#underhill i love u ;o;

[taniushka12]

yknow im just noticing the way mold hosts seem to be eating the environment's mold before they notice you, which suggest that the mold spreads first and the hosts are just following it, instead of my original statement that the hosts were the carrier of the mold !

[normal-thoughts-official]

"nothing is more white fan culture than obsessively consuming white dude shows, acting like it's a shock when they hate women/gays, but never engaging w other media bc your truest kink is proximal privilege mixed with shit to be self righteous about" -from a tweet and it sums up spn, but also many other fandoms, really well tbh

YES!! YES!!! THAT'S EXACTLY IT!!!!!!! and like u said not only spn and not even just in white dude shows, i see this tendency very clearly even - or maybe especially - in shows that actually are diverse

it's the same thing with tog fandom the obsession with bi booker (the one relevant character other than the straight up villains who is actually straight-coded lmao) despite the fact that tog has a canon queer couple and two heavily queer coded characters, plus a black woman with no hints to her sexuality/gender identity that could be hced as queer just as well, yet never is. and the bi booker hc thing gets to the point where i've seen "tog + text posts" style posts and others where booker was the oNLY character to get queer-related posts. the ONLY one. despite us having FOUR actually queer characters. f o u r. and him being the only one who has absolutely nothing pointing to queerness

or with sh fandom and that infamous "sh pride edits" post that gave more attention to the straight characters than the canonically queer ones, lmao, going as far as literally not mentioning the canon wlw to focus on clary and jace, who are very obviously straight in-text, and other minor white straight characters (the straight characters of color obviously didn't get the same treatment as their white counterparts). or the hype over latino alec, who is very obviously white, and that literally ignores headcanoning, like, izzy and maryse, the ones actually played by woc at least, as latinas as well. and of course i'm not even gonna mention how the actual latino characters are treated by the same people who nut all over themselves at the idea of latino alec. and we all know that, as racist as sh is, screen time has nothing to do with this, cuz lack of screen time never stopped this fandom from obsessing with lydia, max, or underhill, all characters that have considerably less screen time than raphael. and i'm pretty sure max and underhill have less screen time than even bat. i mean, for starters, bat had an actual struggle shown on-screen. neither of the other three can say the same

or the b99 fandom which (problematics of the show aside) loves and adores the idea of bi jake, but rarely ever talks about rosa, the canon bi character. or even the canon gay couple, which one would expect would get a lot of attention, yet is rarely mentioned 

and i could go on, but my point is that yes, even in fandoms for pieces of media that actually are diverse (with varying degrees of handling that diversity well) the fandom as a rule always picks the ones that aren't to obsess with and project diversity unto, even queer fans. and it's so obvious and plain to see it's honestly almost insulting

[likelovelikesuicide]

3.06 Follow Up - Pure Souls, Pure Sins

My Immediate Reaction to 3.06 can be found HERE

The Malec argument is hard to watch for so many reasons, but I get both sides and I swear on Valentine’s ghost I’m 3 seconds away from locking them both in a room and forcing them to speak to each other about WHAT each if them are actually talking about, because they are not on the same page here and it’s frustrating as hell... #onlyhappyMalec #20gayteen

Anyway, with bits and pieces of information and a dragon demon drawing from Clary, Magnus connects A to B with F and U with only like 7 minutes of screentime… this is why they don’t use him more often. If Magnus were in charge, this shit would have been handled back in ep1 #justsaying (Shout Out to Bro Zac for being so damn EPIC) 

So Maia was out of town yesterday last episode and she’s the most understanding girlfriend in the world about the Heidi situation… something tells me that won’t be the case for the Kyle/Jordan issue. #poorgirl #epicjackets #WALKWALKFASHIONBABY... sorry for what’s next, yo...

I call bullshit on Clary thinking that Jace was “being weird” in their one scene at the institute because it looked no different - he hugged her, he held her hand, he walked away with her… he just refused to talk to her and from that small interaction she insists that NOW he’s acting weird… not all the hallucination dreams or being brought back from the dead ???? #butgooffIguess

So Owl!Boy Jace can see people aura’s or whatever and he has to find the most virtuous mundanes  for Lilith … and what do you know - Ollie? CHECK. - Charlie? CHECK - but how will he choose? O right he’ll just wait till one is alone… ish. #thatwentwell 

If you don’t ship Maryse and Luke you are wrong. #blushingteensflirtingintheir40s

