#props to the person who thought of it first but i can't find the post so i'm making my own

[kushanna]

episode 2: unfamiliar ceiling

[generalsmemories]

An Immortal's Delight

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: i think jing yuan just needs someone to kiss his worries away to survive another day tbh, he deserves that.

✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, smooches and kisses in the bathtub (scandalous), he's just a tired baby please let him rest and get some cuddles and a pat on his fluffy head. spoilers for the main story in 1.2

✧ a/n: enough attempts on angst as the main genre i want my man happy again for like 3 posts before i attempt again, and i know ya'll want it too. it's cheesy, but HE NEEDS TO HAVE CHEESY MOMENTS PLEASE HE'S BEEN SUFFERING EVERYWHERE ELSE.

Jing Yuan has been submerging himself in the bath without answering your calls long enough for you to grow concernerd. You contemplate for a bit, there's still scrolls of unfinished work sitting by the dining table that you had brought from the Realm-Keeping Commission along with two plastic bags of Immortal's Delight that you bought on a whim while on your way home staring back at you.

Yanqing's not at home. The paperwork can also wait until he's out of the bath and in bed sleeping, and there's no pressing matters at hand for the both of us currently either- with those reasons in mind, you take another sip from your own immortal's delight to savor the taste while it's still cold before walking up to the bathroom door and opening it slowly.

You're immediatey hit with a wave of steam, barely able to make out Jing Yuan's figure amidst the mist. Your husband having an elbow propped up at the edge of the bathtub while resting his cheek on his closed fist. If he heard you come in he doesn't react, eyes closed while the water from the tap still runs, having long flowed over the edge.

Jing Yuan isn't behaving like his usual self lately - not after fate had toyed him like this to make him use two of his ones dearest friends whom he had had once released years back for the sake of Luofu. You can tell, you can see it in the wry smile he sports every day, you can see it in his eyes that flicker with the tiniest of emotions whenever he reports back to you for you to record and in his voice that wavers a tiny bit when he addresses his two old friends as names that are foreign to him.

He's the same general in everyone else's eyes, but in your eyes he's reverted back to his younger self who took on a role far too burdensome on his shoulders all those years ago. He can hide it beneath every meticulous plan and carefully thought out strategies, but you always see through him. You had back then, and you have now as well.

You strip off of your outer robes which leaves you in an undershirt whilst you slowly walk up to him. Making yourself comfortable by the edge of the bathtub, your fingers find the red ribbon that situates his long ponytail and pull it off.

"Darling," you hum, "If you're going to let yourself turn into a prune in here, at least make sure that the ribbon also comes off no?" your hand rests on his left cheek, a silent sign to make him look at you. And Jing Yuan is always obedient around you, opening his eyes to direct his gaze towards you. His other hand comes up to wrap loosely around your own hand, holding it still while he turns his head around to press his lips against your palm, "I would still be quite a handsome prune though, no?" he jokes with an empty chuckle - you're pretty sure his laughs have sounded empty since the stellaron incident first started.

"Debatable," you whisper, gently pulling your hand away to grip the edge of the bathtub, instead leaning down to press your lips against his cheek, "But you would most definitely be the most handsome prune in my eyes."

"That's a relief," he huffs playfully - although there's no playful tone present in his voice. It's numb and automatic, a trained response fitting of the general Jing Yuan of the Xianzhou Luofu. It could've fooled every other person, but not you. He can't fool you after all.

"I thought you had passed out in here, you were taking that long," you emphazise, lips moving from his cheek to kiss across his face, settling on pressing your lips a bit longer on the mole underneath his eyes.

"Mmm, sorry dear," he leans away from his fist, letting you cup his face between your hands while his right arm drops limply over the edge of the bathtub, "It was pretty comfortable in here that I lost track of time."

He never loses track of time.

"Jing Yuan," you call out gently, "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He doesn't answer immediately, instead averting his eyes from your own as he grows quiet. He's probably contemplating an answer, if you were anyone else he could've easily breezed past the question with a mere acknowledgement that he's fine, but it's you. You're always able to figure him out as fast as his own foresight is able to foresee a necessary plan for a better tomorrow.

He still tries, "I'm fine," he ends up saying, "Just tired," he opens his mouth to add on more details, as if to prove to you he's really just tired, but no sound comes out.

"I know," you whisper, bringing your hand further up his face to brush his bangs away to bump your forehead gently against his, "I know you're tired, dear. But what's gotten you more tired than usual?"

Gently, he lifts a hand from the water up to your wrist. And you're already aware it's a silent request, to which you answer with a small smile and a nod. With a light tug, you get dragged down into the bathtub with your legs dangling over the edge. Jing Yuan had immediately buried his face into your neck, letting out a shuddering breath.

There's no people to care for in this small space, there's no general duties to attend to here and no setting aside his personal feelings or using old connections for his people. In this small space, there's only the feeling of your soft skin against his and the warm press of your lips on his head.

Just like back then after he had come back from defeating his master, after he had witnessed the deaths of his closer friends in battle and the punishment given to another. You're always there at the end of the day - waiting for him.

"Will you tell me what's wrong, dear?" you implore once again, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

"As much as I'm able to keep it hidden at the heat of the moment," he whispers into your neck, taking another shaky breath to which you pat his naked back for, whispering for him to breathe. "I do admit that I once again had a bit of a youthful hope to bring something back from the past that I knew was not plausible."

You merely press your lips to his temple, aware that he's not finished talking judging by the way he takes another deep breath that ends in a low chuckle - a chuckle that sounded a tiny bit more genuine than his previous one.

"... And I think I can still feel the aftermaths of the fight against Phantylia."

"... Well that's no good," you hum. You've been very much aware that Jing Yuan is still recovering from the last battle against Phantylia. His body still weak and food even harder to consume. The little he does consume end up getting thrown back up because: "It feels like my insides are having a battle of its own still," which makes it harder to get Bailu's prescribed medicine down his throat.

You run your fingers down his back a couple of times before leaning away to pull his head out of your neck - he tries to protest, wanting to stay nestled in your neck so he can live inside the personal bubble you've created away from reality. But you're too insistent, gently coaxing him with small pats to his head until Jing Yuan finds himself staring back into your eyes. "In what way can you feel the aftermath?"

He's staring at your lips, "There's a vile taste in my mouth."

Your lips are immediately slotting over his own after that. It's soft, but sweeter than usual. He can taste a hint of brown sugar on your tongue, and perhaps it's because he's not directly consuming it, but he finds it easier to want more. So he leans in for more, grabbing the back of your neck to push you further into him. More, he needs more.

"You're going to swallow me up whole at this rate," you say with a giggle, parting slightly away from his lips and giving them a brief peck when he leaned slightly further into you, "But how did that taste?" you question.

"It tastes like someone's had an Immortal's Delight before coming in here," he jests, "It's good, I like that," he confirms before settling his forehead back on your shoulder.

"That's good, maybe I should drink more of them then before kissing you silly. I'm sure whatever you're eating now paired with Bailu's medicine won't give your tastebuds the best of flavors."

"That would make eating and drinking them a lot easier for my part," he mumbles from your shoulder, "Would have something to look forward to, being that Lady Bailu bans me from drinking such sugary treats at the moment."

You chuckle at the hint of sadness present in his voice, once again wrapping your arms around his shoulders so his senses are filled with your scent. Only then does his shoulders sink in relief - And you know that Jing Yuan will be fine for another day again.

"I can't guarantee that tomorrow will be any better from today," you mumble, "Neither can I guarantee that you won't be faced with a past that you were forced to move on from too soon for the sake of the Luofu," you let go of him to climb out of the bathtub, ignoring your clothes sticking to your skin as you extend a hand towards the man before you who meekly grabs it - squeezing your hand hard upon contact.

"I can however, guarantee that I'll be there waiting at the end of the day every time," you grab one of the fresh towels by the shelves to throw over his head, ruffling his hair slightly, "And take care of you when you want to just be Jing Yuan, and not the Arbiter General of the Luofu," you declare with a smile, "And kiss the vile taste of medicine in your mouth with the flavors of immortal's delight."

Before you can turn around again to grab a new towel to pat your clothes dry, Jing yuan tugs at your wrists and pulls you towards him. A hand coming up to cup your cheek before he bends slightly down to kiss you hard and hungrily. Kissing you breathless like you're all he has left - from back then and now in the present.

He can still taste the sugary drink on your lips - He wants to keep tasting them, he has quite a sweet tooth after all.

"I like the taste of immortal's Delight," he says, pressing his forehead against yours while he gazes at you softly, "So I hope you bought some for me too."

"I did, you can afford one cheat day," you grin, bringing both hands to cup his cheeks before pinching them, "But knowing you, you would still claim it tastes better on my lips, no?"

i- i'm. can someone tell i really love this man. like i want to wrap him in a blanket and say everything's going to be okay, that he can rest now because he's done his job and way more. that he deserves rest as much as the next person- i can volunteer to do that. please.

[lalacliffthorne]

🕯midnights pt. II🕯

Azriel x Reader

part I part II

summary: azriel might be too much of a distraction after all

notes: the people have spoken, we got a part II. seriously though: it's honestly and completely blowing my mind how many people read my first posts here and liked them. like - truly; it's nuts, I really can't even wrap my head around it. it's always been hard for me to find the kind of people who would read what I'm cooking up, and I'm sure that any writer would agree that, while writing is the thing that keeps us alive, we fucking thrive off interactions and being able to talk about our babies and all their little details. and this is giving me that, and I'm so fucking thankful for that, so please; never ever be shy and just write to me, talk to me, it melts my little heart to hear from you and makes me just really fucking happy.

anyways, sorry for the rambling, here's part II of midnights, it's pure fluff and I'm not even sorry

______________________________________________________________

I couldn't handle the distraction.

Not. In. The. Slightest.

I inwardly kicked myself as Azriel gently pushed me into the guest room and slipped his hand off my lips to close the door. The lock clicked softly, and my heart jumped into my throat.

This was a really bad idea.

At least Cassian's snoring was gone.

Azriel's bare chest brushed against my shoulder, and when I looked up at him, his gaze was slowly tracking over the little bits of evidence of me. The rumpled sheets on the obscenely huge bed, the jewellery strewn over the wooden dresser and the shoes kicked off next to the door. There was a clothing rack Mor had lent me next to the window leading out to the street that was stuffed with the clothes I had saved from the water damage in the bedroom, and my books. Dozens and dozens of books stacked next to the empty fireplace.

The shadowsinger threw me a look, and I smiled sheepishly. “They would've gotten wet.”

Azriel's lips twitched, and something hot washed over me as his dark eyes tracked over my face.

This was going to be a long night.

~

I wasn't sure what exactly it was that I had expected. Maybe that my heart wouldn't be able to stop skipping, that just Azriel's presence would be enough to make focusing on anything but him absolutely impossible, and that I would spend the rest of the night tense and regretting several life choices.

My legs growing tired had not been on the list.

Shifting lightly and leaning my knees to the side, I tried to focus on the book propped against my thighs.

I had curled up on one end of the small couch at the back window, a soft blanket draped over my bare legs and a pillow stuffed into my back. Azriel was sitting on the other end, his wings relaxed and folded comfortably, body leaned lazily into the cushions, his skin shimmering in the soft, warm light. His eyes moved slowly over the pages of the book propped against his knee, his brows smoothed over and one strand of his hair falling into his forehead.

For some reason, his presence wasn't throwing me off nearly as much as I had thought it would. His steady, even breaths weren't distracting but calming, his body only a few feet away radiating warmth and grounding steadiness.

Sure, my heart still went haywire whenever I looked at him for too long, some strange feeling surging in my chest. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was giddy, and comforting, and it made something bubble warmly in my chest, my breath hitching once in a while.

If only it wasn't for the fact that even with my legs pulled up towards my chest, my toes almost touched his thigh.

This couch wasn't meant for two people.

Would I stretch out my legs like they begged me to do, they would be draped over Azriel's lap, definitely invading what I considered personal space. It was the only reason I had not changed my position about half an hour ago, when my legs had slowly started to tingle uncomfortably, and had instead stayed frozen in my position.

Even though Azriel had not seemed to mind being close to me earlier, I didn't want to push it.

Ever since meeting him, I knew that for him, physical contact was - complicated. I had seen plenty of times when he had flinched away from it, mostly from strangers, as well meaning as they had been. He didn't seem to mind as much when it came from his friends, his family. In fact, I was pretty sure I had seen him lean into the way Rhys patted his shoulders or how the way he rolled his eyes when Cassian squeezed the living daylight out of him in a hug always looked half-hearted, his lips curving just barely in amusement, or how he let Mor mess with his hair and give him cheek kisses even though he glared at her.

