#nothing against anyone

[dazzle02]

Can we have the 118 really come through for Tommy for something PLEASE?! Like, really thinking about things, I feel so sad for him.

Like, he was clearly pretty close to both Hen and Chim by the time he left the 118.

But then they lost touch, which happens. It's fine. But TWICE Chimney has called asking for help, and both times he immediately came through.

The second time, he was risking his life, and his job if he survived. All for a hunch that Hen had that Bobby and Athena were in danger. He didn't hesitate to help them out. (Thank you Buck for pointing this out!)

It just makes me kinda sad... So yeah, I need him to need help and for them to help out.

And this isn't anything against Chimney or Hen, people lose touch and it's not like he reached out in all that time either. And I'm sure that if he had called them needing help with something they would've come through. It's just something I've been thinking about.

[abrahamshipwreck]

Reminded why I dont often interact with fan content in general

[shepscapades]

I think it’s safe to say Ranchers Win These

(In the silence between the last two panels, there is a 20 page comic in my head filled with flashbacks of every moment Scott teased, scolded, or dismissed Jimmy—and every moment where Tango was instead kind, patient, and proud)

[turtleblogatlast]

Fun little silly thought I had about the Lair Games and specifically Leo deliberately losing is all the reasons he could have for doing so.

My favorite headcanon for his main motivation is that Splinter wasn’t proud of him anymore.

I imagine that, in the beginning, winning the Lair Games was Leo’s opportunity to shine. He wasn’t artistic or the baby of the family like Mikey, wasn’t a tech genius who created amazing inventions like Donnie, wasn’t the eldest who was insanely strong and dependable like Raph. So he had to shine somewhere else- anywhere else- and what better way to get attention than to be a winner? A champion?

And then he won too much. And it wasn’t special anymore. He got too big headed, too cocky, he knew this was his element and he ran with it.

Splinter’s words of congratulations slowly petered out. Suddenly, there was no real reason to win.

Winning feels empty when the only one cheering you on is yourself.

So- Leo schemed. And he’s a great schemer, fooling his whole family (and Donnie did deserve a win- people were way happier when he won.)

He even gave up his prized possession! His room!

Though he knows his brothers probably think it’s a bad prize. A terrible one, even.

Leo doesn’t sleep much as is, though. So Dad’s snores were more comforting than anything. It was reassuring to hear him so clearly alive and close by.

Even if the distance between them was larger than Leo’d like.

He’d just have to find something else, something more to show his dad that Leo was someone to trust, to be proud of, to love.

He gets his chance soon after, when he needs to pull off a plan against Big Mama at his dad’s side. Leo can only hope this victory is one that has a lasting effect when his father looks at him with pride once more.

Victory, for Leo, is a pretty loaded term.

[feyreswaterybowels]

⟡ Princess of Dreams ⟡

# 1 Lucien x Rhys!Sister

⟡Part 1⟡Part 2⟡Part 3⟡

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Centuries ago Rhys’ youngest sister was kidnapped by the High Lord of Spring instead of kill like their mother and sister. The high lord had wards placed on his court so she was unable to leave. Rhys has believed her to be dead this whole time. What happens when Feyre finds out who she is and swears to take her home.

Warnings/Tag: Takes place during ACOWAR. Implied past sexual assault. Fluffy romance. Feyre being besties with Rhy’s sister. Pet names (pretty girl, sweet girl, Princess (her title)

Authors Note: All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome, appreciated and encouraged. Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for part 2! Bold italics are mental communication regular italics are inner thoughts.

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁✩ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☽ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☽ ݁⟡ ݁⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☽ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

I know who you are.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Feyre—

You’re Rhys' sister. He told me all about you while I was there. I…I have a plan. I’ll take you back with me when I go. I’ll take you home.

The hushed conversation with Feyre played on repeat in my head for days. She had trusted me enough to tell me she wasn’t really here for Tamlin, that it was a plot, a plan and she was going back to the Night Court. Back to Velaris and she was taking me with her—she was taking me home.

Home.

There was only one problem. Just one. The male lying in my bed. I turn away from the window to gaze at him lying there naked, golden skin glowing in the moonlight. A crown of red splayed around his head. Grooves and planes of lean muscles on display. Arms folded behind his head.

Gods, he’s beautiful.

I had yet to tell him of Feyre’s plan. I believed he wouldn’t tell Tamlin but at the same time…I wasn’t sure how safe his mind was with two other daemanti in the house. I could only protect his mind when I was with him. Plus, Tamlin was his best friend. His High Lord. If he knew of Feyre’s plan to leave…and everything else she told me and Tamlin found out, we could both be locked away again. Not only that, but if he found out Lucien knew? That couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let harm come to either of them.

I took in a deep breath, walking over to the bed, tucking my wings as I slowly crawled up that perfect body. Dipping my head and trailing my lips over that patch of hair that went down, down, down, breathing in the scent of him. Mm.

