#which is untrue!! like i said the content is endless

[pantherloid]

Thanks for being here :)

Even tho I kinda FELL OFF in the last two years.

Feeling weirdly sentimental that this blog’s now half a decade old hooray. This was my first art blog that I started when I was in my mid teens. I shoulda fucking waited longer to improve before posting art bc my art was BAD and my characters looked weird but some of you were still very encouraging anyway. <33

I appreciate everyone being here and I especially appreciate those of you who’ve been here since the earlier years (no clue if any of those people are still here or not and im talking to the air) I hope you like my content shift and will forgive me for being extremely cringe in the past – not in the harmless way, I mean in the psychic damage way.

[amysubmits]

Do you think you could explain how being a submissive is enjoyable? Especially punishment things? I'm kinda a sadist but I've always been afraid of being in a relationship where I would act as a dominant because I just can't see the experience of being a submissiveenjoyable... It just sounds stressful and exhausting and I wouldn't want to do that to someone... But I know that's just because I'm not the kind of person who would enjoy it. I just want to understand, because I really do want to try a sub/dom relationship someday but I would want to know what the other person is getting out of it... I know it's probably different for everyone, I just wanted to get your opinion.

This is such a tough question but I’ll try. 

There are, of course, an almost endless number of ways to do D/s. And not all types of submission appeal to me. Not even close, really. I imagine that people who like other styles of D/s may have different reasons, and people who are drawn to D/s very similar to mine may also have different reasons. So all I can really try to explain is me, which may or may not be helpful for understanding other subs. 

It’s sort of instinctual more than it’s a choice. I mean, I of course 100% choose to live D/s, or not in terms of making a dynamic or not. But it’s sort of like your favorite color. You know which color you like best, but you don’t necessarily choose it super consciously. You’re just drawn to it, and then if someone asks why it’s your favorite color you can sort of analyzing the reasons, but it’s mostly just a natural pull towards it? That’s kind of how analyzing why I like submission feels for me. 

Anyway. 

D/s always comes back to love for me. I feel the most loved when I feel very seen, very well known, and completely accepted. Being able to be extremely vulnerable and still be seen, loved and accepted is like the purest form of love, to me. And I think that’s really what D/s brings out, for me. But, I think the reason why that is true is that I just am submissive. If I wasn’t naturally submissive then living this way wouldn't feel so vulnerable and accepting. 

Punishment is particularly tricky to explain because it’s not enjoyable. I dislike it in the moment. But I still enjoy having a dynamic that includes punishment. A lot of subs do not need punishment so if you don’t, maybe your ideal sub won’t either. To try to explain it though, I think there is a lot of beauty, and a lot of power exchange, that can be had in a dom asking or telling a sub to do something, and them choosing to comply. We certainly have a good bit of that in my own dynamic and it’s a nice thing, and I don’t at all want to minimize that. I have occasionally come across posts that imply that without punishment, your D/s isn’t real and that really bothers me that people try to push that. I also just think it’s SO untrue. Anyway...for me personally, having rules and punishments feels like a “have to”. Of course I still have a safeword, and of course I could disobey on purpose. So in a literal sense of course I don’t absolutely have to’ do anything. And even when something isn’t a rule, I am naturally inclined to try to listen to CD, to do things his way, etc. As far as, I don’t intentionally think nah, i’m just going to ignore what he asked cause I don’t want to. I try to be submissive in general. But, I do feel more secure with rules, I feel more bound to them, more bound to CD. It’s like knowing I have this fense to protect me, and knowing it’s always in the same place. And while I dislike this part of me somewhat, the reality is that I also find deep security in knowing I can reach out and kick the fence and it won’t fall over. So basically, it's about security. Also about forgiveness, being able to make bad choices and still be loved and accepted. 

You mentioned submission sounding stressful and exhausting. If you think of submission as the sub constantly serving or doing a lot of the work in a relationship, I think that’s likely based in some bad stereotypes. I think most D/s dynamics aim to strike a balance so that responsibilities are shared, work is shared, service is shared, and neither person feels burdened. Different couples will find a balance in different ways depending on what they need, want and what works for their circumstances. But, I am not exhausted by submission. If life outside of D/s is stressful, that can make submission feel harder. Sometimes our D/s has to be more flexible because of what is going on in our lives. If we experience big changes in life, we may have to adjust our dynamic some. It’s challenging to sum up quickly because it’s complex. But we don’t want our D/s to be overly-flexible, we don’t want it to bend at every whim because having a durable sense of structure makes it feel more secure to us. But, we also live in the real world and life throws you curveballs, life changes, and it’s not reasonable to always prioritize keeping your D/s the exact same over just changing it to better suit your current needs. We try to use D/s to meet our needs, so if our D/s isn’t able to meet our needs well during a certain phase or something, we’re going to change our rules or rearrange some responsibilities or other details of our D/s rather than stay totally rigid with it.

In my opinion, if you’ve found the right D/s dynamic and the right rules, protocols, etc for the relationship (which may require a lot of trial and error and an insane amount of communication) then you won’t feel like you are giving the other person the short end of the stick. You’ll feel that you have struck a good balance, you’ll feel that their needs are met, etc. It won’t feel like you are being mean to them. Their needs will be met, they’ll be content, and yours will be too, and that will reassure you. 

Also I noticed you said you’re a sadist. Some people are sadists but not doms at all (you could be a submissive sadist, even), and other sadists may be bedroom doms or tops but not lifestyle doms. So if you’re thinking you must be a full time dom because you’re a sadist, I don’t think that’s the case. 

Hope that helps! 

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {20}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 3.0k

A/N: More fluff? “But, Tara, that’s so out of character for you.” “But, Tara, what ever happened with Tamlin?” “TARA WHY IS EVERYTHING GOING SO WELL” solid questions......

You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth. - Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Show me!” Feyre called, yelling behind the velvet curtain. Mor was trying on bridesmaid dress after bridesmaid dress, giving Feyre her own personal runway show.

Which she deserved. She was the bride-to-be, after all.

“Alright, okay,” Mor muttered from inside of the dressing room. “This one has a low back and a high neckline. And, I must say, my ass looks fantastic.”

Feyre laughed but that laughter faded once Mor came out, because she was right - she looked stunning. It hugged her body without being too risque and the deep, lavender color suited her perfectly.

“I love that,” Feyre said, eyes wide. “It’s perfect. Even the color. That’s our color. That’s your dress. You’re getting that.”

“Am I?” Mor asked.

“Yes, and if you don’t, I’m kicking you out of the bridal party.”

Mor snorted. “Fine. I accept. Now, I’m making you try on dresses.”

“My sisters should be here,” Feyre said, just as she had every other time Mor had suggested otherwise.

“You don’t have to get one today,” Mor said. “Please? Just try on a few then we can go get lunch.”

“Fine,” Feyre groaned, hopping up from the couch she was sitting on. 

The owner of the boutique came over and helped Feyre into a room before Mor, now changed into her shorts and tank top, went crazy, bringing her a handful of dresses.

“Take your time,” Mor called, closing the curtain behind her. “I’ll be sitting right out here, let me know if you need help.”

Feyre sighed, taking in the line up of dresses before her. At first, she slipped on a ballgown, but the moment she stepped out of the dressing room and looked into the mirror, she wanted to yank it off her body and burn it. Too puffy, too frilly. She felt like she was going to prom - been there, done that. She went through two more that even Mor had cringed at before setting her eyes on a slim fit, beaded gown with an open back and a low, sweetheart neckline. It had thin straps and a long, beautiful lace train. 

Feyre slipped it on.

She stepped out of her dressing room and looked into the mirror.

Mor gasped, eyes lined with tears.

“Feyre,” she breathed.

“I know,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “Damn you, Mor! I was supposed to wait for my sisters!”

They both broke into a fit of laughter as Feyre admired the dress in the mirror. It was perfect. It was flawless. There was nothing about it that Feyre didn’t like.

Rhysand wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her.

She was barely able to keep her hands off of herself.

It was just over her budget; but, she didn’t really care. She wouldn’t be telling Rhysand, who she scolded just the night before about ordering too many flowers - but, she didn’t really care. She would only ever have one wedding dress.

“How long will it take for this dress to come in if I ordered it today?” Feyre asked. 

The owner went to a little computer where she typed away for a minute before saying, “Six months.”

All the breath left Feyre’s body.

But Mor wasn’t taking that shit.

“There isn’t any way it can get in sooner?” Mor asked. “Can she buy the one she has on and have it fitted? She’s getting married in October and that dress needs to be on her body when the day comes.”

The owner looked back and forth between Mor and Feyre. 

Her lips thinned. “I will see what I can do.”

She went back to work on her computer as Mor snapped an endless string of pictures on her phone of Feyre in her dress, which she promised to send to Elain.

Five minutes later, Elain had sent a reply: G E T  I T  N O W

Amren’s replying text was similar: If she doesn’t get that dress I will break in after hours and steal it for her.

If Elain approved, it was a must.

If Amren was talking about breaking the law, it wasn’t unusual, but it was still a must. 

The owner was still trying to figure out a way to get it in sooner, now speaking to someone on the phone in hushed tones. 

Feyre looked in the mirror, again. It was beautiful. Stunning. She could imagine it, paired with a simple pair of heels and a long, simple veil. She could picture Rhysand’s face as she walked toward him in the dress. He would watch her with wide, teary eyes, and a small smile, full of utter adoration. 

It was the dress.

Half an hour had passed before the owner rejoined them. The elderly woman sighed, as if all of her energy had been sucked away. “I can get it here in two months-”

Feyre heard nothing else because Mor had jumped up, off the couch, and was running to Feyre with her arms wide open. Laughing, Feyre let Mor embrace her, all while picturing her wedding day. 

What a perfect day it would be.

~~~~~

Cassian had gone for a jog along the Sidra, listening to his hype playlist through his earbuds. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon. The sun was bright, high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen. The flowing waters of the Sidra were sparkling beside him. 

Even Bryaxis had a little pep in his step, when usually he was trailing behind Cassian and whining after a mile.

They stopped near a little park where Cassian plopped down in the grass, Bryaxis beside him. After taking a drink from his water bottle, he squirted some into Bryaxis’ mouth, too, when his phone went off.

Nesta’s name popped up on his screen.

All of these movies you’re making me watch from the 80s are weird as fuck.

Cassian smiled at his screen before typing back, Which one are you watching now?

It was no secret that Cassian loved movies, so when Nesta asked for recommendations, he had given her a longass list and a giant stack from his personal collection. She had been living with Elain for about two weeks now, and was loving her sister’s company. Cassian hadn’t seen her much, though. He helped her move in, as he promised he would, but he was aware she needed space for now, and he was okay giving her that.

Didn’t keep them from having little text conversations nearly every day, though. 

The Lost Boys, she sent back, with a little vampire emoji.

What?? Cassian texted. It’s a classic!

Oh, please, she replied. It’s obvious why you’re such a fan.

Bryaxis had climbed onto his owner’s lap and Cassian was scratching his head, between his ears, when he sent, And why is that?

It took her a minute to reply in which Cassian used to stretch out his long, sweaty legs. 

Then the reply came: Bc you’re basically Michael

Cassian cocked his head to the side, even though she wasn’t around to see it. Untrue.

He could imagine her rolling her eyes. Especially when he got her text back. Long hair, motorcycle, thinks he’s hot as shit? Yeah, you’re Michael.

Cassian looked down at Bryaxis. “Nesta’s being mean, Ax.”

Bryaxis’s tail went wild at the mention of her name.

Cassian’s only reply was, I am hot as shit.

Nesta replied with the eye-rolling emoji.

Then, she sent, I’m almost done with the stack you gave me, and as weird as they may be, I wouldn’t mind if you brought me some more?

Before Cassian could reply, Nesta followed the text with, Maybe tomorrow? If you’re not busy after work.

Cassian looked back down to Bryaxis as he grinned. He didn’t know why he was grinning, felt ridiculous at grinning to himself and his dog in the middle of a crowded park, but he couldn’t stop that stupid little grin.

Sure. I’ll be over around 6?

Six gave him enough time to run home, shower, and grab another stack of DVDs she would surely be calling weird as fuck in no time. 

Cassian finished stretching, did thirty sit-ups, and was back on his feet, Bryaxis’s leash in hand when Nesta replied: Perfect.

~~~~~

Elain looked at her phone, where she had set a timer.

It had only been fifteen seconds.