I wasn't sure if he needed to trust a person to be able to accept physical contact or if it was something else entirely, but I didn't want to overstep. He looked so relaxed, calm, almost unguarded, it made something flicker in my chest.

I didn't give care if my legs turned numb if it meant he could stay like that for a little longer.

Shifting again, I barely suppressed the urge to grimace when there was a light sting in my thigh, my muscles aching.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's eyes flicker up from his book and towards me and tried to keep my breathing even, gaze moving over the words on the page before me without quite catching their meaning.

The Spymaster returned his gaze back towards his book, and I slowly let myself relax, inwardly making a face when I shifted in my seat, trying to find another position that didn't make my legs feel quite so mangled.

Big, calloused hands closed around my ankles, and my heart jumped into my throat when they pulled on my legs, dragging me down over the cushions in one swift move and causing a soft squeak to leave me when my head hit the armrest.

My breath stumbled, my eyes darted up, widening slightly, and Azriel draped my legs over his lap, my calves pressing against his thighs when he tugged the blanket around my legs and threw me a look.

“You've been squirming for half an hour.” He mumbled the words like they were an explanation, only after a few seconds adding in a grumble: “It's driving me nuts.”

My breath hitched, stilling as I stared at him as he shifted a little in his seat, sinking back until he was reclined comfortably again, draping his forearms over my shins and turning his attention back towards his book. The blanket had ridden up, and his right arm was pressing against my bare leg, but Azriel didn't seem to give a shit about personal space or physical contact as he pulled my legs closer, his right hand slipping under the blanket to gently close around my calf and hold it in place.

One corner of Azriel's lips tipped upwards a little, and without looking away from the pages, he mumbled, amusement lacing his deep, low voice: “You're staring.”

I blinked, swallowing against the sudden tightness in my throat as something fluttered in my chest, high and wild, and Azriel threw me a look, a twinkle in his amber eyes that was full of dark mischief when he raised an eyebrow lightly.

“Too much distraction?”

My lips parted in disbelief, and Azriel's lips curved like he was holding back a smirk. Then he turned his attention back towards his book.

I stared at him, gaping lightly as my heart skipped high and a ridiculously wide smile slowly stretched over my face.

You're on.

Slumping back into the cushions, I picked up my book that had fallen into my lap when Azriel had dragged me towards him, flicking back to the page I had left it. Snuggling into the cushion, my eyes moved over the page, not processing a word as my mind started working. Staring. Distraction.

Well, I could just –

Shifting, I started to tug the blanket off my legs, keeping my eyes on the pages of my book as my brows furrowed lightly in focus. Leaning up a little to pull the blanket off my feet, I dropped it onto the ground, stretching my bare legs before settling back into the cushions.

It was a long shot, but –

Azriel threw me a look, and I caught the second he blinked, his grip around my calf changing. His eyes, looking like molten gold in the warm light, moved over my legs, my shirt pushed up from him dragging me down over the cushions, now barely reaching the top of my thighs. A muscle in his jaw shifted sharply, his piercing gaze tracking up my shins, over the small scar on my knee where I had fallen as a child, up my thighs –

"Too much distraction?”

Azriel's gaze snapped up, and I lost the fight against my twitching lips when it met mine, a wide cheeky smile slowly spreading over my face, bright and mischievous, and Azriel stared at me, stared as a twinkle spread through his eyes, growing and growing just like the crease digging into his cheek.

Giggling softly under my breath, I turned my eyes back onto my book, focusing back on the pages as my heart skipped against my ribs.

Or, I tried to focus. But Azriel's hand had slipped up my leg, now resting on my shin, his scarred skin rough and warm on mine as his thumb started to slowly brush over my skin. And suddenly, nothing about him was calming anymore.

Trying to keep my breathing even, I barely suppressed the urge to swallow as I stared at the pages of my book.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the shadowsinger's lips quirk upwards.

Damn it.

Breathing out soundlessly, I tried to focus back on my book. Azriel´s thumb was slowly swiping over my skin, almost absentmindedly. It made my throat close up as something skipped against my ribs, and I shifted without even realizing.

Azriel's grip around my leg tightened, and he mumbled: “Stop that.”

“Why; am I distracting again?” I felt my lips curve as I huffed, and Az looked like he had to bite back a smile, raising a brow at me.

“Are you done squirming?”

I breathed out before closing my book with a snap, holding it up and raising a brow at him. “This is boring.”

“That's because you're still only in the beginning.” The golden flecks in Azriel's eyes twinkled. “It picks up later.”

Grumbling, I let the book slip to the ground, dropping my head back against the armrest.

Blinking at the ceiling, I listened as my heart thrummed steadily against my ribs, something warm bubbling gently in my chest, giddy and warm and comfortable.

My eyes were just closing a little when suddenly, a thought struck me that made my heart miss a beat and jump into my throat as I widened my eyes.

“Shit.”

Azriel's eyes darted up when I scrambled to get to my feet, a crease forming between his brows as he watched me, his wings flaring slightly as tension rippled through his body.

“What?”

I turned to blink at him, his shoulders suddenly rigid and body straightening, like he was ready to jump into action.

“I just remembered I ate the last of Mor's cookies.”

Azriel stared at me. Then he huffed. His shoulders dropped, and he sank back into his seat and glared at me.

“I thought -” He broke off, breathing out as he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, but his lips twitched like he suddenly had to hold back a laugh. Shaking his head, he looked back up at me, and my breath hitched when I saw the way his eyes began to twinkle.

“What?” I felt my brows furrow, and Azriel slowly started to smirk, creases forming in his cheeks and causing something to surge high in my chest.

“Nice knowing you.”

I deadpanned, and the shadowsinger chuckled, the deep sound almost making me sway on the spot as his eyes crinkled.

“Hey, at least I planned on making a new batch.” I glared at him, but it probably looked more than a pout, judging from the way Azriel's lips curved when he pushed himself to his feet.

“Alright, come on.” His eyes were bright with amusement when he fixed his pyjama pants that had slipped dangerously low on his hips, stepping towards me and placing his hands on my shoulders. His touch sent a jolt through my body, the weight of his palms gentle when he turned me around, mumbling: “Can't have Mor killing you over a jar of cookies.”

I tried to keep myself from swallowing when his breath fanned over the top of my head, his chest bumping into my back as he started to push me towards the door, and my heart skipped a little.

Frowning lightly, I slowed my steps and looked up at him over my shoulder.

“What are you -” My eyes flickered over his face, and I blinked before breathing out and smiling, crooked and a bit cheeky as I raised my brows at him. “You can stay up here and read, you know.”

“And miss you trying to navigate our kitchen?” Azriel's brows furrowed as he opened the door, but his lips curved when he threw me a look. “No book is that entertaining.”

I tried to elbow him into the ribs, but Azriel dodged the jab, smirking in a way that got my heart stuck in my throat.

Breathing out softly and soundlessly, I allowed him to gently nudge me onto the stairs leading down into the house.

At least I could put some reasonable distance between us in the kitchen.

~

The moon was shining through the windows as we made our way down the stairs, stars and galaxies twinkling on the dark sky. When we passed Cassian's floor and a particularly loud snore echoed from his room, I had to muffle my giggle with the back of my hand, Azriel's chest vibrating in my back like he was laughing silently.

The living room was dipped in half-light as we made our way over to the door leading to the kitchen. I pushed it open, shivering happily at the warmth washing over me, mixed with the sweet smell of the flowers sitting on the big table over at the window. The fae lights flickered to life, flooding the room with warm, golden light when Azriel closed the door behind him, and I slipped past the oven, stretching to open the two high cupboards that functioned as a pantry before pulling myself onto the counter. The marble was cold against my knees when I straightened up and stretched to get to the container of flour on the top shelf.

Squinting in concentration, I jumped lightly when Azriel sucked in a sharp breath.

“What the –“, he interrupted himself, and I could feel the air shift behind me like his shadows had brought him there, then a hand settled on my back, warm and steady as it pressed firmly, and my fingers almost slipped on the cabinet.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Azriel sounded torn between amusement and irritation, and I grumbled: “Getting the flour. This place is built for fucking giants.”

Stretching a bit more, I could feel him shift closer, his hand pressing harder against my lower back, and my breath hitched.

Making a happy sound when my fingers closed around the big glass jar, I pulled it off the shelf. But I hadn't expected it to be quite so full and so heavy, and so I squealed softly when it dipped back, the lid sliding off, and I ducked my head when I could feel a rain of flour douse past me.

Quickly pushing the glass up and catching it with my free hand, I carefully slid it onto the counter before throwing a quick look over my shoulder – and feeling my eyes widen as my heart skipped once before stilling.

The flour had missed me, only dusting my dark shirt with a thin layer.

Azriel had not been as lucky.

The shadowsinger blinked. His lashes, usually long and dark, were now stark white, just like his hair and his face and the top of his shoulders and wings, all coated in a thick layer of powdery flour.

A soft snort left me. Then something began to bubble in my chest until I couldn't contain it anymore, and a laugh broke free, quickly turning into wild and unrestrained giggles.

A rumble grew in Azriel's chest as he started to scowl, taking a step back before shaking himself like a dog, sending flour everywhere in big white clouds. I coughed through my laughter, quickly holding onto the cabinets as my shoulders shook and I fought for air, my eyes becoming teary.

“I'm so sorry.” Laughing, I leaned my forehead against the shelves, my ribs beginning to ache as I tried to catch my breath, the image of the mighty shadowsinger, darkness personified, covered in white flour flashing before my eyes and making me break out into a new fit of giggles.

“I'm sorry, I'm –“ Breathing in deeply, I wiped over my cheeks, my belly aching as I looked over my shoulder, and Azriel blinked and turned his eyes away from my face. Scowling lightly, he raised a hand to run it over his shoulder, a thin white film of flour still dusting his tanned skin.

“Come here.” Snickering softly, I reached out a hand, and Azriel glared, but there was something in his eyes, bright and gleaming, as he slowly stepped forward until his side brushed against my ankle.

I motioned for him to drop his head, and something skipped high in my chest when Azriel's gaze dragged over my face for a second. Then he complied, and still giggling softly under my breath, I ran my hand over his shoulder, brushing off the visible remainders of flour before softly raking my fingers through his hair, shaking out the white dust.

Azriel's shoulders grew rigid. His wings rustled before shuddering, and I quickly pulled my hand away, my heart leaping into my throat.

“Sorry,”, I mumbled, smiling softly and sheepishly, and my heart missed a step when I saw the muscles in Azriel's back shift.

The shadowsinger breathed out, his shoulders sinking back as he raised his head, and the soft twinkle in his eyes made me exhale soundlessly.

“Are you done up there or do I need to seek shelter?”

I snorted, turning back around with a wide grin. “Shut up.”

I could feel the coolness of shadows brush my feet, and when I threw a quick look over my shoulder, pools of darkness cleaned up the white dust on the floor. Azriel was still hovering behind me, shadows brushing over his wings to clean off the white residue before whispering and grazing down his back.

Pulling the sugar and the chocolate chips from the cupboard, I set them down next to the flour, then I pressed my hands onto the counter and slid off the surface. My bare feet hit the floor, and my heart missed a beat when my back hit Azriel's chest.

Quickly taking a step forward, I looked over my shoulder to sent him a sheepish smile, but something got lodged into my throat when my eyes met Azriel's, trained onto my face, dark and deep in the light.

“Are you going to climb onto anything else or am I spared from more heart attacks?” His mumbled words were like a gentle shiver down my spine, his head dropped a little to look down on me as his eyes tracked over my face, something in them I couldn't quite decipher. There was still a smudge of flour on his cheek, and my fingers itched to brush it away.

My heart skipped softly, and I felt my lips curve until I was smiling, wide and a bit cheeky. “No, I think you're good.”

Azriel stared at me, hair tousled and shoulder muscles shifting, and I had to tear my eyes away because suddenly, my chest felt like it was about to burst.

“Alright, uhm,”, I scratched my forehead and tried to remember why I was standing in the kitchen, “I – need butter and eggs.” Turning around, I pulled both from next to the box with bread.

Azriel retreated as I started measuring the ingredients, pouring water into the kettle before placing it on the stove. I had just mixed together the eggs and the soft butter when his chest brushed against my shoulder and he placed a mug in front of me, steaming softly and spreading the smell of sweet berries.

Silence settled over the kitchen, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt like it had earlier, up in the guest room. I could feel Azriel, feel his eyes on me, but it only made something flutter softly against my ribs, giddy and warm. The fae lights plunged the kitchen in a warm, cozy light while outside, the night sky glittered with stars and the oven hummed.

