out scratchy and quiet as she involuntarily called out to the woman. Part of her felt compelled to scream out, run over and grab her into a hug, listen happily as her mom comfortingly told George that everything was OK and she'd just been dreaming. But she was frozen in place by shock. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched the woman-her mother! She was sure of it!-finish her transaction and head for the front door. George looked back at her cart and the money in her hand. She debated with herself for half a second before abandoning the shopping cart and bolting after the pale green jacket that had exited the store and disappeared from her sight. She made chase, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk in front of the store and frantically searching the parking lot for the woman.

When George finally spotted her unloading her purchases into a car she didn't recognize, George's stomach dropped. She could now see her face and it was very clear that the lovely middle eastern woman was not her mother. Tears began welling up in George's eyes, her face flushed red from emotion, and she walked over to lean on the building, trying to get a hold of herself.

Her mind was racing and she was trying to catch her breath in her panicked state. She had gotten so swept up in the adventure and insanity of this dreamlike experience that she'd forgotten about her actual life for the past 24 hours. But now that she thought about her old, boring normal life-a life where she wasn't crazy; where she wasn't feeling this constant, strange, unshakable feeling of inaccessible deja vu; where she wasn't carpooling with an angel to go rescue someone from potential death; where she wasn't conversing with Sam and Dean motherfucking Winchester-she wanted to run. All knowledge of how difficult and far-from-perfect her real life had been were forgotten in the moment. She glanced over toward the back of the parking lot where she could still see the Impala parked where she'd left it, then pulled the money out of her pocket, counting through it - $300.

As fate would have it, she spotted a taxi dropping a couple off near the corner of the building and jogged over.

"Are you taking fares?" She bent over to ask the driver as the couple walked away.

"Where you going?"

"Carson City?" George almost hoped the woman would turn her down.

"That's nearly 40 miles away, it's gonna be over $100?" The driver responded, questioningly. George shot one last guilty look back at the Impala before climbing into the back.

"Let's go." She crouched down low in her seat as they exited the parking lot and tried to ignore the intense guilt-nausea building in the pit of her stomach.

[sage-nebula]

Hey so you mentioned that you're concerned with where Nintendo could take Legend of Zelda next...well the only thing I can think of would be a sequel. Many big open world franchises like Elder Scrolls, Far Cry, GTA etc they all have sequels. Now I'm not expecting the next game to be "Breath of the Wild 2", but perhaps subsequent games could have subtitles. If they're gonna keep this new formaula of an open world Zelda, they might as well keep it in the same world in game

The thing is, even when Nintendo has made direct sequels within the Zelda series, they tend to be quite a bit different from their predecessors.

For example, A Link to the Past has numerous direct sequels: Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Seasons + Oracle of Ages, and A Link Between Worlds. Every single one of these is a direct sequel, and at least as far as Link’s Awakening and the Oracle games go, they feature the same Hero. (I don’t think A Link Between Worlds does---iirc, it features a different Hero hundreds of years later---but it was still billed as a direct sequel, with Nintendo even incorrectly stating that it was the first sequel to A Link to the Past, so it still counts.) Despite the fact that they’re direct sequels, though, they’re all very distinct from each other. Yes, they all feature top-down gameplay, and even the same Hero in most of them, but even so they vary wildly in terms of narrative, in terms of world map, and to be entirely honest, even in terms of certain gameplay elements. A Link to the Past is one of the most traditional Zelda games you will find, especially when you consider that they later copied it beat for beat when creating Ocarina of Time (save for the fact that Ocarina is the first 3D Zelda). Link’s Awakening is truly bizarre, taking place on the dreamy Koholint Island, and featuring tons of cameos, references, and snarky bits of humor that you wouldn’t find in other Zelda titles. Oracle of Seasons and Oracle of Ages are kind of similar to Link’s Awakening, but you have to actually link them together with a passcode to get the full story. And A Link Between Worlds was perhaps the first Zelda game to truly try and break away from a linear structure, allowing you to rent items at your leisure to tackle the dungeons in any order that you wished.

So with each of these, although they’re all sequels, they’re still pretty distinct from each other and you can tell that Nintendo took an effort to try and make each one feel like a unique experience. You also don’t have to have played the previous games in the series to understand them, although again, you do want to play and complete both Oracle games (and you want to fully complete one before playing the other, though the order does not matter) in order to get the full experience there.