The bathroom was small, but she paced back and forth relentlessly. She had chugged half a gallon of water, Nesta watching her curiously as she did so, before excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

They had been watching some vampire movie from the 80s. Not exactly Elain’s thing. She was glad for any excuse that politely removed her from the room.

Even if said excuse was anxiety ridden. 

Another glance at her phone.

Thirty seconds.

Her pacing continued, her fingers drumming wildly against her thighs.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, right? I mean...Azriel would be great, of course, but it certainly wasn’t ideal. They had only been dating a few months, only began sleeping with each other the month before.

If it was true, it must have happened that first night, or one of the nights soon after.

It was too soon.

Elain’s anxiety shot through the roof.

She looked at her phone.

Forty-five seconds.

Two minutes felt like a lifetime when everything was on the line.

She was only a week late, but even when she was barely eating, her period had always remained normal - perfectly spaced out, returning like clockwork the third week of every month.

Her eyes met her phone.

One minute down.

One minute to go.

“It’s okay,” she breathed, shaking out her hands, as if that would somehow make the situation better. “It’s alright. Breathe.”

By the Cauldron, what if it was positive?

Would it really be okay?

Azriel would freak out, without a doubt.

He already had Mila. She couldn’t add more onto his plate.

She looked at her phone. 

One minute, twenty seconds.

But he was so good with Mila. He would be an amazing father. So gentle and kind, so loving and passionate. 

But would he want to have kids with Elain?

She imagined he hadn’t even thought about such a thing yet. Elain hadn’t even thought about it, not until she went eight days over her start day without her period.

For the Mother’s sake, they hadn’t even used the word love with one another yet. 

Phone.

One minute, forty-seconds.

Elain couldn’t breathe. She slumped down to the floor, on top of the gray, fluffy rug, and closed her eyes.

In, out.

In, out.

Don’t panic.

Panic doesn’t help.

But she couldn’t help it. Her eyes began to water, the tears trickling down her pale cheeks.

She suddenly had a feeling that everything was about to change. She was a woman. She knew her body. Either it had gone into shock with all the lifestyle changes she had made in the recent weeks, or this was all real. 

Her timer went off, and her eyes shot open. 

She took her phone off the counter and silenced the timer.

Then, with a shaky hand, she pulled the test off the counter. 

Pregnant.

She read it twice, ten times, twenty times, that single word the only word she could think of.

She was pregnant.

Pregnant.

With child.

With Azriel’s child.

A fist pounded on the door, scaring Elain shitless. She swore, quietly, scrambling up from the floor. 

“Hey, it’s Az. Nesta said you came upstairs. I assume you’re in there, since….well, you’re not anywhere else up here. Hope you don’t mind me coming by early. I dropped Mila off with Mor and Feyre to look for a flower girl dress. I was told I’m not allowed to see it before the wedding day, so...”

Elain took a deep breath, hoping her voice remained steady when she said, “Hey! Oh, I’m just...fixing my contacts.”

A pause. “Okay. I’ll go downstairs and wait with Nesta. I’ll catch the end of The Lost Boys.”

“Great,” Elain said, and her voice broke.

Azriel didn’t move from the other side of the door. She could see the shadows from his feet. “You okay? You sound upset.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she promised him, although she obviously wasn’t. “Just a little emotional today.”

“Alright,” Azriel said, uncertainly. “Can I open the door?”

“I’m naked,” she blurted.

“While putting in contacts?” Azriel said, huffing a laugh. “Not that it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

The doorknob turned, and Elain cursed herself for not locking the door.

She quickly hid the test stick behind her back as he came in.

He took one look at her red cheeks, her blurry eyes, and frowned. “Hey…”

She was frozen in place as he stepped toward her, as he took her face into his hands and wiped away her tears. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, and Azriel pulled her into his arms.

His body stilled.

He was taller than her by quite a bit, no doubt looking down as she planted her face into his chest.

Down at Elain’s hands, behind her back, gripping the test so hard that her knuckles were white.

Azriel reached around her and took it from her hands. He stepped back, looking down at it.

Pregnant.

He took a step back, studied it as if he wasn’t seeing it correctly. 

His face was unreadable. 

Elain’s hands flew over her mouth as she broke into a sob. 

Azriel’s gaze jerked up, his eyes widened as she cried. “Hey, hey, no..”

He set the test down on the counter and pulled Elain into his arms. He held her tightly against him as she wept. 

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, voice muffled against his shirt. 

“About what?” he whispered. “You don’t have to apologize, El. Okay? Don’t apologize.”

She nodded, and when she looked up at him, his hazel eyes shone. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

He hesitated, his hands still rubbing her back. “I’m not….I’m in shock, I guess. But, I’m not….mad, Elain, I think you think I’m mad.”

She took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “I’m in shock, too.”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Well, that’s good.”

Elain laughed, softly. “How is that good?”

“Pretty sure shock is normal in these situations,” he said, quietly.

All the tension left Elain’s shoulders. “I’m scared.”

“About what?” he asked, voice low.

“All of it,” she said. “Carrying a child, birthing a child, and everything that comes after that. And you...Azriel…” Her words trailed off, but Azriel didn’t say anything. He watched her and waited, patiently. “You would be an amazing dad, Az, but I don’t want to trap you.”

His brows furrowed as he brushed her newly fallen tears away. “Is that what you think? That I would stay with you because you’re pregnant? Or, that I would even want to leave you in the first place?”

Elain looked down. She shrugged. She wasn’t sure what she thought, wasn’t sure how to sort her thoughts. 

Azriel lifted her chin back up with his fingers. “Do you want to have this baby?”

It was the same question that Elain had stayed up the night before asking herself, over and over again. If it’s positive, do you want to keep it? Elain laid her palms flat against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath. Although afraid, she felt completely confident when she answered, “Yes.”

Azriel smiled, tentatively, and nodded. “Then I’m going to be here, okay? You’re not trapping me, Elain. You couldn’t trap me if you tried. I know we’ve been together for a few months, and we’re still in that honeymoon stage, and I won’t pretend that I know what the future holds....But I do know that I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to do this, and it’s going to be okay, okay?” 

Elain laid her palm against his cheek, brushing away the tear he had that fell. “You love me?”

She knew Azriel, knew he didn’t say things unless they were true. And, after talking with Mor, she knew Azriel had never said that word to another woman. 

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I do. But, you don’t have to-”

“I love you, too,” she breathed, interrupting his modesty. 

And it was true.

Yes, she had loved Graysen, but it was a false love. She loved the idea of Graysen, loved the life they had built, but it wasn’t true, Graysen had proven that in the end.

But with Azriel…

Azriel was truth, kindness, gentleness, passion, genuity, love. He was everything she needed for herself, all wrapped up into one, perfectly imperfect man. 

And she loved that about him.

She loved him.

He smiled down at her, and it was one of those smiles that she had only seen a handful of times from him. His teeth showed, his eyes went bright, his plump lips curved upward. That smile...it was an image that Elain kept in her memory for her darkest of days. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty  @starkovsnesta​   @redisriding​  @photofeesh

@mariamuses​   @tswaney17    @amaranthas-whore​   @awesomelena555

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@mynewdreamwasyou​ @humming-asong​  

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@superspiritfestival  @the-dark-swan​  @girlgotattitude448​  @eversincebeirut​

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@empress-ofbloodshed​  @starkovsnesta​ @nickjgoodsell​

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[a-host-of-furies]

Did Dream Cheat?

So, I haven't said anything on the internet about the dream cheated thing because, well - my main account on Twitter is for my commissions and my main on Tumblr is... Meant for commissions but in truth totally empty. Now though, now I have this blog, which was mainly made to talk about blockmen anyways!

So, when I became first aware of this whole thing I thought the following: the last time someone made a video accusing someone and people tore into them, it was the James Charles affair.

You know, that thing where everyone felt horrible after, because it turned out James Charles actually hadn't done anything wrong?

I saw people comparing Dream to Trump, which is just so fucked up. Trump vocally supports alt right groups and Dream Possibly cheated at a block game. Like, come on, calm down.

Mob mentality is not a good thing.

So my stance on the whole thing all of last week since I found out was basically: I don't understand math, I _know_ it's true that numbers can be biased (look at medical studies about how many women get diagnosed with autism as compared to men for instance), I am NOT going to read a 29 page document i won’t understand and I find the way people immediately pile on this person with so much hate distasteful.

I also really disliked the way people reported on this on YouTube. Because I watched the videos, I wanted to know if there were smarter people than me that could explain the math I didn't understand and the document i didn’t have the patience to read. And at least the ones i found and watched completely glossed over it. One of them actually said, if i remember correctly “I haven’t read it, it’s 29 pages, I assume the mods wouldn’t write this for fun.” Which is not how to do investigative journalism. (To be fair, it was a commentary channel not someone who does investigative journalism, but still, if you’re gonna claim in the title that dream DEFINITELY cheated then i would assume you should’ve at least red the dang thing that claims to prove just that.) Now, some might say it’s hypocritical of me to point out that none of these youtubers read the accusation when i haven’t either, but consider this - I didn’t make a dang video about it claiming to know for certain that dream did cheat. What i did was to sit back. I frowned at twitter and youtube, and decided the best thing to do was probably just to wait for dream to make his response video.  And now he did. Did it convince me? At first brush, yeah. Am i now going to jump out and yell ‘Hah, dream didn’t cheat you losers’. No. Because I am still bad at math. I think the evidence dream provided sounded right, and for now that reliefs me. Because if you couldn’t tell, I enjoy his content and would rather he not be a cheater for the sake of my own entertainment. I also think the stuff he brought up aside from the math was rather convincing. Despite that though, there is still the distinct possibility that he just lied. Scewed the facts. That everything he said about the mod team and the way they treat cases is untrue. I don’t think it’s likely, it would be a rather dumb move to make, but damn, have you seen yt drama before? People sometimes do some really dumb shit.  So I think what I would like to happen most before people jump on the mods and send them hate, is what i would’ve liked to happen to dream in the beginning of this whole spiel. I would like to hear their side, and for everyone not to make it a foregone conclusion that they were incompetent at best and malicious at worst. I would like this whole thing to come to a conclusion. Have the mods respond - either to debunk or apologize.  Is it a utopian dream to wish that people on the internet will behave in a civil way? Perhaps. Will i scream it into the endless void of tumblr anyways? Well, I mean, you’re reading this post, aren’t you?

[yahargul]

i hate how the mdzs/cql fandom has such a black and white view on the novel like ppl in this fandom will either insist that it is the worst piece of literature that has ever been written in the history of mankind or defend literally everything that mxtx has written almost to the point of idolization and i’m just sitting here like this is why i seldom participate in fandoms. like honestly trying to find ppl to follow is truly a constant battle of “hm....do i want to deal with this person’s embarrassing amount of self-flagellation bc they like this piece of media that isn’t perfect or this other person over here who refuses to engage in critical thinking and basically worships this anonymous author??? the possibilities are endless!!!” like bro i am so tired 😭😭 where are the normal ppl i feel insane <3

gooood i know it's like people going into danmei with little to no knowledge on chinese culture so you have either people who are giving nothing but these bad faith takes largely based on assumptions about the author/the target audience (my favorite is that somehow despite the huge western lgbt audience these stories have its assumed the target chinese audience is all straight fetishizing women and let's just sit and unpack THAT for a second) vs people who think if you want to maintain respect for the culture/target audience you can't criticize at all which is....also untrue.

im literally tired of both of these people. no one has to like the novel and people need to respect that. but like you said the weird self flagellation or effort to completely remove the original author from a work they created while still consuming content from them is so so weird like why are you here?? if you feel that self conscious about liking a piece of media maybe you need to make peace with that yourself first.

[willow-salix]

Fluffember prompt : Fond (vaguely, I'm sorry, you get what you get and you will like it)

Day 8 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

I can’t have been the only one to notice it, I really can’t, because it was just so out of character for the big guy that it had taken me a few days to realise that anything was going on at all. I must be losing my touch, usually I have a kind of sixth sense for these guys, that's why I’m their emotional support witch, I’m the one that keeps an eye on them, forces them to sleep when they need to and makes sure they eat.

“Hey,” I said in greeting, coming over to the desk and settling my butt on the corner. That’s how you get Jeff’s attention, you put yourself right in his eyeline and you don’t leave until he notices you.

“Hey yourself,” his eyes flickered to where I was sitting with one butt cheek on his paperwork, but he was too polite to say anything about it so he left me where I was.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” he actually took his glasses off and put them down before he looked up at me, showing he was paying full attention.

“Have you noticed that something is a bit off with Virgil?”

“No, I…” he trailed off, pausing as he thought about it.

