#lizard writes stupid things

[lizardlicks]

a scene that presented itself to me with very little context:

Sokka is trying and failing to light a fire inside this chaos. At first it was a little funny, but the longer Sokka goes without successfully producing a spark with his stupid little rocks, the more frustrated Zuko becomes watching him. He could do this in his sleep. A baby could have sneezed and lit the fire by now.

Click

“Make the Avatar stop playing with his stupid monkey and light it.”

Click “First of all, Momo is a Lemur. Second: Aang can’t firebend, and third: fuck you.”

Click, click

“Oh for Agni’s sake, then untie me and I’ll do it!” “No. See again: fuck you.”

Click, click, click

Zuko has had enough. He scoots forward and leans over Sokka’s bundle of (he notes slightly damp-- no wonder the boy is struggling) kindling and fills his chest, forcing the air deep into his lungs. He’s only seen Uncle do this once, but Zuko had already learned the basics of the technique. Standard firebending involved stoking his inner fire with the correct breathing, then letting it flow with the movement of his limbs, down his chi paths, and out as visible bursts. Uncle had shown him how to hold that energy, feeding it through the pathways in a looping circuit that warmed him through. But where breath came in it also flowed out, and where chi could flow-- “What are you--” Sokka starts to ask, leaning back away from the prince crowding into his space. With no other warning, Zuko opens his mouth. And fire pours out. Sokka throws himself away from the flames with a yelp, but they don’t go any further than the sad pile of wood he had been failing to light. “Aaaah! How-- What-- You can breathe that!?”

Zuko sits back with a satisfied huff, tries unsuccessfully to shake off the sweat that’s beaded on his forehead. “Apparently.”

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

[monsterfloofs]

Alien x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

(Got to write a little something for my new alieum speices! : > I hope you enjoy! )

It was a whole different experience to arrive at an intergalactic hub with no way to communicate. The typical buzz of translated voices in your ear was replaced with a cacophony of musical sounds, clicking, trills and other inhuman vocalizations. Not that you hadn’t heard them before, but while your tech was working you had been more focused on conversations you could hear and understand. The ability to understand the world around you newly disrupted by static that had buzzed and sputtered angrily into your eardrum. Now that your com portal had chosen the most inopportune time to fizzle out on you, this typical background din had engulfed your attention. A choir of many different voices and dialects, none of which sounded anything remotely like something you could comprehend.

You startled as you were pushed into the crowd, trying to evade one pushy lifeform had you accidentally colliding into another.

You brought your hands up in a plaintive gesture. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” The being blinked at you, tilting its head this way and that, pinchers moving silently. The realization hit hard, without your device working, they couldn’t understand you either. A wave of embarrassment rolled over you as you tried to gesture with your hands. Pointing towards your ear and waving your hands back and forth.

“My com is broken, I can’t um—- Ugh!” The only thing you could think of is to bow apologetically and hurry away before you get yourself into any more trouble.

“This stinks,” You mutter to yourself. “I can’t even ask for my ship to be refueled without this stupid thing working.” You exit the flowing crowd to stop at a quiet space and take a deep calming breath. A hand placed on your heart as you tried to steady your nerves. You didn’t like crowds at the best of times, all those bodies pressing in on you from every direction made your heart do panicked backflips in your chest. You counted your inhale as you felt your lungs rising up against your ribcage. Letting out the exhale for as long as you can stand before starting the pattern again. From this vantage point the crowds don't look that bad, the noise wasn’t as jarring, and you begin to feel like you can breathe easy again.

You observe one distinct looking alien waddling across the shiny tilted floor. It was a species you hadn’t seen before. They had a long snaked head and neck that smoothed into a humanoid torso but ended with a quadruped body with stumpy legs. Like an alligator with the head of a snake, that was fused with a human torso inbetween. With the air of some kind of strange centaur, it waddled along slowly. Its squat lizard legs padded with a pair of synthetic boots that were form fitted to its reptilian toes. It was amusing to note that a lot of aliens gave this being a wide berth, and it made you smile.

At least some beings in the galaxy weren’t letting themselves be pushed around. This fella was taking life in their own stride, and nobody dared telling them to hurry up. At least, not that you could hear anyway. That long neck swiveled towards you, and you saw six white glassy eyes peer at you from above the snake like snoot. You duck your head apologetically, quick to look away. You fumble to retrieve your cell device out of your pocket, looking through the maps of the station. “It looks like there's a help desk on the next floor. . . I am going to hope and pray that someone can understand english.”

Staying at the fringes of the crowd you stick close to the shiny chrome walls, hopping into an elevator that would bring you onto the next level. You do a surprise double take as they see the alligator snake centaur standing alone in the elevator. It’s beady eyes trained on you. The door closes with a ping and the two of you stand awkwardly together.

The being scratches its throat with a clawed hand, before what sounds like a symphony of crickets, come from the back of its throat.

You blink, your eyebrows shooting up at the sound.

“Um. . . Excuse me?”

More cricket sounds, and you grimace awkwardly, before nervously tapping at your ear.

“I can’t— er, I don’t— understand you.”

The pitch drops, sounding more like a swarm locust than crickets. It’s snout cracking open slightly to be able to produce the sound. You fidget anxiously, shoving your hand in your pocket to produce your com, then gesturing with your hands. Tucking the com into one palm before bringing your fists together, thumb down. Then you pull your hands, twisting your wrists. Mimicking a gesture that would be akin to snapping a stick.

“My com is broken,” You tap at your ear again, then demonstrate with your hands.

“Broken.”

You hear crickets again, and rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to crowd your elevator.” You perk up as the elevator door slides open, and with a sigh of relief you smile and wave to the strange alligator centaur.

“Well ah, I would say thanks for the chat, but um, you can’t understand me anyway. Haha, h-have a good day?” You step out onto the new platform, raising a hand to your forehead to try and see around the wave of new colorful station inhabitants. With your phone in one hand and your com back into your pocket you begin to navigate your way through the second floor.

Stopping with a sigh at the counter.

“Hi,” You begin, a deep baritone rumble coming from the severe looking creature from across the desk. Its deep forebrow raises skeptically as you smile awkwardly.

“Uh, uh, here!” You slide the com over the counter, and the being picks it up with a frown.

“It’s. . . ah”

You glance behind you as the reptilian being from the elevator waddles up to the counter. Their sixed glazed pearly eyes peer at you. “Did you need the help desk too?”

Crickets.

Crickets that the alien at the desk is able to hear, the brooding chiseled features lighten with understanding. A growly rumble coming from deep within its chest as it bares its teeth. Obviously laughing at you as your new friend explains your predicament.

“Hey!” You throw your hands up in defeat, “It wasn’t like I wanted to run around not being understood!”

You scrunch your nose as the two beings then engage in conversation, leaving you promptly in the dust. The alien behind the counter rises, pulling a monitor screen over for you, as words begin to jitter across the glass.

“Language?” The metallic voice hums boredly.

“Ah-Earthian English please, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” replies the Ai, a little nicer than before.

You visibly sag in relief as english words start scrolling across the screen.

[ Communicator is down? ]

“Yes!” You wheeze in exhaustion and relief. There’s more rumbling laughter and a flash of teeth from the bulky alien at the desk.

[ Damn, that’s rough ]

“Oh man, you have no idea, I think I was going to start hyperventilating here, soon. Do you think you can fix it?”

[ I’ll take a look at it and see what I can do. If not, there is a place at the station where you can buy a new one. I’ll wire the store coordinates to your phone, what’s the number? ]

“You’re a life saver, it’s 177-333-9973-602, I can’t thank you enough.”

You bring up your phone, tapping it to the ai screen and it plings as the new information comes through.

[ If I can’t get your com fixed, I will tell the owner you’re heading their way. ]

You take a deep breath and nod.

“Okay, thank you. Thank you again.”

The alien grunts, an amused smile still scrawled over their broad face as they turn away to tinker with the com.

“Well,” You say, turning to your snooted friend, “This has been quite a day, and it’s not even lunch yet.”

♡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡♡

Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar! I also take writing and art commissions on kofi! ヽ(*ᵔ▿ᵔ)ﾉ

[layraket]

THERE WAS AN UPDATE YOU KNOW THE DRILL SLEEPING BE DAMMED

theres so much going on jokes that i will deffinetly take advantage of theories of the meaning of things the goddamn art everything

first of all apparently Malo Mart turned to a mega corporation???? well sorry twi no 60% of discount for you that sucks

thats rough buddy

i cant take it seriously poor Four, look at that face

thats the face of someone who will be grounded for some time after all this madness and is totally not happy about this

Sky was waiting letters from Sun, maybe she couldn't write something for him? either way poor guy look at his sad face :( the heart makes it better

baby? baby??? smol???? smol hylian???? tiny cute litol hylian????child????

ahhh Time dont just say yes and left it like that! i need to know!!!

Twilight my man at this point you will be grounded dont test the old man's patience

Time knows the dangers of excesive courage, yes it can keep you going and maybe make you win the battle, but can also kill you if youre not careful. This is what almost happened with Twilight, this almost might have happened to Time too

He's scared that for this reckless courage he might loose his descendant, the one who brought hope to him and his wife to form a family and live happy

(also he saying this makes me think more about the posibility of Malon being pregnant, too much mistery please old man just tell me i will not say anithing ur secret is safe plweas)

HERO'S SHADE HERO'S SHADE

not much to say here, it might be a wrong translation that im doing but hey! it reminds me that Twi already knows that Time is the Hero's shade but like. with flesh and eyes. alive.

OKAY HERE I HAVE THINGS TO SAY

When Wild asks Twilight's face changes inmediately, he doesn't want to look down, he still feels the need to be strong in front of the younger heroes, worrying them is the last of his desires

Four is not stupid, he notices the actual mood of Twi and ask again, but with different words. It looks like it really made Twi reconsider things

doesn't exactly talks what was having him a little down moments ago, but at least it seems to calm them, again, they shouldn't be worried after what happened

Twi for hylia who were you thinking he was talking about????

no really i have that question who was he thinking that was asking for him?????

"who kicked the fuck out of that bad lizard??? who did that???? yes you did!! you did it amazing!!! im so proud my beautiful exterminator of dumb lizards!!!"

HE JUST

FUCKING ROLLS

YEAHHH WIND FLIP

Hyrule 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰💛💛💛💛💛✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

hes so badass jumping off heck yeah stairs are dumb

also Wind thats a cool move you too legend jumping and rolling are so cool love you guys

Wars dont ruin the fun nono guys keep doing it i'll even give you chips if you do that

oh they really think that Wars is broke and has no money alright

im glad that this bit kept going i love the boys teasing each other (Lege and Wars specially)

hey listen

listen

i dont want to ruin it

but

it would be funny

just

just listen

would be very funny that

it just

breaks

hey it would be funny cmon

andddd theyre off!