By the time I had rolled the dough into little balls and put the first tray into the oven, my braid had become loose. Pulling off the ribbon tying it off, I unravelled it, turning around as I brushed some strands behind my ear, and my eyes met Azriel's.

My breath hitched.

“What?”

The shadowsinger stared at me, and slowly, one corner of the his lips tipped up just barely. But there was something in his eyes when he pushed off the island, slowly stepping closer. It almost looked like he was battling something in his mind as his gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked and stretched out a hand, mumbling: “You've got a little –“

His thumb brushed over my cheek, gently rubbing over a spot next to the corner of my lips.

Suddenly, breathing felt difficult, something skipping so high in my chest, it reached my throat.

Swallowing harshly, I watched with my heart pounding against my ribs as Azriel took a step closer until his chest gently bumped into mine. His hand rested against my jaw, palm warm and rough against my skin that had started tingling under his touch, something changing between hot and cold running up and down my spine, my body freezing up when the shadowsinger's piercing eyes darted over my face. He blinked, then he dropped his head lightly.

When his nose brushed against mine, my breath faltered and my whole body went completely still. The only thing I could feel was my heart, pounding flatly and shakingly as Azriel's scent drowned me and his warm breath hit my lips.

Azriel carefully nudged his nose against mine, halting. I could feel the way his breath trembled slightly, his throat working like he tried to hold back the urge to swallow.

It felt like he was waiting. Expecting me to pull back.

But I just fought the tighteness in my throat and hesitantly raised my chin.

When my lips brushed over Azriel's, a shudder went through his body. His hand slipped over my jaw to the back of my neck, and he broke the last bit of distance, pulling me forward to crash his lips onto mine.

Something surged in my chest, growing warmer and bigger with every second, fluttering madly.

A whimper built at the back of my throat, and I reached out to grip Azriel's sides the same moment his free hand rose to cup the side of my neck.

He was kissing me like I was air and he was drowning, deep, hard and desperate, his tongue dragging over mine, fingers winding through my hair as he took a step forward. His chest pressed firmly into mine, his brows drawn together and breath harsh against my skin, and my heart skipped so high, it got stuck in my throat.

When Azriel pulled back to suck in a sharp breath, his thumb brushing over my skin as he pressed his forehead against mine, breathing heavily, my heart was pounding and I wasn't quite sure where up was and where down. My nose brushed against Azriel's, and I swore I could feel his breath stumble.

Swallowing, I eased my grip on his sides, my voice a bit hoarse when I mumbled: “Gone?”

Azriel breathed a huff, and my heart skipped when I opened my eyes to see a smirk slowly spreading over his face, causing his eyes to crinkle and a crease digging into his cheek, his iris twinkling so brightly my breath hitched. Then he dipped his head, and my heart tumbled when his lips pressed against the spot on my cheek, tongue darting out and swiping over my skin.

When he pulled back, his iris was twinkling and my breath flat. There was something there in his iris, something that matched the strange surging feeling in my chest and that made my body feel light like air as his eyes flickered over my face.

“You're staring,”, he mumbled, the harsh rasp in his deep voice betraying him, and I felt my lips curve slowly into a wide, beaming smile.

“Want me to stop?"

Azriel stared at me, and his eyes became even brighter as his deep voice rumbled through me.

"Never."

[annwrites]

i already have ♰˳⸙;;

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader (gn! in this post, but fem! in other installments i have/will post(ed))

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & shane share your beliefs in a short conversation in a church

— tags: talking

— tw: suicidal ideation, religion

— word count: 930

— a/n: the views reader expresses towards going to church are my own. if you don't like it, don't read

You stare up at the crucifix before you, feeling devoid of anything.

No.

Not anything.

Hopelessness is the one thing you do feel.

One dead-end after another. That's the only thing you all do seem able to find.

The CDC and Jenner had had no answers. Not with his wife being gone.

The highway and Dale's RV blowing a radiator hose had left all of you stranded in the middle of nowhere.

And now you were here.

You'd all felt so hopeful to hear that bell ringing. You'd prayed to a God who clearly wasn't listening—if he ever had—for it to lead you toward something. To Sophia.

She'd never been here in the first place.

You glance to Carol and can practically feel the grief and desperation rolling off of her. You don't want to believe that Sophia is gone. Or worse: being out there alone in the woods...

If the wrong people—the wrong men—came across her... You don't want to think about how she'd never have a chance.

Death would be kinder.

So you stare at Him—crying tears of blood—and wonder how His father, who knows what it is to lose a child, could allow such a thing?

The wooden bench creaks as Shane sets down beside you. "Didn't know you were religious."

He says it softly, his tone anything but mocking, even if he himself doesn't believe. Doesn't understand how you can—if you indeed do, that is. But if you do—have some sort of faith, something to believe in—he'll just be glad if it finally turns out that you have something that may perhaps help to keep you going.

"I'm not."

The thought of the possibility of you taking comfort in something more, even if you can't see it, quickly disappears. He leans back, resting him arm behind you, all thoughts of encouraging you to take a Bible with you when you all leave now gone.

You're quiet for a moment, then, "Are you?"

He shrugs. "Not really. Never was my thing, I guess. Hard to believe when you're witness to the shit I was as a cop." He looks at you. "Were you ever?"

You shrug then as well. "My parents made me go to church when I was little. Like a lot of kids, especially in the south. I never liked it. The getting up early, and being forced into uncomfortable clothes, and the way my mom did my hair. I didn't like how the other kids were mean to me, or how I would sit on those uncomfortable wooden pews and stare up at a preacher yelling words and passages at me that I couldn't understand. I didn't like how judgmental so many in the congregation seemed to be, even toward each other. Once I was old enough to make the decision not to go anymore, I stopped attending. I didn't regret it."

You look at him and his head is now resting atop his fist as he simply looks at you. You're unsure of the soft look in his eyes.

"So what'd you start believin' in instead? If anythin'."

You glance down to your lap. "Nothing in particular, I guess. I just...I suppose I tried to just see the beauty in nature instead. In the plants and trees, insects and animals, fresh air and clear water. Occasionally even people." You look up to him. "The way I am now—who I am now—is nothing like the way I was before. I didn't need to look for a reason to live, because I didn't need one. Because I didn't want to die."

He uses his other hand that isn't propping his head up to reach out and take your right hand, holding it firmly—comfortingly—in his grip.

"What if that reason was another person?" He looks at you from under his lashes.

You look down to your hand that's in his, watching as his thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of yours. "I don't know how to make you realize you're wasting your time-"

He cuts you off, taking his other hand and lacing it between strands of your hair at the back of your head, gently massaging. "I don't know how to make you realize the only waste would be your life being cut so damn short."

You think back to the things he'd said to you that night in the RV—I refuse to just let you slip through my fingers—he made it sound like...like you were something he'd finally found after having looked for you for so long.

You can't keep doing this to him: insisting that you want to be left alone to die. You'd done it twice now. And while what happened on the highway had been an accident...had he not had his eye on you— not seen you pass out—you may've slipped away right there in the middle of the road. So, he had saved you a third time. And even now he was still trying to talk you into staying...alive.

Giving up was easy. The thought of trying to hold on? It feels near-impossible now. Like lifting a giant boulder and carrying it with you every step of the way.

"Do you believe we'll find her?"

He studies you for a moment. "I hope so."

"Do you believe we'll find...something, or somewhere worth living for?"

He leans toward you, gently pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. "I already have," he says in a whisper, before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[spacebarbarianweird]

How about a fic of Astarion not liking his bite mark touched but then Tav does it. 💕

Here we go! Hope you will enjoy it!

The Marks on Our Skin

The bite mark is the only place on Astarion's body Tav doesn't touch. Until now.

Tags: fluff, comfort, f!Tav, established relationship, post-game

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion finds solace in the late evening hours when the sky still holds a warm glow, but the sun is almost gone down. It's neither day nor night, a perfect in-between that he eagerly anticipates.

Emerging from his tent, he sprawls out on the grass with a book in hand, watching as the sky slowly darkens, revealing the sparkling tapestry of stars above.

Astarion props a bag beneath his head, and the fingers trace the cover of the book, its surface still bearing the faint marks of dried blood. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he recognizes Tav's scent.

Astarion opens the book and makes a mental note to convince Tav to learn how to read. He sets the book aside and chooses another, its pages also marred by blood, though not Tav's this time. The text is written in the archaic elven dialect, a challenging puzzle that demands his full concentration. Yet, as he delves into the words, the text starts sounding familiar. As if he already read it, many years ago, when his eyes weren't red and sun didn't burn.

Unwanted memories and thoughts creep into his mind, stubborn as vermin, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't divert his focus.

"How's my favorite man doing?" a loud voice yanks him away from the abyss he had started to slip into.

Tav.

She walks unsteadily, like someone who's had enough to drink, not to think clearly but can still stand on two feet.

"I thought you went to search for quests, not for a drink," he says without any hint of accusation. Tav collapses beside him, and he catches a whiff of ale.

"Are you drunk?"

"No. Well, maybe a little." She giggles and nuzzles into his collarbone. "What's four mugs of ale for a warrior like me?"

He chuckles. "Considering your body type, it's quite a lot."

Tav focuses, attempting to devise something clever to say, but gives up. She presses her body closer to him, and Astarion can feel her heart beating.

"It's very inconsiderate of you to get drunk without me," he teases, studying her face. A soft smile graces his lips as he cannot tear his gaze away from her.

"You can drink my blood, and then we can get drunk together," she playfully suggests.

"I'm not going to feed on you until you get sober," he plants as tender kiss on her forehead.

"Alright, alright, next time, I won't go alone," she concedes. "What if someone wants to harm me or hit on me? You'll need to show them to who I belong to."

He chuckles, reminiscing about the first few months of their journey when he cringed at her casual remarks about belonging to him.

"No, you're not mine," he would protest. "You're not my possession, not my spawn, not my … anything. You're an independent person. Please don't say things like that."

Over time, he understood that Tav's words aren't meant to diminish her self-worth. It is simply an innocent joke between two genuinely free individuals in love. It is her way of reassuring him that she isn't going anywhere, even when Astarion questions his own value in her eyes.

As Tav tilts her chin upward, a subtle flinch passes through him, a reminder of the bite mark they have agreed not to touch.

"I like your bite mark," she drunkenly admits.

He pulls away, and her head falls onto the grass. "Tav, what in the sweet hells are you talking about?"

"I love your bite mark," she repeats. "It proves how strong you are. Did you notice it's not just fangs? It's also incisors. The bastard was so hungry and desperate for prey that he almost gnawed a part of your neck. It shows how strong you are that despite all the horrors and pain, you never gave up."

Tav yawns, her eyes half-closed. Astarion is sure it wasn't just four mugs of ale. She probably remembers drinking only four. The rest is the mystery.

His fingers tenderly brush against her cheek as he asks, "Do you truly mean all that?"

Tav's eyes meet his, her response unwavering. "I do."

He rises to his feet, carefully lifting Tav into his arms, and carries her into the tent. He lays her gently on the bedroll. It seems like they aren't going anywhere this night. Anyway, he has some books to finish reading,

Astarion lovingly tucks Tav beneath her blanket, ensuring she is shielded from the chill of the night.

"Little Star"

"Hm?"

"Can I touch your bite mark?"

He hesitates. It is the only part of his body Tav hasn't touched yet.

"Yes."

He doesn't understand why he agrees. But it's already too late to take away the permit.

Sitting up, a silly smile plays on her lips as she wraps her hands around his neck. With an unexpected boldness, she presses her lips against the scar on his neck. He can feel the touch of her tongue, the graze of her own incisors against his skin, almost as if she is trying to drink his blood.

As Tav releases him, she nestles on her bedroll and dozes off peacefully.

Astarion remains in the tent, keeping a watchful eye over Tav. When hunger gets too strong to bear, he ventures into the woods to hunt.

When he returns before the sun rise, his hunger satiated, and his strength renewen, Tav is still asleep.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tav exclaims when she realizes it is already afternoon. "Now we'll have to wait the whole day before hitting the road again."

"That's alright, darling. I hope you had fun yesterday. I don't remember ever seeing you so wasted."

"I remember fighting someone who said she'd kill every vampire she came across."

"Did you win?"

"I'm sorry! I should be offended by the mere suggestion that I could lose in a tavern brawl!" She crawls closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her tone turning more serious. "Did I hurt you yesterday?"

"No," he assures.

"Really? I mean, do you say it because you mean it, not just to spare my feelings? It would make me sick if I crossed your boundaries and made you feel… bad."

"Everything is alright. I mean it."

"Can I do this again?"

He nods. Tav kisses his bite mark. Again and again, and he completely melts in her hands.