“He’s seeming a bit grumpy, like his usual morning bear with a sore head is extending further into the day than usual. I mean, we all know not to approach before he’s had his morning bucket of coffee, but this is a bit extreme, even for him.”

“Now that you mention it, he has seemed a little on edge.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement, he actually growled this morning when his toast took too long to pop up.”

“Well, yes, that is a bit unusual.”

“What can I do to help him?”

“He’s always happy when he is doing something, that’s why he hardly ever sits around,” Jeff told me. “He’s like John, he likes to stay busy.”

“What can we do then, find him something to do?”

“That would be my suggestion, yes.”

“Do you have a suggestion for something I can do with him, too?”

“Unfortunately not.”

I nodded, my mind whirling until I hit upon the most obvious solution. “I’ll ask John.”

“Good plan,” Jeff agreed, sliding his glasses back on, a sure sign that he was dismissing you in the most polite way. I took the hint and hopped off the desk and toddled off to find the hubby.

“Babe?” I dropped down on the stool next to him at the kitchen table.

“Hm?” he answered, rather noncommittally, I thought.

“Is there anything that I can do with Virgil?”

He paused in his typing to look at me.

“In what way? What’s the purpose?”

“Just to give him something to do, your dad said that he needs to be kept busy.”

John paused for a second, thinking, then pulled up something on his holotab. “The last time the mail was picked up was more than two weeks ago, you could go with him to do that,” he suggested. “There should be enough by now to be worth the trip. I think Gordon has ordered a few bits and I know you have, plus we almost always have fan mail.”

“That could work, my candle wax should have arrived by now, too.”

“Have fun...” he paused to watch Gordon slide into the room, headphones on, butt shimmying as he danced to the fridge. “Please take him with you.”

“For you, anything,” I promised, dropping a kiss on his nose. “Yo! Squidward, with me!”

Next up, drafting the chonk.

                                                ***

Virgil had been mostly back to his usual placid self on the flight to the mainland, obviously happy to have an excuse, no matter how flimsy it was, to take his ‘bird out to stretch her wings. As with all of the boys he was never as content as when he was spending time with his lady. Honestly anyone that gets with a Tracy needs to know from the start that they will be sharing their man with another and she’ll be bigger and prettier than you, sorry, just spitting straight facts.

Gordon assembled the cargo pod and, with Virgil driving it, Gordon and I jumped in the back ready to load up. Apparently the mail room had banned the use of the mechanical arm because there had been an incident with a pile of boxes that had caused an avalanche and now it had to be done by hand. 

Gordon tossed everything in to me where I was in charge of arranging it all carefully so nothing would get squished. It was quite a job, there were a lot of packages, mostly fan mail I have to say, we aren't that addicted to shopping that we could fill the pod cage that much. Some of them were very heavy too, one of which, a large packing crate that was addressed to Virgil needed both of us to lift it and slide it into the back. 

Eventually we were done and ready to head out. Now, I can’t be sure when it actually started, but I’d noticed that the patience of the chonky one had started wearing thin, he was sounding grumpier by the second, his little grunts of acknowledgement at our endless chatter now turning into something vaguely growl like.

“What’s with him?” I whispered to Gordon. He glanced at his brother then leaned in conspiritally to answer me.

“It’s his coffee.”

I frowned, not understanding. He didn’t have any coffee to be worried about. “I might need an explanation for that, love.”

“Virgil loves his coffee,” Gordon patiently explained, rather like he was telling a dog to sit.

“I’m aware.”

“The fancier the better,” he continued.

I lifted an eyebrow at that. Virgil, from what I’d seen, was a pretty straight coffee drinker. He’d take it however it came as long as it was large, hot and strong enough to wake the dead, which is what he was first thing in the morning. I barely ever saw him add milk or creamer, let alone anything fancy. It just did not compute.

“It’s our secret, but I’d be very surprised if John doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?” I was sooo curious now. How dare they keep secrets from me? I have no life at the moment, I need to live vicariously through them all, I need to know the details, I need to feel special.

“That it’s online, have you never seen the tag?” 

“What tag?” Why did I feel like we were actually having two different conversations?

He pulled out his phone and typed something in, turning to show me the screen. The tag said #podspotter and under it was a number of pictures that had obviously been taken at various times in a variety of places but that was the only normal thing about them.

In every one of them there was Virgil on his own or with Gordon and they were either in a pod vehicle, standing beside it or it was on its own. Again, not too strange until you looked closer.

In one the mole was stopped in a drive through Starbucks, in another an elevator car was parked beside a truck in a car park, in another the Helipod was hovering just in shot while Virgil walked towards it with a coffee cup in each hand. The more he scrolled the more there were.

“The fans turned it into a game, which country will the pod be in next.”

“How does no one else know about this?” I asked.

“Know about what?” Virgil asked from behind us, making us both jump.

“Your coffee addiction,” Gordon supplied, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“It’s not an addiction,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks tinged a little pink. “I just have a fondness for good coffee, and if we’re already out or on our way back to the island why not stop off and get one?”

Why not indeed. I supposed he had a point, I mean, most people think nothing of grabbing a cup on the way to and from work, or at lunch or even just when out on a shopping trip or before a journey, why should he be any different.

“Is that why you’ve been grumpy?” I asked.

“Grumpy? I’m never grumpy!”

“Yeah, you are,” Gordon laughed.

“Am not!”

“You are,” I agreed. 

“That is insulting and untrue,” he sniffed, crossing his arms, his eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. We didn't say anything, we just looked at him and waited.

“OK, so maybe I’ve been a little tense,” he admitted with a sigh. There it was, the dawning of truth.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offered. The desire to keep my boys happy was one of the main reasons I’d agreed to come back for another round of island grounding. They did so much for the world and often had to adjust their lives to fit in with helping others, they couldn’t do the ‘normal’ things that we take for granted, like jumping in the car and grabbing a loaf of bread or something for dinner without having to plan it days in advance, buy in bulk or have to abandon the trip at a moment’s notice if a call came in. It wasn’t something I really thought about, but it was times like these that brought it home a little bit.

“Not really,” he shrugged. “They are just a little treat thing. Something that feels like a reward at the end of a tough rescue. It’s not something that we do every time, but Squid here might get a brownie or something and I’ll get my coffee and we’ll take five minutes to relax a little before we go home or head out again. You need that time, those little moments of calm and normalcy when you do a job like ours.” 

The look on his face couldn’t be described as anything else but pining, like a dog who had lost his favourite toy or was waiting for its owner to come home.

“Shall we grab one now?” I asked, taking pity on him. “I could go for a latte or a hot chocolate.” The outside temperature was a little cold after the island and we’d been in the mail warehouse for over an hour, which had contributed to putting a chill in my bones. The boys were even more sensitive to temperature changes than I was, I’m English, I’m used to damp, chilly weather almost all the time, but that didn’t mean we wouldn't all benefit from a little something to warm us up.

“There’s a place near here that does an amazing white chocolate latte,” he mused, seeming to perk up a little. “You could have the best of both then.”

“Sounds perfect,” I nodded. 

“Let’s load this lot up in Two and then we can have a little lunch maybe?” he suggested as an afterthought. One thing I’ve noticed about Virgil is that he never liked to cause a fuss, he didn’t like to put people out or really ask for anything for himself. It was people like him that we’re content to chill in the background until they were needed or spoken to. People always thought that John was the quiet one, but I’d say that he and Virgil were pretty much equal when it came to attention grabbing. 

Virgil was more confident and comfortable than John in social situations, he was so laid back and easy going that you knew you could take him anywhere and he’d have a great time. He’d join in with any conversation and would make friends anywhere he went. If he was comfortable and with people that he knew well he’d happily join in with the prank pulling and brother teasing, but his inbuilt need to be the peacemaker and comforter meant that he rarely pushed his way into a situation without an invitation. He was always too worried about annoying someone, hurting their feelings or taking away their chance to talk. He often needed a little encouragement to take charge and decide what to do.

“Food is the best idea you’ve had in the last week,” Gordon agreed. 

“You always think food is a good idea,” Virgil laughed as he climbed back into the drivers seat, his bad mood evaporating now that his precious was almost in his grasp.

                                                ***

“So, how’d it go?” John asked when we got back. Seeing my arms full he jumped up to help, relieving me of some of my packages, carrying them to the bedroom for me when I started heading in that direction.

“It was fine, we stopped off for food.”

“Food?”

“I got you a grilled chicken sub, extra lettuce and pickles,” I lifted the brown paper bag I carried as proof.

“This is why I married you,” he grinned, dropping our post on the bed and reaching for the bag. 

“Well, I must say I had hoped it would be for something a little more meaningful and important than food, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“There are other reasons,” he assured me, sitting down on the edge of the end to unwrap his sandwich. “Did you find out why Virgil was grumpy?”

“Yep,” I flopped down in the squishy reading chair that lived under the window. “Caffeine withdrawal.”

John paused in his chewing, obviously trying to work out how that could be possible since Virgil seemed to have a mug surgically attached to his hand most hours of the day, then the expression cleared, comprehension dawning. 

“His post rescue speciality coffees,” he nodded, taking another bite.

“Wait, you know about them? Why did you never tell me?”

“Of course I know. I monitor all the crafts whenever they are off island, for whatever reason that is, it wouldn’t do for something to happen to one of them and for us to not have an accurate and up to date last location. I know when they stop off and I see where they go. Plus EOS found the tag over a year ago.”

“Yet you’ve never said anything?”

He shrugged. “Why would I? He’s always had a fondness for them. It started in university, he said there was something comforting about having a warm drink to sip while he was studying or in class. He didn’t drink them for the caffeine hit, it was just to keep him warm and give him something familiar. I’m not surprised he still does it.”

I shook my head, utterly lost for words. It never ceased to amaze me, the hidden depths that these boys possessed. I loved the way that they all either consciously chose not to mention things like this or just didn’t think to, but it was there all the same, a silent support and respect for each other.

“OH MY GOD, THIS IS AMAZING!”

We both jumped, hearing Virgil’s excited bellow floating up from the lounge. We exchanged a look, then both took off to see what all the fuss was about.

We found him sitting in front of the open crate, straw and packing materials surrounding him on the floor. He had a bottle of syrup in each hand and a large jar of coffee beans on his lap. I glanced in the crate, seeing it full to bursting with more syrups, probably six other types of beans, bags of chocolate drops, tiny marshmallows, stirring sticks, sprinkles and right on top a recipe book.

“We have the best fans in the world! I’m gonna have so much fun with this.”

[babysprouseisart]

Every story ever has its end or the summary of the thoughts on the past #sprousehart era and attempts to change the attitude of others to this illusionary world

Dear fellows, from the very first days of the origin and further existence of mankind on the planet, in each period more and more foundations, irreversible phenomena and laws in nature or the society in which man lived and continues to live appeared. Time is fleeting, night turns to morning, year to year, and every story ever has its end. You can object, say that this is complete nonsense, but unfortunately everything in our world is natural and therefore in the same way one story of two wonderful people - Lili Pauline Reinhart and Cole Mitchell Sprouse - ended.

Their relationship was and will remain one of the most beautiful and unlike in comparison with others, at least based on what I could witness, love story. And even though this love story began seemingly banal with an audition for the role and the set, it was so real, amazing, which many could dream about, with its special feature of gradual disclosure, so enticing, and that is why it probably resonated so much, along with other reasons.