“And what exactly are you doing?” That deep voice rumbled. I looked up, a sly grin across his face, metal eye glowing in the dark as he took in the sight of me between high thighs as I licked my bottom lip.

“Who? Me?” I asked, sliding a hand up his thigh to grasp him in my hand, stroking him once.

“Yes you, Princess” He laughs, grabbing and pulling me up the bed, kissing me as he rolls us over. I can feel him hard and heavy between my legs and it makes me moan.

“Lucien,” His name falls from my lips as he presses our bodies together. “Don’t tease, I want you.”

“Don’t tease?” He scoffs, “Says the one who was about to wake me up with a pretty little mouth.”

His grin is feral and I can’t help but return it.

“Come on,” I spread my legs wider, letting him feel the wetness there, “I know you want it.”

“And she calls me the tease,” He mocks under his breath before kissing me, tongue sliding into my mouth.

My fingers tangle in those long fire locks. I moan when I feel the heat radiating from his body, I love when he does that. The heat always feels so good against my sensitive skin.

He grins at me again, pushing up onto his knees, towering over me. He grabs my thighs, spreading them out and looking over me and I let him. I always loved the way he looks at me, his beautiful scarred face showing every ounce of emotion he feels.

He reaches between his thigh, wrapping a strong fist around himself and I watch stroke for stroke as he watches me. I tug on that bond between us, watching as it seemingly tugs him closer though I know it was his own doing.

“So, beautiful, all laid out for me,” He groans and I open myself further for him. Stretching my wings out across the bed, arms above my head, legs still spread wide but using a foot to rub over his calf.

That does it for him. He swoops down, grabbing me around the waist to yank my hips up, lining himself up and filling me. I cry out his name, arching into that fullness, into that glorious stretch.

We move together heat and passion. It’s rough and loving and he’s got me falling over the edge in minutes. Then again. And again. He’d always been so good at getting me there. Doing everything to make sure I was pleasured properly.

Tonight was no different as he leans over me, slow, firm thrusts hitting exactly where I needed it as he mouthed at my wing, tongue tracing through the grooves, and one hand wrapped around my wrists above my head to hold me in place.

“Say my name, pretty girl” he says, heated kisses on my wing.

“Lucien,”

“Louder,” he growls.

“Lucien!”

“I want the whole house to hear you, sweet girl.” His tongue laves over a particularly sensitive spot and I’m gone again. Gushing over him and moaning his name loud enough that the whole house definitely heard it.

It’s not long after that his thrusts are slowing. He lets go of my hands so I can touch him, he always liked having my touch when he came. I grinned into our kiss as my hands ran over his body. His panting moans turning into grunted growls. He was so sexy like this. Covering me fully, hair falling around his face, teeth bared.

I reached up pushing his hair behind those pointed ears, thumb tracing over part of his scar before pulling him into a kiss that was more tongue than anything.

“Fuck, just like that, baby,” I moaned into his mouth. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Make me feel so good!”

“Yeah? Gonna cum in that pussy for you, pretty girl, then I'm gonna eat it out.”

That’s what did it for me, I tightened around him. He follows me over the edge a few thrust later with a growl of my name.

Then he’s slipping from my body and sliding down, kissing a trail to my centre, keeping true to his promise.

“Fuck,” He groaned, coming back up, sliding his tongue into my mouth to let me taste myself. Kissing me slow and sloppy. “So perfect. My pretty, perfect mate.”

Despite what we’d just done I blush at his words.

“My sweet handsome mate,” I whisper back, tumbing at the bottom of his scar again before wrapping my arms around his neck.

He holds me tight, arms wrapping around me as we catch our breath. I tuck my face into the crook of his neck breathing in his scent—organic, earthy and sweet. Perfect.

My eyes welled up when thoughts of leaving weave through my brain. This was my mate, I had built a life here with him. But I had been trapped in this house for so long that it wasn’t really life. I wanted to go home to Velaris. To my brother and our family. I could try to convince Lucien to go but that could put him in danger. I had almost lost him under the mountain, I could t go through that again. If I left first I could always seek him out later but to stay here when I had the opportunity to finally go home, when I had Feyre telling me she could break the wards binding me here. I couldn’t turn that down.

“My love, what’s wrong?” Lucien asks, pulling back to look at me. Our eyes meet as he wipes away my tears. “Talk to me.”

I sniffled. I felt like it was now or never. I either told him now or he would find out when I leave. I couldn’t do that to him though. It would break his heart to wake up one day and find me gone.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” He said, petting my hair.

“I don’t know if I can say it out loud,” I tell him, our eyes meeting.

“That’s okay, Princess” Lucien nods his head, concern written all over his face.

“You can’t tell Tamlin,” The crease between his brow deepens. “You can’t tell him, Lucien, please. Promise me.”

He watches me for a moment, confused and concerned but he nods. “I promise. I won’t tell him.”