Astarion marvels at the simple ministration and how it brings him such bliss. He has little faith in gods or divine rewards, knowing nothing could compensate for what happened to him. And yet…

There is Tav. Tav, for whom he wants to be a better version of himself. Tav who caresses his scars and makes the pain fade. Tav, whose blood is, in a way, divine.

Tav eventually pulls away and invites him to lay his head on her lap. "Will you read to me?" she asks.

"The book with bloody fingertips?" he inquires.

"Yep. What's this book about?"

"It's a collection of fairytales for elven children."

Tav's eyes glisten. "Exactly what I need with my hangover."

Astarion opens the book and begins reading. Tav starts massaging his scalp and occasionally lightly touches the bite mark. Sometimes, when he pauses and looks up, he finds Tav's eyes focused on his face.

Those are simple stories. About heroes, magic, dragons, monsters. Naïve. Stupid. Childish. But Tav likes them. In the same way, she likes a good fight, ale, and nights of passion.

Moreover, he can't help but think Tav is similar to these fairytale heroes. She is the hero who protects him, who makes him better. Who gives him all the hope he needs to survive the day.

And he will do anything to make her happy and safe.

"Tav," he whispers.

"Yes, my heart?" she replies.

"I love you."

Tav kisses his forehead "Well, I will never grow tired of hearing that from you."

---

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi

[ballblender]

"You can't film here."

Uramichi Omota x singleparent!tvstationworker!reader

summary: uramichi finds reader in the prep room, awkwardness ensues.

(LMAO IDK WHAT TO LABEL THE READER AS - also not much of an actual romance fic, more like an extra scene (if that makes sense??))

cw: sfw, workplace, reader was previously married to a man, secret pining, uramichi's tiredness lol

First non-headcanon post - tell me if there's any errors, I do not check these over.

"Thanks for coming today everyone!"

"WOOO!!"

"Thank you Uramichi!"

The screams and shouts of joyful children ring throughout Uramichi's ears, as he forcibly stretches his smile beyond what he thought was even possible. It's not like he doesn't want to be smiling, but when it's part of the job description, it doesn't feel that fun anymore. It's not like the children hadn't noticed it too; the dark circles of tiredness under his eyes, fitted with his pale complexion, it was no surprise that Uramichi had started being nicknamed 'Panda Bear' by the TV station president's grandson; it's just a shame that his co-workers started calling him that too.

"Nice work today, Mr Panda!"

The grating sound of Derekida's voice: not exactly what he wants to hear right now.

"Now, go over to the Prep Room, we need you to star in the new segment next week, and we need to measure you for the pig costume!"

A pig? Of all things?

As Uramichi walks to the Prep Room, only the worst scenarios run through his mind. Is the pig costume multicoloured? Will I have to wear a snout? Will I have to walk on my hands and feet for the entire segment? Will I have to do gymnastics in the costume?

That's when he hears rustling, and the sound of a phone video recording starting.

He unlocks the door, scanning the room, making sure there aren't any theives; not that anything that comes out of Hanabee's mind is worth stealing...

He catches sight of you, panning the phone camera across the set pieces, costumes and props.

"Hey..." he says.

You jolt a little, ending the recording, and turning around.

"You can't film here." His expression isn't exactly one of strong conviction, but he's suspicious of you nonetheless.

You slip your phone back into your pocket and say "I know, I'm sorry, my kid just really loves 'Together with Maman', so I wanted to show him some of the things that we made for next week's segment."

His face softens a bit at your explanation, before his eyes fall onto the pig costume; and it drops again.

"...you made this...?" You can hear the tiredness in his voice: he's not looking forward to next week.

You let out a pathetic giggle, sympathizing with his dislike towards the - certainly interesting - design.

"Well, it was initially meant to look like this,", you show Uramichi a sketchpad with an array of concept designs, "but Hanabee was screaming about how "It's Wrong!" or "You need to do it again!", so this is the result of the last 5 days of overtime.".

Uramichi flips through the pages of the sketchpad; obviously, it's a pig costume, one design can't be that much better than the other, but your sketches showed real skill.

"These, are actually good." Uramichi says, turning page after page of the sketchpad, looking at previous rejected designs.

You smile, happy to meet someone who genuinely appreciates your efforts. "Thanks." You start walking over to your bags and begin packing.

Curious to learn a little more about somebody on the team with actual talent, he asks you a question.

"You said you've been working overtime, is your husband watching your kid right now?"

"Oh, we're not married anymore, but my ex-husband is looking after him until next Monday."

"Oh- I'm sorry." Uramichi is a little shaken, afraid he's just asked a personal question, or maybe reminded you of something you didn't want to remember.

You've heard it all before, so this really doesn't bother you.

"Don't worry about it, our split was amicable.", you smile at him reassuringly.

He smiles back, eased by your kindness.

"I'm glad to hear that." he replies.

But. It's a little awkward now. Neither of you feel like you can just leave after that. So.

Suddenly, Mr Derekida bursts in, marvelling at the different costumes and props, followed by Edei, who tells him to "Calm down."

You take this as your cue to leave, waving at Uramichi, who does the same, before walking out.

Edei walks up to Uramichi with a smirk on his face.

"...Did I do something?" Uramichi asks, genuinely confused.

Edei's brows shift in confusion, "You mean, they didn't say anything?"

"Say what?"

"Y/N? They said nothing to you?"

"Well, we spoke, but it was like 1 minute."

Edei sighs in disappointment.

"You didn't hear this from me, but," Edei lowers his voice as to not allow Mr Derekida to eavesdrop.

"I overheard Y/N talking to Tadano the other day. They've got the hots for you man."

A lot of thoughts flood Uramichi's head at once; What?: They’ve got a kid...: I probably should already have kids...: Do I make a move?: Do I wait for them to make a move?: Do I even want them to make a move? Who even says "got the hots for you" anymore?

Edei chuckles a little at Uramichi's face, which is still processing what he was just told.

Mr Derekida slaps Uramichi on the shoulder, slamming directly on the area where the strain is the most painful, causing him to groan a little in pain, while also bringing him back to reality.

"Hope your shoulder gets better before next week, the kids need to ride the pig-horse in order to save the fish from the knight!"

....What does that even mean? And is that why the costume is so, that?

Uramichi sighs for what may well have been the hundredth time that day, before taking his leave.

"AND REMEMBER YOUR LINES!" yells Derekida.

As he walks home, Uramichi remembers Edei’s words.

Perhaps he should take a chance…

oh shit, he was meant to be measured for the costume.

--------

Well thanks for reading, this took forever, I don't know how to feel, goodbye.

can you tell i've never wrote anything like this before. don't tell me actually.

[theerurishipper]

https://www.tumblr.com/jacquesthepigeon/731353272698486784/you-know-it-must-be-said-as-someone-whos-only?source=share

Of course this is said from someone who has never seen the show. God forbid folks favorite character, is THE SECOND MAIN CHARACTER AND IN THE TITLE OF THE SHOW.

God forbid abuse survivors find Adrichat’s story relatable and react negatively to people who salt on him for, checks notes, being a rich white boy? Because being rich and white protects you from abuse lol okay

Someone go tell Kesha that the horrific abuse she endured for years doesn’t count because she’s rich and white.

Someone go tell Britney Spears and Amanda Bynes that they deserve their conservatorships because they’re too volitile and emotional and need someone else to control their entire lives. Also they’re rich and white so they should be thankful for their privilege.

Also as a fandom veteran, I’m also baffled that this anon says they’ve never seen fandom go this feral over a white boy so I guess the whole Superwholock thing doesn’t exist in this person’s universe. I’m getting war flashbacks…

I really hope this doesn't come off as rude, but I just have a small request for any anons in the future: if y'all want me to comment on someone else's post, please send it in a separate ask. I just don't want to post someone else's post and start an argument or something.

That being said, I do agree. My detailed thoughts under the cut.

"Adrien stans are white people who get unhinged over a white boy," say the Marinette stans and Marinette stan observers, not realizing that they espouse disgusting abuse apologism on a daily basis and victim blame a character who is a victim of abuse for being traumatized all because he made a few decisions that weren't about Marinette and her well-being alone.

This is ridiculous on so many levels. First the assumption that all Adrien stans are white people. Second, the assumption that we must be Adrien stans because he's a white boy and we don't care about POC characters as much as we do the white ones. Which is actually quite insulting to me.

Maybe these people should actually read what Adrien stans have to say. Maybe they should actually understand why we love Adrien so much. Maybe they should understand why we get so heated over him.

Know what? I'll tell you why. It's because Adrien is despite the writers' best efforts to undermine him an interesting and likeable character. He is a canonical abuse victim, and he struggles with his self-worth and his identity, which is a relatable story to many people. He's an entertaining and interesting character. He's the deuteragonist of the damn show. People are bound to love him. There's more to him than being a white boy and it's very insulting to imply that people obsess over him because he's white or because his fans are white.

And about how Adrien stans get "unhinged" about Adrien and not about other characters... we're literally Adrien stans. Which means Adrien is our favorite character. Naturally, we're going to talk more about him. This is basic common sense. I don't understand the problem here with liking Adrien more than other characters. Are we not allowed to have faves anymore?

And you know why Adrien stans get "unhinged" over him? Because the show treats him badly! Why shouldn't we get mad that a character whom we love is being treated poorly by the writers? Why can't we get heated about that? Marinette stans get heated about their fave being victimized by the narrative all the time, so why is it a crime if Adrien stans get upset if Adrien gets the same treatment? Adrien's story in the show ended with him being reduced to an object and a prop for his girlfriend so that she could side with his abuser and start controlling him instead. Why can't we get angry at that?

Marinette stans will talk about how both Adrien and Marinette are written badly but only Marinette gets criticized and how that's racist and shit, and will ignore the fact that our criticism has nothing to do with race and everything to do with Marinette siding with Gabriel to lie to an abuse victim, and how the show frames this as correct. We criticize Marinette because she's making an awful mistake and doing bad things! This is like, the worst strawman I have ever seen. At some point, it really feels like they are being willfully ignorant.

And about how Adrien stans treat other characters, riddle me this. Who has a proper tag dedicated to bashing them on AO3? Who was the character who was salted on so much when Syren aired? Who was the character being raked over the coals when Chameleon aired? Who was the character who was salted on in Season 4 for breaking a damn fucking chimney? Who was the character whose struggles in Season 4 were overlooked by Marinette stans who criticized him for "being entitled to Ladybug?" Who was the character who was relentlessly salted on whenever he did anything that didn't completely attend to Marinette's needs? Who is the character who was labelled a "sexual harasser?" Who is the character on whom these "fans" rain down their victim blaming and abuse apologia? Who is the character who has the longest history of being salted and bashed by the Marinette stans?

And I will laugh at the audacity of Marinette stans to argue in favor of POC characters and blame Adrien stans for "obsessing over a white boy while not giving the same treatment to characters of color" while their legacy includes salting Alya for not being Marinette's perfect emotional support BFF. Who has their own salt tag apart from Adrien on AO3? Alya does. It's laughable to me that Marinette stans harp on about how Adrien stans prefer the white boy over the POC characters when they spent the better part of the last few years bashing Alya and even devolved into outright racism against her. To say nothing of how they treated Kagami after Frozer dropped.

And these people accuse Adrien stans of showing preferential treatment to white characters? Marinette stans have no leg to stand on when it comes to calling out other people's treatment of POC characters. And I'm not saying that the anon or OP of the post are racist or that they personally contributed to this. But if they are going to make sweeping statements about Adrien stans accusing all of us of going unhinged over a white boy and treating POC characters unfairly, they should maybe take a look inwards at their own community.

Marinette stans have spent years bashing every other character for the smallest perceived slight. Marinette stans created a whole new genre of Miraculous fanfiction dedicated to propping up Marinette like their personal goddess and punishing other characters for not being her devoted slaves. Marinette stans have contributed greatly to the racism in this fandom. Look at all this and tell me: who really seems unhinged here?

So yeah. Ice cold take imo. Also, obligatory disclaimer: Not all Marinette stans are like this! Most of them are nice and sweet, but there are also plenty of bad apples who have been responsible for a lot of toxicity in this fandom.

Thank you for your ask!

[aziraphales-library]

Greetings! First off, thank you for your work, you are all absolutely amazing and I admire you so much!

After season 2, I was wondering whether you happen to know fics where Crowley helps out with work in the bookshop; dealing with customers and stuff?

Thanks, I hope you have a lovely day!

Hello! I can't find loads, but here are some post-series two fics in which Crowley at least remains at the bookshop...

Love Of My Life, You've Hurt Me by azi_xiii (G)

Crowley returns to the bookshop after the angel's departure to heaven.