Like any other relationship, this relationship was based on many things and included many reasons for existence. Starting with a slight interest in each other, first liking and flirting, then there was a strong and almost immediate attraction to each other that they both talked about, a passion visible in the way they acted out scenes together and in glimpses of information from others. Then, after some time, the romantic charm passed, and a new stage began – getting used to each other, building a joint life, adapting to the peculiarities and shortcomings of the partner, and it is during this time the couple tries to create a happy and satisfying relationship for each. Accordingly, everyone got a desire to stand out from the other, to be significant not only in the relationship, but also outside of it, which is why they kept their privacy and wanted everyone to perceive them as separate individuals. They clearly tried to control what they shared with the world, and gradually the amount of what they shared increased. We were lucky to witness many, even small, moments in their lives. We were allowed to see the whole development, although some of it was very hidden, starting with the sarcastic banter on Twitter, the tempting 'Tempt me!', then multiple photos of fans with them, then supposedly random photos of Cole, with Lili in the background, or other way around, then many other breadcrumbs, then expanding of the circle of friends where his friends are now hers and vice versa, family meetings following by huge support to the certain time, then an infinity of her photos taken by him, so divine and beautiful, as well as photos taken by her of him, then numerous long or not so long trips to various places, the first vocation trip together which was made public, then 'No comment!', then more words about love in public media, birthday wishes, comments, bouquets just like that and on special days, 72 roses, chocolate-covered strawberries, the way they were baking together, him making a grilled cheese for her, them watching the sunset at Debby's and the other times we haven't seen, the time when Antelope Valley has become an indicator, the most tender words about each other, endless heart eyes, her inability to stop sitting on his lap, and his habit of touching her shoulder, neck, jokes understandable only to them, the words of others about them as if they are friends for 20 years already, knowledge of each other's body language, bragging about wonderful sexy times and the beauty of each other, giving cute nicknames, comfort, joint red carpet moments, him shaking her of joyness, constant support and much more, what we could obviously notice in social networks, interviews, after videos/photos of paparazzi, almost complete idyll at first glance and so on. All this is certainly only what we were allowed to see or what we guessed having observed various facts and over time it has gotten more obvious, and it was an insanely beautiful experience to be a spectator of all this for which I am grateful that is why I sincerely wish myself and all of you to look at it from the point of view that you need to smile because it happened and not cry because it's over. Nevertheless sometimes if you get too involved you can start looking at it through the prism of pink glasses of love and admiration, enjoying every moment they directly or indirectly shared with us, and accordingly, the impression of a fairy tale is being formed that does not quite correctly reflect reality and it does not allow us to perceive the other part on the other side of the screen/social networks, because we simply do not see it. However, I don't want anyone to take it as if I believe that everything they shared was untrue and false, completely out of the blue. All I want to convey to any reader is that everything we saw was only in an unreal bubble of illusions, since the Internet and social networks, which are, after all, this very bubble in its essence, which we ourselves and they decided to form, allowing us to take it as they want and this is normal, and life is very far from perfect or dreamlike. That is to say life is such an unpredictable thing, where everything is justifiably natural and sometimes things just don't work out the way we would like them to, including relationships which are also a complex structure that is not easy to build correctly, sometimes even with a strong attraction and a strong sense of love, there are things that cannot be corrected or changed. As well as you cannot change the essence of a person and his worldview, his personality, internal or external qualities, his behavior, his views on life and goals, his mistakes and position in society, loss of trust, his moral and physical endurance, other side things like sharing very little time for the second half in connection with business or temporary work, unwillingness to accept any conditions, commitment, settling down or restriction of something, lack of compromise, fading feelings because of passed desire and passion, external factors, especially if we are talking about a public couple/popular people, such as dramas in social networks, created by fans or family/friends, stress from the strong involvement of others or non-acceptance of partner selection by relatives, and so on. Just sometimes if after a while two people failed to get accustomed to each other, as if a plant were transplanted into a new soil or some organ to the human body, thanks to some external or internal features, obstacles, be it custom qualities or external influence on each other with the constant tries for the reconstruction of another and over time awareness of the fact that what has been created by the supreme cannot be altered and adjusted for something else, becoming more and more negative, when one of them in its content can no longer learn to cope with the environment and the further continuation of the joint work of the struggle can lead to the bad conditions of both, with exhaustion from this struggle and, accordingly, to the death of cells. And all this exhaustion for whatever reason can also be theoretically and philosophically equated to the bowels of the earth and depleted sources. After all, a person get used to using fresh water, the earth's mineral resources, eating plants and fruits, vegetables, buying things, and so on, but sometimes it happens that this is either limited or ends and nature is no longer able to provide us with anything, after constant giving, and in return receiving only harm or damage. This is a very complex science and this is a life where, as I already said, many things are not the way we picture them to be. So many interpretations and/or reasons can and could be hidden behind all these failures/ends/dissensions/decays/breakups/bad moments in life, and I cannot even list all the options, but I have some general considerations on the specific occasion, but I do not want to start the speculation now and go into details about why and how I think the end of this love story that we all loved happened, cause it is not my business and I am no one to judge someone or even dare to talk about it when I am not them or relative/friend to any of them and I haven't seen the actual period of their relationship and how it was going from the beginning to the end except my own representation of everything based on this social-media bubble, and each of you can have your own thoughts and draw your own conclusions. However, it goes without saying that even after any obstacles, failures and heart and soul break and with the passage of time, everything constantly takes place to change in any way, people change, the behavior change, the attitude change, and so on, one moment the doors are closed, in the other you open them or they are opened for you so in the end a person finds their happiness and purpose despite previous mistakes and shortcomings.

The penultimate thing I want to say is that obviously, after all this, you are already starting to think about something and I really hope so, given what I said about life and bubbles of unreality in our time, and as you gain experience in this fandom and being a fan very much involved in all of this it can be very useful for us to eventually rethink how much we were involved and how much energy we were giving this every time, and I have already made a whole post about this. And particularly good for me were  the recent events when there is no particular food for thought and to be involved, I'm more and more alienated from the lives of other strangers, and the more time passes, the more relaxed I began to react to many things, although it also sometimes was hard to deal with all the drama and speculation, constantly think through all sorts of logical outcomes, since I am such a person by nature and I cannot be calm without a logical conclusion, and I am still digesting the whole situation happening since the beginning of this year with the fandom and the relationship of these two people, however, as much as I would not like to clearly represent everything and have a clear picture now it does not matter, the main thing is that it was and it just needs to step over, swallow and not give too much attention to this, because unfortunately we could not control the whole situation, we could not prevent what happened and what could have happened just because we are not the supreme or these same people and it is not our business.

In conclusion, even if some may think of me as a soulless person or that I do not care about others, know that this is far from it, I just try and will try to find a way out of the situation, reorganize and look at everything objectively and with a grain of salt because I believe that this is the right decision to be detached in any way from someone else's experiences, especially from those who are so far from us, and bad moments, so as not to have any attachment, hope and faith, so that it does not hurt us later. But I am certainly an emotional person and my heart just bursts with pain when I see that many people strongly bring down themselves and suffer from the fact that there was some kind of non-related to them co-ordinal change, although this is not the end of the world, and therefore I consider it my duty to try to somehow distract some of you and calm down on this account, as once I was helped by others and my own search for the right attitude.

[irarelypostanything]

The Learning Problem

Until high school, the most stressful school assignment every year was the science fair project...no competition.  I hated presenting.  I hated the design aspect.  The biggest stressor for me, personally, was the idea.  And it seems so bizarre when I think about it now, because at no point do I remember just stopping and asking myself:

What was I genuinely curious about?

I remember we were at Ben’s house, once, and in his room he had the 7th grade ribbon for his project on light refraction, or multivariable calculus, or flux capacitors or something.  When Ben was gone Jimmy looked at the ribbon, looked me in the eye, and just said, “I really want that.”  And he got it.  8th grade.  Surface tension.  Or multivariable calculus or flux capacitors or Twitter data science or something.

But the reason they require everyone to do the science fair project, probably, is to make people curious about science.  Yes, some people are going to do research for a living.  But most people could probably just use science fair projects as a kind of jumping off point.  If I could go back in time and do it now, the possibilities seem endless.  I don’t remember if Max won an award, but his was just having people run laps and measuring the placebo effect of a fake drink...interesting to me because the placebo usually is used as the control case.  Kelsey simply sampled the school for which places had the most bacteria.  Katie just did bread molding, which is pretty common, but it was a fine project because I think she understood that what people were most interested in was the underlying science.  

Probably middle school isn’t the most collaborative or encouraging environment.  Have you interacted with middle schoolers lately?  They’re the worst.  When we were in middle school we took giant shits on every single project, even the ones that were actually really good and ended up winning awards.  I think if I could do it again, I’d grow mold but then harvest it and see how to kill it most effectively.  Or I’d just write false things on social media and see how many reblogs they got in different sites.  Or I’d do psych experiments quizzing people with leading questions and seeing if I could convince them that untrue things were reality.

Maybe I wouldn’t win any awards, but I’d probably end up getting hired by the government.

Flash forward to college.  For senior design projects, lots of us were just making apps...I mean, we were software.  It makes sense.  But Chris actually was fascinated by direction finding, and he did it.  Detection, calculations, and all.  

That kind of interest goes a long way.  

******

Middle school was actually the most interesting place to me, when it comes to learning.  They tried such different techniques on us.  By the time I got to high school, things were pretty conventional.

I had this science teacher in 7th grade.  His lectures were boring.  Then he brought in the guy I took in 8th grade, who gave us a 20-minute guest lecture on how what we were learning was related to trans fats, and how they worked.  It was extremely refreshing.  I liked hearing about the applications.  Ben actually hated that kind of thing, science books that would spend a paragraph or two attempting to engage the reader with random-seeming facts, but to an average or below-average brain like mine it was refreshing.  

So why was I so annoyed by some of those other classes?  Like 7th grade history, why did I not like that?  They’d teach a war by having us do an elaborate, simulated activity in which we would pretend to be knights and throw pieces of paper at each other in a really convoluted way.  That kind of thing drove me insane.  I guess maybe I do want the surprise and the change of pace, but maybe...5% of the time.  That’s like the example of the 20-minute guest lecture, as opposed to an hour throwing pieces of paper at each other in a not fun way to learn about...uh...the fact that I don’t remember is the point.

In 7th grade we also had this unconventional math book with really elaborate word problems and strange artwork.  Anna joked about it.  She made a comic about a math teacher attempting to use their book to teach a bunch of kindergarteners that 2 + 2 = 4, but he spent the entire hour coming up with a word problem that had diverse names and political correctness.

And that was 7th grade.

*****

Curiosity is a strong thing.  So is fun.  Probably there should be a balance.

When we got to college, we’d sit through these hour-long lectures about the Krebs Cycle and math proofs and CS algorithms.  Then some people would be content with that and absorb every word.  Then maybe the other 60% of students would go home, throw our notes in the garbage, and watch the same content on YouTube with a bunch of colorful images and animation.

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, I guess.

[trackinghallownest]

-slides into your dms- tell me about your vessel ocs!!!! Whose your favorite. Everyone has a favorite even if they don't like to admit it! And is it ok if I draw them interacting with my vessel ocs?

HHfngfh gh i’m,,, thank you for this ask i’m dying,, i will absolutely go off if you dont mind me taking this chance!! ft doodles!! because i can!! and you absolutely can draw them with yours i will probably cry and definitely draw interactions back udfkfhvdf;;

some of this i may have mentioned in other posts but i cant for the life of me keep track of what ive put here compared to the discord so! i’m just going to fact dump! and put under a cut so i don’t completely fill peoples’ dashes shkfd

first is gonna be spindle since. i love them. theyre probably my favourite. and also the first i made. theyre just babie

they really are just babey,,

kind of accidentally an endless source of lifeblood which is a long story but its not.. very fun. to be constantly covered in plants. by adulthood most of their torso and one of their limbs is almost completely replaced/encased in plant matter

they take this pretty well actually. even if it gets a lot harder to move

for a vessel they grew up to full size much quicker than others of their kind, likely due to the lifeblood’s properties, but really nobody has much of a clue. didnt have time to get used to their size and still has VERY bad spatial awareness

broke their horn tip by smacking it on a low ceiling hkfdnfbdmvdf

plants bursting out of their shell and eye have pretty badly damaged it, and they can’t see out of the broken eye

theyre trying their hardest!! always!! they can’t move around very well and sometimes get lonely sitting at home in dirtmouth but they’re friendly to just about anybody and have so much love to give

seriously they dont even eat but they like to make sure they have food and drink at home in case anyone drops in and needs it

they’ve never been able to fight, and shy away from violence or combat in all forms

very scared of the dark and carries a lantern with them at all times, usually around their neck

discharges excess lifeblood into soil and grows a garden from it - keeps it from overtaking their body any further, and it’s something to do

not the best at communicating since a wood arm makes signing stiff and tricky, but they’re not much of a talker (signer?) anyway

then we have scratch n thimble who are kinda twins but not really. yeah those are matching scarves they are Bros (sibs??)

