#thanks for letting me know that anon

[duckprintspress]

What constitutes the difference between a good erotica story & a bad one? Specifically, where is the line between "just smut" & "an actual (erotic) story"?

There is no line.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with "just smut" and it's just as much "an actual (erotica) story" as any other story.

We do ask people avoid vignettes - as in, a short, descriptive piece where nothing changes. The standard vignette is something like "an evocative description of a single place in a single moment of time." There's nothing wrong with this, to be clear, and it can be used to fascinating effect, but it's not technically a story in that it has no plot.

We actually once wrote an entire post about what is and isn't a "story," and the TL:DR is that what constitutes a story is that something changes.

Having an orgasm counts as "something changing." So would people getting together, or breaking up, or heck someone getting edged to oblivion and then having their orgasm denied. They got edged. An event happened. Therefore, it has a plot, and something about the characters' relationship has changed because they were involved in that dynamic.

Basically: we love porn for porn's sake and we're absolutely open to pwp stories for this anthology. I expect that we'll end up accepting both stories where the porn is the plot and stories that have a plot where porn is one element.

Hope this helps! :D

[markscherz]

You are everything I aspire to be

If parenting has taught me anything, it is the importance of getting down on your hands and knees and teaching not just facts, but love and enthusiasm for the natural world.

This is my son Q and me. I have dozens of photos like this by now, even though he is just two years old.

Every chance I get, I will kneel down with him and show him the little creatures all around us. Especially when they are frogs. He loves frogs for some reason. No idea why.

It is important that we all see this together. It is beautiful. It is magnificent. We are here. It is improbable to the highest degree. It is fleeting, but it is everything we get. And we can get so, so much of it. If we just get our faces into it and really absorb it.

So that's what l'm trying to do here, I guess. Get all of you to join me in the reeds. And I am so happy to have so many of you along for the journey.

[gabe-lovebot]

councilor 3D model

i learnt 3d modelling from the ground up to bring him to life. he's yours now. do whatever you want with him

[link]

please credit me if you make something using the model (or even ping/link me to it, i would love to see what you made!)

currently available as a .blend, .fbx and an SFM port.

[buglaur]

fireworks show 🎆

material preview version is very cute also :)

i struggled with the lighting on this one so badly, but it turned out alright in the end.

i actually started it last year for new years 2023 but never got around to finishing it, hence no progress pictures this time sadly lol. i do have a very low-res, first draft, test gif though

stills 🥳

[muffinlance]

prompt: Ozai has Azula watch Zuko (his progress or rather lack thereof) from way earlier on, possibly even before Aang gets away from the iceberg in the first place

There it is, written at the bottom of his banishment notice, wobbling in and out of his vision and he’s not sure if it's his eyes—

(Father wouldn’t have meant to blind him. Being blind won't help him catch the Avatar, so he’ll just not go blind.)

It’s either his eyes, or. Or the rage. It has to be the rage.

So Zuko reads the line again, and lets the fire brim up and overflow, until sparks chase the shout from his lips.

“Banishment to be overseen by Crown Princess Azula?”

- - -

“Prince Zuko,” Azula says, standing as tall as an eleven year old can. She’s using his title, so that he’ll use hers. And if he doesn’t then he’s ill-mannered and not fit for his own. 

“Crown Princess Azula,” Zuko grits out.

“I’ll just be inspecting your ship, then. Father’s orders.”

Two men are in shackles by the time she’s done. 

“—Fostering mutiny against your prince,” she is yelling, and somehow her voice is just as high-pitched as his without sounding childish at all. “When our father hears about this—”

- - -

“So you had them executed,” Fire Lord Ozai inquires. Lightly. And from behind his flames.

“Of course, father,” says the kneeling child. “It was an attack on our family.”

Her father doesn’t say anything.

Azula is eleven. Eleven, she had presumed, was old enough to count. 

One, two, three. Four, with Uncle. The royal family.

Her father is silent still.

One. Two.

“Forgive my impertinence, Fire Lord,” she says. “I will bring them to you for judgment next time.”

“Do so,” Fire Lord Ozai says. He does not contest the ‘next time.’

- - -

“Crown Princess Azula,” Zuko says.

“Your bandage is off, brother,” Azula says. “Are you blind?”

“No.”

(The blur of her red robes, the eye-searing glint of sunlight off her headpiece—he’s not blind in that eye. He’s just… still recovering.)

“Lovely,” she says. “Then what’s your excuse for the condition of this ship?”

…He has an increased budget for repairs, by the time she’s done. 

- - -

“Brother,” Azula says, “traditionally knives are to be delivered to the back.”

“I… what?” her brother says, still holding out the inexplicable thing. “No, I bought it at port. For you. See, it matches the one Uncle got me.”

“How original,” she says.

Her brother turns a shade of red that puts his bending to shame. Not that it’s a particularly high bar. “Fine, I’ll just—throw it out.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. At the least, Mai will want it.”

- - -

“Nice knife,” says Mai, looking at the hilt peeking out of Azula’s boot.

“Be silent,” Azula says, thus ending that conversation.

- - -

“Did great-grandfather… did we…” starts her brother, fresh from scurrying about the Eastern Air Temple like some particularly dim-witted pheasant-monkey, the dust not even brushed from his clothes even though he knew her ship was waiting down here. “Azula, there were children—”

“Be silent,” she says.

- - -

“You’re leaving frequently,” comments father, as his knife cuts through the pheasant-monkey, clicking against the plate below. The persimmon-cherry sauce is thick and red and smearing.  

“I find it advantageous to cultivate a working knowledge of our nation’s tactics,” Azula answers. She does not push around her meat like a child, but she does eat only lightly; the dish is more sour than she remembers.

“And your brother?”

“Oh, him,” she says, to which her father smiles.

- - -

“...What?” Zuko asks, blinking down at the scrolls. 

“It’s your birthday,” Azula says. “Apparently, I should have gotten you a calendar.”

“Thank you?”

She sighs.

- - -

“Do we… tell him we can hear him?” asks the assistant cook, as the prince continues monologuing. Dramatically, and loudly. Through the pipe connecting the drain of the kitchen sink to the ones in the shower. 

“Ssh, I think this is one of his new plays.”

- - -

She gets him a calendar for his next birthday. It’s not funny.

- - -

He gets her a doll, for hers. The look on Uncle’s face as she torches it in front of them both is hilarious.

- - -

“Brother,” she says, looking up at the damage to his ship. “This is not the way to requisition additional repair funds.”

“Captain Zhao,” her uncle says in the background, with heights of pleasant antagonism she can only aspire to. As if a general could mistake Zhao’s new insignia. Particularly with all the polishing he does. 

“It’s commander now.”

“How did you manage this?” she asks.

“Uh,” Zuko says. “Can we… speak alone?”

She eyes her brother’s shifting stance. Eyes, too, the way Zhao’s men are already moving to intercept and interrogate his crew. One of the new commander’s more noxious habits is stalking her brother’s every move. 

Well. She’d been meaning to deal with that, anyway.

Azula snaps her fingers at the commander’s guards.