Hyrule learns from watching, from the actions and movements that he sees in the enemy, and uses it to make a plan to attack, learn patterns and be ready for anything

yep hes gonna play an important role in the next arc i have a feeling

now buildings art aprecciation cuz holy shit theyre so pretty

gorgeous

fantastic work i feel blessed

(all art credits obv goes to @linkeduniverse ! )

[irkimatsu]

AHHHHHH I love Husk and your content is by far my FAVORITE 😍 the sweet, the smut, the little bit of both...I love it all.

So I have a cute idea for this one. Neko!reader x husk. The reader isn't fully cat, but has the ears and tail, a cat-like face and of course the mannerisms. Husk is crushing hard and thinks that she (or they, whichever pronouns :) ) is cute and nonchalantly points out that it's adorable when her ears twitch. And then she's like, "And you wonder why we're always messing with you, eyy Kitten?" which makes him all flustered and he can't even say anything.

I can just picture them doing the equivalent of holding hands only their tails wrapped around each other 😚😚

Thank you so much for enjoying my writing!

I envisioned Reader as an anthro like Husk; I'm hoping that's what you meant with your description! Reader gets drunk and rants to Husk about cat instincts, Husk offers some advice, light flirting and flustered Husk ensues. I hope this is close enough to what you wanted! 1.2k words, SFW, female reader!

---

You’ve had way too much to drink.

It’s not like you’re inexperienced at drinking; you knew the hard stuff you were knocking back would be enough to get you wasted. That was the point.  Maybe if you got drunk enough, you could shut off the stupid cat instincts that hadn’t left you alone since the moment you died. The exercises you’ve been doing at this hotel for the past few months may have taught you things like not stealing and believing in the power of friendship, but there hadn’t yet been any lessons on how to stop swiping at your own tail every time it entered the corner of your field of vision.

You’re not sure if the alcohol has turned off the instincts, but it sure has turned on your mouth. Without thinking about what you’re saying, you’ve been ranting to the bartender for the past thirty minutes, barely pausing to take a breath. Surely he doesn’t mind, right? Not only are bartenders supposed to listen when their customers want to bitch, but he’s in the exact same position as you are as far as species goes!

“...and the fuckin’ hairballs!” is the latest thought in your stream of word vomit. “I thought mucus was bad! Hairballs! They get stuck in my throat, and they itch like hell until I can cough ‘em up!”

“They sell stuff down here to take care of that,” the bartender says, pouring you another drink without you asking. “It tastes like shit, but it works. I don’t get ‘em anymore unless I forget to drink it.”

“And what about shedding?!” you continue on as if he didn’t say anything. “It’s impossible to keep my room clean! It’s like the more I clean up, the more fur there is!”

“Niffty’s been helpin’ me with that since I met her. She gets pissed about the fur I leave everywhere otherwise. She ain’t gentle with that brush, though.”

You take another gulp of your drink and slam it down onto the bar. “Fuck, think I just swallowed some fur…”

“You haven’t even been dead for a year yet, right?” Husk asks. “ That’s barely anything. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to get used to being a cat. Some of the bullshit never goes away, but it becomes part of you.”

“Do you like being a cat?” you ask.

He laughs at your question. “Hell no! But what choice do I have? There’s no going back to bein’ human for any of us. May as well learn how to deal with it.” He takes a gulp of his own drink, not even bothering to pour it into a glass. “If ya want, I can take you to a good supply place sometime. They’ve got good products if you can put up with the fact that it looks like a fuckin’ pet store.”

“Hmm…” you neither accept nor deny his offer. You only take another drink, swallowing more damn fur in the process. That’s definitely gonna lead to some late-night hairballs. “It’s so annoying…” you whine as you plop your chin on the bar. “Why couldn’t I have been something cool? You know I saw a giant lizard the other day? Lucky bastard…”

“Bet they have a hell of a time findin’ clothes,” he says. “Or even gettin’ into places to begin with.”

“And even you got wings…” you continue on.

“Yeah. Wings. I get to clean up after fur and feathers, and if I don’t find the perfect position while sleeping the fuckin’ things go numb.” He takes your glass away, but you’re too lost in your own self-pity to protest. “We’ve all gotta get used to our new bodies when we get down here, and I doubt it’d be any different if we somehow got into heaven. Just gotta make the best of it.” He turns around to put away some bottles. “Besides, it’s not all bad. At least you’re cute.”

“...what was that?” you say, not expecting that word out of Husk’s mouth.

“I said you’re cute. Everyone thinks cats are cute, don’t they? Even I liked ‘em when I was alive. I don’t want to be one, but you can’t resist their mannerisms, can ya? The big eyes, the soft fur…”

He turns around just in time to see your right ear flicking in annoyance from the condescension. “The twitchy ears…”

You smirk, knowing the weight of what you’re about to say next but too drunk to stop yourself. “So now you get why Angel and I are always commenting on your mannerisms, eh, kitty?”

“Whoa! Hey!” His fur bristles, and you know you shouldn’t find his own agitation cute, but you can’t help yourself. It helps you understand the way he was just talking to you, at least. “That’s different! You’re a young lady! You died at, what, 25? You’re supposed to be cute! I’m an old man who drank myself to death. Nothin’ cute about that.”

“You’ve still got the big eyes and the soft fur…” you continue on.

He groans in response. “If you were a stranger saying that shit to me, I’d kill you.”

“So what makes me so special?” Your tail waves playfully behind you, and he’s obviously following it with his eyes and blushing.

“I…” he starts, but never manages to come up with the rest of the sentence. “Jesus Christ,” is all he has to offer before grabbing a couple of glasses from the shelf. He fills them both with water, then carries them around to the other side of the bar.

“Here,” he says as he sets one of the glasses in front of you. “Drink this. You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning. May as well not be dehydrated on top of everything else.”

You stare at the cup as he takes a seat on the stool next to you. “How do you resist the urge to knock cups over?” you ask.

“Lots of self-control,” he says with a smirk before guzzling his glass in one go.

You place your paw on the side of the glass, originally intending to pick it up, but an overwhelming spark takes over your brain, and you start easing the cup toward the edge of the bar. Husk grabs it and places it back where it started before it can crash to the floor.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assures you. He’s finished his water, but for a reason you can’t determine, he’s still sitting next to you.

“How long have you been down here?” you ask. “A couple years?”

“Mmm… fifty?” he guesses. “Almost as long as I was alive, at this point.”

“Fifty years?!” you exclaim. “And you still have to deal with cat instincts?!”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it never goes away. Just gotta get used to it, take the good with the bad.”

“The good…” you repeat. “Like being cute?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says. “...but in your case… yeah. Like being cute.”

You finally manage to pick up your water without giving into the desire for destruction. As you take a sip, something feathery starts to tickle against your tail. You look over at Husk from the corner of your eye. He’s trying to be nonchalant, not even looking at you, but there’s only one thing that could be brushing against you right now.

Without looking, you shift your tail, allowing it to curl around Husk’s. Husk curls his around yours in turn, your tail tips forming a spiral that just barely reaches the floor.

It’s the closest he’ll get to flirting for now. You’ll take what you can get.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug's interpretations on various 'Bad Batch' characters: Side Character Edition!

I'm chuffed that everyone thinks my neighbor Doug is funny: he really is a gem. I had no idea we'd bond over Star Wars and crappy weather, but here we are.

Naturally, I had to bother him about other characters that showed up on The Bad Batch, so, here we go!

Phee Genoa: Ah-ha, that there’s Church Lady. You know her, she’s got a big square in her pocketbook and you don’t know if it’s pound cake or a brick, because the Lord saves but He can’t help you in the alley when you’re in Treme and the streetlights just turned on. She has two ex-husbands who are both preachers and they turned to Jesus because they are so scared of Church Lady in court. 

(So I guess he’s saying Phee has raw WHO DAT energy, for my Saints fans out there)

Cid: Looking at this fat lizard bitch makes me hungry. I call that one Houma-BBQ because I’m guessing we could feed a whole parish fire station based on the size of her tail. I wish she’d shut up, she reminds me of my mother-in-law. 

Cad Bane: Homeboy looks like a Sesame Street character who teaches Big Bird about concealed carry laws. I call him Gun Safety Muppet. I don’t like him because he shot my Wife and I’s Boyfriend on the other show and his robot needs to be tossed into a wood chipper. 

(“I’m not gay, but Jenny and I…well, we would make an exception to that man. You ever see ‘Deadwood’? Man is fine. I’m not GAY.”)

Fennec Shand: That’s The Chick that’s in Everything. She was on ER and Boba Fett and I think a Marvel show too? I like her. Hope she kills Gun Safety Muppet and hurls his blue ass into a dumpster. 

Howzer: That’s my niece’s boyfriend, Jorge. We all love Jorge, nice guy, owns an auto repair shop and always remembers plates and napkins for the cookouts after church.

Gregor: Jorge’s cousin, Manny. Met him once at Christmas in Miami, nice guy, only drinks brown liquor and insists everyone arm wrestle him. But he’s got a good job as a PE teacher, we respect education, come on now. 

The Martez Sisters: Aw, man, it’s Jorge’s Unemployed Sisters. I hate it when they show up for Christmas and get into fights with my momma. 

(“Doug, you know they’re not related to the clones at all, right?” “Says who?” “The PLOT?” “Eh, they’ll change it, just watch.”)

Mayday: Aw, I liked this guy so much! That’s Sassy Park Ranger, he’s the type that gives you your camping permits, warns you about the bears, and then is all disappointed when you don’t properly stow your food and the bears destroy the campsite. I need to go back to Little River Canyon, that place was pretty. 

Lt. Nolan: THAT STUPID BLOND JACKASS. (Doug was so enraged by the guy he had nothing else to add. Damn.)

Senator Chuchi: Why does this lady make me want a blue slushie? I’ll call her the Sonic Special. They need more Sonics here in the north, they really do. 

Cody: That’s Obi-Wan’s Boyfriend, he’s sad all the time. We know why. (Confirmed that Doug is a Codywan shipper and I don’t know what to do about that)

Royce Hemlock: Is that Jimmy Neutron after he grew up and became one of those guys that’s on the internet all the time writing creepy things? It’s Jimmy-the-Scientist. He looks like the type of person dogs get weird around.

Rex: That's Rex. He's a king. Respect him.

[somekindofpoet]

Like A Movie Part IX

Summary: Reader deals with big feelings and the movie is wrapped

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: This feels like the natural end to this one, but I will probably write little one shot extensions on it in the future. All good things must end! There are several time jumps in this chapter, hopefully they make sense. If anything seems convoluted please tell me so I can fix it! Send me asks, message me, I love interacting with you guys.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

To say you didn’t get jealous may have been a slight overstatement on your part. You didn’t generally get jealous in everyday situations. You were a fairly secure person, and Jenna gave you no reason to question your place in her life. In fact, she was overwhelmingly affectionate and reminded you of her feelings often. It was a “sweet little relationship” so to say. 