“Feyre and Rhys’ bond wasn’t actually broken that day with Hybern. She’s has a plan to go back. She…she said she can break the wards that hold me here so I can— I can finally go home,” I tell him, his eyes widen but he doesn’t look entirely shocked at what I’ve told him.

“And I’m assuming you have the intention of going with her?” He asks, sadness tinged the words and the bond.

“I have to, Lucien. I haven’t seen Rhys in centuries. Centuries. And he thought I was dead the entire time until recently. I need to go home, I need to see him and the rest of our family,” I cried, hot tears sliding down my face. He grabs me, pulling me up and holding me. Stroking my hair and shushing me softly.

“You should go, Princess. You should go home,” He says, kissing my head. I pull back to look at him, searching his face.

“Come with me,” I whisper, grabbing his face. “You can come. You would love Velaris—”

“I can’t,” he cuts me of gently, stroking his knuckles down my cheek. “Not that I don’t want to. Fuck, it hurts just thinking about you being away from me but if the three of us disappear? Tamlin will flip shit.”

“And he won’t be able to get to us in Velaris,” I tell him, grabbing the hand caressing my cheek and holding it tightly. “We would be safe there, Lucien. We could have a life together, a real one. Our own place by the river I showed you. A proper mating ceremony. We’ve been talking about kids for a decade. We could happily and safely have them there.”

“I don’t know…” Lucien shakes his head and I can see the water lining his eye.

“Me and you, Lu. That’s what we always said. Me and you—”

“Always.” Lucien nodded, looking over my face. Taking in every detail like he was trying to remember what I looked like before I was even gone. “What if you go with Feyre and I come later? You have to go now, you’re right you can’t pass up this opportunity to go home. I understand that. But you can come back for me, right? I could help keep Tamlin away…for some time anyway.”

My tears break loose then as I sob against his neck.

“I know it’s the best option but I don’t want to leave you,” I cried, clinging to him as he pulled me into his lap, letting my wings cocoon around us.

“Sh, it’s gonna be okay, my love.” I feel his tears on my neck and my heart breaks.

It was right but it felt so wrong.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

“So you’re joining us after all?” comes Tamlins snarky comment as soon as I walk out of the manor. I roll my eyes, fluffing the ugly powder blue dress.

“Unfortunately,” I rolled my eyes at him, it was too early for his shit, but still smiled at Lucien when his arm wrapped around my waist, careful of my wings.

“You can stay here,” Tamlin retorted with an eye roll of his own. “That would be preferable.”

“Well my mate asked me to attend. As did my friend, even if you wish Feyre wasn’t my friend,” I sneered at him with a wicked grin.

“I would never say that,” Tamlin returned the sneer, baring his teeth at me.

“Play nice, Princess,” Lucien purrs through the bond.

“Not out loud anyway,” I gave a sweet smile. “You look beautiful,” I said, hugging Feyre and kissing her cheek before pulling Lucien away to our horses.

Lucien helped me onto my horse, a gorgeous black mare, her coat shining even in the darkness of morning—a gift from Lucien after I accepted the mating bond. I looked down at him with a smile, running my hand through his hair.

“You’re lucky I love you, I really don’t want to deal with Ianthe’s shit today,” I said, situating myself in the saddle.

“Ianthe’s shit is exactly why I asked you to come,” Lucien said, grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it. “I appreciate you coming anyway, your presence will make it much more tolerable for me.”

“Yeah, I know, come on, let's get this over with,” I said, urging him to his own horse. “I’m ready to get today over with so I can get drunk and dance with you under the stars.”

Ugh, he looks so good. I thought as his head dropped back with a laugh before mounting his horse, dressed in autumn colors he stood out perfectly from everyone else wearing the hideously bright spring court colors. I’d be covered head to toe in Night Court black if it was allowed. I’d have loved to see the look on Ianthe’s face if I had shown up today in all black.

We set off soon after everyone had mounted their horses and there were already hundreds of fae crowded atop the hill when we arrived. I fought the urge to bare my teeth when I saw Ianthe’s gaze lingering on my mate as he dismounted his horse and strided to mine.

“Ignore it. She’s not worth your jealousy,” Lucien said as he reached for my hand, helping me from the saddle.

“I’m not jealous. I’m protective. I don’t like the way she looks at you,” I say, running my hands over the collar of his jacket. “Like she’ll drag you away to have her way with you whether you like it or not.”

“That’ll never happen, my love.”

“Damn right it won’t, I’d break her hands if she ever touches you,” I huff, as a feline smile crosses his lips.

“You’re sexy when you’re possessive,” He said, leaning down to kiss me, first my lips then my forehead before extending his arm to me to hold onto.

“You better make this up to me later,” I grumble, as I would much rather be back at the estate hiding in my room.

“Oh, I will make it up to you, sweet girl,” Lucien promised, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “slowly, with my tongue. Over and over.”