scratch FIGHTS THINGS and USES A REAL BIG NAIL

the biggest of all my vessel ocs, just in general. a big and strong friend

made it to the palace but got tossed for starting to care too much and takin a blow for another sibling. saved thimble from dying down there too and they were absolutely inseparable since

really just the embodiment of the ‘you befriended x! x would now die for you’ meme not gonna lie

has almost literally died for Multiple siblings n friends before but they wouldn’t let them. which is, a good thing

too reckless for their own good especially in their younger years but thankfully mellows out quite a bit by adulthood

tries to keep up a strong stoic front but also doesnt hesitate to abandon it if needed. theyre big soft really (they wont admit it tho)

has The Biggest soft spot for kids do not let them tell you otherwise

fought for the sake of it in the colosseum for many years before Stuff And Things involving yet another vessel happened and they kinda trashed the place and never went back

their nail is about as big and heavy as their entire body and they’re surprisingly good at using it for something so unwieldy. could probably crush most bugs just by virtue of it being So Damn Big

spends a lot of time when grown at the howling cliffs keeping an eye on those travelling into the kingdom, and deterring those with malicious intent

they got that eye wound from their sibling… it was technically an accident. they still don’t talk about it though

contrary to their twin thimble is the smallest vessel (as a babby at least - they do end up standing taller than spin and ruth when fully grown)

they have the very unfortunate problem of their shade having fused with void tendrils from the abyss sea as a babby

as such their shade is very violent and kinda has a habit of literally bursting out their shell and lashing out at anything around them under stress

eventually they get a handle on it and learn to control the literally overflowing void inside them but until then their entire life is pretty much a big clusterfuck of trying not to kill people, which they hate

they’re very timid and shy and cling to familiar figures (especially scratch) probably too much, but strike out on their own much more growing up 

theyre very strong and capable, moreso than most magic users, but you wouldn’t guess it. the only time they’d even consider showing it is in another’s defense

uses void tendrils like extra limbs. very functional! can hold many things (or offer many hugs) at once. may be slightly slimy though.

their cloak is very long and would probably benefit from being trimmed shorter but they absolutely refuse to let anyone touch it. its kinda grimy at this point and they trip a lot but don’t do anything about it

friends with a bunch of mossflies they picked up in the gardens! they all have names

can communicate with other void-creatures by sharing some of their own void! this was discovered entirely by accident but very useful, if awkward to explain

sure they’re kinda timid and like being on their lonesome, but they’re also very level-headed and friendly, and get along very well with low-energy quieter sorts of people especially

ruth is a small vessel rn/as far as i’ve worked out a timeline for! i know what they look like big but as far as the content on this blog currently goes theyre just .. smal

actual infant. hadnt actually been wandering out of the abyss that long before being dragged up to the colosseum to fight for sport

really doesnt have much of a clue how to act at first, other than ‘stab things before they stab you’

their name comes from ‘ruthless’, a nickname they got in the colosseum because they literally did not (appear to) give two shits whether they lived or died in battle. they’d just come back, anyway

scratch was the one that found them flinging a nail around and immediately went ‘oh thats a baby. this is bad, actually’

for the first short while of freedom scratch is the only one they’ll let even get close to them, and pretty much clings to them relentlessly. not a moments rest

they were actually pretty badly infected by the time they were broken out but theyre better now (another long story)

doesn’t have a natural cloak - it was ripped out and never grew back in. they make do though! their ‘new’ one was made from part of scratch’s that they ripped off and fixed together. they love it more than anything

once they actually figured out not everyone was out to kill them they stopped fighting back, and became a lot more curious and lively in general

still has a very warped and guarded sense of trust, however

kinda iffy around weapons and reacts badly to confrontation but does eventually learn to fight again (just.. in a better way)

pretty short even when grown, and going by height alone is the shortest when they’re all big

likes picking up pretty trinkets and things and carrying them around. has a few tied to their horns (as well as many pockets)

i have just now decided that spite counts as well! they dont actually survive to adulthood in any timeline i have currently (sorry spite) so big spite is entirely a theoretical but theyre fun to draw so

now spite? spite wins the babiest baby award

has one single braincell that bounces around their shell like a windows screensaver

their name indicates they are capable of feeling any negative emotion or hatred which is entirely untrue. by the time this was figured out they already wouldn’t answer to anything else

absolutely no sense of self-preservation or common sense. they are, in most regards, a very cute and very stupid dog

got lost on their way out of the abyss the first time around, ended up in the lighthouse and met friend mori!! was almost caught but eventually smuggled out and away

spent a lot of the time on the run in city of tears with said friend who was pretty much presumed dead by then. got taken in by a family, enjoyed themselves for a while

…but were eventually caught and thrown right back into the abyss along with mori killing them both for real this time. unfortunately.

cut to MANY years later and oops! their shade fused with the corpse and for some ungodly reason theyre both alive. time for the worst buddy comedy ever ft. literal pile of goop and body parts

spite does not seem to know nor care that theyre dead however

mostly happy to sit up there on mori’s shell and nap for hours at a time or fiddle with literally anything in reach. give them a cool rock and they’ll be entertained for hours. they are but a simple creacher

they do actually eventually learn to use a nail but who’s idea was it to give a child a sword. seriously i just wanna talk

[m-feys]

Comfortable

a sweet, trans-themed Good Omens one-shot ~ 1000 words

— 

Being a celestial entity meant you really weren't bogged down by all of humanity's very particular rules about things.

But people saw what they wanted to see. That was the trick about reality, it would always bend a little to appease whatever was observing it.

Most humans viewed him as a man. There was not an insignificant portion that saw him as a woman.

He is neither.

Sometimes humans have a hard time wrapping their heads around neither. He doesn't quite understand why that's such a hard one, even having spent so long around them, there are some things he still does not comprehend.

Then again, the vast endlessness of a void is a bit hard to picture, what with it being nothing. Eternity is almost unfathomable. But a simple 'no,' might do, a 'no, really not either of those options, thanks.’

Aziraphale did not put so much thought into it as him. He knew because he'd asked.

"What? Does it bother you?"

"Humanity's assumptions? No, not so much," that might have been a lie, then again, he is a demon. It's what they do, isn't it?

"More like... food for thought," he rolled the words off a forked tongue and let his shades slip a little further down his nose as he leaned towards the angel beside him. Pleasantly warmed by the alcohol.

"It’s funny you asked, actually, because most humans would have assumed this vessel was 'female'— as they like to put it— before it was given to me. I quite like it, and I think being a man suits me." He reaches up to adjust his bow tie, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Of course, anything suits you, angel," Crowley finds himself muttering rather loudly.

Aziraphale goes on like he didn't notice, and Crowley couldn't know that the warm brown skin of his face grows hot at the words, "though, honestly, I don't think I've ever had any of them assume otherwise. Is that what bothers you?"

Crowley throws his head back with a groan, suddenly given enlightenment on why it might be so hard for humans to comprehend. It was awfully difficult to put into words. And of course, Aziraphale shared humanity's affinity for verbal understandings.

The fact that humans couldn't decide what he is, was actually the least bothersome thing about the whole mess. It was almost nice, but if only they didn't feel any need to decide on one or the other at all.

"No..." he draws out the word and gathers up his thoughts, "it’s not that... It's more that, well—" 

He stops and tilts his head back down to give a significant look to Aziraphale as something he said occurs to him, "being a man, is that comfortable for you?"

The angel shrugs, "as comfortable as anything on earth."

And coming from Aziraphale, that translated to a resounding yes.

Crowley blinks, and wills his alcohol blurred vision to clear for a moment. His companion is— for once— not sitting so starchily, instead he's relaxed and open in a way that could almost be described as lounging. But it’s not in the careful, precisely calculated way Crowley lounges at times. It reads as natural, as easy.

He wonders if its the alcohol or the company, personally, he favors the latter, but decides he likes it either way. Likes how he has his arm resting on the back of the couch, body titled towards him and ankle rested on his knee, foot bouncing rhythmically along with the energetic classical music resonating from the record player.

Comfortable.

"Its not like that for me," he says after some time, half into his glass as he raises it to his lips. Which is only sort-of an attempt at hiding his face and definitely mostly so that he can take another sip.

"Ah," Aziraphale exclaims softly, "it makes you feel dysphoria."

Crowley mulls over the word in his head for a moment, rolling it back and forth in his mind, "I suppose... you could put it that way."

"Do you feel that way around me?" He asks seriously as Crowley savors the burn of alcohol slipping down his throat, and almost chokes as his answer comes instantly without the need for thought.

"No," he says decisively, what a silly question. He hacks out a few coughs and recovers his breath just as quickly. "You know what I am." He continues, too certain and alcohol-warmed to be properly embarrassed.

A smile suddenly dons over the vaguely concerned look Aziraphale had been sporting. "Good," he decides simply.

That sentiment is all it takes for Crowley to give up on resisting the temptation to snuggle against the inviting softness of his angel and make Aziraphale's body heat into his own. He falls forward and twists around so his shoulder is pressed to his side and his head rests back against his chest. Warm, just as he suspected.

"Uh, what are you doing?" His angel asks and Crowley can feel the vibrations of his voice where he's pressed against his side. Ah, he's been missing out on so much.

"Snake, remember?" He suggests easily, only slurring the second word a little. "I'm cold blooded, your body heat is my body heat now. Ssss," he hisses quickly for good measure.

It's not really untrue. The snake instincts honestly can stick with you, black clothes are nice and warm and practically living in a greenhouse gets you plenty of sun on your skin. But even accounting for all of that, it doesn't mean it's not a excuse.

"Aah, of course," his angel says, words a little stunted. Crowley thinks he might aught to move soon if Aziraphale sounds so nervous. Then the arm that had been resting on the back of the couch shifts down to settle behind his head and over his shoulder.

He blinks. Then tilts his head back enough to see Aziraphale's face.

"To keep you warm." His mouth twitches only slightly as he says it.

"Ah," Crowley leans his head back down, this time resting against the arm so perfectly presented as a pillow for him. "Thanks."

Aziraphale only gives a hum in response and the record player continues to sing as the violins start to swell with a sweet melody.

Comfortable.

Yes, he could get used to this. Aziraphale understands perfectly well that Crowley is something else entirely. No need for either or. He finds himself contented by that fact.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Dreamswap is by @onebizarrekai​

This is set in the same AU as this and this.

Characters and pairing: DS Dream, DS Dreammare

warnings: cursing, dark thoughts, self-loathing, vomiting, panic

word count: 3,393

Summary: Dream wakes up with a pounding headache and deep confusion. As certain realizations hit him, he freaks out.

tagslist: @anxiety-is-married-to-depression @angelofthehalfmoon @trainwreck-of-skeletons @hisame-amadashi​ @therandomskelekey @capisnotonfire

Dream groaned softly as he turned on his eye lights, rubbing his temples with a couple of finger tips in the vain hope of being able to banish the massive headache he'd suddenly acquired. He frowned a little in utter confusion as he realized that he was in a ten by ten foot room with three walls made out of stone, the other wall made of stone and sporting a massive and beautiful stained-glass window. He'd apparently been sitting on a high backed chair at a huge wooden desk. There were papers everywhere and he'd realized that he'd dropped a quill pen when he'd rubbed his temples, the nib of the light brown feather stained black, but the ink was dry.

He stoppered the half-full bottle of ink, standing up as he reached out with his magic, trying to figure out where Nightmare was - who likely wouldn't be far. Unless he'd gone down to the village in order to prank some of the mortals who lived there for the slights and cruelties that they had visited upon him. Dream was fairly sure that things might improve if the other knocked that off - but he knew that Nightmare wasn't going to allow the villagers to walk all over him... Dream had tried to talk to them about their treatment of Nightmare, but it was a circular argument, as they protested that they only treated his other half that way because of his antisocial nature coupled with his (at times) cruel pranks... Which Nightmare said he only did in retaliation due to their insults and attempts to hurt him.

There was a distinct absence of his other half's magic. And not just that the other was trying to hide his signature from him, or had wandered far in their timeline. Dream couldn't sense Nightmare anywhere within the timeline. Panic clawed through his soul as he teleported to the tree, freezing in shock as in it's place was a massive stump, cut down and leveled. His trembling finger tips grazed against the outer bark, trying to process just what the hell he'd seen. The last thing he remembered was... Was -

Dream let out a quiet cry of pain as his knees buckled, clutching his head as decades worth of memories rushed through his mind all at once.

"I must do this in order to bring peace and justice to everyone, Nightmare. You'll understand soon." Dream called out as he pulled the first Positive Apple off of the tree, consuming it before his other half could do more than stare.

"Dream, what the fuck are you doing? We're supposed to protect the tree and the apples, not eat them!" Nightmare had sputtered in response, charging towards him and trying to drag him away.

He had shoved the other aside, quickly scrambling up the tree as he consumed apple after apple, He needed them all - in order to have the power necessary in order to protect everyone. To s a v e everyone.