But as the dreaded day of filming drew ever nearer, you began to feel the claws of the green-eyed monster in your gut. You had written five wives for Judas. FIVE. You cursed yourself daily for being such a smut artist. Obviously, you had never intended to be dating the person who would play Judas, but the universe has a funny way of enacting its karma on people. When you wrote the part, you wanted Judas to be a believable cult leader. And those fools always had a plethora of sexual encounters. So five wives it was. It may have even been a conservative take. 

Luckily for you, A24 had decided she should only have a sex scene with one wife on screen, the rest would be implied. But that one sex scene was inevitably going to happen, and it was going to happen with your friend. You weren’t sure which would be worse, watching Olivia do it or a complete stranger. You tell yourself it’s fake because it is, but that doesn’t help much. You still feel the sickening vice of greediness in your belly, an unwillingness to share. 

You don’t share these feelings with Jenna. You’re nervous it’ll rattle the skeletons in her closet and send her running for the hills. Your pride doesn’t allow you to tell Olivia, because that would mean admitting to the silly whims of your irrational feelings. It’s for the same reasons you refrain from telling your other friends, leaving you alone to dwell on how stupid your lizard brain is. 

You’re not at your best when left alone with your thoughts, often spiraling into a vicious cycle of what-ifs. Dealing with the jealousy was the beginning; questioning whether your relationship with Jenna was only built on the excitement of making Secessus was the end result. 

You’re sitting on your couch the morning of filming “The Dreaded Scene”, fighting yourself in a battle you can’t win. Jealousy has curdled in your stomach and turned into doubt. You drop your head into your hands, trying to talk yourself out of the mood you had put yourself in. But all you can think is what if? What if after filming wraps, Jenna realizes you’re terribly boring? What if the movie is a flop? What if the excitement dies down and you can’t sell another script? What if? What if? What if?

Your phone vibrates on the table, and you drag your hands down your face. It’s Jenna, she’d been texting you for over an hour, and you have yet to reply to her. You’re not upset with her at all, you’re scared that if she talks to you, she will know what you’re feeling. Over the months of knowing her, and the months of filming, she had learned you like the back of her hand. Sometimes she knew you better than you knew yourself. That fact brought you some comfort because if she knew you so well and still liked you, then she would like you after the movie was done. But that voice was much quieter than the one that said she would grow bored of you. 

You sigh and pick up the phone, unwilling to force her to wait on you any longer. You are a grown ass adult, and you will handle this appropriately! Probably…Most Likely. You shoot her a text telling her you’re on your way to set, and you’ll see her in an hour. You flop back onto your couch, preparing your mind for the rollercoaster of emotions you’d go through that day. 

Just as you’re about to get up, there’s a soft knock on your door. You recheck your phone, no messages. You’re beginning to get deja vu, reminded of the day you met Jenna. What a weird and wonderful day that was. You became so lost in thought at the cherished memory you nearly forgot someone was at your door.

You pull yourself off the couch as the person knocks again, yelling, “Yeah I’m comin, I’m comin!” 

You open your door, half hoping it would be Jenna in a floppy boonie cap and pitvipers again. But it’s a kid trying to spread the gospel in a white button up and black tie. You look him up and down, then turn back to grab your sunglasses and car keys.

“Not today kid. I’m just leaving.” You tell him, stepping over the threshold and forcing him to retreat from your welcome mat. 

“Ma’am, I just wanted to come to tell you-“

“Hey listen, I respect you man. You’re doing something you think is right. But I’m not interested in learning about your lord and savior or whatever.” You say over your shoulder as you lock your door.

The kid frowns at you, “I was coming to tell you your car is getting towed.”

“WHAT?!” You shout, running to the stairs looking for your Mustang. 

Sure enough, a tow truck was parked directly behind you, the driver walking back to the cab of his truck. You sprint down the stairs two steps at a time, skidding to a halt as you reach the truck.

“No no no man you can’t take her! I’m right here I’ll move it, this is my child!”

The tow truck driver is old, and tired, and clearly not willing to put up with you. He takes his trucker hat off and runs his fingers through an oily tuft of hair before replacing the hat on his head.

“Look kid, you’re parked in a tow zone. You can come get the car tomorrow afternoon once you pay the fine.”

“If there’s a scratch on her I swear to-“ 

The man slams his door shut, ignoring you. The tow truck rumbles to a start, and you watch mournfully as your beloved car is taken from you.

You put your hands on your head and pace, at a loss. You needed to be on set NOW, you were already late. And now your baby was being towed away, taken by this big ugly truck to the big ugly impound lot. You had parked in a tow zone last night, thinking you’d go back out after you ran to the bathroom and move it, but with all the shit going on in your head you had completely spaced it. Actions meet consequences. 

You text Jenna to tell her you’re not, in fact, on your way and you’re stranded. And you’re sorry for being an idiot who got their car towed. The sweet angel of a human being texted you back almost immediately, solving your problem easily. Phil was around Hollywood, and would come get you momentarily. You thank her and walk to the marking curb to sit down and review the life choices that brought you here. 

The kid in the tie made his way down the stairs and walked over to you, eyeing you curiously. You look up at him with a raised eyebrow. He couldn’t be more than 13 maybe 14 if you squinted. 

“Where’s your parents kid?”

He points to an apartment on the other side of the U-shaped building, “I live right there with my grandma.”

You frown, looking over to the door he pointed at, “I’ve never seen you before.”

He shrugs, not offering an answer. You shrug back, not really needing one. 

“So…do you want to hear about Jesus Christ now?”

“Awh hell kid, seriously no.”

“Hell is where you’ll end up if-“ 

You laugh, “Boy, do I have news for you.”

By the grace of some holy entity, Phil pulled up before you could educate the kid on your “lifestyle” and the tree he was barking up. You wave the kid off and jump in the car, grateful for Phil’s timing.

“Man you just saved that kid from an education he wasn’t ready for.” You tell him as you settle into the back seat.

Phil doesn’t ask questions, just chuckles and drives off. 

———

The set was in a frenzy when you pulled into the parking lot. People were running around crossing each others paths like a haphazardly choreographed dance. The set was almost always full of activity, but people were in more of a frenzy than usual today. You catch the arm of a PA you recognize, pulling her aside.

“Is there a fire I don’t know about?” You ask her.

There is panic in her face at being stopped, and she pulls her arm from you. “The director is NOT in a good mood today.” She says as she hurries off to continue whatever she had been sent to do.

Uh oh. Task one, talk Jenna down. Actually, task one, find Jenna. You stand on your tiptoes, looking for the area that was being avoided the most, knowing that was likely where she’d be. There was a careful path being cut around the trailers, so you make your way through them, figuring you’d check her trailer first. On your way there you bump into one of the other actors, and they silently point you in the direction of the makeup trailer. 

Olivia is out front smoking a cigarette in a black robe. Seeing her stokes your anxiety, reminding you of what was on the shooting schedule for the day. She sees you and a visible level of stress leaves her body.

“Oh thank fuck you’re here.”

“That bad?”

She grimaces, “You’ll see.”

You hear before you see. You can hear Jenna’s voice in the trailer. She’s not yelling, but she is very clearly not happy. You hesitate at the door, looking back to Olivia with a fearful frown on your face. 

She shakes her head at you, “Oh no, this is your realm my friend. Get your ass in there.”

You gulp and open the door delicately. You’re immediately met with silence. The makeup artists have vacated the premises, the only occupants are Jenna and her assistant. He’s trying to make himself small in the corner and his eyes go wide when you step in. Jenna is pacing the length of the small trailer, so you lean back into the door to let her pass. When she passes you again without speaking, you decide to take mercy on him.

“You should probably head to set Junior.”

He doesn’t dally and practically leaps out of the door when you move away from it. You hear it click shut and meet Jenna in the middle of the trailer, halting her pacing. She allows you to stop her as you pull her into a hug. You know better now than to try to solve her problems for her, and set your attention on what she likely wants. 

Her hair and makeup is already done so you’re careful when you separate yourself from her and tilt her chin up. She’s not angry and that surprises you. Everyone was tiptoeing around the trailer like she was a fire breathing dragon, but here she was, clearly vulnerable and upset. You lean down and press a gentle kiss to her lips, which she reciprocates immediately. She grabs the back of your neck, pulling you into her. 

Had it not been for your concern about her set makeup, you would have let her do anything she wanted to you right then and there. But there was a schedule to uphold and you were the only one who was going to hold her to it at this point. You pull back from her, rubbing your hands up and down her arms. You still aren’t sure what’s going on, but you have an inkling it has something to do with the very thing you had been freaking out about earlier. In all your self pity you had forgotten that there was a person on the other end of this situation, and that person probably had some strong feelings about it as well. 

She closes her eyes and sighs, her posture dropping when she opens them again. She doesn’t make any signs that she’s going to speak, so you do it for her.

“Distraction or discussion?” You ask her.

“I want to say distraction, but we don’t have time.” She replies, her muscles starting to tense up again. 

“Okay, discussion then,” you say, your hands still on her arms, “What’s got you all messed up?”

She chews on her bottom lip. You know if she had her rings on she’d be spinning the hell out of them right now, but she’s already in costume so they’re not there for her. She takes in a deep breath and follows it with an onslaught of words.

“I’m worried about the scene today. Olivia is a perfect professional and I am a professional and I know that we are going to crush it. But I…” she pauses and looks you deep in the eye, “Im so afraid it’s going to freak you out. It’s freaking me out. Can we do this? Are we okay doing this? What if-“

You cut her off with another kiss. You’re slightly worried it’ll irritate her, but you’ve decided a half distraction might not be the worst idea. There’s a couch in the corner where Junior had been huddled and you back into it, pulling her with you. You sit down and she climbs into your lap facing you. You kiss her again, her makeup and hair be damned. She leans into you, her hands coming up from your neck into your hair, just a touch less than frantic. You’ve forgotten the schedule now, you’re a writer not a director. Fuck the schedule. Your hands move to her hips, and she groans leaning back from you, her chest heaving. 

Her pupils are blown out and her lips parted. You can tell she doesn’t want to stop, but she’s forcing herself. She rests her hands on your shoulders, her breathing slowing. You’re somewhat disappointed but you’re also proud of yourself for calming her down. She bends down to rest her forehead on yours, closing her eyes again. You let her gather herself and wait patiently before you say anything to her. When she seems to relax further, you decide it’s time you’re up front with her.

“Can I be really honest for a second?” You whisper.

She leans back, worry clouding her features. You’ve ruined her lipstick, but the rest of her makeup is intact. The beauticians would be proud of you. 

“I’ve been freaking out about this-“

She interrupts you, “I knew it, I shouldn’t do this I-“

“Hey hang on let me finish.” You interrupt her interrupting you. She pouts and it makes you smile in spite of the situation. 

“What I was saying,” you continue, “was I’ve been freaking out about this but not because I can’t handle it. I’m nervous and I’ve never been in this situation before. But me and you, we’re going to be fine. I’m not going anywhere and I will be in there supporting you every step of the way. It’s gonna be fucking weird, but exactly zero parts of our relationship have been normal up to now.”