“Detain him,” she says. And for a moment, just a moment, her dear uncle freezes, as if she were talking about someone he actually cared for.

The guards don’t. She’s trained them better than that.

“Princess,” Commander Zhao says, his snarl well hidden behind a smile. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Crown Princess Azula,” she corrects. “Now hush; the adults are talking.”

- - -

They have an Avatar to catch, apparently. Her brother is coming home.

[bixels]

I commend your willingness to include an Indigenous character in the main cast, and that you're willing to listen to indigenous voices, but when you said a few weeks ago that she was just "First Nations" and didn't elaborate... at the moment I didn't want to say anything, but it did feel bad that you made an effort to specify the country of origin of everyone else but could only say first nations/indigenous for her. And now that I know your explanation, again, I really like your art and your world building, and it's great that you ask indigenous people to talk to you, but how would you feel if someone made an AU where everyone is Italian, Venezuelan, Bangladeshi, and then there's an "East Asian" character with no specification of which country they're from because the author didn't feel prepared to actually define it?

I hear you. Dash is Lakota. I'll be sure to distinguish that moving forward.

[waywardstation]

Don’t start reading your Pokédex fieldwork to your amnesiac uncle after a big lunch of potato mochi, or else you’ll probably put him to sleep!

Today’s the 26th, National Aunt and Uncle day!! I had to draw Akari hanging out with her favorite uncle, Ingo!

[yakny]

COME ON BABY, DON'T FEAR THE REAPER

[yamtaroh]

I dyed my frostbite armor pink so it could match the Cece hat.

pink link!!!

[artemispt]

some drivers saying carlos first because muppet is such a lando word to say but once the interviewer goes “the other one” they all immediately know it’s about lando because they always come in a pair no matter what 🥹

“The other one”

“It could have been both ways, to be honest”

Lando giggling… “it’s about me”

“they always come in a pair no matter what” yes 🥺 Muppets ❤️

[silverwhittlingknife]

In issue # 110 of Nightwing (1996), why did Dick look irritated (and clench his fist) when Tim told him that Bruce considered adoption (which Tim rejected obvs), especially since Tim's dad was killed (and Dick knows that)?

ANON YOU HAVE ASKED ABOUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE ISSUES OF NIGHTWING OF ALL TIME <333

Very short answer: it's the trauma

So the thing is, this is a heartbreaking issue that requires a lot of footnoting, because the emotional undercurrents are BIG and POWERFUL but the dialogue is deliberately understated?? and Dick and Tim are often not saying what they mean?? or just straight-up lying to each other?? and they're TALKING PAST EACH OTHER because

they both suck at communication

they are not even TRYING to communicate their actual problems - like, if Tim straight-up said, "A bunch of people I love are dead and I keep having nightmares about how it's my fault and I'm guilty and miserable and lonely and avoiding Bruce and I came to your city because I was reeling and I missed you and I didn't know what else to do and now I'm scared you're mad at me," that would crack through Dick's determination to keep his distance because Dick's whole thing here is based on the conviction that Tim is fine, but of course Tim doesn't say any of that, and Dick can't read his mind. And Dick's not quite as determined a liar as Tim so Tim is able to figure out a little more of what's going on with Dick vis-a-vis insecurities, but Tim's still completely missing what a colossal mess Dick is right now, and again: this is because he's not a mind-reader and Dick doesn't tell him! And doesn't want to tell him! And doesn't want him to know! So Tim thinks that Dick's maybe acting this way because he's mad at Tim, and he tries to solve the problem from that angle, even though that's not at all what's going on and actually Dick's miserable and traumatized and mad at himself

I love it so much

So the short-ish answer to your question is, Tim's correctly guessed at some of Dick's insecurities here. Dick's not mad that Tim's in the city, but Tim's right that the adoption was a big deal to Dick, and he's right that Dick's a little threatened by the idea of Tim getting adopted too. (This wouldn't normally be the case! But Dick was kinda uneasy about Tim in the early days when his own relationship to Bruce felt very shaky, and right now Dick's feeling like he's lost Bruce again, and when he's insecure about himself he tends to slide into seeing Tim as a rival - both in vigilante terms and in terms of a connection to Bruce.)

And probably the main reason Dick's so stunned - and a bit angry - here is because Bruce didn't tell him, and although this is very different from Bruce not telling him about adopting Jason... it's still jabbing at those old wounds.

BUT THE LONGER ANSWER is important! Dick loves Tim, a lot!! SO MUCH. He watches Tim sadly from a distance and thinks about how much he loves him in this very comic! So why isn't Dick more enthusiastic about the potential adoption? Why is he skulking around in alleys being miserable and self-destructive and avoiding Tim so determinedly that Tim's convinced he's offended Dick somehow? What's going on???

Well, Dick's life has been imploding.

So to really answer your question, we have to back up a bit and get the context of what's going on with Dick and Tim prior to this comic.

I started writing about this and it got way out of hand, so below please find a guide to my four-part manifesto about Nightwing 110 and what's going on and why I think it's great:

Background: Dick + Tim + Trauma Conga Lines

Background: War Games Aftermath

Nightwing 110

Fix-It Fic Ideas

rambling manifesto is below the cut

Background: Dick + Tim + Trauma Conga Lines

Images: a reporter is shot and killed in front of Dick in N 93; a few days later, Darla is shot and killed in front of Tim in R 129; a blood-covered Dick turns from Blockbuster's body in N 93; a blood-covered Tim stares at his father's body in IC 6

Timeline-wise, we're in The Bad Year for Dick and Tim. Dick's life has been FALLING APART. Blockbuster figured out his secret identity and started murdering his entire supporting cast: Blockbuster hired someone to attack Haly's Circus, blew up Dick's entire apartment building, and shot a reporter in front of Dick. In the climactic confrontation, Catalina Flores killed Blockbuster and raped Dick.

More or less simultaneously in War Games, Tim's life has ALSO been falling apart and his supporting cast has been getting gruesomely murdered. In quick succession, Jack figured out Tim's secret and Tim had to quit, Steph got hired and fired as Robin; Steph accidentally started a gang war; Darla got shot and killed in front of Tim during the gang war; Steph got killed by Black Mask; and Jack Drake got killed by Captain Boomerang.

It's a grimdark time in DC comics.

Background: War Games Aftermath

Dick's slowly recovering in the Manor as Bruce recaps recent events to him (Batman 634)

Now, Dick's actually part of War Games - very briefly. A day or two after Blockbuster's death, Bruce calls Dick for help, and Dick comes to Gotham. Dick and Tim briefly interact but Gotham is in flames, they're both freaking out, and they don't really help each other - Tim tries to tell Dick about Darla, and Dick shuts him down (not realizing Darla is actually Tim's friend); Dick has a panic attack in front of Tim and Tim drags him out of danger but gets snappish instead of worried.

AND THEN, midway through the gang war, Dick gets shot in the leg and ends up in a coma for a while. By the time he's recovered enough to wake up and walk around, Steph's dead, Jack's dead, the funerals are over, and Tim - who's avoiding Bruce - has moved to Blüdhaven.