My body flushed knowing exactly how good he is with that wicked tongue. His gaze turns heated knowing exactly what I was thinking, feeling exactly what I was feeling.

“Lucien,” Tamlin calls from where he and Feyre are standing. I glance at those full lips one last time before he’s gently pulling me, guiding me away from our partially secluded spot. .

Jurian is at my other side suddenly walking with us as we trail behind Tamlin and Feyre—also linked by the arms and the Hybern Royals. I had seen the gleam in Feyre’s eye before she turned away, like a wolf getting ready to play with its prey. It made me giddy inside.

I couldn’t wait to witness her revenge.

We stopped walking when Tamlin and Feyre did, reaching Ianthe at her stupid altar as she offered them a singular nod of head. The Hybern twins shifted impatiently, Brannagh had made comments the night before how they didn’t bother with such things in Hybern—practically implying that soon we wouldn’t be bothering with it either. Smug little bitch.

“A blessed solstice to us all,” Ianthe called out to everyone around and I don’t roll my eyes the way I want to.

I stood there through an endless string of prayers and rituals, acolytes pouring sacred wine and the blessing of harvest goods. A lovely, rehearsed little number. Lucien was practically falling asleep between Feyre and I.

Ianthe lifted her wine and intoned “As the light is strongest today, let it drive out unwanted darkness. Let it banish the black stain of evil.” I sneered at her, I knew those words were directed at me. My brother. Feyre. Our home.

“She’s lucky my wine doesn’t end up in her pretty face,” I silently told Feyre, watching her expertly hide her grin with the wine chalice—her silent agreement.

“Would Princess Brannagh and Prince Dagdan do us the honor of imbibing this blessed wine?”

I shared a look with Feyre as the twins frowned at one another—the crowd murmuring behind us. But Feyre stepped aside, smiling a pretty smile and gesturing to the alter for the royals.

“Drink and let our new allies become friends,” Ianthe declared before they could refuse. “Drink and wash away the endless night of the year.”

The two daemanti surveyed their cups, most likely searching for any hint of poison. Feyre kept that smile on her face, I couldn’t extend that same faux courtesy when the prince looked my way. I didn’t care enough to put on the facade.

They each barely sipped the wine before trying to step away from the altar. Ianthe cooed at them like children, insisting they stay at the altar with her, to experience the ceremony at her side.

“I’m bored, Luc,” I grumbled to Lucien through the bond as Ianthe continued on with her praises and rituals. Eyes finding Lucien every now and then, looking away when I send her a death glare—lucky she doesn’t know who I really am.

“I’ll be over soon,” Lucien chuckles, pulling me into his side with an arm around my waist.

Finally, Tamlin was summoned over to light the candle for the souls lost this past year. This part bored me too. Those souls were gone; they didn’t need a candle lit to bring them back to the light. But just as I was starting to lose my patients the sky was finally filling with streaks of pink as Jurian was called forward to recite a prayer as well.

It left only Lucien and I standing with Feyre in the circle of grass, the altar and horizon in front of us and the crowd behind us. The look on Lucien’s face drew my attention as he scanned the area and I could help the crack of a smile when I noticed something out of place. A miniscule little detail no one else seemed to notice—except maybe now my mate.

I watched as Ianthe stepped toward the hill’s edge, her golden hair tumbling freely down her back as she lifted her arms to the sky. The chosen spot was intentional. Only that marker that told her where to stand wasn’t in the spot it had been in when we first arrived.

Golden rays of sunlight finally broke over the horizon. Light filled the world clear and strong. The murmurs started through the crowd. Cries of a name, not Ianthe’s but Feyre’s.

That gorgeous light had not filled and surrounded Ianthe but Feyre.

Ianthe seemed to be the last to notice, to see the sun was not blessing her but Feyre.

She glowed so brightly, brighter than what seemed natural for this occasion but I didn’t care to question why. She was beautiful—shining as if she were the star that hung above Ramiel.

“Curse breaker,” some murmured.

“Blessed,” others whispered.

Feyre's face was one of surprise and acceptance, though I knew it wasn’t genuine, those around us wouldn’t read it that way. They would only see what she allowed them too. The shock and bafflement of Tamlin and the Hybern twin’s faces was ever satisfying.

But Feyre didn’t look at them. She turned to Lucien and I, her light radiating so bright it was almost hard to keep that eye contact. A friend looking to another for help. She reached a hand to Lucien then to me.

I knew Ianthe had to be losing her shit behind us but I was too enchanted by my brother's mate. Yes, this was all a show, but Feyre was special.

I took her hand, watching Lucien do the same. Then we shared a look, lowering down to one knee, pressing her knuckles to our brow. I knew the crowd behind us had followed suit.

I had never kneeled for a high lord of the Spring Court. I was Princess of the Night Court. Heir of Velaris. Princess of Dreams. I knelt for no one—certainly not for anyone of the Spring Court. Not now, not ever.