She laughs and it’s like angels singing in the choir. Maybe the kid from earlier had a point. Only he was preaching the wrong religion. You were at the altar of her, and you should go to his door and tell him what divinity actually looked like. Or maybe you’d allow him to maintain his ignorance and keep this moment all to yourself like the greedy heathen you were. 

She kisses your forehead and you can tell you’ve said all the right things. The worry is washed away from her and she’s looking at you like she thinks you’re the one who is divine. Oh the price you’d be willing to pay to hear her thoughts in that moment. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I know this is a lot and…wait a minute are you okay? Your car?” 

You shake your head, “Oh fuck I forgot about my baby. She has to spend the night in impound.” You stick your bottom lip out, exaggerating how sullen you felt about the car. 

She smiles and runs her thumb over your lip, “We’ll go save her tomorrow, don’t worry.”

The ‘we’ in her sentence makes your heart sing. It’s no longer a you problem but a we problem. You’re struck with the realization that you love her. The sudden awareness of the emotion makes everything better and worse simultaneously. The fear of losing her grows, and the joy of having her grows. They are feelings dependent of one another and can’t be separated. You reopen the feelings cabinet and stuff them in, you’ll have to deal with that tremendous hulking beast later. 

You want to tell her you love her, but instead you smile and nod. “Yeah, tomorrow.” You answer, dazed.

She sets her jaw and dissects herself from you, moving off your lap to stand between your knees. “Okay JD. We can do this. Let’s go have sex on camera.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from your stomach and shaking you. “Let’s not ever say that sentence again.”

She grins as she pulls you off the couch, clearly proud of herself for making a joke that would normally have come out of your mouth. You follow her out of the trailer and find Olivia waiting outside. She chuckles at the state of the two of you, not holding her tongue.

“Got Casanova to be your fluffer then?”

Jenna frowns in confusion and looks back to you. Her lipstick is smudged, so you lick your thumb and move to wipe it from her face, but she ducks under your hand.

“Oh absolutely not. We have make up artists for that, do not clean my face like my grandma right now.”

Her comment makes you laugh and you comply, putting your hands up in surrender. She turns on her heel and starts off toward the house with you and Olivia closely in tow. 

Jenna and Olivia are completely different human beings when they’re in front of a camera. All playfulness and jokes are out the window and their serious work faces are on. You’re used to it now, having watched them work on the movie for over two months now, but it still impresses you every time when the switch is flipped. The assistant director is in Jenna’s chair, pushing the cameras in and giving them the cues to work off of. 

The scene is set perfectly, even better than you imagined between the lines of your script. It starts off with them in a fight, which gradually progresses to them falling into bed together. You’re well aware of how the dance will go. They start and stop on the first few lines, getting the lighting and placement just right. You brace yourself for the impending doom you expect to wash over you the second their lips crash into each others.

But it never comes. You’re just as surprised as anyone when you find yourself with your jaw hanging open and your eyes wide. It occurs to you that you have watched Jenna do this before. Before you knew her at least. You’d seen all her movies, seen almost every scene she’d acted in. This was a completely separate person than the one who was in your lap only half an hour ago. This was the movie star you’d drooled over, tweeted about, chattered about to anyone who would listen. This was a character and you were fully willing to let it be just that.

You watch them act and you feel like you’re watching the movie in a theater. But you’ve got the best front row seat possible. You’re literally IN the movie set. Every time the assistant director cuts the scene you’re yanked back into reality and you recognize them again. It’s weird at first, obviously it’s weird, but you allow the movie magic to wash over you and it’s not nearly as difficult as you’d imagined. 

Before you know it, Jenna is in a robe and at your side again, her eyes searching your face for signs of apprehension, but she can find none. You’re buzzing with excitement and she is shocked at your enthusiasm.

“That was…INCREDIBLE.” You say, hugging her and lifting her off the ground. She giggles as you spin around, only setting her down when you lose your balance and stumble into a light stand. 

“So you’re okay?” She asks you.

“Okay? I can’t believe how good you were! And Olivia! Oh my god the passion! The aggression! Are you kidding me?”

Olivia yells at you from the other side of the set, “Settle down Casanova, or we’ll bring you into it next time!”

Your smile drops immediately and you scowl at her. You make a show of pushing Jenna behind your body and puff up your chest.

“You couldn’t handle me on your best day, home girl!” You joke, deadpan. 

She blows a raspberry trying not to laugh at you and shakes her head, returning her attention to the assistant director. You’re riding a high, the realization that the scene is now over and your anxiety was for nothing lifts a weight off of your chest. Your mood is infectious and soon everyone is in high spirits. With this scene wrapped, the movie is almost complete. The schedule makes for another day or two of filming and then it goes into post production, where you play the waiting game and go back to your normal life. 

You’re in too good a mood for that idea to really hit you yet, so you make room for it in your feelings filing cabinet, shoving it right next to the big L word that takes up most of the space in the drawer. Much like Scott Pilgrim, you’re terrified of that word and what it means for you. You let the thought go and enjoy the moment of relief.

————

“That’s a wrap!” 

The moment the words left Jenna’s mouth the cast and crew erupted in cheers and whoops of laughter. Champagne bottles popped and the last remnants of the characters fell from the actors faces. 

You watched the celebration in awe, the final moments of your first movie coming to a close. You couldn’t believe all of this had happened because you wrote words on paper and someone somewhere saw them and put them in the hands of Jenna. You allow the moment to swallow you whole, the pure joy radiating off of the crowd filling you up. 

Olivia breaks free from the mass and runs over to you jumping on your shoulders and screaming.

“We did it Casanova! We fucking did it!”

You piggy back her around, running a short lap with her on your back. She slides off when you stop, smacks you on the butt and grins at you.

“Better go tell the director congratulations lover boy.” She says and runs back into the throng of bodies.

You laugh watching her jump on more people, enjoying her moment. A bottle of champagne pops behind you making you spin around. Jenna is holding two glasses and a now overflowing bottle, a huge smile plastered to her face. You make your way over to her and curtsy, then bow extending your hand. Instead of taking it, she hands you the glass and fills it to the top. 

She fills hers and leaves the bottle on a table, clinking her glass to yours.

“Congratulations,” you tell her, smiling over the rim of your glass before taking a swig.

“This is all because of you, so I think the compliments go to you.” 

“I could start a sickeningly sweet argument with you right now, but I don’t want everyone around us to suffer.”

“Let’s take it to my trailer then, you can tell me all about this argument of yours.” Jenna says, picking up the bottle again and holding her arm out for you to hold. 

You loop your hand through the crook of her elbow and bend down to whisper in her ear, “Ooh yeah, debate team really gets me going, let’s go argue.”

She rolls her eyes still leading you away from the party, “Do you want to ruin this moment for yourself? Because you’re rapidly ruining this moment for yourself.”

“How about naked debate team. Now thats an idea.”

“You really think you could argue with me naked?”

You gulp, your voice cracking at the thought, “N-no. You’re right naked debate team is a terrible idea.”

When you step inside her trailer she sets the champagne bottle down on the table and turns to you. “Seriously though y/n, congratulations.” She wraps her arms around the back of your neck, looking up at you as she speaks, “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come these last few months and I can’t wait to see what else you do.”

Her words spread a rapid fire of warmth through your body, filling you to the brim with adoration and pride. You look down at her, a soft smile playing at your lips. You hadn’t planned on getting emotional, but here you were, unable to find a joke that could worm your way out of this complex situation.

“Thank you,” you say, “Thank you for everything. Thank you for showing up on my doorstep five months ago. Thank you for aggressively pursuing my movie, thank you for kissing me at that premiere and thank you for being the best director and star I could have ever imagined for this movie.” 

Jenna’s expression is so soft it nearly hurts you. She pulls you down and kisses you hard, growing faster and frenzied quickly. She pulls you into the back of the trailer and into the bed.

———

Post production on most movies takes six months to a year. All the excitement of filming is done and the studio gets to work on compiling the footage and audio to create the masterpiece that people will see in the theater.

As the lead writer, you’re still called in to the studio here and there for a scene edit or a small rewrite, but for the most part, your job is done. You received a fat paycheck and cashed out, saving most of it. Jenna is in the studio nearly every day toiling over the imagery and reviewing every clip of footage and audio as it’s spliced together. 

You had hoped she would spend more nights with you due to the proximity to her work, but often she commutes. Shes working a schedule that you had paled at when you saw it on paper. You’re not sure when she ever sleeps or eats, she works that much. You try not to let the feelings filing cabinet overflow, but one day a few weeks into post production, you’re really going through it.

You’d been trying to write all day, all week really, but nothing was good enough. You’d scrapped page after page, until you gave up on something new. You started unearthing old scripts, moving piles of paper around and re-reading them, trying to find one that could use a thorough rewrite.

It was in the midst of that activity that you found yourself lying on your back on your floor, staring at your ceiling. You had created a nearly perfect outline of yourself in screenplays, a writer’s version of a chalk outline around a dead body on the floor. The emotions were spilling out of your ‘orderly’ filing system and the only way to deal with it was to lay very still and hope they went away. You dealt with big feels like the kids in Jurassic park dealt with the T-Rex. Avoid avoid avoid, hold very still, avoid avoid.

Your front door opening and closing rouses you from an unintentional nap, and you’re confused as to why you’re still on the floor. Apparently, you had gone so still hiding from your own mind that you racked out amongst the mountains of your scripts.

“What exactly is happening here?” Jenna’s voice comes from above you and you prop yourself up on your elbows, yawning.

“I was dealing with some things and then the scripts tried to tie me down like Gulliver‘s Travels.”

“Uh huh.” She says, dropping her purse onto the table in the entry way and making her way over to you. 

She shifts a few piles aside, removing half of the wall of paper from your side and lays on the floor next to you. The gesture is sweet and so typically Jenna. 

“Do you want to tell me what things you were dealing with?” She asks, turning on her side to look at you.

You don’t want to tell her, you think. You do NEED to tell her. “I’m…feeling some big…things.” You say, halting between words as you think them through. 

She doesn’t say anything, just raises her eyebrows and waits for you to continue. You puff up your cheeks and let the air rush out of your mouth. Here goes nothing.

“What if I’m boring?” You say to the ceiling.

Jenna snorts, “You are far from boring.”

“What if I can’t write another movie worth making?”

“You can. And there are plenty of movies worth making in this living room alone.”

“What if Secessus flops?”

“It’s not going to flop. And even if it does, we try, try again. That’s the business.”

You finally turn to face her, “What if after we’re done with Secessus, you figure out you actually are too good for me?”

She frowns at that, and thinks hard for a moment. She explores your expression, trying to work out if you’re joking or not. When she realizes you’re not, she sits up and leans over you. 

“I am not dating you because of this movie.”

“Well, because of this script, we are dating.”

“Because of this script, we met. We’re dating because you’re a looney toon and I happen enjoy that about you.”