Here's Dick trying to get answers out of Alfred in Nightwing 99 (Alfred and Bruce aren't telling him anything, either because they can't stand to talk about it or because they're worried about impeding his recovery):

Somewhere around here - presumably whenever he first learns about Jack's death? - Dick calls Tim, who doesn't pick up, in IC 7:

In Nightwing 99, it's implied that Dick leaves the Manor almost as soon as he wakes up, after confronting Bruce:

Dick can't bring himself to confess Blockbuster's death, but obliquely admits his own distress: "…Bruce, I'm lost." Bruce wants to solve things by throwing themselves into The Mission in Gotham: "It's just you and me again, Dick. But there's plenty of work to do." As he talks, Dick grabs his crutches and leaves. He confronts Catalina, arrests her, and tries to turn himself in... but Amy doesn't let him. As he's walking out, angry at Amy and at himself, a prisoner offers him a card.

Meanwhile, in the Batcave, Alfred's stunned to discover that Dick's abandoned his costume:

In Nightwing 107, we learn that Dick has ditched everything and apparently joined the mob - or is he undercover? Dick ultimately comes up with justifications for what he's doing, but a lot of what he's doing is punishing himself and hiding from his life. He's in Detroit for a while, but then has to go back to Blüdhaven, where he sees Tim...

...and now we're caught up with Nightwing 110.

Nightwing 110

I haven't had a chance to see Robin in action since the beginning of the gang wars in Gotham. It seems like just yesterday he was an earnest little computer geek too smart for his own good. He's still too smart for his own good and he can still kick butt with a search engine, but now he's a full-fledged superhero, to boot. Wonder if he knows how good he is? Not just at the fighting, but at keeping the whole thing on his terms. That's really hard to do, and Tim - he's been through so much, and weathered it so well.

Dick's been staying mostly in Detroit rather than Blüdhaven for various reasons, but one very important one is that he's been avoiding Tim.

Dick and Tim's relationship always suffers when Dick's self-worth issues get in the way, and this is probably the most dramatic moment AND IT'S SO SAAAAAD *wails*

From very early on, Dick has had a very high opinion of Tim, and - like Bruce's conviction that "you're better than me, Dick" - this is

very heartwarming and an expression of Dick's faith in Tim

very important to Tim, who tries really hard to impress Dick and (like Dick) hangs a lot of his self-worth on being needed and useful

a source of many sweet moments

but also

a source of problems in their relationship, because Dick's high opinion of Tim and low opinion of himself means he consistently underestimates how important he is to Tim, wonders if Tim would be better off without him, and sometimes thinks that keeping his distance is good for Tim so that Dick doesn't bring him down... and meanwhile Tim interprets Dick's distance as disapproval or hostility

When Dick's down on himself, he'll continually compare himself unfavorably to Tim - Tim questions more, Tim's better with Bruce, Tim's got better computer skills, etc. etc.

And that's what's happening here, when Dick watches Tim fight from a distance:

Dick: Still, Timmy played it through nice and clean. Disarmed the perps, protected and avoided the cops, kept any civilians from being shot... God, I love that kid. Too much to let him see me like this.

This isn't a neutral assessment of Tim's skills. This is Dick castigating himself. The implication is: Tim plays it nice and clean, Tim kept civilians from getting shot... unlike me. Elsewhere in this arc, Dick's been convinced that he's "poison."

He can't bear to see Tim because he's certain he'll only bring Tim down.

... There's a problem with his plan, though. Tim's spotted him.

Narrator voice: they were not okay

I LOVE THIS PANEL SO MUCH

Tim spots Dick before he can sneak away, and chases after him. At first he tries to tease light-heartedly - "Look at you! Back on your feet!" - but when Dick looks away grim-faced, Tim sobers and we get a bit more of his actual worries. (Tim will sometimes fake cheerfulness when under stress - both Babs and his friends comment on this in War Games and in Teen Titans.)

Now they catch up. Tim asks Dick if he's okay. (Dick says he is. He's not.) Where he's staying. ("Some people" are the mobster family.) Dick asks Tim how his step-mom is. (Tim says she's okay. She's not. She's had a breakdown.) How school's going. (Tim says school's okay too. Actually, he's dropped out.)

And now at last we've looped back to the panels at the top! Dick tries to retreat, and Tim - convinced that Dick is mad at him, which is really not the case - tries to figure out if Dick is mad at him for coming to Blüdhaven without permission, or about Bruce's offer of adoption. (Tim's self-worth issues mean that Tim's convinced that Dick is mad at him about something, as opposed to the truth, which is that Dick is spiraling and it has nothing to do with Tim.)

Dick (turning away): We - we shouldn't be talking like this. Tim (fake-cheer, acting as if Dick means "we shouldn't be talking with you in costume and me out-of-costume"): Well, go get your gear! Dick: I can't do that. Tim (more serious now): You're not mad I'm, like, in your city or anything? Dick (shocked): NO! No. I'm honored. You have more of a right to be here than I do. Tim: Is it the adoption thing? Dick: The what? Tim: 'Cause I was a little worried about that. That's kinda part of why I said no. I mean, that and the uncle thing. I was just thinking it wasn't really all that long since he officially adopted you, which was kind of a big deal, emotionally or whatever, and to me you're like totally his son and I don't wanna step on that or anything.

Dick (whirling): What are you talking about, Tim? Bruce is going to adopt you? Tim (hands up): No! I mean, he was. But he's not now. I've got this uncle… So I don't need, you know, anything really… from Bruce, or… You, uh. You didn't know. I'm sorry, I figured he would've talked to you about it or something. Dick (turning away, jumping off the balcony): Yeah, right. Fat chance. Tim: Well anyway, it's not gonna happen, so you don't have to worry about it... right?

Dick's unnerved by the adoption offer mostly because it drives home his distance from Bruce - he didn't know Bruce was offering this, and since Dick's been thinking of himself as Estranged from Everyone Forever, it feels like Tim joining Bruce's family - replacing Dick - instead of Tim joining Dick's family. So he reacts badly - EVEN THOUGH!!! AGAIN!!! DICK LOVES TIM A LOT!!!

So Dick emphasizes the distance he's trying to create: tells Tim that whatever he does is up to him and Bruce, not Dick, because Dick's withdrawing from everything. Actually, Tim should forget that he ever knew Dick:

Dick (pulls his hood up, turns away): Look, Timmy, I'm sorry. I don't care what he does. If he can be of help to you, you should take him up on it. I wish I could offer to help you myself, but I can't. I'm not part of this anymore. This whole thing… I'm out. Tim: Yeah, right… Dick: From now on, it'd be better if you forgot you ever knew me. Tim (echoing what Dick said): ...Fat chance.

Tim's hurt by this, and he's been pretty oblivious about what's going on with Dick, but he's not an idiot, and after a moment of hesitation he correctly figures out from this ramble what Dick's not saying, which is that Dick's feeling like he's worthless to Bruce, that Bruce doesn't value him, that he's lost that relationship. So Tim impulsively tries to reassure him that Bruce does need him... but Dick's in a lousy headspace and it doesn't work:

Dick's walking away. Tim chases after him again. Tim: Hey, uh-! Remember how I once told you that Batman needed a Robin? Well, that's still true, but even more than that, he…he needs you. You know, not like every second or whatever, but at the end of the day, he needs to know you're still on his side. It's…important. Dick kicks over a newspaper stand. Dick (glaring): YOU- ! - you have no idea how much of my life I've wasted believing that was true. Dick pulls up his hood again and walks away.