Underhill is surprised to see Alec Lightwood a little wasted and before his boss can overshare, the dude gets him a sober cab and sends his drunk ass home - while providing an escape and the solid advice Alec was seeking...  #respect #seeyouroundunderdude 

While I love my drunk gay son, Alec honey your boyfriend is, as you say, an 800 year old warlock (fact check with Magnus please) - Magnus is “too different” from literally everyone else ever!!! Come on now, what was he supposed to say to that question? What is he supposed to say now? - Are you both different? Very much so… Do you both love each other anyway? Yes. So there was nothing else to think about… don’t turn good memories into bad ones just because you’re scared… And Magnus, honey, your bedside manner could do with a few upgrades. I mean, Alec isn’t focused on the box here. He’s worried about what it represents because he doesn’t want to ever leave you…. Ugh. Just talk to each other dammit. #imsotired

Okay so Luke shoots Owl!Jace - forcing him to unglamour … Mundie!Morgan pepper sprayed Owl!Jace and he ran off in much the same way…. So my guess is Owl!Jace is immune to injury but he still feels pain… Pain that Jace can’t process because he’s lost control of his mind… Gee I wonder if this has anything to do with being brought back from the dead??? #justsaying #willClaryfinallytellAlec #please

So going into episode 7, I have a lot of questions but only one I will leave you with today... How damn gorgeous is Maryse Lightwood? I mean. WOW 

[ecotone99]

[SP] Grey on Black (the Psychic Wars)

"Iceland... 1978... Go get my dad, don't trust them. I'm about to get Snowd in.... I'll be safe in Russia... don't break... don't trust the cops...Multipass..."

"I didn't get the last part?" Dove was leaning over me and I started.

"Olmstead." I choked on the memory. Fuck. When I'd committed that whole fuckton of spaceshit into my head I'd rattled a memory loose. The Rangers knew me. Not personally, but they knew when the psychics around town had made like them, and risked a connection. They probably didn't know that I was PsyOps, but they found out I was good. An ex of mine blew a lot my way when he decided to fuck with me, information our government could use.

I made sure to leave a data trail, emailing politely so there was a record they could find when they realized what I was telling them, but it was a lot. People with IDs at least, and with badges, showed up. I toughed it out as best I could, but the people around me freaked out and hit me, hard. I couldn't tell my family, if they believed me they'd spook. So I didn't.

'I'll never love you more than I do at this moment.' And they were right. In Hell everyone goes down, and you look out for your own. They betrayed me more times than I'd care to admit, and none of us were close any more. We weren't close before, but I'd grown up running for SF, enlisted and retired. I'd been beyond proud. The bravest little soldier. They knew they could trust me. We lost because they couldn't trust anyone. RETs aren't to engage, and they weren't quite bright enough to avoid it. Privates, man. Privates.

"Omstead?" Dove asked, shoving me over and sitting down at the side of the bed.

"Home... homestead," I stammered, just rolling with it. No one would be able to backtrack that one, unless they got ahold of CIA records. I'd just keep going and let him think my nerves were jangled. I'd dropped my car off, and locked the keys inside, at Olmstead. Homestead laws. Move if they break the homestead laws. They'll back you. My Dad had died trying, and succeeding. We got the fuckers, crippled their comms system and kicked them out of their own party. They thought we were an army.

I didn't regret it, he was hidebound and stubborn, impatient and didn't understand women. And he was tough. Polish Guy. Army strong (he'd have killed me if I ever said that to him, 'Nam Vet to the core). I don't know if it's what he would have wanted, I just know we did it. I rubbed my face, clearing off the memories. We weren't army anymore, me, the kid, even the cats. The records got buried. Intelligence knew we'd served, that's it.

Homestead laws. Like I said, you'd have to be CIA to know what I had said. His boss had missed it. Hell, even the Rangers had missed it, they just knew he went on Go. Homestead laws, the one thing we agreed on was charting magic, and the one book series we ever read together, the only one of mine he'd liked was the Dresden Files. Cowboy hat and a duster, Christian Army. He'd been raised Catholic, he'd count all of the marks one way, I'd have counted them the other. It was a killer set of patterns. And they kept the bad guys out, the magic, with Homestead Laws.

And a fuck ton of data, I was happier than a clam I'd gotten him to memorize the basics of magic, he was safer that way and the books were pretty well researched. Domhnal cleared his throat and I smiled up at him sweetly, knowing better than to lie. But I could prevaricate with the best of them, and what were the odds that he knew anything about American real estate laws- especially the old ones, the ones that had warded against boggles and things?