You sulk, “I’m not a looney toon. I’m a real boy.”

Jenna rolls her eyes and laughs at you, even in a serious moment you can’t help but joke. “When this movie is done, we’ll make another one. We’ll be like Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter.”

“They broke up,” you huff.

“Okay, we’ll be like Tim Burton and Johnny Depp.”

“Jenna, I’m in lesbians with you.”

She slaps your arm, her face serious. “Don’t joke like that.”

You sit up, forcing her to shift to your side and you take her hand. All jokes aside, you need to unpack that damned filing cabinet. 

“Okay, the other L word.”

She shakes her head, not allowing you to get out of it so easily. “Which one, y/n?”

You sigh and look at your hands, her fingers intertwined in yours. No holding back now boys, here comes the full monty. You look back up and the sight of her nearly takes your breath away. At this point, you figure you have nothing to lose. Either she loves you back or she doesn’t, she’s still right there and you can’t keep it neatly tucked away anymore.

“I love you.”

The soft gasp that leaves her lips may as well have been made of the last breath of air to ever enter your lungs. Nothing would ever get better than that sound. Nothing except when she replies.

“I love you too. And it’s about damn time.”

You’re dumbfounded. She somehow always knows what you’re going to do. She’s always a step ahead of you. And you love her for it. You love her. 

“About damn time?” You parrot back in mock outrage, “It’s been like six months dude we-“

You never get the chance to finish your sentence because she’s pushing you into your back and kissing you with a fervor you hadn’t yet witnessed. It’s soft and rushed, and it’s rough and sweet all at once. Your head spins but your hands have a mind of their own. They travel from her thighs to her hips to her ribs to her back, making notes of their journey all the way through. You stay like that for a while, telling each other everything that needed to be said without words.

One of you bumps a limb into a stack of screenplays and they avalanche down around you, spreading all over the living room floor and slowing your bodies adventurous touches. After a while, Jenna pulls herself away from you and sits up, resting on your hips. She reaches out for the closest screenplay and opens it, looking back to you.

“Which one are we making next?”

[azaleaniath]

Could you please write some fluff with neteyam with an shy and innocent reader and loak being their biggest shipper ever

One medium sized neteyam fluff ready to go 😊

~ NETEYAM X FEM!OMATICAYA!READER ~

Wing bro

includes: fluff, dates, shy reader, shy neteyam, wingman loak, falling in love

SFW

2.3k words

________________________

Lo'ak wrapped an arm around your waist on your way back home. He had gone on a successful hunt with you to provide food for dinner.

"y/n, I'd say you're my best friend."

Something about his tone made you furrow your brows, carrying the yerik you had killed over your shoulders.

"Yeah, we are best friends, I'd say so too. What about it?"

Your feet carried you back to the village with the younger sully boy walking next to you. It was already afternoon and you still had to prepare the food so you hurried a bit.

"And I think best friend should trust each other, right?"

Where the hell did he try to get with this conversation? In confusion your eyes met his before you both focused on the path ahead again.

"Riiight..." you mumbled slowly with a curious look on your face.

"And people who trust each other", he ducked and pushed a few fern leaves out of his way to stay by your side since the path was rather small and overgrown, "they talk about everything, right?"

"... Uhuh?" You answered unsure of what he tried to get out of you while stepping over a few branches, watching a few lizards hide in the thick bushes.

"That also means that we, as best friends, should talk about secrets as well, shouldn't we?"

You snapped around and halted, grabbing the young man by his wrist to stop him.

"Just spit it out, Lo'ak."

He took the yerik from your shoulders to carry it the rest of the way home and threw the animal over his own shoulder before he looked into your eyes.

"Are you and my big bro a thing?" he simply blurted out, trying to hide a smirk. You couldn't believe your ears, but felt your entire face heat up at his words. As they replayed in your head your tail loudly whipped through the air, ears shyly tilting back.

In your panic you turned back to the path and walked ahead with quick steps while your tail kept jumping from side to side in nervousness. Lo'ak tried to catch up as you shook your head wildly to get these pictures of Neteyam's precious face out of your head, hiding your dark, fiery cheeks with both hands.

"Is that a yes?" Lo'ak asked with a grin, walking shortly behind you until you jogged away, making it hard for him to keep up since he was carrying the dead animal over his shoulders, holding it tight around his skinny legs with both hands.

"N-No! What a stupid question!"

He noticed the panic in your shaky voice as well, but continued to bother you nonetheless.

"You know I have eyes y/n, I see the way you look at each other. You're madly in love, both of you!"

You only shook your head wildly once more and escaped the situation by sprinting back to the village on your own. Lo'ak watched you quickly disappearing in between the trees until you were out of sight.

"I'm not gonna tell Neteyam, you can let me know!" you heard Lo'ak calling out as you came back to the village.

You still couldn't believe that Lo'ak had figured out, but could you blame him? It was so obvious, and he was right.

But how could you not love that man? He was an angel sent from heaven.

With your head hanging low you walked to the Sully's tent to prepare your knifes and pots for dinner.

Soon, Lo'ak arrived in the tent as well, panting. He got the dead animal off his shoulders and placed it before you, getting straight back to the conversation you tried to escape.

"Hey, did you hear me? I'm not gonna tell Neteyam, don't worry."

"Tell me what?"

You and Loak turned around, facing the golden child of the family. His voice was so soft, so were his eyes as they focused on you. His ears also tilted, his tail jerked in excitement. The young warrior lost himself in your flustered face as you tried to get something out.

Really, anything. Any lie you could come up with.

"Okay, it makes no point to hide it y/n. He's gonna find out anyway."

Your knees seemed to melt amd your eyes ripped open in panic, you tried to cover his mouth right away but he quickly came up with something.

"She really missed the first three shots, was pretty embarrassing. But you're a great hunter, you should go hunt with y/n next time! Hey, I'm sure training was exhausting. Why don't you stay here with y/n while she prepares food and I go look out for Tuk and Kiri?"

After his dishonest monologue he disappeared again, leaving the two of you alone before even getting an answer.

Yeah, of course. That skxawng. Leaving you with Neteyam and running from his cooking preparation duties.

" Wow, that was... interesting?" Neteyam mumbled in confusion before he turned back to you.

"He never offers to look after our siblings..."

"Maybe he's having a good day?" You smiled, unable to meet his eyes without giggling like a little girl. You thanked the darkness of the tent for making it harder to notice your hot, tinted face. He nervously fumbled with his necklace, rolling one of the beads in between his fingers. He always did that, when he was around you.

"Is it true what Lo'ak said?" He asked, talking about the made up failed hunt.

You only giggled shyly and played along with your best friend's lie. It would be suspicious if you'd change your excuse.

You scratched the back of your neck, eyes falling down onto the dead animal.

"Maybe I really do need some more training..."

Neteyam's leant down over the yerik and examined the lethal wound your arrow had caused. It looked like a proper shot to him but he didn't question it further.

"I actually wanted to craft some new arrows tomorrow morning. Do you want to accompany me? We could practice afterwards?"

Your luminous freckles gleamed bright at his invitation. It was painful to hold back the excited smile.

"I'd love to, Neteyam."

Some time went by. Lo'ak started acting pretty off ever since. He volunteered to take care of many chores, looked after his siblings and actually behaved. It took a lot of pressure off of his big brother who was almost scared to get used to Lo'aks behavior.

He gave his very best to ensure that Neteyam had some freetime in which he always tried to set you two up for activities. Let it be fishing, hunting, practice in general or just enjoying time together. Listen to the wildlife of pandora while laying in the forest. Swimming in the waterfalls. Flying ikrans together. The list went on and on.

Lo'ak often dropped comments whenever he saw the two of you around. "Whoops, sorry, didn't want to interrupt your cute little date", "What plans did you two make for today" or "You two look so happy together" where just a few of these sentences he would rub into Neteyam's and your face just as much as he could.

Today was not any different.

You and Neteyam layed on the grass outside the village, near a waterfall. Usually, one could find you here if you were taking a break together.

The young man would mostly just lay down next to you and look up into the sky or closing his eyes sometimes to listen to the splashing water. None of you spoke during this time, you only enjoyed each other's presence in complete silence.

Some times Neteyam would even fall asleep. He felt safe around you, safe and calm. As if your mere existence took away some of the exhausting burdens he had to carry with him.

Neteyam opened his eyes as he heard how you took multiple short breaths, taking a certain scent in.

Curiosity raised inside of him as he took a few deep breaths himself. A sweet smell hung in the air. With one eye open he peeked over to you, watching your smile widen.

"I'll be right back." he almost whispered before he got up and disappeared for a moment. With closed eyes you hummed and continued to take the sweet scent in.

Neteyam followed his twitching nose that led him straight to the riverbank. It was most intense around here so his eyes scanned the area. In no time he had found the source; a bunch of pretty glowing flowers. A satisfied grin spread all across his visage as he pulled out his knife and cut them off at the base of their stem before he returned to you.

The floral scent got stronger with each step that Neteyam came closer so you opened your eyes, only to see the young man crouch next to you, holding the flowers into your face. The blossoms tickled and tingled at the tip of your nose.

"For you, y/n." he said quietly, underlined with his awaiting expression.

Your face lit up right away, glowing in a dark violet shade. You gathered yourself and sat up. He inspected every tiny movement from you as you stared at the bouquet in awe. Filled with pride at your reaction he let out a satisfied hum.

"They're lovely, thank you!" you didn't know how you managed to bring a full sentence out yet you couldn't help but giggle like a little child, even more as he held one of these flowers to the side of your head.

"They would look good in your hair. Can I braid you a crown out of them?"

You shyly nodded, feeling your heartbeat in your throat as you watched how happy he looked at you, tail wiggling in excitement.

He signalled you to rest your head on his lap while he sat down cross-legged, carefully starting to turn these flowers into a wonderful gift for you.

A deep breath to calm yourself before you layed back down on the soft grass again, resting your head on his thigh with deeply blushed cheeks. Neteyam got his hands closer to his face so he could see better and work more precisely, but also to make more space for you.

You watched the young warrior's face twist due to his high concentration. He wouldn't dare to give you a half-hearted gift so he reached around sometimes and picked up some more fern, twigs, smaller flowers and pretty grasses to weave you a beautiful crown in silence. Sometimes he only grunted or hummed quietly if something worked perfectly or not at all, but he made it work for you.

You watched his hands do their magic and it took a good while because he tried to make it perfect for you. As he was satisfied with the outcome, he raised the flowercrown up to check it in the sunlight before he approved of his own work with a certain nod.

Neteyam lifted your head gently to put the crown onto you. His face lit up in joy and so did yours, but you tried to hide it by looking away as soon as his eyes met yours. The flustered smile on your face only intensified as you carefully adjusted the colorful crown on your head so it didn't slip off.