(Side-note: forever wonderful to me that both Dick and Tim use "need" as a synonym for "love." Issues: they have them.)

Fix-It Fic Ideas

I have spent a lot of time thinking about potential fix-it fics for this comic (TRAGICALLY AFAIK NO ONE HAS WRITTEN ANY, FEEL FREE TO BE THE FIRST). An idea that I offer free to a good home:

A bit after Dick leaves, Tim winds up in trouble and gets injured and Dick has to rescue him (how does Dick find out about it? I dunno)

Tim's injured so naturally Dick's gonna take him back to his home with his stepmom and/or uncle

. . . except the uncle is an actor and not a very convincing one; Tim's entire edifice of lies collapses

Dick realizes that Tim is not actually weathering things well

Dick still thinks that he's poison and terrible and awful and (insert self-hating monologue here) BUT Tim living on his own after his dad is murdered is so bad as far as Dick's concerned that clearly SOME kind of intervention is necessary

Tim insists he does not need an intervention

Dick's sense of responsibility and worry over Tim now force him to carve out time from his major project of hate-myself-and-feel-bad to try to look out for Tim

Dick insists that Tim stay with him until his stepmom is better

They share an apartment for a while

They are both still super-super-super traumatized

???

eventual hugs and healing on both sides

profit

Alternate fix-it:

Tim follows Dick back to the Tevis' house like the little stalker he is, and then introduces himself in disguise as Alvin Draper

Dick's furious and frustrated but can't do much about this without screwing up his own disguise

Tim's determined to figure out what's going on with Dick partly for altruistic reasons and partly because he's also running from his own life, but Dick doesn't figure out the second part until way later

Dick's so frustrated with Tim being here when Dick told him to go - plus wrapped up in wondering what Tim knows, and being paranoid about what he might figure out, and hating being observed - that it takes him a while to start wondering questions like, "wait, shouldn't Tim be in school"

Dick and Tim are pretending not to know each other - or pretending to have a hostile relationship, or something - so any real conversations have to be in snatches in secret

Dick tries to bluff/threaten Tim into leaving (for his own good!!) but it doesn't work

Slow crawl toward mutual awareness of trauma which they're both super-self-conscious about - Dick hears Tim crying at night; Tim hears Dick's nightmares or sees another panic attack

??

At some point it becomes increasingly obvious that they know each other / that their story about their relationship is fake, and when the mobsters confront them, Dick says yeah, he lied, actually Tim's his little brother, and he gives some kind of stylized version of the truth which doubles as an emotional speech to Tim who gets all choked up and hugs him

and it's very touching and emotional because remember Tim HASN'T been adopted so they're NOT brothers and Tim was worried maybe Dick didn't WANT to be brothers but Dick CONSIDERS him a brother so ;_;

??? i don't know what happens next. do they quit the mob? does Dick now explain his mob-infiltration plan to Tim?

meanwhile off-panel Bruce stops Deathstroke from blowing up Blüdhaven, well done Bruce

oh wait or maybe Cass does??

anyway Dick and Tim have hugged so then there's a happy ending

In Conclusion

IN CONCLUSION Dick and Tim should hug more and this comic proves it. Look at them! They both need hugs! They're standing so close to each other! THEY ARE MIRROR IMAGES OF TRAUMA AND BAD COPING MECHANISMS they need each other and they don't know how to say it - they want to help each other and they also don't know how to say it - they don't know how to talk to each other or to anyone else - Dick lashes out and Tim lies and they both isolate themselves and withdraw into depression loneliness even though they could help each other! and would want to help each other! but they won't ask for what they need because they don't think they deserve it and they don't realize how important they are to each other

i just think they're neat. i want to study them like bugs and rattle them around in a jar until all the masks come off and they can actually see each other clearly

[vicsbasement]

I think Carlos may have a soft spot for Charles and I'm not saying this because I ship them. Carlos is always so considerate and thoughtful with him and he always seems very attuned to his needs as well. I often think about Singapore last year, because that race was right after Monza and after Carlos' mother liked that tweet about Charles and honour; you could see there was a strange air surrounding them and Carlos was glued to Charles the whole weekend but in a very discreet manner, always making sure to give him enough space. He also didn't miss the opportunity to reassure Charles that he does like his teammate (during the fan meeting with the Alpine drivers) and you can see in the clip that Charles was visibly relieved. As for Charles, before the announcement (that's how we're gonna refer to it I guess) I too thought that Charles didn't care about Carlos as much as Carlos cares about him, but boy was I wrong… They both care about the other a whole lot and it will be hard to see them part ways at the end of the season

I'm with you on this 100%. You know, after the Monza incident there was so much speculation in fandom, and then Singapore happened and we were all like, running in circles because we thought Charles was furious. I even wrote a whole fic around it because I really felt the tension, and I wasn't the only one, the Monza thing awakened a lot of feelings in a lot of people 😂 But, funnily enough, it all went away soon after. Around that fan forum you mentioned and, for example, in COTA; they were all cozy around each other all over again. They were calling each other pet names, they did the lasso thing... I think they patched it all up right around Japan. I'm willing to bet Carlos apologized to Charles about his mother's faux pas. Because he's not his mother, and Charles knows this, but Carlos still wanted to make a point to apologize to him because it wasn't nice. Especially since both of them were very much enjoying their fight on track during Monza! I do believe that Carlos was a bit affronted but when he got out of the car and Charles was looking ecstatic, he just let it go. Immediately. He'd (we'd) never seen Charles behaving like that after a race, he was elated. Which shows us, once again, that Charles really loves Carlos as a teammate and as a competitor. He does see him as his ultimate rival, in the end what's the saying? Your teammate is your biggest competitor? And that's them. There's incredible amounts of respect between each other.

And they got closer, even, after COTA and after Qatar, I'm willing to bet. They looked so close in Mexico and Interlagos, and then Vegas... like the whole united front thing looked absolutely compelling and real. They were spending a lot of time off-track together, too. I think that after Monza, they had a lot of talks. Either about life or the team, (Charles does like to insist on telling us they talk about a lot more than work whenever they do spend time together off-track) and I firmly believe they reached a point in which their friendship bloomed. They probably found common ground somewhere and decided, well, if they fans are going to constantly pit us against each other, then let's show them how wrong they are. Unfortunately we didn't get much from Charles after Carlos got hurt during the Vegas practice, but still. He was close to Carlos. Very, very close, and they behaved really sweetly towards each other during that weekend and Carlos really did lament several times that he wasn't close to Charles on track to fight the Red Bulls because of the car. I don't know, anon, if at some point I was a Charlos believer now I'm a Charlos truther because they've shown me time and time again that they genuinely like each other. As people, as teammates, as rivals. They admire and respect each other! We can't forget (we'll never forget) that time Carlos admitted to following Charles' carreer in F2. It's etched into the collective brain of the Charlos fandom. So... Yeah. Carlos Sainz Jr. having a soft spot for Charles Leclerc and his pretty eyes? Checks out. Also: the fact that Charles lets Carlos be his touchy self with him when he wasn't this tactile with any of his previous teammates says... a lot about Carlos' magnetism and power of conviction. Because he never moves away or rejects him, he's always open and waiting for Carlos to touch him. So. It's a win in all fronts tbh.