Our Future Was Never Ours by dipshitfromhell (NR)

Things were over between them. Aziraphale chose Heaven and Crowley was left with nothing. They both knew what that meant and what it entailed but despite that, Crowley still clung onto a hope that he would come back. He moved into the bookshop with Muriel and took care of it for twenty years. He closed down the shop permanently and shut himself off to the world. He couldn’t open himself up to anyone after what happened. After waiting for so long though, many unexpected things happened. A friendship with Muriel and the person he mourned for finally came back but he didn’t seem to remember him at all.

Split The Heavens by vampmarz (G)

"We're closed"  The Demon said flatly, pushing his glasses up so they would stay propped up on his forehead(that corner of the bookshop was way too dark to wear sunglasses, and read something)  "I thought Muriel was running the Bookshop?" the customer said, their oh so familiar voice rang in Crowley's ears. His skin crawled, as he looked over his shoulder. "Aziraphale." he monotoned. or Something wet and warm ran down the demon's cheek, it burned like holy water, but worse. it didn't kill him, but the burn wouldn't go away. He didn't know demon's could cry. 

5 Times Muriel Copied Crowley, and 1 Time Muriel Copied Aziraphale by live_write_edit_sleep (T)

Muriel is learning a lot about Earth, especially from their role model, Crowley, who keeps trying to stop them from copying him. They don’t know why, though. They like Crowley.

The Angel’s Ethernal Escape by dipshitfromhell (NR)

Twenty years have passed and they were still separated. Crowley tended to the angel’s old bookshop and Aziraphale’s still the Arch Angel of Heaven. Both of them struggled in their daily lives and were hanging on by a thread. They no longer were connected by the special red thread known as love. Crowley took care of the bookshop with Muriel paying the dues and keeping it clean but never did anything more. If he wasn’t doing those things, he was either sleeping or drinking away to escape his pain. He hung on for so long in the hopes that one day his Angel would come back to him. Aziraphale lead as the Arch Angel carrying out his duties but it was all incredibly draining. No one cared about him or actually listened to him. Even at a high position, he couldn’t stop the second coming or gods plans. Today was the day that they left each other so he had plans to go back to Earth and finally end things with Crowley. He planned to disappear entirely from Heaven and Earth and sleep until those hundred years were up. He wouldn’t bother anyone ever again. He showed up at the bookshop one last time but things didn’t go how he expected.

tales from a bookshop by Rizandace (T)

Post-season-two. Crowley's moping, Aziraphale wants to fix things, and turns out, there's enough blame to go around. ----- “You’re being ridiculous.” Crowley very nearly falls over. Like, actually. He very nearly loses balance for no reason at all and tumbles to the sidewalk next to his car. He’s been playing Aziraphale’s voice in his head for weeks, he’s been trying very hard to drown out the sound of it, in fact, and now suddenly, abruptly— “What are you doing here,” is all he can think to say. He whirls around, and there he is. on Crowley’s right, standing there like he’d never left. Where he belongs, Crowley’s mind helpfully supplies. He wishes he could punch himself in the brain, knock the thoughts right on out of there.

- Mod D

[sysmedsaresexist]

Mod Quill with some feelings tonight as I scroll the syscourse tags in the usual pits of despair with a bag of popcorn and too little free time. As always, that show I sometimes stumble upon and leave running in the background while I do laundry is on, 24/7 it seems like. The TV station really loves running that particular producer’s re-runs.

I watch for a little bit, but the main character is just… painful to watch. She constantly pushes people away in some sort of way to get her goals each episode — but the series has never ended. It just is the same exact plot line each episode. It gets spicy sometimes when there’s a recurring plot line, or a story arc. They’re all a little… circular sometimes though. She gets sassy too, but that’s few and far between nowadays.

This latest arc, she’s clearly blue.

…

Okay so now that I’ve rambled enough on this metaphor about Sophie-

Her latest bait for trying to hurt a clearly traumatized person is just as painful to see as it always is. Just... god forbid she do something to actually further plural acceptance. I find it so ironic how she peddles that goal to her followers — The Future is Plural, right? — while consistently and actively working against it. She consistently tries to bait people who are against her in an attempt to prop herself up higher, never realizing that all the outside world is seeing is her stomping on others. 

Blue-Bubonic is very clearly fragile, at least in my eyes. I haven’t forgotten their (pronouns unsure, but please feel free to correct me) first foray into syscourse. And yet she sees it as more acceptable to continue needling them -- and taunting that fact and touting it as a badge of honor -- in order to... do what? She's said she's painting herself as a villain, she's being the Bad Guy, but genuinely, how is that helping plurals? How is this helping further her goals?

She is quite literally attacking her own with this and further aggravating an already clearly traumatized individual. And she constantly does this. From my perspective, it must almost be fun for her, and if I remember correctly, she's admitted it's fun. She revels in it. I can't condone people who sit and just... soak in other people's misery. I have literally been working on overcoming some doubts of mine today due to harassment I received, simply because I said I thought people deserved better than literal death threats. And here she is, just... spreading negativity for negativity's sake. How is that helping anything? Isn't it just putting more negative into the world?

The worst part is, I agree with her on so many things. I have to restrain myself from reblogging her posts to my real blogs (you’re welcome, SAS, this blog isn’t real anymore, you’re free) simply so I can avoid syscourse there as much as possible. I’m also scared too. I’m scared of her. I’m scared to reblog something, both because her eyes might be on me if I do, and because the entire system community on tumblr that touches tulpamancy with a 5 foot pole is watching too. Every single action I do is not only scrutinized by her; it’s scrutinized by the community.

I just… wish there was a better way to spread positivity. I wish there were more The Plurality Of… posts, ones that aren’t written with the direct correlation of “let’s stick it to those anti-endos!” I would love more plural headcanons with the goal, “let’s uplift all plurals!” I try to do this as much as possible, but I’m one man.

I see her with her 😈 rightful anger (and I do believe she is justified in that anger, please don’t think I am saying she shouldn’t be angry, she has gotten so much shit that was undeserved, something I regret deeply playing any part of in the past, and something I want to apologize for now again)… I see her with that anger, and I just wish there were a way to help. I wish there were a way to turn that negativity away. I’ve managed it! I’ve managed to escape it in little ways. What am I doing that’s so different? It’s not because I’m a DID system and she’s not — lord knows I’ve had my fair share of harassment for my existence. It’s not because we’re different syscourse stances — I’m as pro-endo as they come in everything but label. Hell, shocker of all shockers, I’ve come to accept I have willed-to-life alters, so I can even relate to her way of existence, at least to some degree.

And yet, I feel so different from her. And it’s sad to see someone you agree with, someone who you know is just doing their best, causing so much harm for the things you also believe in.

…

So I turn off the TV. And I try not to watch. But in my head, my stupid writer brain gets the monkeys and the typewriters out. And it goes to town.

In my head, I’ve written a story where I sit down with her. Sometimes it’s discord, sometimes it’s via tumblr asks back and forth, and too often to count it’s some nebulous cafe somewhere where I’m drinking hot chocolate and she’s drinking some sort of white chocolate coffee. Not sure why that’s what I imagine, but it makes sense to me.

And I just… talk to her. Like a person. We set aside syscourse entirely and have a proper sysconversation. We talk about plurality and our feelings about it; we talk about how my disorder impacts me in similar and different ways to her tulpamancy; we even discuss how this very fanfiction-like-dream is, in a way, plural in of itself, because i don’t control what she says, not willingly. I guess she got her dream, an anti-endo (in a way) with a Sophie introject (in a way).

And I laugh, and she laughs, and it’s good.

And then I go online and see the latest callout post about why Sophie is a bad person. And I sigh, because I know they never work, and I personally know how traumatizing it is to have a callout post detailing everything you’ve ever done wrong.

And then I write up this, feeling like a hypocrite. But I want her to know, I’m not trying to paint her as evil. I don’t think she is. I think she’s just… a person, trying her best, and this is me publicly saying I disagree with her methods.

I hope the show reaches a final season soon. Maybe a spinoff series will get made. Crossover episode when? I vote for Sophie Through The Looking Glass as a sequel series name.

[scarisd3ad]

Superstar | football player!joel miller x popstar!reader

Chapter Four - labyrinth

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Warnings - angst, cursing

Summary - when you find out about a certain football player showing up at your tour you decide to reach out just because of all the dating rumors, but what if thoughs rumors turn into reality?

a/n - okay so since I've never really introduced Joel parents they are introduced here. his mother is named Juliana in this, and his father is named tom (because tommy just feels like he'd be a jr)  <3. also, song reader sing is labyrinth because I love labyrinth and Taylor sang it at n1 in Argentina.  

‘Oh no, I’m falling in love’

I let out a deep sigh as my fingers pressed against the piano keys. The same piano I sit at weekend after weekend with a large screaming crowd showing all their adoration for me through screams and chants. I pull my in-ears out so I'm able to hear the actual volume of the crowd. "Holy shit," I whisper into the mic in front of me. They're loud, so loud it's impossible to believe that this is my life. Screaming crowds, fans, concerts at venues this big it's incredible. "you guys are so unbelievably awesome you don't even understand," I say as I place my in-ears back into my ears. I can still hear the screams the in-ears just kind of lower the volume. "So, I um, I wrote a new song and I want to see if you guys like it," I say with a smile. They scream as I begin to play the notes on the piano. I take a deep breath before starting the first lyric.

"It only hurts this much right now...was what I was thinking the whole time" It's a little nerve-wracking performing a song that I had just written last night to a whole crowd of people. I didn't even know if they were going to like it, let alone like that I was playing an unknown song rather than a song that they all could sing along to. But despite my anxious thoughts, they scream, scream like this is their favorite song ever. "Breathe in breathe through breathe deep breathe out. I'll be getting over you my whole life," they scream again, astonished by the lyrics, astonished by what these lyrics might mean. I know there's already a video posted somewhere speculating what these lyrics mean and who they're about. That's just how the internet works. But I'm the only person who will ever truly know what this song and its lyrics are about.

"You know how scared I am of elevators, never trust it if it rises fast, it can't last" I hear a loud "I love you y/n!" from a girl sitting in the very front row closest to the stage. I smile as I start the next lyric. "Uh oh, I'm Fallin' in love. Oh no, I'm Fallin' in love again" Screams from the crowd start up because these lyrics just have to be about Joel, right? I know that's what they're thinking and they're right, or at least partially, about him. "Oh, I'm Fallin' in love. I thought the plane was going down. how'd you turn it right around?"

-

"Sooo, why aren't you out with Joel?" Tara asks from her spot at the end of my bed. It was my off weekend. I had one weekend off from performing, and this was it. I let out a sigh. "Um, he invited me to something just didn't feel like it" She rolled her eyes; she knew I was lying somehow. it wasn't anything about 'not feeling it' it was all about the kiss, and the 'good job' afterward, the way my heart dropped right after he said that too. We just needed some space. I needed to be away from him for a little while to try and rid myself of this crush I had on him.

"Is that true?" I let out a sigh as I shook my head and murmured, "I don't want to talk about it, kay?" I wrap my arms around Ollie, who is nestled up beside me, and pull him closer. He lets out a tired "meow" but forgets about the fact I had moved him about 2 seconds later. "c'mon y/n tell me y'know I don't judge" I roll my eyes as she props herself up with her arm. "He kissed me," I whisper. Her brows furrow in a confused curl, which sends me tumbling into an explanation. "He kissed me, and I think I'm in love with him. And the kiss was all for the paparazzi," I whisper as I lay my head back down on my pillow. She sits up quickly, snatching my phone off the bed. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" I shout as I quickly sit up. She tumbles off of the bed running away. I let out a groan as I scurried off of the bed to follow after her. She's letting out giggles as her thumbs type away. "Seriously T, what are you doing?!" I shouted as I followed her down the stairs, almost tripping as I came to the bottom.

She stops in the kitchen and pushes herself against the counter. "You're going out with Joel" my eyes widen. I plan on ignoring him for a few weeks before cutting the deal off. "Because you need to figure this shit out 'cause I know it's not fake for him either" She hands me back my phone and I'm quick to open the messaging app.

Joel Miller

y - hey, plans changed. I'm able to go to that thing if I'm still able to.

J.M. - what happened to your sisters?

I rolled my eyes it was obvious that I did not write the text. This was just going to break my heart even more. I don't even know why she'd do this. "Tara...why seriously this is just going to hurt me even more" I whisper, she shakes her head as her arms cross over her chest "he likes you too, y'know have you seen the way he looks at you?" I don't even know how her brain works; he looks at me like how a normal person looks at another human. There was not even a hint of love in his eyes. I stare at her, waiting for her to explain. "Oh my god seriously, are you blind?"

Joel Miller

y- canceled, can you pick me up?

y- please?

J.M. - yeah, sure, be there in 15.