"It looks very good on you." He mumbled happily before laying back, his arms crossed behind his head. How wonderful it would be if every day could be like this.

~~~

Lo'ak watched his older brother repairing his bow, sitting outside of his tent while humming in piece. He noticed his brother's satisfied smile immediately.

As he stepped closer, he heard Neteyam humming the same melody again.

"morning bro" he greeted him shortly with an observing gaze, immediately infected by his good mood, tail brushing over the floor rhythmically.

"it is indeed a good morning" he mumbled in concentration without looking up, but his positive expression did not cease one bit.

"What was that melody? Sounded really nice."

Neteyam's smile creased further at his brother's words, ears flicking.

"y/n sang it to me last night. It's her favourite song."

Lo'ak wasn't surprised, but it filled him with happiness to see that his plan was in full function. Even if he was working his ass off lately, if that meant his brother was finally getting closer to you, that was a worthy sacrifice.

"You and y/n, what's the deal with you two?" he asked without any discretion, but Neteyam didn't mind.

"I really enjoy the time we spend together lately and I'm sure she does too."

Lo'ak mentally high-fived himself but suppressed his physical cheering.

"Bro, wipe your mouth, you're drooling~"

Neteyam let out a flustered laugh, gesturing to hand him a leather strap that layed on the floor close by.

"I want a front place at your wedding." Lo'ak continued to tease, watching Neteyam shaking his head lightly in disbelief at how straight forward he was.

"Easy there, baby bro." He giggled and tried to distract from his mad smile before he continued to hum the same melody again. They both stared at the weapon closely until the older boy was done repairing it, pulling the bowstring back a few times until he approved.

"You should seriously ask her out, man. I mean I see you two lovey doveys, you're eye-fucking all the time!"

Neteyam blushed at the comment, not knowing what to say. He made sure he had everything he needed before he got up and walked besides Lo'ak for a few meters.

"y/n is a good woman. You should choose her, brother." Lo'ak finally sounded more serious than before and Neteyam approved with a soft, shy nod. He found his voice again as his thoughts trailed off to all your past dates, his heart pounded in his ribcage.

"I know you'll take good care of y/n."

Neteyam fumbled with his necklace at the thought of spending his life with you, biting on his lower lip at the idea of having his own family with you one day.

"You're right. I will."

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

taglist:@luvlykrispy @zatarias-pandora @vviolaswrld @yeosxxx @lilgurlbeoncrack @philiasoul @itszzmoon @simp4ff @itsnotme02 @et-j-art @aonungsmate

[hedgehog-moss]

i absolutely loved your recent explanation of french to english and english to french translations! sometimes, i read a book translated into english and you can just tell with the way sentences are traslated that they were written in another language first e.g. 'praising the portentous architecture of the sky with trite formulas' from elena ferrante's book (trans from italian).

not diminishing native english writers but that sentence stood out to me as like "oh okay, i dont know if a native english writer would have written that but, from my understanding of italian, that's been directly translated", it was very interesting if you understand what i'm trying to say. thank you.

You my friend are a sourceist ! :) As we call people who enjoy “feeling” another language right underneath the surface of a translation.

There’s a whole rivalry between translators who favour “sourcières” vs. “ciblistes” translations (as we say in French). Literally it’s sourceist vs. targetist, but English prefers verbs so I think you’d call it foreignising vs. domesticating translations. Basically it’s whether you prioritise the source language (preserving as much of its specificities as possible, even if it means “foreignising” your own language a little, writing in a way that will feel a bit unnatural to your reader) or prioritise the target language (“domesticating” the original text to make it more familiar to your reader, like when American publishing houses re-publish British books and change “Mum” to “Mom”). It’s often simplified as, are you more loyal to the author you’re translating, or to the reader you’re translating for. Most translators will say you need to find the right balance between the two extremes (but most translators are secretly targetists) (that’s my impression anyway.)

Both methods can lead to awful translations when you go too far in one direction—I remember making a post a couple of years ago about a translated book I was reading that was set in Kazakhstan, in which a character (who was supposed to be speaking Kazakh in the context of the story) said “We can’t invite every Tom, Dick and Harry.” That’s domestication gone too far—it was so jarring and nonsensical in a setting where all the characters had names like Kazangap and Sabitzhan!

But foreignising can also go too far—it’s difficult to do it well because you need to make sure the foreign phrases, concepts or connotations you preserve don’t clash with your own language’s concepts or connotations (or writing style preferences). It happens infuriatingly often in French books translated from US English that the translator keeps the word “college” to mean “university”. I don’t know why this stupid mistake is so common, they’ve got to be doing it on purpose, do they think it makes the book feel more American? But it just confuses the reader because collège in France is middle school. The word already exists!!! and it brings to mind 11-14 year-old kids so it’s really jarring and takes you out of the story when you need to remember every time that the “collège” students here are older teenagers. There are times when calquing foreign words or phrases in your translation is a bold, interesting choice—but not when it removes something (meaning, clarity, connotations) from your language.

It does work when it adds something—novelty or poetry or a connotation that tells you something about another culture without clashing with your own. Like in your example, if you calque an interesting turn of phrase that feels natural in one language and less so in another (but more poetic, intriguing, etc), then your language gains something. I like when translators do this with terms of endearment, like preserving “my little lizard” or w/e instead of replacing it with kitten or your cultural equivalent—if I’m reading a book set in another culture, I’m delighted to learn what silly things people in that culture call their kids or SOs. But it doesn’t work if it removes something from your language—for example if a character in a French novel calls a boy a term of endearment that’s masculine in French but feminine in Spanish, better change it to something else so you don’t confuse the Spanish reader / make them wonder if the boy is being teased or what—you’re asking them to remove meaning / connotations from their language to replace them with something else and the clash just takes you out of the story.

So it’s always a balancing act between your love and respect for the original language / culture / author’s writing style, and your duty to the reader, who needs something familiar enough to be intelligible and pleasant to read. (But at a certain point domesticating your translation too much suggests a lack of respect for your reader’s ability to handle unfamiliar concepts and their curiosity about other cultures.)

I remember reading an article by a translator of, I think, Uyghur, who wanted to keep the phrase “like a third-day moon” to describe a finely curved eyebrow. That's a foreignising translation if your culture isn’t familiar with the lunar calendar and the typical reader is clueless about what the moon looks like on the third day of the lunar month—but if they can guess from context that it’s a delicate eyebrow, it’s not the jarring sort of foreignising that takes you out of the story because you can’t figure out the connotation or it makes no sense in your language; it’s the kind that makes you go “oh, interesting phrasing” and might teach you something (but in a subtle way!) about the kind of culture that would use it. It’s one of the joys of reading translated literature, to discover details of another culture almost without noticing, without having them explained to you in so many words. You’re just absorbing them by osmosis by being immersed in a story in which the translator managed to preserve the right kind & the right amount of surprising little turns of phrase.

[lizardlicks]

Momo surprise

“I’m a little worried about Momo,” Aang said to his friends as they gathered around the morning campfire and started preparing for their day. “He’s been acting kind of off lately.”

The lemur in question was fussily nosing around Aang's abandoned bedroll in tight circles. As the group of teens watched, he laid down in a curl, chirped unhappily then got up and resumed tugging and scratching at the bedding. “How can you tell?” Sokka asked. He was by no means a lemur behavior expert. To him all of Momo’s actions were strange. It was possible that Aang's Avatar-ness gave him some kind of spirit connection to flying lemurs. Unlikely, but still possible.

“He doesn’t have as much energy, even though he’s sleeping more.” Aang explained, frowning. “You don’t think he’s sick, do you?”

“Maybe it’s the climate?” Katara offered helpfully. She wasn’t a lemur expert either, but she and Sokka had struggled the first few weeks with adjusting to the Earth Kingdom’s warmer weather. As far as she or anybody else knew, Momo has lived his entire life in the towering, windswept peaks around the Southern Air Temple, so maybe the sudden change had affected him too, she reasoned. 

“It’s because you’ve been giving him too many treats,” Sokka told Aang matter-of-factly. Lemurs were outside of his wheelhouse, but he'd helped the older boys with conditioning the polar dogs for sled pulling every fall. Spoiled pups turned lazy and fat, a hard lesson to learn for the littler children who only wanted to express their love.

“You think so?” Aang looked contrite.

“Yup,” Sokka said as he reached to snag a piece of star berry off the board Katara was using to prepare their breakfast. He snatched his hand back with a squawk when she smacked him.

“He is looking a little pudgy, Aang,” Katara said without taking her eyes off the food. Poaching brothers were too wily to be given that kind of an opening.

“Monkey feathers. I just can’t resist him when he gives me The Eyes.”

“I know,” Katara agreed. “He’s weaponized his cuteness.” “You’re going to have to.” Sokka nimbly dodged a sister elbow, but he still didn’t quite manage to snag any tidbits from Katara’s pile of fruit. “It’s for his own good.”

Momo, apparently noticing he was being talked about, finally abandoned the bedding to perch on Katara’s knee. “No, bad lemur!” She snatched her cutting board up and held it over her head. “No more extras for you!”

Sokka whooped in victory as he snagged a slice of moon peach and popped it into his mouth before Katara could adjust her defenses. “You’re on a diet, mister,” he informed the lemur as he sucked the juice from his fingers.

Momo chittered and pinned his ears back.

“Sorry, buddy,” Aang said regretfully as he scooped Momo up and tucked him into the crook of his elbow. “I already gave you a big handful of lychee nuts when you woke me up, you’re gonna have to wait until lunch time for more food.”

Aang could never quite tell just how much human speech Momo understood, but the lemur appeared to grasp something about the situation. He curled his tail around and grasped it anxiously, cooing at Aang with all the force of The Eyes that one tiny flying mammal could muster.

Aang held strong. For all of three seconds. “Okay... well. Maybe a couple berries wouldn’t hurt?”

--------

“AAAAAANG!”

The young monk bolted upright in his bedroll at the sound of his name, startled out of a sound sleep. Sokka was loud. Loud and very upset.

“What!? What is it?” He blinked several times, then rubbed at his face, trying to get his eyes to focus on anything distinct before he realized the reason he couldn't see anything was because dawn was still hours away. The moon hung in the sky, a crescent barely thicker than a thumbnail, with no light to offer. Hedgegoosebumps broke out across his arms. Aang hugged himself as the night pressed in, suddenly no longer a sheltering veil, but full of hidden threat from enemies he couldn’t see. 

The sleeping lump to his right rustled and shifted as Katara sat up in her bed roll. “Sokka-haaah,” her voice stuttered, breaking off with a yawn. “What's wrong?”

“What's wrong? What’s wrong!?” Sokka was rapidly climbing in pitch with each repetition. “Why don’t you look at this situation and tell me, huh?”

“Uhh.” Aang squinted into the dark and tried to make sense of their camp. Appa was still peacefully snoring several yards away, completely oblivious to the sudden chaos. Katara was wiggling and shuffling her way out of her sleeping bag, growling unflattering things at Sokka under her breath, and Sokka. Sokka was standing in the middle of their sleeping circle. He looked like he was holding something, but Aang could not for the life of him see what it was.