And this isn’t the only instance of direct sequels in the series, either. Majora’s Mask is a direct sequel to Ocarina of Time, to the point where the entire reason why Majora’s Mask takes place at all is because the Hero of Time is dealing with the fallout from Ocarina of Time’s ending (namely, that Navi is gone and he wants to find her for some reason). But again, although it’s a direct sequel, it’s vastly different. It takes place in the alternate dimension of Termina, for starters, and while you do have to tackle the dungeons in a certain order in the sense that the weapons stack (e.g. you have to go to Woodfall first since that’s where you get the bow), at the same time you can also just go in, get the weapon, reset the three day cycle, and then go tackle another region if you want. Majora’s Mask also features a plethora of sidequests that Ocarina of Time could never hope to match, and was the first game in the series to treat NPCs as actual characters with lives rather than set pieces (which was actually one of the entire reasons why Miyamoto wanted to make Majora’s Mask in the first place). This is something that was brought back (and expanded upon greatly) for Breath of the Wild.

So to that end, even if Nintendo decides to make a direct sequel to Breath of the Wild, there’s still a very, very real possibility that it will be vastly different, because Nintendo focuses on gameplay before story and they have a history of wanting to make each game distinct from the one that came before it. They pick a gameplay aspect that they want to focus on, and then build the game around that, and they tend to pick something new for each installment. So for this one, they wanted to create a massive open world to recreate both the feeling from the very first Zelda game, but also to accomplish something they had desired for years now yet could never manage due to hardware limitations. For the next game they could go in a completely different direction (perhaps even returning us to a more linear structure), and that’s what concerns me. At the same time, though, if they don’t go in a completely different direction, I’m positive they’d receive criticism for doing a “copy-paste job,” just like they did with Majora’s Mask given that it reused many of the same elements (e.g. character models) from Ocarina of Time, despite being such a vastly different game.

So tl;dr: While they could do a sequel, that still doesn’t say very much in terms of what the game will be like, and they’ve set the bar so incredibly high for themselves with Breath of the Wild that I’m legitimately concerned about whether or not they’ll be able to top it. We probably won’t know for another seven years or so (at least), but I’m still concerned about it now, just as Nintendo should be. This game is absolutely phenomenal, and while that’s very good for them, it’s also very dangerous. They’re going to be expected to put out something either just as good, or (preferably) better next time. Can they do it? Well . . . I guess we’ll see.

[thisismypersonalsanctuary]

12/24/16

A: I actually got your mom something before we broke up lol

G: Oh wow. Really

A: Yeah I just thought it'd be nice but I didn't know if it'd be appropriate or not so if it wasn't I was just gonna have you give it to her from you lol

G: Aw. You're very sweet.

A: I guess so

G: No you are.

A: I just thought it was nice to do

G: It was.

A: It's just a little 'spa' kit thing. It has lotion and body wash I think with a loofa.

G: So I know this is out of nowhere but tmrw I gotta be at my moms most the day but I was thinking maybe we could meet st my apartment in the morning if you wanted

A: I have breakfast and Christmas with my mom in the morning

G: Ahh okay. No worries. I didn't know when would work. Like if there's anytime you could get away tmrw

A: I'm not sure. I have 4 christmases tomorrow so it's kinda packed

G: Well if you figure out anytime in between them that'd be good. I have to be at my moms most the day but thought I'd see. I could slip away for an hour or so.

A: I'll have to see. I'll be in Frankfort most of the day. Lunchtime is my second Christmas in Frankfort, then my dads after & then I go to Meemaw's for dinner

G: But you're at your moms tonight aren't you?

A: Tonight I am yeah. We're having dinner at the hospital and everyone is coming to our house afterwards for games and presents

G: Well maybe after you leave there tmrw morning but before you leave for Frankfort

G: Idk

A: Maybe. I'm not sure when it'll be

G: Alright

A: If we get everything done in time I probably could

G: Okay :)

A: You just wanna have sex with me

G: I thought you wanted to have sex.

A: I know

G: Okay I understand. I'm sorry. It's okay

A: I'm not saying it's bad.

G: I can't tell how you meant that. We don't have to. Maybe we should just wait or something. I didn't mean to upset you

A: You didn't upset me

G: Hm

A: I just didn't think the next time I saw you would be just for sex

G: Then let's not. You're right.