I was not kneeling before Lady Feyre. Or Feyre Cursebreaker. I was kneeling for Feyre High Lady of the Night Court. Feyre that led Prythian from tyranny and darkness. Feyre that saved my mate and thousands of others under the mountain.

“My high lady,” I declared to her. The only person besides my brother I’d ever sworn fealty to.

I looked up at Feyre, our eyes meeting before she looked to Ianthe, smiling a sweet smile, one that transformed to show a bit of that wolf hiding beneath.

[shanastoryteller]

so you know how I talked about a weakness of mine is that I tend to write tropes that have personally disappointed me from a stance of "well what is a way I would like this"

anyway. so. I read a really good omegaverse fic - a trope I tend to avoid unless I'm really desperate for content - which then led to me reading several more omegaverse fics that were bad to worse with a sprinkling of really quite good

so now I have an outline for an omegaverse avengers fic

you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain

[transfemmbeatrice]

beatrice muchadoaboutnothing is a trans woman: a brief treatise

thematically, i think in a play about the social vulnerability of women, having a character be a trans woman just makes sense as a way to provide depth to that idea. specifically, i love the concept of beatrice's view of men being informed by her own experiences as a closeted trans woman (it's amazing what people will say in front of you when they think you're one of them) and as someone later facing sexism and transmisgoyny.

usually when someone does a trans reading of this play/character, they look at beatrice's famous speech about wishing she was a man and interpret her as a trans man, which is perfectly valid! but this idea started for me with the simple thought that i wanted an out and accepted trans character to play with rather than a closeted one who cannot transition, just as a matter of personal preference at that particular time and with this particular text. but then i kept thinking.

as above, the concept of beatrice reading men for filth in the context of having lived among them is great. the "oh god that i were a man" speech is extremely disparaging of men and what they claim to be vs how they actually wield their power. what she wishes is that she had the power that men have automatically in her society--felt all the more keenly because there was a time when she was able to wield that power and she gave it up to be happy, to be herself, to be free in a different way. (here is where i sometimes imagine beatrice regretting ever transitioning, believing that her own happiness and health is less important than having the power to protect hero's happiness and health, because i love angst.) but now that the worst has happened, she is reduced to begging a man for help and it's demeaning and infuriating and tragic.

i also love turning on its head the line "i cannot be a man with wishing, therefore i will die a woman with grieving." being a trans person, dealing with internalized transphobia, knowing that transitioning will put a target on your back, wishing you could just be the gender you're born as--but no amount of wishing will make her not a woman. i think she loves herself and her gender but the play is focusing on points of conflict so that's what i'm talking about here.

in a play about misogyny, the vulnerability of women, and the hypocrisy of men, a trans woman has a unique perspective on both masculinity and femininity both as genders and places in society. (in the ideal version, i think john would be a trans man to mirror this experience, but that would require him to be rewritten to have actual depth and personality and all that is a different essay). there is also just a particular kind of strength that comes from having to carve out and defend your identity in that way which i think fits her very well.

lastly, a couple of other miscellaneous things from the text that can tie in:

beatrice recounting "a double heart for his single one" meaning both "i loved him twice as much as he loved me" and "i loved him as two people: [birthname] and beatrice"

benedick insisting he wouldn't marry her even if "she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed." Adam, not Eve. in MY illustrious opinion, this is benedick saying "i don't care HOW big her dick is i'm NOT gonna marry her."

[lostyesterday]

I’ve seen a lot of joke posts about how Kira is a lesbian because she has short hair but, like, Kira’s appearance is the last reason why I generally read her as a lesbian. DS9 clearly intends to show that Kira is attracted to men, but I have always found this attraction to feel forced and artificial.

As one example, when Kira gets together with Shakaar in Crossfire or Odo in His Way, both episodes focus solely on Odo’s and Shakaar’s feelings toward Kira. Their perspectives are explored extensively, and their romantic feelings toward Kira are very explicitly depicted. Neither episode does anything whatsoever to explore Kira’s perspective on either of them. In fact, before Shakaar and Odo confess their love to Kira, there is absolutely no indication whatsoever that Kira has romantic feelings for either of them. Obviously there are Doylist explanations for this (namely, sexism), but what comes across from a narrative perspective is the implication that Kira suddenly and spontaneously developed feelings for both men after they said they were in love with her. Which is obviously possible – I know some people do experience attraction this way. But it also could read as extremely lesbian. I did the same thing several times when I was younger and thought I was straight. If someone tells you they have romantic feelings for you, and you genuinely like them and enjoy their company, it can be very easy to convince yourself that what you feel is romantic love. And you want to convince yourself, because you want deeply to be connected to other people.