“We can't see anything without light, Sokka,” Katara groused. She finally won her struggle with her sleeping roll and started patting around for her bag. “You couldn't have lit a fire before you started yelling loud enough to alert the Fire Lord himself?”

“Oh, gee, why didn't I think of that! Could it possibly be because I'm dealing with Aang's mess over here!?”

Aang didn't remember leaving a mess. In fact he'd been careful to pack up everything before turning in for the night just in case they had to make a quick getaway. A few too many lost supplies had trained him quickly.

“What are you talking about?” He asked while stretching, less alarmed now that he knew Sokka was just. Well, being Sokka. They weren't being attacked, there was no life or death situation he had to fight through in the pitch dark.

Katara, having retrieved some kindling from her pack, scooted over to their banked campfire and began to poke the coals awake. She had apparently given up any hope of going back to sleep until her brother was sorted out. Even Appa was starting to rumble awake with the commotion.

“You said Momo was a boy!” Sokka hissed. 

Aang. Blinked. “Yeah?” he said, uncertainty clouding his mind. He must still be dreaming, why would Sokka wake up the whole camp to debate their pet’s gender?

“Then explain this!” Sokka shoved his cupped hands out, away from the protective shield of his body, just as the fire flared with a pop and Katara's satisfied grunt.

Cradled in between his palms, fur still sodden and sticking, was the teeniest, tiniest lemur Aang had ever seen.

[bijoumikhawal]

I've gotten tired of making a post like this every few months so let's just fire a few of these off, and feel free to add on! Tropes you should at minimum reconsider using when you write or talk about Julian Bashir:

Mentions of "harem" pants, "Arabian nights" aesthetics, etc. These are improper terminology (that feeds into racist ideas) for real things, and when using that terminology those things are often being misrepresented. For my part, if you would actually like to know about the material culture of the Middle East and North Africa, I'm a "hobby" researcher of that very topic and will readily answer asks about it- with the caveat that I mostly know about Egypt, and I'm not the best person to ask about Sudanese specific culture even though I know a little, and I don't know much about Indian or Pakistani fashion (mentioning because these seem to be the most common cultures brought up around Julian).

comparisons to monkeys, apes, the word "simian". This should be obvious but it happens a fair amount, and it's almost comedic given a common trope is to comment on how much Garak hates being compared to a lizard.

This is separate but the way some people use mammalian tips from writing xenofic and trying to understand how an alien would think and categorize things into something that feels very exoticifying. It's not a "full stop, do not do this" but it is something I've noticed

Jokes about how undesirable Julian is. He's the exception that proves the rule about fandom's obsession with white twinks and a rare example of a brown nerd who isn't pinned into the "Couldn't sleep with a woman if they were the last two people on earth" box. I'm not saying we can't make fun of how he flirts just- Stay clear of Raj BBT territory

Conversely: my most hated garashir trope is when the author makes Julian's libido a problem by making him inconsiderate, cruel, and outright manipulative in service of his dick, and the writing often makes it clear they're connecting this to his masculinity. Julian does do some really stupid shit when it comes to his relationships, but this particular way of trying to incorporate this into writing him is just OOC, and you need to not confuse writing Julian's canonical robust and healthy sex life with negative stereotypes about lecherous Black and brown men. There's fics that pull off Julian being a bit of a dick or manipulative well- such as Salt the Earth or the ageswap series (at least where I last left off on it).

making his eyes green or blue. I have the same eye color as Siddig, more or less, and while it's technically hazel (or olive, as some people call it) most people think it's brown and most lighting makes it look brown. If you look at screencaps of Julian, you'll notice it also most of the time, looks brown. This sounds minor if you haven't experienced it, but it has a real and very negative impact on people's self image.

Older one but to be clear: if you're writing Julian as explicitly Muslim, find and replacing "god" with "allah" in English text is not how Muslims (or Arabic speakers in general) use the word? It is really funny to read, but please...

Over focusing on Julian as British. There's a long, LONG conversation that could be had about the dynamics of assimilation and how European racism (ime) very specifically views it as progressive to strip people of their culture and thinks they're causing the problem if they don't go along with it that would need its own post and which I've had with white fans before and feel exhausted thinking about- but to put it simply, there is no such thing as "just British", even for white Englishmen.

Yes the inverse is also wrong but I really haven't read a fic newer than 2014 guilty of that lmao and I think some of the more recent complaints about it are overblown, given I've read only a few fics recently published that delve into Julian as a Brown/African Person and I enjoyed them

I would personally appreciate it if fic writers were a little more balanced about cultural discussions honestly. If you write a lot about Cardassian culture, it'd be nice if Julian’s background was discussed. I won't say that kind of research is easy (again, I do this as a "hobby" that's very important to me, it's actually really annoying and difficult sometimes), but it is possible. I recently talked about how not doing this kind of mentally slots Julian into a "white guy" role.

This is not a matter of me policing your "artistic expression". I have no control over what you do. I would just like for fandom, a hobby I do for fun, to be a place where people stop being racist in a way that directly impacts me.

[iamumbra195]

MY favourite bleach head canons in no particular order

1. the idea that all shinigami in gigai give off uncanny valley vibes

Basically like Isshin, whose not quite human but not quite shinigami, meets some of Ichigo’s friends when he was a kid like Tatsuki and she obviously met his mom before and she was nice so she wasn’t expecting much from his dad and then she meets him and her first reaction is ‘what the fuck is that???’

The kurosaki kids, who have grown up with their dad and have pretty high levels of reiatsu, don’t actually realize this while their human friends just instinctually avoid Isshin ‘cause they feel like something’s off about him

of course over time and with extended exposure to Ichigo’s reiatsu, the weirdness kinda fades away but anyone outside of Ichigo’s circle generally avoids all the shinigami that come to Karakura in gigai for those reasons

2. all animals hate shinigami except cats and crows

literally for no reason besides the fact that I like them

I love the idea of shinji with his creepy ass smile just perched on top of a telephone pole and if he stays still long enough, crows will start sitting on him XD

I also have cats that I love and I love the idea of Ichigo just chilling on his bed with an orange cat and doing the purring thing with it while he’s sleeping

And then when he goes to a pet store with Rukia because she wants to see bunnies, all the animals go ballistic anf they get kicked out XD

3. the visored + ichigo with animalistic traits

laying down on hot things because it feels nice on their skin and soothes something in their lizard brains

eyes that flash hollow yellow when they feel intense emotion (inspired the scene in the anime where Aizen says that hollowification is faster when agitated so emotions heavily affect their appearance

I like the idea that they get very tactile with people they care about (not in a romantic way) and they get into little wrestling matches over stupid stuff because that’s they’re idea of playing and bonding

Shinji gives cat vibes, you can’t even tell me he doesn’t just look at him. When cats make eye contact as they push something off the table- that’s him

I also really like the idea of the hollowification affecting their zanpakuto. Given that Ichigo was pretty much born with his hollow, he doesn’t notice the different the way the Visored do 

Shinji’s whole standing upside down and reversing the gravity on himself, I like the idea that it came after his hollowification and if he wishes he can do it to others

Idk if there’s any jjk manga readers her but you know that attack kenjaku has where he makes you feel like you’re falling but you’re not really? He does it to Yuji a few times when he’s fighting mahito and I love the idea of Shinji having that ability, just completely fucking up their sense of reality and direction

I haven’t thought of the other visored abilities but from my other AU that I will never write, I mentioned that Kaien was hollowified as well so I love the idea of him just being completely obsessed with everything water related and having an affinity for any water type kido and being able to control minor amounts of water without actually drawing Nejibana and being able to breath under water

4. all zanpakuto spirits do commentary in their weilders head

but only ppl like Ichigo and Toushiro who have incredibly powerful spirits that they can literally talk to in the middle of a fight can actually hear

Like Zabimaru, haineko, and all the other zanpakuto are just constantly making fun or nitpicking the way their weilder uses them

But Ichigo is the only one who has to suffer through Zangetsu (Shiro) cackling in his head while Toushiro gets useful feedback and Ichigo’s just completely done with him

a sadder headcanon: all zanpakuto spirits talk to their weilders regularly however, the Visored because of their own fear of their hollowification have estranged themselves from their zanpakuto spirits and like Shiro is hostile with Ichigo in canon, the others are like ten times worse

5. If Ichigo every actually seals his zanpakuto, he’d be incredibly sensitive to reiatsu (I forgot to add this one the first time and I didn’t wanna make another post XD)

I personally love this little explanation of Ichigo’s powers and you know how Ichigo is just really shitty at sensing reiatsu at the beginning? Shinji commented on it a couple times and seemed pretty confused by it.

I think that part of the reason why he’s so bad at it-- especially after the SS arc ‘cause remember he was actually pretty good at sensing back then-- is because after he achieved Bankai, Hollow Zangetsu was in control rather than OMZ and with that switch in power came a significant uptick in his own reiatsu to the point where Ichigo actually feels like he’s being crushed by his own power and he can feel how close Shiro is for the first time and he’s actually scared of his own power

Hiyori even comments about how he’s scared of his own bankai because the distance between him and Shiro decreases everytime he gets stronger since Shiro gets stronger with him

Anyways, we’re not devolving into an analysis about Ichigo and Shiro but eventually Ichigo learns how to sense things properly even with his own reiatsu

So when he finally seals Zangetsu and he’s no longer covered by his own power because it’s finally sealed, he’s gonna be sensing things so much stronger and get sensory overload only it’s ✨reiatsu sensitivity✨

6. Souls in the Society age until they find an appearance both they and their reiatsu level is comfortable with (Another one because I’m an idiot and I forgot)

Excluding Toushiro’s weird case of appearanc shifting but I guess that could be attributed to his bankai’s weirdness that I don’t know much about

I don’t think we’ve gotten on actual explanation on how souls age so I’ve decided to apply this hc

Basically the reason why ppl like Unohana, who looks incredibly similar to herself from a thousand years ago, the only difference being how much less sinister she looks and how calm she looks

Plus, all the characters from the Turn back the pendulm arc barely changing over a hundred years is wild

I initially thought of it as comparing every decade a soul lives to ever year a human lives but that didn’t feel right so I chose this

[tachimichishrine]

ppssps..hey bae 😍😍😍❤️❤️🙈🙈🙈

cute and sexy request!!! IF YOU COULD WRITE A MISTLETOE CONFESSION FOR TACHI x READER THANKS U I LOVE UR WRITING KEEP GOING AND FEED ME ALL THIS TACHI CONTENT AS ALWAYS🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

heyyy babygorl 🤪😳🥵🥵😻🙉🙉 oh my god this is indeed extremely cute and sexy, just imagine...

tachihara around the holidays, a sense of nostalgia for something that never existed as he watches families with shopping bags in their arms. they look happy in the way he'd never felt with his own, and it's got him looking down for most of the season.