"I told my Papa I was Laura Ingles Wilder once," I lied. Sort of. My Papa had sure taken it as a go, I'd told my mom that's why I didn't talk all day at the pancake house and she'd given me a music box (a Canadian Contract), and suggested that maybe I shouldn't talk some more. Parents. I am one and I still don't get mine.

"Americans used to trek out to the west and settle huge tracts of land," I told him, "The English wouldn't understand."

If he went poking around my family and old neighbors he'd just find a truckload of mistakes that my very English Papa had made when he'd misunderstood me. What was I supposed to do, tell him I was running a pattern with my Da? Blow the whole thing? He was English enough to get that something else was going on, and definitely English enough to wail me one for not doing as he said rather than blow it.

I was less than grateful. But I really was a terrible child, and continue to be so. Pretty happy about it, actually. I'd tied the two ends of those monsters together and made it across the bridge when the Rifts opened. It was actually very straightforward. Find the traitor. Not *a* traitor, that wouldn't do. Find *the* traitor, the one so arrogant and corrupt that he didn't even know he was a traitor. Find Vitken. I really was safe 'in' Russia, because we were going to lose, and every single story that came out of every country grandma was going to dress Russia up prettier than a new penny when they went looking for that little American pie.

I'd run for Russia when I was little, they got along ok with the Army and pretty good with the Church, especially if you knew any Catholics. I pretended to be a boy. They'd have had a cat, but they never found out. My Da taught me all the good army swear words and I used them like it was ok. No girl could swear like an Army Girl could. We shared all of our tricks when we were little and that was a good one.

Dove held out a cup of coffee and I didn't kiss him. He was funny about being touched, and sometimes I showed that I cared by smiling instead, so he knew I respected his space. It smelled like heaven, starlight and good times. The sun was almost up, and it warmed me up like candlelight on a cold night.

"You make up any of your stories for me to tell to the Pikies?" He asked me, after we stared at the closed curtains for a while. I laughed.

"Actually I did," Travellers were messengers for the Catholic Church, gypsies in every country carried messages for them, and for the 'vampires'. So I usually sent Dove home with a story for them. It helped keep his sorry ass alive.

"It's a story about a feast of witches," He mimed a polite little O with his bowtie lips and I smiled. He rested his hand on his leg, fingers drumming as he listened.

"They'd heard, over a wall at the edge of their world, about a baby that was to be borne. Not was borne, nor going to be borne, nothing they could do to stop it, it was a baby that was To Be borne. So they made ready to celebrate on their side of the veil, since it never seemed to open far enough for more than one of them to drift through. They were sisters or cousins, bound together by one to many nights with the head where it shouldn't be, and their toes nowhere at all."

"They never talked, the witches, and their men- their husbands if they lived near the border, pretending to be people- had their mouths sewn shut. So no food for them. Just one chafing dish of fairy bread." Danno smiled at that. He'd been Underhill, but couldn't really describe it. People come out dazed, half memories of colors and things that aren't human. Sometimes part of a story or a piece of something odd. All these people with nothing to talk about who talked and listened endlessly, and not one person had debriefed me, in seven years. I sighed and kept going. They'd had the warning they needed, because I was blunt as a crisp Benjamin.

"They blessed the bread with their wishes, because if they couldn't eat the child, nor bless him, well- they could do both to the bread. And it would last the whole of the babe's life, never changing, just bread. Fairy bread for them to share with the stories they stitched together."

"The baby's birth passed almost without incident. There was no storm, or whirlwind. No one famous died and the news had nothing in particular. There wasn't a full moon. Just a covey of witches, peering through the veil, taking turn after turn at the chink they called The Eye." It was too late now. I didn't trust those fuckers within ten square miles of me, and England's either. It was Space Program or bust, and the Ops I'd been a part of really would stay buried. I recognized the cant of Dove's feet and frowned, he'd reminded me of my Papa for a moment. I brushed it off.

"Really all they could see were stars, but they used words to draw charts in between them, tracking the baby with astrology, making it's luck grow or dwindle with their hoarse whispers." Dove tucked his feet up onto the chair, falling into the story and I smiled. I could pretend he was in love with me, it was kind of his job. I wondered if he had the same reactions I did when I closed a mission, the revulsion at the fact that people couldn't understand they'd been used by an operative...

Of course, I never got this close to them...

📷

Previously in the Psychic Wars...

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