[hcdragonwrites]

Cozy (a @jttw-monkeybusiness Drabble )

So I made another one- this one was inspired by this ask (I suck at Hyperlinks I’m so sorry)

It rolled a bit in my brain and kept begging to be fleshed out, so I decided to give it life ! Enjoy!

Snow

Snow fell in white flurries, chasing away the blossoms and birds that had been sitting in the trees just moments before. The storm was in a full frenzy now, peeling petals from overeager trees who had budded too soon, and throwing the birds from the sky. The wind whipped up the cold powder to spray back in the face of the pilgrims as they continued on their journey. They had left the warm subtropical forest only hours ago, where Sophie had rolled her sleeves up to relieve some of the excess heat. Now however, she was shivering.

None of the group, save for Wukong, was truly equipped for the snow and cold. Pigsys ears were turning purple from the temperature as he tried, and failed, to hide from the worst of it behind Sandy. Sandy silently continued on, carving a path for Sophie (who trailed farther behind) to walk through. The snow was already deep, coming to her knees as they continued to follow the tiny path up the mountain. Black rock jutted upward and outward like broken teeth into the white air. Horse and Monk both were struggling ahead, Yulongs sides shivering in the wet as the snow melted on his fur. Tripitaka called Wukong over, asking him to scout ahead to look for a place they could shelter for the duration of this storm. Sophie could see there heads bent together as Master and pupil discussed. Wukong, for once, didn’t reply with a snort or a quick jab at how Trip should be lucky for him to be his disciple. Instead he had somersaulted off, gone in a flash of fur and tiger stripes, into the air.

“Would be nice if I could just somersault out of here.” Sophie muttered.

A freak blizzard had not been on the list of things Sophie was ready for. She had faced shape-changing demons, women that turned to great tigers to devour Tripitaka, mountain gods throwing stones down into their path and the like. Sophie was prepared for any person or creature - or at least- expecting it. The weather however? She was severely underprepared for. She had the travel clothes she had bought with the coin purse she’d been given. They were meant for light rain and mild heat. Not for a snowstorm. Sophies hair was getting wet and the cold was starting to chill her ears from where it melted.

“It’s so cold…” she muttered. She kept following Sandys footpath, thankful for the giant of a river demon and his slow shuffling walk. If he was walking normally he would have left her far behind in the snow.

Her foot hit a rock and slipped, sending her flailing into a rapidly growing snowbank. “F-f-f-freezing! AH!” Snow had gone down her shirt, sending a chill up her spine. Faster than a wildcat she had hopped from the bank, shaking herself.

“Hate snow hate snow hate snow—“ she chanted her mantra as she slapped off the powder, trying to prevent it from melting and wetting her clothes. Wet clothes would only spell disaster. Sophie could recall all the cold born illnesses from one special National Geographic did on Everest and the extreme exposure the hikers faced there: pneumonia, Trench foot, frostbite, hypothermia, flu, Chilblains, bronchitis —

Her foot slipped again as her mind was listing all the things that could happen. Sophie would have been in the snowbank a second time except something caught her by the midriff and hauled her up.

“Stupid women stay on your feet!” Wukong snarled in her ear, setting her down. Sophie nodded, teeth chattering and nose turning red as the cold began to chap it. “Of all the people here I thought at least you had the common sense to be aware of ice!”

From up ahead came the faint cry and heavy fall as Pigsys fell face first in the snow. Sandy had to quickly turn to hid a chuckle as the drenched demon began wilding swinging his rake around in rage.

“S-s-sorry.” She mumbled, shoving her hands beneath her armpits. “Slipped.”

“What’s wrong with your speech? You sound like a squirrel.” Wukong cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. He rolled his eyes when Sophie didn’t banter back irritated she wasn’t snapping back at him. That agitation grew when he felt something like worry begin to itch his pelt. Of the pilgrims, the two mortals were in his charge of care and were the most delicate. While Wukong could fight off monsters and Demons and wicked minded mortals he could not fight a storm. Well- he could if he really wanted to find the celestial body responsible for its creation. But that would take time- and time was not on his side on this.

Tripitaka had put on a brave face when he had asked the Monkey King to find shelter. That didn’t mean Wukong had not noticed how his Masters hands had turned red at the growing cold, how his body shivered and his nose sniffed. Wukong would have teased, poked and prodded at his master- it was his nature to rile and cause mischief. But when he had seen the half awake expression on the mortal man’s face, Wukong had bit his tongue (with great effort) and had instead nodded.

Seeing Sophie in a similar state made the itch beneath his pelt grow worse as fire ants had begun to bite his skin.

“Damn it.” He cursed beneath his breath. He snatched her arm, avoiding her hand, and started dragging her behind him. “Come on just a bit farther you softie. I found a cave up ahead where we can get out of the worst of it. You mortals are ABSOLUTELY worthless when it comes to weather —“

Sophie was only half listening to Wukongs ranting. She allowed herself to be dragged up the mountain pass, trusting the Monkey King to find a better route than her own dimming senses. The cold was like a blanket she wanted to escape out of. Or escape into? She couldn’t remember clearly. If she closed her eyes… she was so tired. The snow looked inviting, comforting. Like the best downy comforter. Like the fluffiest pillow.

Maybe I just … need to lay … down in the comfort. Just close my eyes for a few minutes.

They had been walking for hours before the storm blew in. Her feet hurt, her hands shook and it was so cold. Cold. She just wanted to sleep.

“SOPHIE LOOK AT ME!” Wukong yanked her and she was rattled enough to open her eyes wider in surprise. Sun Wukong was right in her face, leaning so close she could see every line of his facial markings in detail. His breath came from between his teeth like some dragons as he glared.

“Ye-es?!”

“Stay awake- we're almost there. If you fall asleep while I’m dragging your ass up the mountain I will bite your pretty nose clean off!” The demonic monkey spat, then, half carried, half dragged Sophie the rest of the way. Leaning against his back Sophie sighed. Through the clothing she could feel it- like desert sand warmed by the sun. Delicious heat. Sophie - who wouldn’t in normal circumstances have cuddled so close- practically melted against the warmth. What else could she do? Wukong was dragging her up the mountain- practically carrying her. She could see the bend in the mountain pass- a steep cliff where the road cut itself around and hugged the mountain as a snake would do climbing along a vine. Almost there.

“How come you get to be so warm?” She grumbled, not realizing she had said it aloud. Wukong had heard however, and his face became a storm cloud as his heart took a shuddering beat.

“Maybe grow some fur or ask for the Buddha to make you some furry creature. Bet he would too.” Wukong grumbled back.