tachihara catching himself staring at you for too long, watching you give small gifts to the other members of the black lizard, even speaking with the nameless suits about their plans with their families like you really were a goddamn angel.

tachihara daydreaming about you in the middle of missions, distracting himself with the thought of you to the point where he accidentally bumps into santa cosplayers and has to threaten to beat them within an inch of their lives as soon as they start singing carols merrily at him.

tachihara who is stupid in love, head over heels even before you started asking him about his holiday plans and he begrudgingly admits that he doesn't talk to his family; you pouted sadly and promised that you'd try to make up for it, whatever that was supposed to mean.

tachihara strolling into his office, finding a small box of chocolates wrapped in a red ribbon with a note saying "from santa", even though it was obvious who it was from. it took him a while to stop blushing before he could stash the box in his pocket and pretend like he didn't just get shot by cupid's arrow all over again.

tachihara trying (miserably) to return the favour, having no clue what you like and needing hirotsu's advice. he made the old man swear not to tell anyone about this because if word spread through the black lizard that he was buying gifts for someone, he'd look weak and mushy and he didn't want you to know that this was what you did to him.

tachihara not knowing how to ask you out, painfully terrified that you were just being nice to him because that's who you are and not because you had any interest in him. he thought the mistletoe maneuver was cliché and stupid and soft and perfect for you.

tachihara using his ability to carry the mistletoe around with him, feeling dumb as he waits for you to stumble across him all the while trying to psych himself up to actually kiss you.

tachihara who turns around for one second to yell at an underling, leaving the mistletoe in the air as you, hirotsu and gin stroll in.

tachihara watching in agony as you point out the mistletoe above your heads and kiss hirotsu right in front of his eyes (you said that you would've kissed gin but she had her mask on).

tachihara giving up and heading home after a long day, the stupid thing in his pocket serving as a reminder that he's a coward and can't even do this one simple thing right.

tachihara hearing you call out "wait up!" while he walks home, hands in his pockets and about to throw the world's biggest tantrum at the sight of lovers holding hands and laughing at all the christmas lights put up around the neighborhood.

tachihara slowing down his pace but not stopping as you talk to him, saying things that he barely processes because your smile is so beautiful and you look so excited.

tachihara following you on your little detour, taking him to decorated squares and clinging onto his arm when night fell and it got too cold. he would've suggested buying you a hot chocolate but he didn't want you leaving his arm anytime in the foreseeable future.

tachihara's confidence slightly restored, taking a deep breath and looking around while you babbled about loving the spirit of the season, his eyes locking in on the mistletoe in front of a small shop.

tachihara suggesting to you that go in and explore the shop, then trying (awfully) to smoothly point out the mistletoe on the sign above. he swore that he was a spy, a trained, high-level spy that could infiltrate even the most dangerous of organizations, but you made him nervous and it came out wrong.

tachihara listening to you giggle, pointing out what a coincidence it was that this was the second time today that you found yourself under the mistletoe.

tachihara not believing it when you grabbed him by the front of his jacket and kissed him like it was nothing, not giving him any time to say how he really felt or process the feeling of your lips on his.

tachihara trying to kiss you back but the kiss was short and you were already giggling and ushering him into the shop.

tachihara yelling out "stop! just... wait. just wait," with a lot more desperation than he wanted.

tachihara unable to say anything coherent, describing his appreciation for your gifts and thoughtful words and time you spent with him spontaneously like right now and how gorgeous you looked and how your smile made him feel and just about a thousand other things he never thought he'd say out loud, to your face.

tachihara breathing heavily after his rant, face hot enough to warm up half the city and unable to look you in the eye.

tachihara growing hotter once you grabbed his chin, tilting it so he would look at you, then you said "you know, we're still under the mistletoe... dontcha think we should kiss again?"

tachihara not believing his senses when you did just that, this time pulling him in deeply, hands on his shoulders and body twisting the slightest amount as you kissed him like he'd never imagined before.

tachihara feeling drunk on your lips once you told him that you followed him on his way home not just because you didn't want him to be alone during the holidays, but because you barely saw him today and missed his company, because you missed him.

tachihara getting himself dragged to your home that evening, condemned to plans of baking, house decorating and cuddling whether or not he wanted it. but you both knew that he did, more than anything.

tachihara walking with you like he was in a fever dream, your fingers intertwined while you occasionally kissed his cheek and watched him blush when you got closer to him or asked if he was the one who planted that mistletoe in the port mafia hq this morning.

tachihara making sure he discreetly tossed the mistletoe in his pocket in a garbage on the way there because he denied this morning's "accident".

and most importantly, tachihara getting spoiled the entire holiday season, especially since you made sure to hang dozens of mistletoes across your home and agreed that he would have to comply with each and every one of them, not that he was complaining.

[withacapitalp]

Quiet

For the STWG Daily Prompt today! This one is a little roundabout, but I just wanted to write some of the boys being goofy little besties!!!

-----

“Class, this is Dustin Henderson. He just moved here all the way from Arizona, isn’t that interesting?” Mrs. Wren said, gently nudging the boy further to the front of the room and giving him a soft smile, “Dustin, why don’t you tell us about yourself a little?” 

Dustin looked like he would rather eat raw goat brains, and Mike couldn’t blame him. If Dustin was a kid who looked like Jimmy or Troy, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but Dustin was a chubby short kid with a shock of wild curly hair and two missing front teeth. His shirt was black with a picture of a microscope with the words ‘Enjoy the little things’ underneath it, and he was wearing a wide brim hat with Einstein's theory of relativity stamped on it. 

The new kid was a total nerd, and Mike’s heart went out to him. 

“I moved here from Flagstaff. Um that’s a city in Arizona-” Dustin started to mumble, his eyes firmly on his shoes. 

“Wow. We thought it was in Canada,” Troy interrupted with a mean little laugh. 

A twitter went around the class, which was completely stupid in Mike’s opinion. It wasn’t even a funny joke, just something mean to say, and it made Dustin cringed back like he had been physically hit, his shoulder curling inward as he reached up to tug at the brim of his cap. 

“Shut up, Troy,” Mike said without really thinking. He kind of wished he could take it back when Troy’s entire desk clump turned to him with murder in their eyes, but the tiny grateful look Dustin shot up at him made it worth it. Sort of. 

“Boys,” Mrs. Wren droned, calling them both out even though Mike hadn’t done anything but defend Dustin when she should have. She sighed and shook her head, turning back to their newest student, keeping him on the pyre when she could have just let him go free. 

“What was your favorite part of Flagstaff, Dustin?”

“I really liked going hiking with my dad,” Dustin answered, slightly perking up, “There’s this mountain called Humphrey’s Peak by us, it’s the biggest mountain in Arizona and it’s the start of the San Francisco peaks! There’s these lizards there called Gila Monsters, they’re the only venomous lizards in North America, and-” 

Mike was leaning forward, drawn in by curiosity about the strange creatures, but oddly enough Dustin cut himself off with a sudden jolt, going back to his curled up turtle position from before. Their teacher waited for a second more before sighing again and adjusting the papers on her desk. 

“Well, we don’t have much in the way of lizards here in Hawkins, but hopefully your classmates will help you to explore some of the local wildlife. We’re going to have some silent reading time now students, so take out your books. Dustin do you need me to help you pick one?” She asked, finally cutting him loose. 

“No I’m okay,” Dustin said as he scurried to his seat, immediately opening his backpack and digging in it, conveniently not looking up at any of the boys near him. He pulled out a huge book, burying his face in it effectively cutting off any attempt to catch his eye. 

Maybe he just needed another push. Mike was still pretty curious about those monsters. 

“I’m Mike,” He offered. 

“My name is Lucas,” Lucas added, catching what Mike was thinking immediately and following through like always. 

“I’m Will, it’s nice to meet you,” Will rounded off, holding out his hand for Dustin to shake. 

“Hi,” Dustin said shortly, still nestled tightly into his book. 

Mike’s brow furrowed, and he looked away from Dustin to his friends, seeing if they had a plan. Lucas shrugged, and Will turned his face down to where he was secretly doodling under the book their teacher had assigned him. They were both just giving in that easily, which was just not acceptable. 

Not when the prospect of information on a giant lizard was at their fingertips. 

“What are you reading?” Mike tried again, still not willing to admit defeat. 

“Oh this is Blackmoor. It’s a rule book,” Dustin explained, holding the book so they could see the front cover picture of a huge castle on a tall rock and a smaller picture of a wizard. Will was instantly intrigued by the wizard, leaning into Dustin’s space to point at the title above the castle. 

“What’s Dungeons and Dragons?”

It was like a switch flipped. Dustin’s eyes lit up and he put the book flat on the desk so they could see inside, giving them all an eager little grin as he scooted his chair closer to the desks. 

“It’s this super cool thing where you make up characters and adventures and use dice to decide what happens. My character is a bard who has a flute that can put people to sleep and this badass dagger!” Dustin exclaimed, pulling out a notebook so they could see a rudimentary drawing of a man holding a knife and a flute. Mike was sure Will could’ve done a much better version, but it was still pretty awesome. But Dustin wasn’t done, pulling out a tiny figurine and putting it in the middle of their desks. 

“The game has got all these monsters like a mimic that pretends to be a treasure chest and this one is called the demogorgon-”

And then it was just over. Dustin jolted back, snatching his hand back like it had been caught in a cookie jar and pulling his hat practically over his eyes.  

“I mean, it’s just a game,” Dustin murmured, playing with his fingers and tucking his chin to his chest. 

Damn! Again! Now Mike was getting pissed. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” Mike asked, frustrated that twice he had missed out on something fun. 

“What?” Dustin replied, looking confused. 

“Start talking about something cool and then cut yourself off right in the middle,” Lucas explained, already aware of what was annoying Mike. That was why they were best friends- Lucas just always seemed to know what was bugging him, “It’s weird.” 

Weird was apparently the wrong word to use. All of the joy in the air instantly vanished, and Dustin’s shoulders were at his ears. Mike shot Lucas a tiny glare, the two of them having a silent argument as Dustin gathered up the courage to explain. 

“Oh, um…My dad told me that I should try to be quieter if I wanted to make friends,” Dustin whispered, his cheeks beet red as he stammered out the words, “He um- he said it’s uh rude, you know? To not to let other people talk once in a while?” 

Ouch. 

Mike’s chest instantly seized up, and he looked down at his own desk, his copy of Tuck Everlasting staring back up at him. A quick sneak peek up at Lucas and Will revealed that they were doing the same, Will’s lip caught firmly between his teeth and Lucas’s mouth in a thin straight line. 

It wasn’t exactly the same, but all three of them knew what it was like to be told to be quiet. They knew how hard it could be to have everything you love ridiculed or talked down to. Usually it was Troy or Jimmy or some of the other boys in their class doing it though, not their own parents.  

“Tell us about the demogorgon,” Mike declared, speaking for all three. Judging by the looks he was being given not only by Lucas and Will, but also by Dustin, he had said the exact right thing.