When Kira breaks up with Shakaar because the Prophets let her know they weren’t meant to be together, part of me can’t help but imagine that she might feel relieved deep down. There’s no need, now, to wonder if she truly feels the same way toward him that he feels toward her. There’s an excuse, now, to go back to the way it was before when she didn’t have to interrogate all of her emotions in search of the ones she was supposed to feel.

When Kira tells Odo she loves him enough to let him go in Chimera, and when she truly lets him go in the finale, I imagine what part of her she feels she is losing. Odo is one of her closest friends – one that survived one war and then the next and in the end she lost him anyway. And she has lost so much, and so there can be no relief in this, but maybe in some small way it is still easier to pretend you loved someone the way they loved you once you’ve lost them.

And I compare Kira’s interactions with these men the show describes her as being in love with to her interactions with Jadzia or Keiko or Cretak, and I just find her chemistry with women so much more convincing. There’s no effort behind it – just connection. I don’t think what I’m saying here is the “correct” way of interpreting Kira as a character – it is simply my own interpretation based partially on my personal experiences. But I do think that it is a valid interpretation.

[housewifebuck]

Natalia literally met Buck while he was on duty and he dressed a wound for her and everything and then she says “shouldn’t we leave that to the professionals” like two episodes later and he has the nerve to think THIS is the person that Sees Him. Sorry but Eddie is so brave and strong for not going ballistic in that graveyard personally I would have just started swinging

[kreepja]

Why do people cannot treat deep and meaningful platonic relationships as they are and enjoy the duo's sincere and beautiful bond as best friends and not make them gay for each other??

Like i get it, really, sometimes it's just fun and games in the fandom and i love it but not when it's taken seriously and to the next level.(for example: 'jemily' from criminal minds and 'satosugu' from jujutsu kaisen. a HARD NO).

In conclusion, we want more pure platonic relationships without the internet making them gay for each other, PLEASE.

[cademygod]

rooting through the barty/evan tag on ao3 in search of a main ship rosekiller fic that isn’t porn is like going on a quest in a fantasy book

[pelmeshekjacki]

"An empty bottle bumped into the side of a man walking to the shore. And this gave him an idea - to write a message to his former captain. He took the bottle with him. When he got to the shore, he threw off his weapon and tiredly plopped down on the sand, taking a slightly sea-soaked leaf from his bosom. And he thought.

The first days of his escape from the duties imposed by a conservative society closed on its islands of the rising sun came to mind. Never having become a full-fledged samurai, he ended up on Megatron's pirate ship. It was a fun time of his youth. They drank, walked the sea, robbed ships and fought with Optimus's military detachment.

But over time, the team became much smaller, he became the captain's right hand, and his ideas and obsession with enslaving people began to strain. The departure of the first mate from the ship was accompanied by a big scandal. Which is why he wanted to say a few additional affectionate words in the letter. Epic speech it didn't add up either because Starscream knew many words only in Japanese. Having spread the sheet of paper on his knee and made a charcoal pencil from a stick found on the shore, the first mate thoughtfully looked into the distance at sea. There, where their ship "Destron" had gone.

And in crooked handwriting he wrote: "Fuck off, ばか Megatron! From Starscream""

[emily-e-draws]

catventurers meowlphabet (first half) 😽✨

[wonder-worker]

Thinking about Elizabeth Woodville as a gothic heroine is making me go insane. She entered the story by overturning existing social structures, provoking both ire and fascination. She married into a dynasty doomed to eat itself alive. She was repeatedly associated with the supernatural, both in terms of love and death. Her life was shaped entirely by uncanny repetitions - two marriages, two widowhoods, two depositions, two flights to sanctuary, two ultimate reclamations, all paralleling and ricocheting off each other. Her plight after 1483 exposed the true rot at the heart of the monarchy - the trappings of royalty pulled away to reveal nothing, a never-ending cycle of betrayal and war, the price of power being the (literal) blood of children. She lived past the end of her family name, she lived past the end of her myth. She ended her life in a deeply anomalous position, half-in and half-out of royal society. She was both a haunting tragedy and the ultimate survivor who was finally free.

[nathaniel-underwood-is-an-intj]

Looong rant about chapter 16 Ptolemy's Gate and how being passive can add to the cycle of ab*se.

oof so I just read when Nat goes to see Ms Lutyens and I can't help but be absolutely furious at her??

I know that's maybe a little bit unfair given she's frightened of him as a magician and is obviously angry when she finds out the department he's responsible for, but honestly it kinda brings up the problem with inadvertent bystanders to child ab*se in my mind.

And I'm definitely not blaming her solely for who Nat becomes but it makes me think of all those people in huge child ab*se cases who give interviews to press about all the things they noticed that were wrong but they just...never do anything?

She stood up for him against Lovelace, and when Nat thanked her- "I wanted to say that I know you were trying to save me, and-"

''Yes, and I'm sorry I didn't" Like girl be for real did you really think that alone would undo the years of indoctrination and abuse he's already suffered and prevent years worth of the same in the years to come? And she won't take responsibility - "My job is with children, not the adults they become" and again while it seems harsh to blame her for who Nat becomes, it's so much easier to pass the blame to people who are more directly responsible rather than acknowledging you also play a part.