I let out a sigh as I stuff my phone into my pocket. "he's gonna be here in 15 so I better..." I whisper, my voice trickling away as I make eye contact with Tara. I'm not mad at her because I just can't be mad at her, but I'm just so anxious that I seem mad. "Are you mad?" her smile immediately drops. Sometimes Tara just plays too much. She didn't realize how brokenhearted I was after he kissed me, not until now. I turn around and begin to walk away. "Hey y'know, he does like you, I wouldn't lie to you." she chases after me, "I know I just don't trust your judgment," I whisper. It wasn't that Tara liked to lie and make things up, she just embellishes the truth sometimes, especially when I like a guy. She likes to add things to make me feel good. "Just let me get ready...by myself," I whisper.

I throw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt before putting on some makeup and doing my hair. I was anxious to meet his entire family. That was the main reason I didn't want to go because it just felt like a little too much for fake dating. my heart pounded against my chest as I sat on my couch waiting for him to show up. I was trying to hype myself up in my head, but I had no luck in doing so. I was still a big bundle of nerves who didn't want to be talked to at the moment. My hands shook and my chest was rising and falling so fast it was concerning. And then when I heard three soft knocks on my front door, I wanted to hide.

knock knock knock

I take a deep breath in mutter "I've got this" before standing up and stuffing my phone into my back pocket. "Hey Tara, I'm leaving kay?" when I hear a muffled "okay!" from upstairs I open the front door. I'm met with Joel standing at the door dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a cowboy's tee shirt.

"Hey, darlin', how have ya been? Haven't heard from ya in a while." My heart flutters at the nickname, and at the thought that he cares about how I've been. "I-I've been good, you?" he waves me off. "No, I wanna hear about you. How was your concerts last weekend, huh? Heard they were all sold out," I giggle, flustered that he had even thought about my concerts. "Go-good, I um performed a new song," I say as I smile up at him, a disgustingly lovesick look on my face. But I can't help it, he just makes me feel so good. So free, so loved even if it is fake.

"Need ya to sing that to me, darlin," he says as he grabs my hand. It felt so weird having a man care so much about my music. Every time I see him, he asks about my concerts or how I write my songs. I've been with men who cared I made so much music with Andy, but Joel just feels so different. "y-yeah um I can if you want me to," I whisper as he leads me toward his car. Unlike every other time I had seen him, there wasn't even any paparazzi outside my house. So, him holding my hand is pointless.

-

When we pull up to his house, it's nothing like I imagined it to be. Unlike most other celebrities his age who have large mansions that span many acres, it's a normal 2-story suburban home. It's a stereotypical picket fence home with a large tree in the front yard and faded chalk drawings on the driveway. It was unexpected for a man with so much fame and wealth, but not unexpected for a man like him. Joel was a regular Texan man, a father, a son, and a brother. A man who lived in a simple 2-story, 3-bedroom, 2-bath house. Picket fences, scrapped knees, and handmade drawings stuck up on the fridge. Normalcy, that's what his house felt like. It felt like my childhood. It felt like suburban neighborhoods playing with the neighborhood kids, and ice pops on the front porch. It felt like playing in sprinklers, puddles, and mud. It felt like baseball in the backyard. I felt happy that his kids got that, although their father was such a star. They didn't have to grow up in a large mansion with no kids around like other celebrities' kids got.

As we walk into his house, Joel's hand is splayed across my lower back. There were a lot of people sitting on his couch, some women, some men, but they all felt older than me. "Back...Um, this is my...girlfriend y/n...y/n this is my uncle Walter, aunt Gabriela, my mom Juliana, my dad Tom, and our neighbor Jason" My eyes widen a bit at all the new names and faces I'm taking in. "hi" I squeak with a tiny smile. "She's a superstar, famous singer, right darlin'?" I didn't even have enough time to become flustered at the fact that he had called me his girlfriend because I was met with bunches of hands and people trying to hug me. "I um yeah, yeah I sing a little" I whisper as I try my best to hide myself behind Joel. it's a weird feeling being around all these people who are just so much older than me, I felt like I'd fit in more with his young daughter than with these people. "'Sing a little' c'mon darlin', don't sell yourself short. This girl is performing for sold-out stadiums" he says with a chuckle, "I-I yeah um-" Thankfully, I'm cut off by a scream and the feeling of a little body smashing into my leg.

I look down to see Sarah with her arms wrapped around my torso. "you're here! Daddy said you couldn't come" his family begin quiet 'aww's and 'look how cute's "y-yeah I um I could make it after all," I say with a shy smile. For someone who has stadiums full of people cheering me on, I'm so shy in front of a room of just 5 people. I look up to see a smaller girl standing just a little behind Sarah. She has a paler complexion and straighter brown hair. She's got her arms crossed over her chest; she can't be any older than 5. when she opens her mouth and begins to talk, I can see that her two top teeth are missing. "Who's this?"

"This is daddy's friend I told you about don't be rude Ellie" Sarah whispers as she turns so she's facing her sister. Ellie looks up at me, her head cocking to the side as she takes me in. "I went to your concert" she whispers, "it was too loud" she mutters before walking a bit closer. Her father chuckles behind me. "We-well, I'm sorry bout that," I whisper with a little laugh. "she's the one who has a cat," Sarah whispers and it seems like Ellie's eyes instantly turn into two hearts. "Cat? what's its name?" Ellie asks as she approaches me. "His name is Ollie," I reply as I kneel, so I'm face to face with her. "Can I come see him?" she asks. I nod "Yeah if your daddy lets you" She looks up at her father and puts on the cutest puppy dog eyes. "Can I go see the cat, Daddy?"

"Maybe one day El" I feel a tiny hand wrap around mine before I'm quickly pulled back to my full height and pulled out of the living room "Let's go play y/n!" 

-

I'm outside in the backyard chasing around all the kids in the backyard while Joel and his father grill burgers on the deck. "ahhhh you can't catch me!" Ellie screams as I grab ahold of her arm and pull her towards me. We both topple to the ground as I begin tickling her. She screams out loud giggles as she tries to squirm away. Once she finally gets away, she stands up and places her hands on both her knees, trying to catch her breath. I sit up noticing Joel has now walked back inside. "Hey, I'm gonna go get a drink alright?!" I shouted, not only to acknowledge Ellie but to the other children who were playing as well. Ellie just nods as she breathes heavily. I push myself up off of the ground and begin to make my way up to the back door.

"May- maybe she could be like their mom. They need a mom, Joel. I know you are all they need, but they need a mother," I hear Joel's mom say as I open the back door slowly. Joel's mom stood at the counter, staring out the window above the sink as she prepared a salad. Joel stood next to her, chopping up the chicken. "I-momma she-we're-" I know what he means we're not real, this is temporary. I clear my throat before saying, "I-um, is there anything I can drink?" Joel's mother begins to swat at her son's arm. "Oh god sweetheart, I am so sorry. Joel, get your girlfriend a drink," she says before shoving him my way. "I-um..." he stutters, as he opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. He hands the bottle to me.

"Let's go outside," he whispers before turning back towards his mom. "You got this, Mom?" she nods before shooing him away. His hand slots into mine perfectly as we walk outside. Everything about him made my heart just leap with excitement. It was embarrassing. We stand on the deck watching as the children run around screaming and laughing. "I don't know how they have that much energy," he chuckles as I twist the bottle cap open and take a swig. "Yeah, they wore me out in like 2 seconds," I reply with a smile. "They like you a lot, y'know Ellie and Sarah" I nod, I just wished they didn't. it wouldn't be this hard to break things off if they didn't like me. "Wish they wouldn't get so attached," I whisper. "It's not going to be easy on them when this ends." his face contorts into an expression I can't read. It's a mix of sadness and realization.

"y-yeah but you can still come around. As my friend, we don't have to not talk after this" I nod acting like I would, but I knew I probably wouldn't because it'd be too hard on me. I can't just be his friend, that's the problem. I wouldn't be able to see him with another girl without being heartbroken. "I know" 

-

Once everyone had left, I sat on the couch with both his children while Frozen was playing on the TV. "You need me to take you home?" Joel asks as he walks into the living room. I've been trying to convince myself it's time to break this off before the kids get too attached. I decided I should just rip the band-aid off before I had time to overthink it and not do it at all. "Um, actually..." I quickly rise to my feet. "Can we talk...alone?" Joel nods, his brows furrowing together in a questioning look.

I follow after him as he leads me to a room far enough away so the kids won't be able to hear us. His arms crossed over his chest as he asks, "What's up?" I take a deep breath in before saying, "We should stop this. I can't do this anymore." his brows furrow into a knot as I see the look in his eyes change from curious to hurt. His head cocks to the side "Wh-why? did you-" I shake my head as I run my hands through my hair "I-I um I can't talk about it." his hands shift so they're placed on his hips. Why did this hurt worse than any breakup I've ever experienced? Why was my heart shattering over a man I was never even in an actual relationship with? "I-I just need to know why. closure y'know," he whispers.

"I-I-" I sigh as my head lowers so I'm not making eye contact with him, "y/n..." my hand squeezes against my opposite arm hard as I try to keep quiet. I can't tell him. I can't, I just can't. "I-I think... I think I'm in love with you and I know you-" lips pressing against mine interrupt my words, instantly alleviating all my fears. Nothing mattered but his lips against mine. He pulls away and places his hand against my cheek. My lips chase after his, which makes him chuckle. "Do you l-" he cuts me off with a simple "mhm," and I nod before our lips meet again.

Taglist

@taylarxse @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @ktheunready @camixkami @skysmiller @mars743 @romeestrvjds @lightxzhan @alyhull @jenna-mcgraw19 @raindropsandteaandtears @winkuchu @lexloon @greensabereyesforcevictim @cozylibraries @celebrities-imagines @joeldjarin @nezukos-number1fan @abbysgirll @sadbloatedegg @hopelessromantic727

[frodothefair]

Frodo and Rosie?

So, someone on Ao3 brought up the notion that I could've written Flowers of Mordor also as an OT3, perhaps involving Rosie instead of Marigold. Of course, it wasn't a suggestion or concrit, just an observation, and I said that the way I imagined Rosie, I could not see her with Frodo in any romantic or sexual way -- they are simply not right for each other.

But then, ever since I have been thinking... why not Rosie and Frodo? Granted, this would be a case of heartbreak rather than an OT3, because poly in any capacity is not my cup of tea, but hear me out...

To begin with, here's my view of Rosie, based on what little we know of her in canon:

She's assertive, direct, and has a sharp wit. She basically got Sam to marry her by giving him a tongue-in-cheek ultimatum.

She is feisty and brave, even contrary. When her mother warned her there are "ruffians about," she still broke into song.

She probably brims with endless energy. Having thirteen children, you pretty much have to be that sort of person.

She has several brothers, and no sisters. Every woman I know who has grown up in this environment is not necessarily more masculine, but more self-assured and independent.

She has no known (direct) trauma from the Scouring -- that is, she wasn't in the Lockholes, wasn't kidnapped or violated. If she had trauma like that, Tolkien probably would have mentioned it. Though that's not to say that she was not deeply affected.

In fact, as a result of all of the above, in FoM I've conceptualized Rosie as a bit of a firecracker. She is a natural leader, loves to be the center of attention, and is fiercely protective of her friends. She knows what she wants, and she often gets it. We first "meet" her standing in the middle of the kitchen, telling a "hilarious" story and waving a ladle around as a prop. Sam may even be a little bit afraid of her, and swears that she can read his mind. She is also a little bit manipulative with Marigold, but not in a bad way -- she simply knows which emotional strings to pull. In good time, she will have her own emotional reckoning and her own vulnerable moments, but I won't spoil those yet.

Now, a person like Rosie is perfect as a wife of a pillar of the community, which is what Sam eventually becomes, but can a person like Rosie be with Frodo? Maybe, especially pre-quest Frodo who is more active, but pre-quest Rosie, who is a farmer's daughter, would not have been remotely in the running as a match for Frodo until the War of the Ring (much like WWI) erased many a social boundary.

But more than that, I ultimately felt that Frodo is too head-in-the-clouds, too nerdy and too weird for Rosie. Unlike Marigold, Rosie probably has little interest in books or faraway places. She is more prosaic and maybe altogether "too much" with her love of the spotlight, whereas Frodo, especially post-quest, needs plenty of time to rest to think and feel things that others have no idea about. Marigold, being more introverted and a deep thinker, and also traumatized in her own way, is the delicate flower whose company he needs.

Anyway. Let's say all of the above is true.

And yet, just because two people don't seem to "work" on paper doesn't mean that they can't fall in love, against all odds and logic.

So hear me out...