That was the last clear memory he had. The too-sweet flesh of the golden fruit on his tongue, even as Nightmare begged him to stop, frozen in place as he watched him go against everything that the two of them had created for. But how had he somehow changed all of the negative apples to positive ones? It didn't make sense. Another memory hit him, causing Dream to whimper softly.

Power flowed through him, as fury filled his soul at the fact that Nightmare had dared to eat one of the turned-positive fruits. All of them were supposed to be his! For that betrayal - along with the fact that this dark creature created and caused Negativity wherever It went, it needed to d i e. He summoned his weapon - a huge, gleaming claymore "You create misery and cause suffering... For that you will die."

Shock, horror and hurt crash through Nightmare's aura and across his face "D-Dream... P-Please you don't... You d-don't need to do that..." The other's voice was a quivering whisper as tears streamed down the other's face. "I-I don't... I'm not..." Nightmare yelped and dodged as Dream swung the long and heavy sword at the other, the blow too slow due to the change in weight in his hands. Nightmare teleported away before Dream could try to attack the other a second time.

A snarl left Dream's lips a he slashed at the air where Nightmare had been moments before. He'd hunt the other down after he practiced with the new weapon he had in his possession. That and he suspected that his body would be changing as it fully absorbed the powers of the 198 apples that he had consumed. Two of them were missing. One dark apple was in that idiot chicken of Nightmare's, the other (it had been changed to a positive apple) his miserable traitor of a mate had stolen for himself. No matter, the other's power gain would be paltry in comparison to Dream's own.

Fantastic. While he had thought and wondered about what might happen if he consumed the positive apples - the information he'd been reading speculating that one would gain a great deal of magical power and insight into how other beings worked... Dream hadn't realized that he'd given into that particular impulse.

Worse yet, his very first act while drunk on the power of far too many positive apples than were ever meant to truly exist was to attack his other half while accusing Nightmare of something that was blatantly untrue. Dream could sense mortals approaching his location and cursed lowly, spinning around and nearly falling over, realizing that one of the things that had changed (in addition to the glowing magical wings he now possessed) was that he'd gained at least a foot in height - completely throwing off his center of balance.

How long has it been, since Dream had been in full command of himself? What the hell had he been doing in that time? Given... Given the fact that he had very firm memories of an entire stars-damned fortress being built on his orders... That would have taken at least two decades at minimum? Dream teleported back to the room he'd first found himself in, frantically rifling through the seemingly endless piles of paperwork, trying to piece together what the hell was going on, along with the foggy memories that hurt whenever he recognized the name of one of the mortals he'd recruited to do something, knees buckling as his world was repeatedly shattered at it's foundations.

Dream paused for a moment when he found the file on Nightmare. There were reports on what timelines the other had been in - blurry photographs and a supposed list of crimes that his other half had been accused of. On a list of mass-murderers and vile villains who had killed, maimed and tortured dozens if not hundreds of beings... Nightmare was number one. And the only reason that Dream could come up with why his other half was on that list was because he was hunting the other. He wanted to find Nightmare in order to... To... According to the report he was planning on having his scientists experiment on their soul bond, as well as to attempt to study the nature of the other's negative spirit...

Either in an attempt to figure out how to split the fate-bond that was entirely unique in the multiverse known to them all... Or to forcibly change Nightmare from a negative spirit into a positive one... Horror floods through Dream's soul and aura at the clinical notes that have already been taken on both of these potential ideas... From what he can tell, it's from studies done on Dream's own side of their bond and what makes up a positive spirit... But he can't tell for sure.

At this moment, at least, Nightmare isn't captured by Justice Reigns (which is the name of the organization that he leads, apparently. Because that doesn't scream dictatorial high-handedness at all). "Thank all the stars in the sky..." Dream whispers to himself at that, body shaking a little at the thought of Nightmare undergoing such torturous tests and knowing that it was by Dream's own command... One of the main reasons why he'd been tempted to eat the apples in the first place, was to make sure that the villagers would stop tormenting Nightmare.

Dream has to stop going through the file on Nightmare, his hands shaking, as the disgust, fear and pain in his soul is too much for him to bear. Thankfully, there is a smaller room off of this one, with a bed in it. The positive guardian activates the sound-proofing spells in this bedroom before he grabs one of the pillows and screamed into it until his voice gave out on him, noting absently that he'd also soaked the pillow in his tears of horror and self-revulsion at what he had done to Nightmare... What he had planned for his other half, who didn't deserve any of that.

He has no idea where in the multiverse his other half is... But he really hopes that Nightmare is safe and at least content, if not happy. Dream continues to sort through the files, re-learning a great deal of information. He freezes when he realizes that the favored method of dealing with criminals... What he personally decided and decreed to his loyal followers... Was that those who created negativity and suffering were to die. Executed publicly. Another shudder of horror runs through him and Dream is struck by a cold realization at what these notes imply. He turns off his eye lights, taking in and slowly letting out a couple of deep, calming breaths before he Checks himself.

{L̼o̴̳̥͔̝͈̯̖r̗̭̳d͉̯̣͚͈͢ Dream ͓̙̝̤̤̬V͙̗͝o̱̝̰͟n̷ ̜͎̤̺̲̪L̼̦̻̣͞i͇̝͎̠̪͉ͅc҉ẖ̵̮t̜̲͞, Guardian of positivity, C͚̜̠̦̥͖E̘̟͎̫̯̯̭͡O̼̻͙ ̯͍͚̘̘o͙̱͈͙̭̠͢f̬̺̪͍̘̣ ͈͍͕̱J̧u͔͎̦͈ͅs̼̗t̬̹͎͟i̦̩̝͔̬̥͢c̳̻͕̪̯̹̮e̱̜̯̬ ̞͝R̞̼̝͈̦̦̮͜e̩̝̥̟i̠͚͎͕̜̫̥g҉̣̰̙͈ͅn͓̪̤̠̬̭s̪͙͙̘͡.

ATK ??? DEF ???

*Confused and terrified of yourself

*What have I done?

LV: 1̢͎0͎?̼̣ͅ?̬͙̳́

*Filthy, hypocritical murderer}

Ten. He has an LV of ten. How many monsters and humans has he killed in order to even get an LV that high? How much blood and dust is on his hands? More horror and revulsion fills him and Dream rushes to the trash can, just barely managing to pull it close to him before he heaved up the contents of his stomach. Dream continued to heave long after there was nothing left, shuddering and gasping a little as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that he had killed dozens of people in order to get the LV he was currently at... From what he had read of the records of Justice Reigns, they had a no-tolerance policy when it came to certain kinds of criminals... Murderers being one such type. He did catch that there were some beings who had been rehabilitated somehow... Although Dream was, quite frankly, terrified at the thought of what constituted as rehabilitation by the draconian and ruthless organization that he lead. Not just lead, but had built from the ground up.

Dream suspected that some of the more stable murderers hadn't been killed... But recruited on the sly and either brainwashed or straight up offered a deal - service or death. Which was nauseating and he wondered how many of the people under his command were aware of this. The positive guardian genuinely couldn't guess and... He'd have to continue to go through personnel and intelligence files in his room, to gain some sort of insight as to just what sort of organization he was truly running - as well as have a guess as to just who might be aware of everything, and...  And what the hell he was going to do now.

If he could do whatever he wanted, Dream would immediately run after Nightmare, to desperately try to find the other and apologize for all of the shit he'd put the other through... The soul-deep betrayal that he had committed against his beloved and promise that he'd never hurt the other in such an awful way ever again. The positive spirit wanted to order an edict or proclaim or whatever the hell it was that he did when he wanted to inform his people to stop chasing down Nightmare... That they weren't going to immediately kill all criminals who did certain things but...

Such a deep and sudden reversal of policies would be seen as suspicious, and he suspected, wouldn't be taken well by the populace that he had a great deal of influence over... Or rather, that Justice Reigns had influence over. The people who reported directly and immediately to him might suspect that he had been blackmailed- or perhaps replaced entirely. Which wasn't true. But for the first time in...

For fuck's sake he'd been... He'd been out of his mind and drunk on power for... For over thirty years. How the hell had no one tried to stand up against him? Dream grimaced a little as flashes of memories of those foolish enough to oppose him crashed through his mind.

A stubborn-looking Toriel, her hands alight with fire as she attacked him with all that she had. The poor boss-monster had no idea how truly out-classed she was. Her dust stained his claymore three turns later. A regrettable loss, but as she had been the leader of her people, her falling to his blade was the tipping point.

A Sans who had snapped, slaughtering every monster who he could find in his timeline, in the desperate attempt to get strong enough to kill the human who had been destroying them over and over again, through countless timelines. The human's battered and black-stained red soul fluttered between the two of them weakly as Dream fought and dodged the mortal. He put up a good fight, but the other's soul cracked and crumbled in the positive spirit's fist six turns later.

A dozen royal guards-monsters from an Underfell timeline attack Dream and his team en-mass. The positive guardian stops and sends a pulse of pure magic their way, causing the startled and positivity-deprived monsters to collapse in the snow, shaking at the onslaught of false emotions. Their deaths were swift, a mercy that those guards would not have seen fit to give Dream or his people.

He whispered to himself, hiding his face in his hands, voice rough from the screaming earlier "What... What sort of demon of light have I become? And what should I do now?" He struggled with the despair and disgust that welled up in his soul at what he'd done - what he'd ordered others to do. Yes, there was a great deal of good that Justice Reigns was doing... But it was built on the blood and dust of dozens if not hundreds of sentient beings. That needed to change... But such a dramatic change needed to be gradual, and Dream would need to figure out who would stay loyal through this change, and who he would need to actually rehabilitate and put into therapy (including himself, quite frankly... As well as who might need more drastic measures.

Dream desperately wished that he had Nightmare at his side. He could only imagine what the other's reaction to how much work and effort this was going to take... His mate might roll on the floor laughing at the mess he'd gotten himself into... If it wasn't for the awful betrayal he'd committed against the other. No, best not to try to pursue Nightmare just yet - especially as he had no idea if he would be able to continue to keep his mind, or if... If whatever had taken hold of his mind might try to do so again.

Not that he was going to surrender to that sort of madness again. Not ever again, if he could at all help it. Small steps at first, and the first thing that he needed to do was to figure out what "he" had been planning to do for the day - whether or not anyone was going to be expecting him in any meetings, and if so where that might be (and perhaps in which timelines, as JR's reach apparently extended to quite a few timelines, from the information he was able to gather, along with what his scattered memories were telling him).

Dream shifted through the piles of paperwork - as he was pretty sure that he'd seen some sort of daily planner of sorts. At least his alternate ego or whatever the hell had been piloting his body and using his magic had been organized - as otherwise it would make this a lot harder, given the way that the paperwork and the files had been neatly arranged. If he wasn't so horrified by what he'd done, Dream would appreciate the meticulous way that all of this had been done.

He'd just found the damn thing, trying to figure out what day it might be, when there was a light knock on the door - and Dream could sense someone behind it. Shit. From what he could tell, his... He hadn't been too different from who he really was... Just considerably more ruthless than he truly was. He took a sip of water and used a bit of healing magic on his throat so that he could call out without his voice sounding hoarse or strained "Yes? Come in please."

A tall dog-monster walked in, nodding respectfully. The other was wearing a collar with a circular gold pin with the letters JR in the middle of the circle. His name was... C... Cha... Champion? A good and loyal supporter of his. Willing to fight, but not bloodthirsty. "You asked me to come and get you when the backers from timelines US-22 through USF 99 arrived? They've all arrived and have settled into the guest quarters."

Come on, Dream. Think! He thought to himself What was the plan for the day? Outwardly he nodded, standing up and stating calmly "Thank you for informing me of this, Champion. They traveled rather far, so I think I shall let them have a brief respite before speaking to them." That sounded reasonable... Right?

Champion didn't react outwardly, though there was a small twinge of surprise in the other's emotional aura. He nodded obediently "Yes sir, I'll inform them of that. The USF delegations in particular will be grateful for your generosity. If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave?"

Dream nodded, sending the other a small smile "That is all. Thank you."

"Yes boss." Champion acknowledged, the dog-monster's tail wagged a little, and his emotional aura perked up at the praise (which was adorable in the positive spirit's opinion), the other's ears pricking attentively towards him. The other was almost out of his office before he paused, and turned to look over one shoulder at him "How long should I tell them they have to rest before you'll meet with them, Lord Dream?"

That last moniker sent a spike of pain driving straight through the center of Dream's skull. he was very grateful that the other didn't seem to notice his ever so slight flinch. He hummed for a moment "Oh... Three hours? Tell me if they seem truly exhausted. I wouldn't wish to push them if they need more rest."