Stupid fucking women.

They reached the curve in the mountain where Pigsy and Sandy- mostly Sandy since the pig demon kept complaining about how cold his snout was- were setting up three tents. The tents were simple, the leather treated against wet weather and solid. All pigsy had to do was drive the stakes into the stone which, it seemed, he was failing at.

“It’s so damn cold!” Pigsy snorted angrily stamping his hands together, having missed the spike for the third time. “Blasted Heaven and whoever ordered a storm now of all times! Don’t they know who’s crossing these mountains?”

“Less talking more working.” Sandy angrily chided. He had finished setting up the second tent all on his own. When Pigsy went to open his mouth to make another comment and the usually peaceful Sandy shoved him across the shallow cave to the last tent and the one closest to the entrance.

As Wukong walked past, Pigsy lifted an eyebrow at the strange sight. The Monkey King could see the pig beginning to lift a lip in a smirk only to stop when he noticed Sophie’s shivering.

“What did you do?” Those were the last words Wukong expected to come out of his fellow brothers mouth.

“WHAT DID I DO?!” He bared his teeth, fangs on display. He didn’t have time for Pigsy or for his own feelings to confuse him. He knew Sophie was practically clinging to his back like the newborn monkeys did to their mothers back on Flower Fruit Mountain. He was very aware of it. The last thing he needed was for this thick pink idiot to start shit with him.

“I DIDNT DO SHIT YOU THICK HEADED BOAR.” He spat, continuing past. “THIS IDIOT STARTED FALLING ASLEEP IN THE FUCKING STORM. NOW SHUT UP AND GET THE OTHER TENT SET UP.”

Wukong left Pigsy behind, angrily chattering to himself and feeling embarrassed all the while. He couldn’t let that thick womanizing boar know any of Wukongs feelings. If he did, the damn brute would only press his nose to it and route deeper. The sooner he got Sophie off his back the better. Even though he didn’t entirely want that.

He reached the back corner of the cave, setting Sophie down. She huffed, letting go with some reluctance to his warm back. The Monkey King knelt, leaning in. Sophie’s shivering was less. Good.

“I’ll be back- I have to make sure the pink ham doesn’t fuck up the last tent. Once I’ve tended Yulong and seen to my masters comforts I’ll be back to check on you.”

Sophie pulled her knees to her chest. She was still so cold. She wanted nothing more then to curl up and sleep- to find something warm and hold onto it. She heard Wukong from far off - but she nodded.

“S-S-sure… just gonna fall .. asleep.”

“Don’t fall asleep you idiot.” He snapped.

“Why not?” Sophie groaned. She was tired

“Remember. You are in wet clothes. Wake up just to remember - Think. Use that reading brain of yours.” He flicked her between the eyes. That woke Sophie up enough as the pain cleared her head.

“Ow, what the hell Wukong?!” Sophie felt like she had come out of a daze. Her fingers started rubbing at the pain. It wasn’t terrible but … she felt like a child be scolded. Sophie glared up into the smug monkey face.

“Awake? Good. Now fucking listen before you nod off again.” Wukong smirked just a bit. The itching beneath his fur had eased just enough upon seeing her get mad. He spoke slowly, for her sake but also to press in how much he enjoyed giving her orders- and being right about them. “Your clothes are wet. You can’t sleep in them. Change to new ones. In fact, bundle up as much as you can. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Wukong stood up, then turned back around to flick her on the forehead again.

“Ow! I’m up, I'm up!” Sophie rubbed at the space between her brows.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes yes …” she uncurled herself and stood as well, looking down at the Monkey King. “Get out of wet clothes and get new ones. Bundle up. That really hurt you know.”

“If you are still in wet fucking clothes, I’ll do a lot worse then just smack you between the eyes.” And then he was away, already cussing Pigsy out who had, somehow, managed to rip the tent.

It was a only about twenty minutes later but Sophie had managed not to fall asleep. She had gotten into the tent and had peeled the worst of the wet clothes off. Her poor shoes were the worst for wear- the socks and the soles were soaked. She would have to wear her spare shoes tomorrow and let these ones dry. Sophie had set the wet clothes to the farthest side of the tent. She was now dressed in a pair of gray sweats, a long sleeve and her hoodie of bright orange with clementines decorating the front. She felt much warmer and absolutely exhausted. Her fingers were red where the cold had gotten them, her lips felt chapped from the dry air, and her body just kept shivering.

Sophie had retreated almost completely into the hoodie- only her face was viewable.

The tent flap lifted and Wukong stepped in, a bowl of some sort of wild berries and cold rice in one hand. He took one look at her huddled there on her sleeping mat and snorted.

“You look like some orange orangutan.”

“Hahah very funny. See how you like the cold when you don’t have fur.” She shot back. Wukong offered the bowl to her and she took it, digging into it with gusto.

“How’s Trip?” She asked between bites.

“Alive.” Wukong leaned back, putting his arms beneath his head as he stared up at the tent ceiling. “You two would have frozen if not for me- you were both starting to look pinker than yangmei fruit.”

“Thank you.” Sophie said.

“Mm? What are you thankful for ?”

Oh he was gonna ask her for all of it then? Sophie looked at him. Wukong had propped himself up enough to stare at her, waiting.

“Thank you for the food.” She lifted the now empty bowl- she had been famished - to him. “Thank you for finding a spot to rest. And … thanks for dragging me out of the snow.”

“You almost died I hope you know that.” He smirked, laying back down, eyes closing. She followed suit, too tired to sit up anymore or even bicker back with him.

“Yeah I did …” Sophie yawned. Usually she wouldn’t admit so readily to Wukong just how certain situations had made her dependent upon him. He was always, in some way or other, saving the lot of them. When Tripitaka was snatched up by some Goblins belonging to some chieftain of a nearby mountain, when Pigsy had boasted that they didn’t need Wukong and then (almost immediately) failed to find food when Wukong was sent away. He had stopped the dragon horse from foundering and taken to the care of his hooves and coat many a time. The Monkey King had seen to restoring the missing supplies from Sophie pack when a group of mischievous raccoon spirits had taken it. Wukong had even replaced Sandy’s teakettle when it was smashed in battle (Sophie was pretty sure he had stolen it).

He may act aloof and pompous but deep down, this big old brute cared for them. Even Pigsy.

Sophie felt her eyes grow heavy as Wukong kept talking about how she had stumbled in the snow like some “dumb struck fawn” until he came to help her.

As she relaxed to the sound of his voice rumbling on and on, it almost felt … cozy. Yes Wukong may like to slide the occasional wriggly salamander into her water skin, he may thumb through her things like they were his, he may call her idiot, stupid women, and softie. But. There was no real malice behind his actions.

He was also kind of … warm. She scooted closer, half listening to the Monkey ramble on about the idiocy of mortals and the greatness of beings such as him. He was rambling on about his natural prowess over mortals and how he had mastered the arts of immortality and Tripitaka couldn’t even master warding off a cold. Sophie fell asleep before he could get to the part about her looking like a slack jawed idiot in the snow.

Wukong was only a quarter way through his regaling of the story of how he had saved everyone this day when he felt hands wrap around his chest.