What if... what IF Rosie marries Sam, and then they move into Bag End, and slowly, ever so slowly as she takes care of Frodo, and listens to his tale, she gains an understanding and a compassion for him that she never thought possible? What if his trauma and courage win her fiery heart, and pity turns to devotion, and then to more, and then Rosie realizes one day, with horror, that she married the wrong hobbit?

And then there's more... Perhaps... Perhaps Frodo could easily feel the same, and succumb to the Florence Nightingale effect, but on account of his illness, he would feel unable to be a partner to anyone, and would be forced to reject her. And then Sam, upon guessing, or perhaps finding out for a fact, would volunteer to step aside, and Frodo would refuse to accept it.

And then what if... what if THIS is the real reason Frodo leaves for Valinor?!

Wouldn't that be trippy??????!!

@konartiste @emmanuellececchi

[zaacoy]

Hmhmhmmm in a silly mood and thinky thinkin about Tang Legomonkiekid again, some disjointed tang thoughts!! Because I can :3

Author's note after writing: another long post!!! I am incapable of talking about him without going on and on and on apparently, enjoy the novel!! hehehheehoo

so! The scorpion queen demoness outfit still has not left my brain!! I am plagued by the ourple apparently, just

why he so littol

microscopic organism

its like he's a cat getting picked up by the scruff!! those clothes are too big for he goddamn he!!

Also also! The buffet scene!! We get two wide shots of it

the first:

and the second:

assuming it isn't some sort of custom to have your servants(?) or whatever the ladies are in this scene leave once they set the table (if it is then feel to ignore this tidbit!! :D) Them being there in the first scene but not the second makes it seem like? Tang requested them to go and let him eat in peace without 7 different women watching him while doing so??? This man is invulnerable to women and I find that so funny all he wants are his noms

Adding onto that the fact that his first move when he wakes up to a pretty lady standing over him is to SCREAM and push her away is SO unbelievably funny could you be any gayer sir

also can we just appreciate how easily this man crumbled the second good food was put in front of him. after being kidnapped and abducted by some clearly suspicious demon lady he just. willingly stays, unbound physically in literally anyway, just because she has good food to offer. very very silly he is so funny

no additional comments just look at him

he is so scrunckly so silly, I forgor all of the other Tumblr silly words but he is all of those too

its nice that we got to see him come back in purple later tho in S4

It's a dustier purple for sure but it still looks pretty nice on him :3c

also also!!

I love this little training scene sm because it paints tang in such an interesting light

whereas pigsy and mei are borderline ready to jump sandy for that star all we get from Tang is a shaky "I want that", this difference is further exemplified in the coloration differences (mei and pigsy's eyes being red whereas Tang's are just whited out)

this trend continues as the training session goes on! here for example we can see mei and pigsy clearly furious whereas tang is just crying- they're all frustrated! It seems as though when Tang is confronted with the issue of "not being as good as his peers" he trends more towards upset rather angry unlike the rest of his friend group

This can also be seen in their individual trainings

Mei is outright violent in her training arc, both in regards to the props and opponents she fights and (verbally) to master Subodhi, pigsy is also fairly mouthy and standoffish at first and disregards whatever he perceives as an insult, but Tang on the other hand we get to see crumble a little bit. Rather then brushing off master Subodhi's gripes with him like the others Tang seems to take it to heart, getting visibly more and more miserable until he's able to turn himself around

It's a nice bit of characterization that I'm glad to see appear again, they've given him such a consistent, well written weakness I can't wait how it affects his performance in future episodes, be it for better or for worse heeheehoo

I ADORE how much this man loves food, he's so super enthusiastic about it in literally every season it is completely adorable

I also appreciate how they didn't turn it into his entire character!! Most of the food-loving characters I've known have their entire personality based around food which, while it can be joyful at times, is kind of boring and 2 dimensional imo. I enjoy how they made him a complete fully fleshed out person like everyone else who just so happens to really like nomnoms heeheehoo

looks at you with my autistic eyes

that expression is so goofy and the silly little noise he makes with it too uehhshdhhdj he is so sillay

love how he gets sparkles/shines in his eyes once he gets really excited about something or the "✨" shaped eyes

there are so many little things I love about him that NOBODY else talks about and it makes me so so sad where are my fellow insane-about-tang-lego-monkie-kid people where are uu 🥺 "let's take ibuprofen together" but it's "let's talk about a fictional Lego for hours" instead please plsss

cough- anyways uh- he has a bunch of little vocal quirks that I love so so much like!!

(I don't know how to get audio clips so you're just going to have to take my word for it ueue)

Often whenever he exclaims or screams he does so in a way that I don't know how to describe actually mmmmm instead of an "AAAAAH!" it's more akin to a "WHAhaHAA!" if that makes any sense, whatever that is it's such an interesting verbal quirk I love it very much.

He does something similar in quiet exclamations of awe, instead of going "ooooh.." it sounds more like "ooohohooh.."

I guess it's like his voice falls in between dragged out sounds? Like if it weren't for his tone and the context they'd almost sound like laughs, it's definitely an "h" sound, I'm not sure if there's a term for that verbal quirk but it seems fairly unique to him in the show and I thinks it adds to his sillyness heehee

squints at you squints at you squints at you squints at you squints at you squints at you squi

The bbg pose is consistent and here to stay!! yahoo!!! I wonder how many times while raising mk did they manage to tire themselves out and have pigsy later walk in to both of them asleep on the floor euhdhsnns fluffy family

while I'm thinking about noodle family here is your daily reminder that this scene exists in canon and mk has two dads thank you for coming to my ted talk

His tone of voice was so funny here the pure PANIC in his voice manifesting in a very strained yell was so well done here weehee

Circling back to the scorpion outfit, remember in the pilot episode how mk attempts to crawl away from the demon bull family after he gets caught? Tang does the exact same thing here!! same motion same thoughts process, like father like son

soft squishy tang isn't even my fault anymore LOOK AT HIM, he very squish

delving into slightly more serious tang thingies for a second!!-

this scene always felt incomplete to me, I feel like I'm missing something. This was when they first as a group run into lbd on their airship. Out of the entire group Tang is the only one to notice something's off and emphasis is put on this multiple times. First with "I've got a bad feeling about this pigsy", then with scene above where he's shown staring skeptically at lbd's rings, and then with him noticing the broken device on the ground(and notably not cheering on mk like everyone else) and confronting mk about it. Was ALL of that really just so Tang could make mk tell them about lbd(which he didn't even really do)? Why tang, why was he the only one to intuitively notice? even mk didn't know something was wrong with lbd when he first encountered her in her hostess form, heck even monkie king didn't, how did tang? Triptaka/golden cicada powers? Are we going to be seeing him do this again? Does it mean anything for where his story is going?? I don't know it just, it feels like too much focus was put on this just for it to be for nothing, it's odd to me.

One more thing!!

what was this.

from the second episode we see macaque where he puts on a shadow play and possesses tang, pigsy, and mei n' forces them to fight mk. Never in the entire rest of the series have we ever seen someone who's possessed struggle/ appear to still be there whilst being under possession. Not with the people-turned-spider-demons not with bai he not with mei or pigsy in this scene, not even really with wukong in the special. It is arguable through his expressions that he may be somewhat still there and might be putting up a fight(especially when he's about to hit mk) but we never really seem him underneath. We never hear him and we never see his true reaction underneath the poker-faced-possessed version, never like we do with tang here. Once again, just, wjajnajj, why?? This is such an odd little detail and it's so weird how it never comes back again. If it's not foreshadowing or leading up to a bigger reveal then why animate it? Because it looked interesting? Because they could? Was it a way to express to the audience that his friends were still there under the surface and they weren't just clones? But the lights in the lantern along with them getting sucked in already made that pretty clear. If that was the case anyway, why didn't they do that with wukong? or with bai he? or with the spider demons? we had no way of knowing for sure that they were there or they'd come back after being un-possessed either. It's such a small little thing that could mean nothing but it's been stuck in the back of my mind since I first saw it back when I first picked up the show in like august. I don't know, it's cool though!! I hope they do smth more with it

It is!! 4am!!! I have to be up at 7 tmrw oopsies

ending it here gnnn if you read through all of these rambles then hiii!!! Glad you find me losing my mind over a Lego entertaining I sure have fun doing it, have a good day byebyeye :3

[term-repost]

originally posted by user Kenochoric / Kenochoric-moved / Trans-Haunting

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About Damselpunk

Damselpunk was originally "coined" here back in November 2022. I outlined some things I had been thinking of on the post, but now that I've sort of outgrown your typical coining-post format, I thought I'd actually explain what I made the label for, and what it means.

However, when I first made it, I realize when looking at it that it was incomplete. It was a good start, but it was really only speaking for my experience. And how I- someone who is TME, who is white, experience womanhood and negative stereotypes associated with it will differ from how trans women and women of color will experience it (among other examples.) Not only that, but even from within my own groups my experience isn't universal. As examples....

The stereotype that women are frail, weak, and purely feminine little fairies, from what I've heard, is often different for some women of color and trans women. I've heard accounts of other women being painted as aggressive, as hypermasculine, and as dangerous for being people of color. Similarly, I've heard many stories of trans women being treated as an inherent danger to the cis women around them, as overly strong and as needing to force themselves into roles that made the people around them more "comfortable." To be clear, I really can't speak on these experiences or their nuances, so I don't feel comfortable going over every single thing I've heard, but I didn't recognize this nuance in my original post and it was absolutely an oversight.

What a "lady," or a "woman" is in different cultures, countries, and just general social groups differ. The things I outlined in my post, like being "dainty" and "proper," are absolutely real stereotypes, but they are far from the only ones, and the stereotypes and expectations elsewhere can be just as restrictive and misogynistic even if those expectations are different from the ones I grew up with.

Reclaiming womanhood from something formerly traumatizing is absolutely a real thing, but the way I specifically said "growing up" centered my own experience, and was unintentionally excluding a lot of trans women. Finding womanhood formerly painful because of how it was put onto you, and then reclaiming it again, is not a purely adolescent thing, and is not exclusive to people who were ""raised as girls."" The notion that it is, even though I didn't intend it to be, was transmisogynistic.

Damselpunk is just as much about rejecting systemic misogyny as it is about rejecting interpersonal acts of it. I didn't outline enough examples of systemic oppression in my post when I should have. It is very much so about combating systemic misogyny in all of its forms, as well as recognizing intersectionality and groups of women who are affected differently due to other institutions of oppression working in tandem with misogyny.

So, with all of that out of the way, what is damselpunk? Why did I make it? What does it mean to me, and what can it mean to other people?

Damselpunk is ultimately a movement about rejecting women's oppression and mistreatment, in all of its forms. It is about rejecting the idea that women are less default, less normal, or inherently the "other" compared to men. It is rejecting stereotypes and roles placed onto women regardless of what those roles are. It is self respect and autonomy for oneself, and valuing yourself as a person who is deserving of respect, individuality, and care. It is rejecting the idea that there's only one way to be a woman and live as a woman, considering there are countless different variations and experiences that can exist between different women.

The term Damselpunk was chosen due to how in countless stories, the woman is the "other," or the prop device in a man's story that is not allowed one's own development or thoughts. The Damsel is fundamentally disregarded and not considered their own person, as is part of their "role" within many narratives. It is less about how the Damsel needs to be rescued ("damsel in distress"), and more about how the Damsel is rarely if ever counted as a true character beyond a device for someone else- however, the "damsel in distress" narrative may also resonate with some women as a trope that ought to be flipped on its head, I simply didn't want to paint that as universal, since some women may also enjoy that trope and like the idea of being "rescued" or "swept off their feet." I like that there's multiple ways to interpret the term, regardless. Ladypunk was also coined as an alternative, for people who prefer it.

But, the notion of damselpunk goes beyond the often-shallow parade of "women can do anything! women can be anything!", it goes further than that. It is also about rejecting misogyny, and the system that perpetuates it. Of course, misogyny and the oppression of women takes many, many forms and in what way it presents itself depend on a wide variety of factors. For some women, it's being painted as frail, as dainty and inherently feminine. For others, it's being painted as aggressive, dangerous, predatory, and in need of "protection" from. For others, it's being ignored, having one's needs and desires swept aside and seen as secondary. It is also a broad rejection of the idea that women's rights do not matter, that feminism is unnecessary or "dead," and that it isn't worth caring about. It is also strongly against the notions that misogyny and women's rights only takes form in one way, that empowerment is only one thing that presents in one way. Exclusionary forms of feminism, and the broad strokes people try to provide for women's empowerment (such as making every female character "the one with the braincell," the "strong one with no feelings," and otherwise) are not the point of Damselpunk and do not represent the movement. This goes especially for forms of feminism that is intentionally bigoted or attempting to remove groups of women from the movement, such as TERFs.