I think it hurts so much more because it's her specifically- Nat goes to her in sheer desperation, it almost seems like a goodbye- he wants to thank her, tries to set her up in a job that will pay well and struggles to communicate he's trying to help. At this point he thinks Bartimaeus has been summoned by another magician and his birth name will be revealed. He's sure he's about to die and if not he'll be stood on trial and lose everything.

He goes to her because she represents the peaceful moments from his childhood when he got away from his master. He's scared and feeling lost and really it's call for help; but he doesn't ask for anything he just wants to make her feel proud of him- he's looking for that validation that he's been chasing since childhood.

And that shows he still does have that little bit of childhood innocence in him; he thinks she will be proud, thinks she'll see him as the same little boy in the garden gazing up at his teacher in adoration. He can't quite grasp why she's separated the man stood before her from that little boy. Because in that moment the child inside Nathaniel is seeking comfort AND THAT'S WHY it makes me so angry. She's completely given up on him when he's at his lowest ebb, because she doesn't want to be associated with the magician he's become. As if it isn't a massive step in the right direction that he saught her out in the first place- what other magican would bother? I wonder if that's why she reacted so strongly to seeing him again? Before that moment she could go about her life wondering if /pretending her attempt to protect him was enough, and now she realises it wasn't, of course it wasn't, and the image she had of Nathaniel's childhood innocence is completely ruined in her mind.

Or was her contempt for him even grater than Nat realised? She was naturally disgusted by the rhetoric he'd started to repeat from a young age, and gently tried to correct him although she was clearly angry- was she just resigned to the fact that there is little else she could do to change his future? I always thought- couldn't she have looked for him? The Underwood house fire was in the papers and they mentioned the apprentice was being searched for. Did she ever worry about him? Surely something must have been in the papers since- an announcement of new ministers, ANYTHING! Look at how much research Kitty did to find out about Bartimaeus and Ptolemy. I just don't think Rosanna Lutyens cared enough, realistically Nathaniel wasn't hard to find- but he was no longer her responsibility so she could turn a blind eye.

And sadly it's not just her- I know everyone loves Martha Underwood including Nat; but I think her submissiveness to her husband has a negative effect on Nathaniel as well. In AOS when Nat is locked in his room for ages after setting the mites loose, and is forbidden to have any contact with anyone and she won't talk with him. I know she's been told by Mr. Underwood she can't, but it still boils my blood. She's an adult and going along with ignoring Nathaniel because her husband told her to...I can't even begin to imagine the psychological damage that would do to a 10 year old child. (It could be argued she's frightened of the consequences if her husband finds out she's disobeyed him which is fair, he could always be watching through magic- but this is Arthur Underwood we're talking about. He's lazy, oblivious and weak I doubt he'd expend all that energy each day to check up on her.)

And It's even more painful that Nathaniel is often described as fiercely loyal to her and I think to Ms Lutyens as well- he doesn't expect to be treated well by Arthur Underwood but he loved Mrs Underwood and Ms Lutyens so much he started to view them through a rose-coloured lense. He never feels betrayed by either of them, even though they absolutely let him down, because the pedestal he's put them on is too high AND THAT ABSOLUTELY DESTROYS ME.

Would things with Nathaniel have been any different if Mrs Underwood hadn't died? I don't really think so. Do you think she'd see Nathaniel's temper at 14 years old and be reminded of Arthur Underwood? He was awful, absolutely awful to Nat and to her; but he was under so much stress in an underfunded departement, where pressure was being put on him by superiors to accomplish far more than they knew him to be capable of, and he took it out on the easiest target. Nathaniel ends up in exactly the same place and he starts to take it out on the only person around him- Bartimaeus. Would he snap at Mrs Underwood all the time if she were still there? Because he's learnt that behaviour from his father figure, and subconsciously learnt from his mother figure that she'll put up with it. He learnt from the woman he loved so deeply, that if you don't resist, people will walk all over you. So you have to maintain control even if it ends up hurting people you care about because no one will step in to stop the suffering no matter how much you love them, no matter how much you want them too.

It's easy to blame Arthur Underwood and Simon Lovelace and the magicians that actively hurt Nathaniel but I just feel like it's a bit disingenuous not to acknowledge the role of those doing passive harm. It's really mean to say it but even Bartimaeus plays a role- he knows Nat is clinging on to him because he can't 'bring himself to break this last connection' (to his childhood) but instead of bringing it up properly he 'taunts' Nathaniel- a boy who has been taunted for his weakness by his master for years. And even in AOS when Nathaniel tells Bartimaeus he was beaten for the mites incident Bart just kinda shrugs it off. Like I get it, why should Bartimaeus do anything, he's suffered way worse due to the system so he doesn't owe Nat anything right? But from Nat's point of view this is the first and only time he's mentioned to anyone what has happened to him and nothing changes. It's like another lesson learnt: telling someone about it doesn't help. Another nail in the coffin.