His heart nearly flew into his throat as he stopped dead in his speech. His mouth was open, voice cut off halfway through his speech. Sophie curled into his side, face buried in the crook of his neck and so close to his ear he could feel her breathing against its shell.

Electricity shot threw him, fur standing on end as if he had been in a thunderstorm.

He was suddenly very aware of many things. Of Sophie’s hands that had escaped that ridiculous orange sweatshirt and were now burrowed into his fur. One arm was across his chest. The second one was now, somehow beneath his head and tugging on his shoulder. Sophie’s face rested on his arm and in the curve of his neck, her face rubbing back and forth like a cat. As if … she was enjoying the feel of it.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Sophie moved just a bit, mumbling in his ear and Wukong felt his tail lash like it had just been bit. She didn’t say anything coherent but — the proximity alone—

Fucking Hell and all its Judges.

Sophie was … cuddling him.

She was practically twined around him.

And she smelled fantastic. Her scent always changed- sometimes it held a hint of lemons and the sweetness of grass, other times it floated like rain clouds and smelled of stones. But all of it together had a larger perfume beneath it. It was just her. Yes there were moments when her scent changed just enough that he felt like he was adding new spices onto his favorite dish. The essence of it, however, was just Sophie.

And now that cloud was all around him, filling his nose.

He looked at her, turning his head just a fraction to see.

Big mistake.

She was asleep, passed out completely. She looked so … fragile asleep. The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of how she hadn’t been sleeping well. Her nose was stupidly pink like a Red Pika in her pale face. The cold must have chapped it. His eyes darted to her lips …

Mistake number two.

Wukong looked away, feeling his face flame. Fuck. Shit. He was stuck in a predicament now. He hadn’t meant to chat away about himself for so long that Sophie would fall asleep. Wukong was at war with himself. On one hand, he needed to get out of here. To leave before Pigsy and the others found out- before Sophie found out.

He couldn’t let anyone be that close to him- couldn’t let anyone be as close as Sophie was right now. It was a liability to his pride, to his reputation—

To his heart. Because if she rejected him it would ruin the friendship they had. And the feeling he had building in his chest- he would crush it in his fist before he let it jeopardize that peace between them.

I have to leave —

Wukong tried to move-

Only to feel Sophie’s fingers tug in his fur and her sleepy voice grumble “m’no don’t go.”

Jade Emperor flay me and boil me alive again.

In all the hundreds of years of living, Wukong had only felt trapped like this but once before. The first time he had lost his wager to the Buddha, having been unable to somersault out of his hand. The second time? He was trapped because he allowed it. He was trapped in a way no one in Heaven could have predicted- or had thought to do. Wukong had been placed in vats to be boiled, had wormed and tricked his way out of every trap and net that had attempted to keep his mischief managed. It had taken Buddha and his wager to finally end Wukongs terrorization of Heaven.

Wukong couldn’t move now. He was tethered here by frail fingers and the steady beat of a mortal's heart.

He could hear her heartbeat, feel it against his side. It was steady, soft. Like the steady roar of Water-Curtain Cave. Like the wind through the trees of the orchards on his mountain.

She was mortal. One day that steady beat would stop as all mortal hearts did.

That set his tail to lashing just a bit.

Hasn't she been afraid of dying? Of growing old? He remembered hearing a conversation late at night- when Tripataka and Sophie had those rare mortal conversations where he was explicitly not allowed to sit in on. He hadn’t known why it was such a secret conversation. So of course, since it wasn’t an order, Wukong had pulled a hair from his tail and made a doppel and floated somewhere nearby but out of sight to eavesdrop. The Monk and Reader had been chatting about death, about Sophie’s future.

Well her fears were unfounded. Doesn’t she know I would take care of her? Sophie shifted a bit closer as a gust of wind slipped beneath the tent flat he had left unsecured. Damn it all. Wukong carefully, o so carefully, shifted himself. He slid his body so he was now lying on his side, setting Sophie’s head beneath his chin. It was all the invitation Sophie needed to cuddle closer and escape from the wind.

“You stupid women.” He angrily whispered into her hair. He wouldn’t let her die. He would just fix that. He would fix a lot of her problems. She just had to tell him. He was Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He knew of a hundred different ways to achieve immortality. He could fix them all. Like her problem right now of being cold.

He was too tense to relax fully- too aware- but he grew just a fraction larger. His size now dwarfed Sophie’s a good bit and gave her a bit more to tangle into. And she did. Sophie curled her knees up, shivering slowing. Wukong waited. Watching. When finally the shivering had ceased he allowed just a fraction of tension to slide off of him. This stupid softie is gonna make me soft. The thought didn’t bother him as much as it would have months ago.

Maybe he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight but…

He could make her life Hell in the morning. It was something that she owed him on. His face was screwed furiously into a scowl because all he wanted to do was enjoy this moment but if he did- if he really truly did- he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.

She was most assuredly going to be bombarded tomorrow with the most annoying and snappish teasing and toying a King of Monkeys and tricks could give.

Sophie woke with a start as something cold and wet slapped her in the face. She panicked as any person would.

“GaH! DEMON!” She cried, grabbing at her face and throwing it aside. It was a wet rag.

“Relax.” Wukongs voice laughed at her. “Unless cloth can become possessed and has gained a hunger for red nosed mortal flesh, you're fine.”

He was at the tent flap, grinning ear to ear in a grin that promised problems. Really so early in the morning and he already wants to play games ?

“You could have woken me up in a number of other ways- why did you pick that?” Sophie rubbed at her face, feeling … huh. She didn’t feel as sore as she usually felt. When Sophie woke up there was almost a constant crick of pain in her neck from whatever odd angle she had slept in on the ground.

Maybe I had been so tired my body just finally didn’t care.

He shrugged. “You stink. Next place we stop at you better demand a bath of some sort or other.”

“Thanks….” She grumbled, letting the sarcasm drip off her words. She took the cloth up, rubbing the sleep out of her face and the worst of the dirt off her face and arms. She would kill for a warm bath, one that would wake up her bones and chase the last of the cold from her body. Once clean, she checked her wet clothes, bundling them away in a separate part of her pack to avoid them dampening the rest of her stuff. Then she stepped out of the tent, smelling the fire and the promise of breakfast being made.

Only for her feet to slip right from beneath her as a monkey foot stuck out and caught her ankle.

“WUKONG!”

He laughed, face full of malicious mischief as Sophie gathered herself up to chase after the errant Monkey. To do what, she didn’t know. He was a mystical demonic creature born of stone and she just a mortal women. As the morning light cut into the cave and Tripitaka had to order his disciple to calm down after he once again tripped her and she almost went sprawling into rocks, the pilgrims ate breakfast. They broke down their tents. And they were once again on the road.

None were the wiser of Wukongs happier mood. He hid it beneath a storm of frowns and a game of teasing torture as he became partically insufferable to Sophie. The threat of the hoop tightening spell was the only true damper to his mood when Tripataka heard Sophie scream as snow was dropped down the back of her shirt.