Any type of woman can exist. Womanhood is not just frilly dresses and long hair, but it can be- those things can be deeply empowering, even! For other women, embracing gender non-conformity, masculinity, or gender-fuckery are incredibly important, and just as whole as another form. Womanhood is also not intentionally binary, nor is it tied to the body. It can be dissociated from the binary, alongside other genders, or even be a form that is completely disconnected from binary notions of it. It is a malleable thing that we have given a word to, and may be played and experimented with in a variety of ways. Putting women into an inherent box- that they must be this, or that, or the other thing, regardless of its intention is narrow-minded. A woman may be of any race, of any weight, of any appearance and of any place. They are just as much of human beings as men are, and are not less "normal" or "default" than another gender.

When writing all of this, it puts into perspective how malleable damselpunk itself is. It can be as varied as women themselves are, and so trying to put one set of experiences or expectations onto the label is simply not how it can be.

Now, for the symbol and flag I created for the term:

This symbol is called the Damselblade. It's different from the original symbol, because frankly, I don't think the original was very proper. It had been trying to make the original female symbol look partly like an X, but it was just a mess. So! I instead flipped it upside down and moved the horizontal bar close to the base, making it resemble a sword or blade. Hence: Damselblade!

And here is the flag, both with and without the damselblade! No changes were made between posts besides the symbol itself.

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Now, just as a bit of an epilogue before I end this already-huge post: Even through all my attempts and corrections, I want to make it clear I do not represent every damselpunk experience, yes, even as the creator. Part of making a term for an entire group of people (women) is recognizing that you have some blind spots. I can't speak for women of color, or trans women, even though they're fully welcome in the label. Some of the things I've outlined might not fully encompass people whose lives I haven't lived.

So! I encourage people to see damselpunk in their own way, and to not just experience it from within the lens and views of the creator. So long as you're a woman, a girl, what-have-you, you can be damselpunk, and that comes with the inherent footnote that I won't be able to include all those nuances. If you have any criticisms or anything like that, please send them to my inbox and I'll take it to heart! (Just be respectful, please)

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Should be fairly obvious, but TERFs fuck off or get blasted by the damselblade

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originally posted by user Kenochoric / Kenochoric-moved / Trans-Haunting

[vindieselsfacebook-blog]

Ranking 7 photos algorithmically served to me attempting to aesthetically stage a Gilmore Girls rewatch

7. Coming in dead last is this disgustingly tragic and confusing combination of frozen mini pizzas and what appears to be a stemless wine glass full of orange juice??? positively hanging on for dear life to a thin, cracked cutting board that looks like it started its life in the Target dollar spot. I can't imagine a more nightmarish stain on my bland white sheets or frustrating debris to try and drain from my laptop keyboard than the pukey combination of marinara sauce and sticky juice, nor can I imagine a more depressing excuse for a comfort meal. Praying this person is a 12 year old trying to feel fancy by stealing a stemless wine glass from their mom while they were distracted by an episode of The Bachelor. Also, can we not find a single vibey Ikea lamp to turn on? Not cropping out the cable in the top right corner is an extra ominous choice. Bonus point for the gay sounding caption caught on screen though. 1/10

6. All I can think of looking at this cursed image is innocently uncrossing my legs and flipping the entire set-up over, spilling sugary milky foamy pumpkin coffee all over my twee cotton sheets, crushing burnt cookie crumbs all up in my grill, poopy melted chocolate chip stains everywhere, and setting my fluffy synthetic pillows ablaze. Making sure the food items are resting unwisely on your laptop but straight up nestling two Glade clearance candles right on your bed is extremely unwell behavior. 2/10

5. These cookies look like hamburger buns with jam and I hate thinking of the texture of them in my mouth but at least the hearts are trying and the waffle knit of the blanket looks cozy. The plate looks like it's resting on crossed legs rather than an actual bed this time. Good job with no open flames!!! 3/10

4. This looks like a second attempt from #6 - these cookies look like an upgrade, even down to the cutesy plate. They're livin' on the wild side with black coffee directly on the bed this time, but I guess that's less insane than multiple lit candles. I'm imagining this poor girl applying lipstick to kiss her list of things she loves which include "2000's movies", "stars/moon", and "pretty clothe" and I realize I am mocking a very lonely little girl and now I feel bad. Keep on binging GG, friend, you need it!!! 4/10

3. First off, trying to post ~aesthetic GG content with tea instead of coffee? Who are you, Luke Danes??? Points subtracted immediately. You're expecting me to think you're just casually whipping up a batch of cinnamon rolls, watching GG AND reading a novel? You're either watching or reading, doll, I simply refuse to accept both. That book is stressing me out. Get a bookmark! 4/10

2. I had to really study this one and decide if it was the same person as the previous photo. It may be, but this one features some important upgrades - that mug may possibly be coffee, the gray sweater looks fuzzy and comforting, cute manicure, and the cinnamon rolls are positively drowning in icing which I respect. I am once again judging your casually open book you fucking liar, but I enjoy the natural lighting and practical desktop surface. I refuse to entertain the thought that a GG rewatch can hit even a little bit on a tiny propped up iPad though. Give me a big TV and a couch/bed or nothing. 5/10

Now this is what I'm fucking talking about!!! Commit to the bit, people. This person put their whole pussy into making that delightful looking drink and stuck to the pumpkin theme. There's some pleasant mood lighting going on and I buy that this could be a tablescape rather than a crowded obstacle course on a twin bed. I am actually curious to try one of those cookies and the sweater weather candle is no doubt contributing positive vibes to the room. All precarious items are safely crowded onto a tray. Still hate the iPad but whatever. 8/10

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S06E14

Damn it, no Mankiewicz lol. Yeah, it was okay, had some funny moments too (Rex is a comedian). There’s a pattern lately where the promos immediately hook me up for the next episode, so even as I’m writing this, I’m already thinking of the next one.

Risotto, jeez, if I was a guy I’d hate Charlie Hudson for the impossible cooking standards he’s setting.

That guy messed up all the floorboards with his blood dripping all over! Good luck getting that out.

Rex being upset and whining as forensics is sweeping the house. Yeah, this sucks, buddy.

Joe did not seriously consider not giving Charlie this case. The man has investigated his own brother!

Well, that seemed like a cold night of shooting. I bet they all enjoyed that :P

“Looks like Rex and I are your problem again tonight”. Well, at least they’re letting us know he didn’t sleep at Joe's couch at the precinct. I’ve given up on seeing Sarah’s apartment and I’d like her to give up on the idea of pretending to live there too.

Are you telling me that packages are not getting scanned somewhere inside the precinct before getting delivered? Oh, boy.

I’ll say this again, if they don’t trust Rex to sniff out whether there’s bomb components inside a package, then there’s no reason to allow him to work in cases. 

That’s a lot of keys and I can't help thinking of what their prop master thought about all this.

“Better be safe, right Charlie?” lmao the passive aggressive comment from Joe. Leave him alone, he was right this time. Trust Rex.

Rex barked at the ransomware? Yeah, okay, lol

Getting from low-tech burglaries to high-tech heist. That’s an interesting transition.

Ah, stakeout. And they’re eating fries which was what I was also eating as I was watching this, on a very random note.

Pirating one season of Death Note? How can anyone only watch one season? Lock him up! Also, are we sure this kid is old enough to work at a bank?

Sarah with the beverage assist. I swear, some of these scenes seem like reshoots to add more Charah after complaints were made.

Well, that whole car almost hits Rex thing was anti-climactic. Obviously I didn’t want it to hit Rex, but make it a bit exciting. And it was the cutoff for the commercials too? I mean, I didn’t have to watch them but still.

Someone really loves cryptocurrencies in this show. The displayed price is off by, like, a lot since Bitcoin took off the last few months, which is understandable. Also, assuming that it’s in Canadian dollars, I estimate by the price (if they used the real one) that they shot and/or post-processed this episode near the end of November, as it didn’t really fluctuate around those levels again after that. And kudos for displaying an accurate BTC address.

“Well, that must have hurt”. I beg to differ. These boxes were very obviously empty.

Wait, so is this the end of the unwelcome guests in Charlie’s house? I’m not sure I like the new security system.

Ha! Sarah is still after the risotto. I totally get her.

lol Rex! Look at that evil smirk. He’s totally tripping the alarm for the heck of it. To be fair, when Rex is at home, there’s no need to put the alarm on but let Charlie make the risotto.

While it was an interesting case, it lost me a bit as we were going through the names of the people involved. Also, I did expect someone who came to bleed out inside Charlie’s house to have a more personal connection to him. I find it ridiculous that packages which are sent to the precinct aren’t scanned for explosives, I mean, that’s the first thing you do when a package arrives at a police station.

Promo: Charlie with a bomb strapped to his chest! What’s not to love? Oh, by the way, remember what I said about concussions and getting hit a second time on the head in a short while? This is actually the ghost of Charlie Hudson strapped to a bomb. Also, he has an earbud, which is presumably to communicate with whoever is doing this? Can we use to tell Sarah goodbye please? If this is parallel to the Castle episode, Charlie is going to say “I love you” to… Rex :P

One more piece of useless trivia, a bomb is how we lost one of Rex’s partners in the Italian version (and of course Rex had to watch because why not torture the poor dog, as it was canonically his third partner that was killed). But somehow I’m certain that Charlie will manage to pull through.

Only 2 episodes left! As always, I don't care much for a renewal until we're almost out of episodes.

[cctinsleybaxter]

Furiosa thots!!! Putting under a readmore since it only just came out and i don't want to dissuade people from going. I find it kinda funny I find it kinda sad (I lowkey hated it but the war rig scene made me go stupid aaaa)

Stuff I liked:

Pacing and sound design. Was really skeptical of the 2+ hour runtime but it went by quick and plotting made sense

Costuming! Any time a practical effect or something textured is onscreen (which is not always. bodes well for the 'stuff i hated' section) is awesome; I don't care if it looks stupid or doesn't make sense it's a pleasure to have in class.

Arm backstory

This car

I went in thinking 'sigh well they're never going to beat robert de niro exploding that helicopter in midnight run' and then the war rig scene happened; I was going crazy!!! I loved it from beginning to end. I actually gasped because I'd noticed the grey mass of cloth being used as a flag at the first encampment and thought 'that's my favorite thing they've shown so far' (i was going to say prop but idk that it was practical); WELCOME BACK GREY CLOTH

Chris Hemsworth was somehow my favorite performance, I felt like he nailed the combination of goofy/ridiculous and scary/threatening

Stuff I didn't like:

George Miller uses bible allegories and imagery like he's the fucking Ultraman guy (Eiji Tsuburaya.) Why make posts about how fascinated you are by 'the japanese' using catholic imagery when we got that egregious crucifixion setup. Australians are culpable.

We don't learn anything about furiosa as a person that can't already be gleaned from Fury Road. I do think this does a pretty admirable job of storytelling for a prequel, we learn about what happened to Furiosa and we (sort of) get the character development that led her to take the wives with her, but I wish it'd been a brand new character's story

I like Anya Taylor-Joy and disagree with people saying this was a miscast because she can't act and is only suited to play models (misogyny takes many forms...), but I do think she's best in roles with a lot of speaking and micro-expressions, so playing a woman who barely speaks or emotes and will later become charlize theron just wasn't it. I'm also legitimately worried about how skinny she is rn

Stuff I hated:

This movie looked like absolute garbage in comparison to the rest of the mad maxes; even the ones I think are irredeemably bad. The combination of whatever frame rate they were using and the CGI was just. Ugh.

Scene transitions (so many fades to black) and montage (specifically thinking about the sped-up footage of them assembling the rig, Furiosa's Lion King dream sequence, and 'the horrors of war') were a hot mess

Framing dementus's anarcho-fascism as worse than immortan joe's regular fascism is such a misstep it casts a shadow over the whole movie. Yeah the hedonist with the working class accent who hates art and is too stupid/selfish to run a territory yadda yadda. It's very Stephen King villain, which would be fine!, but Fury Road had such good politics it just felt tired

You're telling me that a woman who spent her childhood kidnapped and threatened with rape (interesting that said threat only comes from individual extra bad guys btw; both evil men-dominated societies accept slavery and rape but condemn pedophilia) falls for her male coworker and mentor figure. You're telling me this is a compelling relationship between two victims of the same system. You're telling me you filmed it like a YA dystopian romance. You're telling me her backstory is that she showed a guy her most treasured and vulnerable possession, a seed from the fruit she plucked before being taken from eden and losing her innocence, and he bade her keep it by putting his big-ass yaoi hand over hers, and that's what solidified their trust. You're telling me she doesn't once speak to a woman who isn't her mom. Can we die? Can we go to the wasteland?