"Yes sir, understood." With that the dog monster left, not in the least bit suspicious that Dream had changed at all, if the other's emotional aura was anything to go off of.

Spectacular. He had just bought himself at least three hours to figure out what the hell that upcoming meeting was supposed to be about. Dream really hoped that he'd have enough of a clue not to tip off everyone around him that something had changed... They may not feel it is a good one and try to change him back.

And like hell was he going to let those torturous experiments happen to Nightmare - or for them to continue if his beloved ever really had been captured by his addled self.

No. He couldn't cry more. Not at the pain and misery he suspected he had put the love of his eternal life through. Not for the dozens of beings whose dust and blood permanently stained his hands and soul. All Dream could do was look to the future and try to make sure that Justice Reigns was a true source of positive change and true stability in the multiverse.

[five-wow]

aaand my 9.18 thoughts! there are many of them. this is the episode with danny’s mother in law and it was... a ride.

half naked sweaty man growls at random cars in the dark - is this teen wolf? twilight? so many possibilities

half naked sweaty man just got hit by a truck in a way he probably won’t survive if he’s not actually a werewolf. i don’t recall that ever happening in twilight, gosh.

we get steve and danny arriving at the hilton! this i’ve seen, because it was one of the preview clips, but i do like it a lot. i also like that steve implies that danny has been holding the liver donation over steve’s head constantly for favors, because a) we haven’t actually seen danny do that in recent times as far as i remember? like, at all? but mostly: b) this opens up endless fic opportunities about the many and varied Things Danny Asks Steve To Do to repay him for, and I quote danny here, “the gift of life”. that’s beautifully dramatic. nice choice of words.

and another thing: steve is claiming that this is the last favor he’ll do for danny and then they’ll be even, but come on, steve, honey. we all know who you are. we’ve all seen you agree to run a flipping restaurant with danny. like you’re going to tell him no after this, next time he asks you to do something ridiculous

danny: “your naive optimism is uh, is very cute.” steve: [looks at danny sideways for a moment too long]

danny is trying to tell steve that his mother in law tortured him his entire marriage and steve’s not really getting it, so that’s Not Good, but i’m skipping past that for the moment and hopping straight into “what are you gonna do? just tell me.” / “i’m gonna stand there and look handsome and not say anything.” because that is Good. i rambled about this in the tags of some post, i think, but i love how steve’s response is clearly rehearsed and probably something danny fed him pretty literally (“[don’t just] stand there and look handsome” is an exact phrase danny used earlier this season, even), which is something all kinds of things could be said about in general, but also means that danny indirectly called steve cute AND handsome in the span of maybe a minute of this episode. wherever this ends up, at least it has a good start

this DANGER! DANGER! music when rachel’s mother opens the door both made me laugh with how unexpectedly over the top it was and has me kind of tired of the setup of this plotline already. terrible, horrible mother in law stories? i’m not a huge fan

alright, so i’m ignoring all the prickly passive-agressive behavior from rachel’s mom towards danny for the moment because ugh, and what i like far better anyway is how well steve is keeping to his mission to stand sit there and look handsome and not say anything. he even LOOKS AT DANNY FOR PERMISSION when rachel’s mom asks him a direct question that he can’t answer with stoic, handsome silence.

the first words out of steve’s mouth are, of course, “daniel’s my partner”. when are they not. (though he did remember the “we work together” bit this time, which is rare)

he called danny “daniel” and introduces himself as “steven” which cracks me up for no good reason. i guess he’s trying to be fancy?

i... i... you know, i just don’t really know what to say about the way rachel’s mom (amanda savage, i think? let’s call her amanda) snubs danny every chance she gets and flirts with steve in this extremely, well, almost stereotypical “rich older woman on the prowl” way. idk, i really think meeting rachel’s mom could have been very interesting, but with the way this character was written and behaves, she’s pretty much a caricature. not even in a way that’s clever or funny to me, just in a way that really tires me out because it’s mean and not very interesting and every so slightly misogynistic.

steve: “i can handle myself.” amanda, leering: “i bet you can.” danny: YEP ALRIGHT i’m going to jump in here with an unnecessary defense of steve that sounds like i’m boasting about him.

steve thinks danny needs to relax. oh boy. oh babe. that’s maybe not... quite the right way to handle this situation where your bff is very clearly being put down repeatedly by a woman that he’s been telling you (also repeatedly) that he has a bad history with. on the other hand, you know, i could almost make steve’s reaction here make sense for myself, because amanda reminds me of steve’s own mom in certain ways and steve’s never been good at standing up against doris or seeing her shit for what is really is either, so. gosh. boy has some issues. (but danny still REALLY deserves better support than this, so get over it, steve.)

why the random single word of italian, steve, omg. danny’s “kiss ass” was very deserved.

junior: “the killer’s dna or fingerprints could be on one of these vials.” tani: “ugh, wouldn’t that be oh so helpful? which probably means it’s not gonna happen.” tani, you poetic and nobel land mermaid, you really don’t know how these detective shows work, do you?

i do like this case that the rest of five-0 is working on, by the way! it’s very interesting so far

steve: “i am four glasses of champagne in today.” fdjkfdjk maybe that’s how he’s still so cheerful in amanda’s presence. hey danny, there’s your solution: day drinking.

okay. OKAY. amanda just handed steve and only steve a present for all his hard work because he “came of [his] own volition”, which sure, whatever, obviously she was going to snub danny here too by not getting him anything, but the reason for it is what bugs me. “i realize of course that daniel had to come because of the family obligations and that”, she says, but omg, WHAT family obligations? he divorced your daughter, holy shit. he’s your grandkids’ dad, but that’s a LOT of corners to take before we get to you two being family, let alone having any obligations to each other. which, really, even if he did have those - maybe you, dear amanda, could possibly be convinced to feel obligated to be ever so slightly less completely hostile to this guy who’s doing you a favor. this is. this is very annoying.

this thing where steve asks amanda about where she gets the ideas for her books and amanda says she just had some inspiration for a story about a policeman who risks everything for the love of an older woman? i mean, i knew something like that was coming, because it had to, but i still think it’s pretty damn creepy.

steve: “i would uh, i would read that.” steve, darling, the fuck are you doing.

danny: “yeah, except he can’t actually read unless it’s a cereal box or something like that.” completely untrue (steve is a nerd! steve reads for fun!), but also completely deserved, holy shit. wreck him, danny.

amanda complains about rachel’s wedding day (when she was getting married to danny, obviously, who’s sitting right next to her) and we’re getting some impressive Looks between steve and danny and yes!! that’s better!! that’s more like the understanding danny deserves

danny’s dad paid extra for the fish tank in the wedding day limousine for amanda (which means he went out of his way to get her something nice!) that she’s now ragging on, and her answer is “well daniel, you and i have different ideas of what constitutes class” which is just. god. i hate everything about that. and not even in the way where it’s fun to dislike a character, which it can be if things are done right, but in the way where it just... physically makes my skin crawl. idk if this is still supposed to be funny, but it’s not my idea of humor.

junior: “i’m pretty sure that guy thinks i’m gay.” tani: “weird. just a normal, heterosexual dude chatting up every muscley guy in this gym. what would make anyone think that?” okay, so this isn’t the most original joke ever, but this show is often so extremely straight that i’m just low key very excited about every single time they acknowledge the fact that that’s not entirely the only option. also, i love tani. so much.

TANI HAS TO IMPROVISE A DANCE CLASS. “booty boost 101.” beautiful. THAT’S the content i’m here for, omg.

danny: “you hear that stuff about the wedding?” steve: “yeah, that was a little harsh.” A LITTLE. and then he starts explaining the difference between the english and americans to danny, which, sweetheart, danny was married to an englishwoman for a decade. you’re mansplaining this except, like, to another man, for a change.

danny tells steve that he FLEW TO ENGLAND on a budget to ask amanda for rachel’s hand because rachel’s dad had passed away and amanda told him no. oh, fuck off. steve, you fuck off too, right now, because i love you but you’re being Not Great about this.

steve: “you know what that is, right? that right there, that’s self-pity.” STEVE. NO. BAD STEVE. i get where he’s coming from and maybe danny even needs to hear this on some level, but steve can’t say this shit after he’s already been taking amanda’s side all day.

steve: “cause let me telll you right now, you, my friend, you are more than adequate.” danny: “thank you. thank you.” steve: “you’re welcome.” that’s more like it! it’s a start, anyway, even though it’s probably all we’re going to get.

danny has made reservations at THREE fancy restaurants to give amanda options, but she asks for steve’s opinion and he (of course) takes her to kamekona’s. oh god. but hey, at least danny’s “please make sure that everything is fresh, because if she gets food poisoning we’ll all be killed” made me laugh.

FLIPPA READS ROMANCE NOVELS AND WILL NOT BE ASHAMED OF IT. this is the first actually good thing to come out of this whole romance novel author thing!

steve, to amanda, while danny is out of earshot: “you know i got to tell you something, i’ve known a lot of people in my life, and that man right there? [points to danny, pauses] he’s the best of the best.” this is GOOD, but you should perhaps consider not only taking danny’s side with any kind of conviction when it’s behind his back. he needs to hear this!!!

amanda pretends to be unsure if steve means flippa or danny and steve goes, actually kind of annoyed for the first time all day, “mandy”, and i appreciate that. i appreciate less that amanda immediately tries to change the subject so they’re talking about steve.

danny tries one last time to point out to amanda that she’s being unfair and when she’s still unwilling to admit to anything he calmly STANDS UP and WALKS AWAY. i can’t even put words to how much i’m cheering for him right now because SHIT YES GOOD FUCKING FINALLY. plus, the way he did this? fuck. i’m proud.

amanda’s reaction: “ah.” can we, like... send her into space? permanently?

steve’s face, though, is far more interesting to me.

lou shoots the doctor who was trying to run away in the leg!!!! holy shit, that’s exactly the thing i’m always quietly wondering about, because it would be SUCH a good way to keep someone from running without, you know, killing the suspect on the spot.

this thing with tani almost dying was intense, god.

danny is at the hotel bar and tells the bartender he has a buddy coming to meet him (which is why he buys two beers) soooo that’s very obviously steve. and then amanda turns up. which i knew would happen, because i’ve seen people talk about it, but still. not what we want.

amanda...... “swiped”..... steve’s phone. meaning she lured danny here using steve. great. awesome. just, really, just super. (like. fucking at least be honest about wanting to talk to danny or something, if that’s what you want. he’s been nothing but curteous to you despite your horrific behavior, and still you feel the need to trick him into this? jesus.)

“sorry for all the subterfuge but i had to have a conversation with you and i knew that you’d say no if i asked.” if there’s one thing that’s become pretty clear this episode it’s that she literally doesn’t know danny at all, omg, but i guess that at least this is in character for her by now.

oh my gosh. just. oh my fucking god. amanda tells danny that she kind of identified with him because she grew up with three siblings in a two-bedroom apartment, but she always wanted something more, and she was looking for a good man but never found one, and then she was jealous of rachel when rachel found danny because he is a good man. this is so many levels of fucked up all stacked on top of each other that i don’t even want to try to pry them apart right now.

danny, very drily: “hm.” I LAUGHED SO HARD. this episode is shitty to danny, but at least danny’s reactions are very on point and relatable.

amanda goes on, and of course shit gets worse, because her bodyguard isn’t even out of commission, she just used that as a ploy to “have a talk” with danny. danny kind of laughs like this is the weirdest shit he’s heard all week and goes “yeah?” and honestly, poor guy.

danny: “you didn’t wanna just tell me that when you, when you first saw me? you wonna torture me for the whole day?” you know, one thing i’m glad for is that at least, at the very least, the show lets danny be fully aware that this is Not Okay.

amanda: “do you care about my daughter, daniel?” danny: “yes, i do.” amanda: “well good, then don’t toy with her affections. i know that you two have been seeing each other a lot and i know that she is talking about you all the time so i don’t want to see her hurt again, okay?” listen. this is just. this is just such bizarre retcon shit the writers are trying to pull about the way things between rachel and danny went down that i just. i’m mad, on some level, sure, but mostly i just have to laugh because it’s so ridiculous? danny’s mother in law is an absolute nightmare to him all day, then lies to get him to this hotel bar for a talk, confesses she orchestrated this entire day just to get to this talk (but still wilfully made him miserable for some reason? why???), and tells him that he shouldn’t play with her daughter’s feelings after she’s never been anything but awful to him, has tried to keep her away from her daughter from the very start, and just told him that she apparently did all of that (for years and years!) because she was jealous that rachel had found a Good Man and she hadn’t. i am. completely overwhelmed, honestly. this is too much to take in.

amanda: “i want you to do right by her. will you do right by her?” danny: “yes.” danny looks confused, and that’s how i feel, honestly.