As the sun rose higher and the word was cast in a frosty flash of refracted gold, Wukong made a decision. He would solve Sophie problem of growing old. It was easy. And if Buddha couldn’t send her back…

Well she was a great sport for pestering and heckling. The least he could do as a benevolent King is give the poor women a roof over her head.

Maybe a few dresses down the line...

Girls liked dresses right?

“Hey Reader!” He called.

“What?”

“Dresses or suits ? What did you wear in that fake time long after this one ? Or whatever fake dimension you fell out of. What did you prefer ?”

And thus began the long hour debate that somehow pulled every one of them: Pigsy, Sandy and Tripitaka, into what was a heated discussion on the best attire for the best occasions.

[fiepige]

What about Hobie bouncing off and pulling up the bus and Peter smashing the car into Tombstone? Not much of a relation besides vehicular involvement, but their movements are just so cool in those little scenes

Vehicular involvement is all I need as an excuse to make a noirpunk GIFset lol

And agreed, their movements look so cool in these scenes! (I slowed both GIFs down a bit to get a better look at them)

Please feed me more noirpunk GIF ideas I love making these 💜

[ekingston]

Apart from show canon, at which point did u think it was too late for lena's immediate forgiveness to kara's identity reveal

oh boy. anon, here is where i come clean about my shoddy recollection of canon’s chronology. i’ve done so many fragmented rewatches and skipping back and forth—there’s a reason i rarely dabble with canon-adjacent stuff! and that even when i do, i create worlds where Lena figures it out herself! 

second road bump to answering this question is that i have a LOT of feelings about how things played out on the show, and most of them are incongruent with the tone of sgcw. i understand their narrative reasons for keeping the secret from Lena for so long! but the execution is so, so terrible! ignoring large swathes of canon and replacing them with my own is the only way i’m able to enjoy at least the last tiny handful of seasons!

here is where i spend an hour procrastinating from my WIPs, while not successfully answering your question at all:

to be perfectly clear: i adore most parts of canon Kara. and i think i may be hard on her in ways i wouldn't be if i didn’t relate to her so much. i think her backstory is extremely compelling and i admire her ability to hold on to her kindness and hope and joy even after losing everything that was important to her, even when she’s tired and lonely and mad. 

BUT. a healthy Lena—one who we were made to believe was finally freeing herself from Lex and Lillian, rising above the coping mechanisms she’d developed as an unwanted and emotionally neglected child? i don’t think that Lena would (should?) have forgiven canon Kara at all.

after the rift, canon Kara flitted between telling Lena she’d lied to her ‘to protect you’ to ‘one person who sees me only as Kara’ to ‘your last name’ to ‘didn’t want to lose you’ until she literally told Lena she was on her own, and she’d treat her like any other villain until Lena repented, even rejecting her apology at first, as if Kara’s own decisions had played no part in Lena’s downward spiral at all.

the Kara Lena would have forgiven is the much more cohesive and coherent Kara brought to us by our talented fix-it writers: a Kara who is willing to let herself be vulnerable and to second-guess her motivations, one who is able to put together a proper apology and actually listen to Lena's own. 

but, okay, lets table all of that. this is me trying really, really hard to entertain canon:

Kara and Lena’s friendship became painfully lopsided by season 3. i think that was, if i recall correctly, when the super-friends decided to trust Lena enough to regularly ask her for assistance—but not enough to let her be part of their in-group; it’s where they left Lena in the dark about the fact that her best friend had come close to plunging to her death right in front of Lena's eyes, and was actively still fighting for her life; where they tricked Lena into having an extremely personal conversation with J’onn, while he was wearing Kara’s features, only to make belly-laughing fun of her about it later. 

and even then, honestly, it might already have been too late. what about the aftermath of Jack’s death? was that season 2? Jack was Lena’s ex-everything, someone who genuinely loved her, who saw her through the fallout of Lex’s arrest. he was one of her last remaining friends, and Lena pressed the button to let him die in order to save Supergirl’s life. how would Lena knowing that Kara went through that with her, knowing Lena had chosen to save the life of her favorite person in addition to National City’s hero, have changed the way she felt about that horrible situation? that’s where that extremely wonderful heart-to-heart on the L-Corp couch happened, right? Kara swore she’d always be Lena’s friend—while keeping silent about the fact that she was there when Jack drew his last breath, that she had witnessed their final moments.

so—i really can’t tell you anon, i’m so sorry. the 100th episode already fabricated reasons why Kara couldn’t possibly come clean to Lena back when she made the conscious decision to be her friend (and not in a ‘keep your enemies close’ kind of way!), and i’m beginning to think that was the only moment Kara could have told Lena that would have kept her conscience completely clear. Kara should have made it part of her decision—either she was going to be Lena’s friend and give her the same trust Lena was giving her, or she would keep things professional, and keep her identity a secret from her. 

Kara tried to do both, and if i really think about it, i don’t believe that was ever fair.

[pommunist]

disappointing to hear from the ex twitteradmins that they and the current twt admins have heard literally nothing from quackity of whoever else is doing the investigations and they also have to find out from twitter like everyone else. apparently they have a seperate discord server but they were still mistreated and should also be talked to (@/Gaelleilei & @/ibobidou both ex admins for qsmpFRA have said this)

I hope you don’t mind anon, I will use ur ask to share some updates on the situation. I just checked the twitter accounts you mentioned and yes it seems that so far they haven’t been made aware of any changes regarding the twitted admins side of things.

As for thé server admins side, Léa made more tweets about it and what she knows so far :

« To be real clear: I want to be transparent, I really want to bring you all good news about the restructuration of the server. I'm really sad to see it is not possible.

What I saw is: The actors have been kicked out of Quackity Studio, not knowing if they would ever be back.

The voluntary people that worked for the twitter update accounts have been revoked from their access to their old tchat and account.

The admin that sent me threats, encouraged drama, is still on the server.

No French admin is included in the revamp of the studio. »

Someone asked if by « actors », Lea meant the roleplayers (and cited pomme as a example) and Lea said yes.

UPDATE : It doesn’t mean admins have been fired necessarily just that for now they don’t have their access and that their situation is unsure (lea clarified this bc the way she worded this before made people think otherwise and let to misinformation)

She then said « For thoses that don't understand why I keep and keep speaking: I have to, otherwise the changes won't be done properly, I want everyone to be aware of what is happening.

If something positive is brought to me, I will also say it. Everyone should have the right to speak about it, not only the higher ups can talk about how the changes should be made. Right now, only the people that were priviledged in the studio are giving their opinions on the changes and the others are shushed »

So yeah not great news to say the least ! Hopefully this is just the beginning of the changes Quackity talked about but personnally I can’t see things improving without better transparency and a participation from everyone involved. We still need to remember that BIG changes are needed so time is necessary for stuff to be fixed.

For me, I have full trust in the french CCs, Antoine said he won’t come back before their is proof of everything being fixed so if the french ccs give us their green light I will trust them.

Below is the link of Lea’s account, her last tweets are already in english, I didn’t translate them so if people wanna read straight from the source here u go

https://x.com/leasagne_?s=21&t=fDVoT5qDN_AAqnxYhZF3uQ