And I like all these characters, I feel bad for them. They're all victims of the system, I think the chapter with Ms Lutyens is just the straw that broke the camel's back for me. All of those little opportunities that are insignificant to the narrative over all; the commoners have it worse, Nathaniel is in a privileged position in society, exerting control over others. He's very morally grey, crossing over into objectively bad person territory but I love him with my whole heart and all of those insignificant moments would have been massive to him whether he was conscious of it or not.

And it goes all the way back to the beginning with Nat's parents giving him up to the magicians at 5 years old. I can't get the image of that little boy sat crying all alone in the government building. And he's not going somewhere safer, or somewhere he'll be happier and more loved. Giving your child over to a total stranger, oh he'll be totally fine won't he? He'll grow up to be a magician and far richer than you'll ever be, he'll be happy and comfortable and be grateful he got to grow up in luxury. There's no way a stranger you've never met, who the majority of society is terrified of would ever hurt a vulnerable little kid right? And if they do? Well you aren't responsible anymore, how could you know? What could you possibly do against the magician taking care of him?

Every little thing is another grain of sand tipping the scale. Did anyone else have to analyse An Inspector Calls in school? It feels like that to me- those BIG moments and all the little moments in between that add onto the pile.

And it goes on to cause problems in wider society too- ab*se is so normalised to the magicians, they casually ask Underwood if he hits Nathaniel like it's nothing. Because to them it is nothing, they've all grown up in the same circumstances and are repeating what they've learnt as children. I can't help but feel a little sorry for them all, especially when they aren't looked at through the black and white lense of 'argh these people are the evil arseholes look at how they treat everyone around them, screw these guys.' When we see those little glimpses of humanity like Simon's anxiety with the amulet; looking to his master and father figure Schyler for reassurance, and what's sad is that Nat is "reminded...of his own master's cold impatience" It's clear Simon looks up to his master, wants to make him proud and loves him. But it seems like Schyler has just trained Simon up so he can get power through him later on. I love the little hints of similarities between Simon and Nathaniel; the anxious mannerisms like fiddling with his hair that Nathaniel starts to develop, the way their master's talk to them. Even though they're actively working against each other in AOS and Simon is placed firmly in the baddies category and Nat in the goodies category at this point in the series; these things always hinted to me they had similar childhoods, how was Simon treated? When he had the imp beat Nat into unconsciousness, was it because he'd had the same punishment used against him? Did he know the magicians in the room would do nothing to stop him because no one stopped it from happening to him? Did he ever have a teacher stand up for him only for it to change nothing in the end because all the negative influences were so much stronger? Is the reason he loves Schyler like a dad because he's almost developed Stockholm syndrome? It looks like love because he's never known anything else.

And Arthur Underwood- who doesn't think his upbringing, and being taken away from his family ever did him any harm- doesn't realise the harm done is that he doesn't even know another way of raising Nathaniel, because he was never shown another way. His childhood may also have been filled with people who hurt him and the people that didn't do enough to intervene.

There are so many psychology studies that show children copy everything they see the adults in their life doing. Nathaniel copies the magicians behaviour towards spirits and on a subconscious level I think he copies all the submissive people in his life. How many times does he end up upset and frustrated with the fact he seems to be going nowhere and how many times does he just hope things will be different rather than taking postive action.

I dislike the actions the magicians end up taking but I also find them fascinating to analyse. I tend to prefer villains in media because they're usually slightly more complex individuals and I love to think about how they ended up that way. They can all be seen as victims of their circumstances in a way, despite all the power and privilege they have had terrible and traumatic childhoods, and if the commoners had no valuable worldy possessions at least they had a sense of togetherness; of love and understanding and selflessness. I wonder if the magicians hated them at least partly because of that. Because out in the sea of faces of the commoners talking about nothing important, doing nothing great and noble- could be the parents that abandoned them. And when your life is on the line daily because of working with spirits, and your colleagues want to stab you in the back, sometimes not being responsible for anything important looks good. But you can't leave your life as a magician, it would be too difficult; you have nowhere to go, no real friends, no one who really loves you. So it's better to stay and be a submissive bystander in your own life because it's so much easier.

Doing nothing is doing something- being passive can be just as harmful.

[yonpote]

ok its honestly hilarious how #for the fandometrics is now a secondary phan tag. like noooo other fandom is being like "guys im just tagging this ship for metrics okay!!!!" even other rpf ships arent doing all that 😭 we just have such bad phan-related trauma that we constantly have to be like "no no you guys its just a bit its for metrics i dont SHIP phan guys i swear its ironic its just a joke we're doing this as a joke"