A: No it's okay. I get it

G: No you're right. You're very special to me and I won't bring this up again. If we see each other again I should be taking you to dinner or something

A: It really is fine. Frankly I'd rather you be getting it from me than someone else.

A: It's not like doing it wouldn't mean anything if we did it. I know it's special with us. At least for me.

A: Right by your apartment now

G: Why we're you by my place? I'm not getting it from anyone else. We really don't have to. I'm being inconsiderate.

A: I want to do it. We drove by there from fowler on the way to the hospital

G: Idk. You seem leery. Oh okay.

A: No it's okay

G: Either way Alex. If not I can still see you. We can do dinner or get a drink. It doesn't have to be that.

A: We can do both

A: I just miss seeing you. It's been so hard.

G: It has and I know it's fragile. I don't wanna hurt you

A: I don't really even care at this point. It's not easy either way.

G: Well maybe think on it. I don't want you to do anything you aren't comfortable with. Also I just can't make things harder and maybe that will.

A: I don't need to think on it

G: Are you sure Alex? I feel so shitty as it is. Everyday.

A: I'm 100% sure. You have no idea what it's been like not talking to or seeing you.

G: I kinda do Alex.

A: I think I've made it clear that I wanna see you.

G: Okay..

A: Just believe me.

G: Hm

A: The last time I saw you couldn't have been the last time I saw you. You know? I just kept thinking that. Not seeing you is hard

G: Yeah I agree but maybe sleeping together might not help. I want that but only if you're ready. We can see each other and have dinner or grab drink if you'd rather that. It's up to you. Either way

A: I don't want you to feel that's the only way

G: I want to

A: Okay

A: I'm hoping I can see you soon.

G: Well let me know what works out tmrw. If not we can do something soon.

A: Yeah. I'm not sure what's going on tonight, we're still at the hospital. Tomorrow we usually eat at 9 I think.

G: Well I'd be few after that if you want. It's your call. I hope it goes well at the hospital though.

G: I'm sure he's very happy to see you all.

A: You'd be a few after that? What's that mean lol. He cried when he came in and cried on and off though the night

G: No I could do whenever you're ready. I'm sure he's so happy to see you

A: He was. I cried. Mom kept crying throughout the night too because it made her think of Peepaw.

G: I can only imagine.

A: Yeah. It's been an awful few weeks to say the least. It was just like when one bad thing happens then everything does

G: I'm so sorry babe. I wish I could do anything.

A: It's okay. Talking to you the past few days has really helped. You truly did make my birthday better

G: You deserve the world.

A: So do you

G: I guess

A: It's true. I wish I could give you the world. I know you'll never see what I see in you but you are such an amazing man.

G: I'm okay. You're the treasure

A: No. You really are amazing. I was so, so lucky to have you.

G: You're so wrong. I'm the lucky one.

A: No you just don't see what I see in you. I've been reading through old messages of us these past few days and it just reminds me of all our history.

G: Our history is too good can't wait till tmrw.

G: I'd be happy to see you in any form

A; You should see the messages. I know I'm hoping to make it.

G: I am too

A: I'm still going to give you the thing I got you. It's nothing big but I wanna give it to you

G: No please don't.

A: I already have it and I can't take it back

G: You're too good.

A: You'll love it

G: I'm so excited

A: I'll wrap them lol. I didn't because we weren't on speaking terms

G: I miss you too much

A: I know I miss you too

G: I miss you

A: I miss you too

G: Can't wait to see you.

A: I know me too

G: :)

A: I'm just excited to give you the gifts. It's amazing

G: I don't want anything.

G: I just want you. Please don't give me anything

A: I already have it

G: Maybe we shouldn't then. I thought we were just seeing each other

A: Don't be like that 🙄 I bought it before we broke up

G: Nooo. Stop. I want our gifts to just be sex love

A: Sucks

G: Please

A: No. I can't return it and I don't want it. I'm just going to give it to you.

G: Can I repay you by giving you something

A: I don't need to be repaid. It's a gift. I bought everyone special to me a gift.

G: But you're all I have

A: I'm just saying that you don't have to repay me. It's a gift for you.

G: I want you to keep it. Till then I'll see you in the morning

A: I'm not keeping it. It's not as big of a gift as your birthday

G: Find but I hope to see you on our next project

A: Our next project?