... and. and then he pays for champagne for her. wasn’t she having dinner with rachel and the kids? why is she drinking champagne with danny now? 

okaaaaay. so. this was... an episode. that’s something i can say for sure.

for all of the rest of it, i think i need to give this some time to sink in and mull it over, because there’s A LOT to unpack here. amanda is, uh, a strong character. she doesn’t seem like a person i’d wish on anyone, least of all as a mom. rachel’s deception and her penchant for lying to danny? yeah, i can see where that’s coming from, now. that’s one interesting thing to come from this episode, i suppose - some character background for rachel.

then there’s steve, who took most of this way less seriously than i think he really should have, and when he finally started seeing sense and sticking up for danny near the end of the episode, he just... disappeared. i really wanted steve and danny to at least have some kind of talk after danny walked away from kamekona’s, but that was the last we saw of steve. danny was trying to have a beer with steve, but obviously that turned out to have been amanda’s charming little “ploy”, so he ended up having champagne with amanda instead. which is still. uh. weird. she never apologized for any of the shit she pulled (except for that little “sorry for all the subterfuge” which really doesn’t cover it) and even after she supposedly explained herself, she still turned her nose up at the beer that danny had bought for steve and offered to her until he said she could have something else if she wanted. doesn’t she have her own money? she’s a rich romance author. buy your own fucking champagne, amanda. or better yet, cover danny’s beer - it’s the last you could do.

what i liked a little more was danny’s complete lack of a reaction to most of what amanda said to him at the bar. i mean, he laughs and looks disbelieving and possibly a little wtf-ish, but that’s about it. i’m guessing, as usual when it comes to anything danny&rachel related, that the writers are interpreting this differently from what i want to read into this (or at least they’re using it to push in a direction i really don’t want to go), but that’s the thing about this - it’s pretty open to interpretation, because danny says very little and his faces could mean any of a million things.

also. that talk at the bar? it feels kind of useless in the end. amanda said some stuff but didn’t apologize or promise to change her behavior and in fact she seemed pretty much the same with her whole champagne thing, and danny didn’t really get to say anything at all, so this does pretty much nothing for them. i guess the champagne was meant as a celebration for... a new level of understanding? but is that really something that was happening there? you could read that into it, if you really wanted to, but i’m not seeing it.

anyway. i liked the drugs storyline that the rest of five-0 was working on! that was good. the steve and danny part... i don’t know. it was a lot.

[activatingaggro]

>ID: get distracted.

In which ID, a yellowblood enforcer for the Queenpin’s mob, messages @skegulium‘s Cramel, a blueblood that he recruited and formerly worked with, to try and curry a favour.

In their usual manner, everything goes wildly off-track.

SUMMARY:

[09:56] ID: Why, if the leaves were big enough, why couldn't they just flap them all at once and get off the ground?

[09:56] ID: Like bumblebees!

[09:56] ID: Except with dozens of them.

[09:56] SD: tree is tree

[09:56] SD: not bumblebee

[09:56] SD: punched a bee three perigree ago

[09:56] SD: stung hand

[09:56] ID: It's evolution!

[09:56] ID:

[09:57] SD: swollen

[09:57] ID:

[09:57] SD: was swollen

[09:57] ID: Yes, that.

[09:57] ID: They.

[09:57] ID: Uh.

[09:57] ID: That happens.

[09:57] ID: If you punch a bee.

-- iconicDisquiet [ID] began pestering swampDog [SD] at 20:38 --

[08:38] ID: Hey there, my little caramel! ໒✪ᴥ✪ʋ

[08:38] ID: And how are you on this fine, fine night?

[08:38] ID: Off chasing hydrants?

[08:39] SD: HEH YEH ICONIC

[08:39] SD: OH

[08:39] ID: Frolicking in the sanguine waters of our marvelous salty sea?

[08:39] SD: HIT BUTTON

[08:39] SD: yeh

[08:39] SD: was at ocean other night

[08:39] ID: Hitting the button is usually the goal, sugarpup~

[08:39] ID: What? No!

[08:39] ID: Really!

[08:39] SD: talked to seadweller

[08:39] ID: Heavens.

[08:39] SD: punched seadweller

[08:39] ID: But was it a nice conversation, darling?

[08:39] SD: she cried

[08:39] ID: Oh, there we go.

[08:39] SD: yeh yeh

[08:40] ID: I was almost worried you were losing your spark. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[08:40] SD: how you ?

[08:40] ID: I am simply fantastic! Fintastic, if you will, on account of our big fish of a friend.

[08:40] ID: Whyever did you go punching them, dearheart?

[08:40] SD: heheheheh

[08:40] ID: Her!

[08:40] SD: eh do not remember

[08:40] SD: was told to

[08:40] SD: so punched

[08:41] ID: Well, that's as good a reason as any.

[08:41] ID: Y'know, I was just sitting here yesterday, thinking in my coon, remembering the good old nights we used to have. D'you remember those, sweetheart?

[08:41] SD: yeh yeh yeh

[08:42] SD: worked together tons

[08:42] SD: lots and lots

[08:42] ID: Like the time we went to go collect from that tealblood with the red eyes and the bakery.

[08:42] ID: Lots and lots!

[08:42] ID: Why, dozens of hundreds of times, practically speaking.

[08:42] SD: eh who counts

[08:42] SD: was just a lot

[08:42] SD: tons and tons

[08:49] -- swampDog [SD] changed their mood to OFFLINE --

[08:55] -- swampDog [SD] changed their mood to CHUMMY --

[09:10] ID: Absolutely all of the tons!

[09:10] ID: .. but I'm getting off track here.

[09:10] ID: We always had such rollicking times, working together, didn't we?

[09:10] SD: YEH YEH

[09:10] SD: OH

[09:10] SD: button again

[09:11] SD: forget button

[09:11] SD: rollicking

[09:11] SD: is like

[09:11] SD: rick bastly yeh ?

[09:11] SD: never give you up

[09:11] ID:

[09:11] SD: never give you down

[09:11] ID:

[09:11] ID: Absolutely!

[09:11] ID: Wait, no.

[09:11] ID: That was absolutely not worth a lie.

[09:11] SD: you said yeh

[09:11] SD: is true now

[09:12] ID: It's only roughly like - yes, well, now I'm taking back that yeh.

[09:12] SD: never give up never give down

[09:12] ID: So I'm afraid it's just untrue now!

[09:12] ID: Officially untrue, before you get that stuck in my poor head.

[09:13] SD: too late

[09:13] SD: am emailing link

[09:13] SD: youtube is good thing yeh ?

[09:14] ID: Really?

[09:14] ID: Really!

[09:14] SD: really really

[09:14] ID: You're just going to betray me like this, and get that jaunty little song stuck in my pan for ages and ages/

[09:14] ID: Look at that, I'm so distressed, I can't even press the button

[09:14] SD: yeh

[09:14] ID: ( T^T)

[09:15] SD: you will be fine

[09:15] SD: is good song

[09:15] ID: Oh, if you /insist./

[09:15] SD: like troll who jumps off fence

[09:15] ID: The Fencejumper?

[09:15] SD: yeh

[09:15] SD: watch video

[09:15] ID: Do you mean the troll who rides the wrecking ball?

[09:15] ID: I think I showed you that one.

[09:15] ID: If I haven't, why, I ought to.

[09:15] SD: troll who does not wear clothes

[09:16] SD: like naked rat

[09:21] ID: Yes!

[09:21] ID: Well, no.

[09:21] ID: She doesn't look like a naked rat.

[09:21] ID: Maybe more of, mm.. a naked cat.

[09:21] ID: A hairless bat?

[09:22] SD: not enough wrinkle for naked cat

[09:22] ID: Oh, come on, now, she doesn't have enough wrinkles for a naked rat.

[09:22] ID: They're one large, walking wrinkle, darling.

[09:23] SD: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/rare/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/rare_e1_naked-mole-rat_3x2_3.jpg

[09:23] SD: am noot

[09:23] SD: https://qph.fs.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-4df06f1cfecbaed943e664531d52494f-c

[09:23] SD: cat bigger wrinkle

[09:24] ID: Oh, that's just horrifying.

[09:24] ID: That's not a rat! That's a.. well, I don't pretend to know, frankly speaking, but by golly, I think the Handmaiden herself left it here solely to punish my poor eyes. ( T^T)

[09:25] SD: yeh

[09:25] ID: You always bring such endless delights to the table, blueberry.

[09:25] ID: But oh!

[09:25] ID: Oh, yes, let's not get off topic.

[09:25] ID: .. any more than we already have.

[09:26] ID: How would you feel about working with me again, darling? Just you, me, and baked goods as far as the eye can see.

[09:26] ID: Just like old times!

[09:27] SD: as far as can see ?

[09:27] SD: what if in small room

[09:27] SD: donuts on walls?

[09:27] SD: or donuts just over floor

[09:27] SD: stacked on side ?

[09:28] SD: or flat ?

[09:28] SD: heh yeh important information

[09:32] ID: Would you eat donuts stacked on the floor, caramel Cramel?

[09:32] ID: The floor, where everyone's nasty little feet have trod?

[09:32] ID: Or on the walls, where goodness only knows what's touched it?

[09:33] ID: Absolutely not! These are high quality baked goods, dearheart.

[09:33] SD: yeh would eat donuts

[09:33] ID: They are floating in the air, pristine, with little bits of plastic around each and every one of them to keep the germs out.

[09:33] SD: no question

[09:33] ID: And, no, it's not edible.

[09:33] SD: donut is donut

[09:33] SD: plastic is useless

[09:33] ID: Is it a donut if it's sprinkled with asbestos and disease? ( T^T)

[09:33] SD: will eat anyway

[09:33] SD: yeh

[09:33] SD: abestos and disease donut

[09:33] ID: Well.

[09:33] ID: That is a cunning argument.

[09:34] ID: So straight-forward, yet somehow, convincing!

[09:34] SD: book smart but not smart smart iconic

[09:34] SD: am smart smart

[09:34] ID: What is a donut, after all, but little bugs we ground up in flour and ate all the same?

[09:34] ID:

[09:34] SD: still donut with sprinkles

[09:34] ID: Hahaha.

[09:34] SD: no matter sprinkles

[09:34] ID: You know, you're the only person in this whole wide world who'd go and call a fellow like me book smart. You ought to stop, before you have me turning pink from head to toe!

[09:35] SD: you are pink any way

[09:35] SD: still wearing sweater ?

[09:35] ID: But you're right, of course. Why, out of the two of us, you're the brains brains of this operation, clear as salt. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[09:35] ID: Absolutely.

[09:35] SD: no pants ?

[09:35] ID: Leggings are pants, darling.

[09:35] ID: We've covered this!

[09:35] SD: fake pants

[09:36] ID: They're fake pants like the sun's a fake planet, that's all.

[09:36] SD: know answer to this

[09:36] ID: Why, in reality, they're the realest kind of pants of all.

[09:36] SD: sun is not planet

[09:36] SD: sun is

[09:36] SD: other thing

[09:36] SD: star

[09:36] ID: Isn't a star a fancy word for planet?

[09:36] SD: comparing apples to other thing not apples

[09:38] ID: Hmmm.

[09:38] ID: We're getting ourselves into a regular old conundrum here, like a couple of half-blind wrigglers fighting a culling fork~

[09:39] ID: Let's see.

[09:39] ID: If all apples are fruit, sweetheart.

[09:39] ID: And fruits are plants with seeds in them.

[09:39] ID: And apples have seeds in them.

[09:39] ID: Then all fruit are apples, honestly.

[09:39] ID: And that means you're comparing apples, in the end, to just more gosh darn apples.

[09:39] SD: why they not called apples ?

[09:39] ID: I just don't know!

[09:40] ID: To confuse us, I'd bet you anything.

[09:40] SD: should know

[09:40] SD: need to get fruit to test

[09:40] SD: many fruits

[09:40] SD: heard there was fruit with hair

[09:40] SD: heard there was fruit that smell bad

[09:40] SD: heard fruit that is not sweet

[09:41] SD: did you know tomato is fruit ?

[09:41] ID: Oh, absolutely.

[09:41] SD: would not put tomato in fruit salad

[09:41] ID: There's a variety of fruit! All sorts. We should do a proper scienstiffic experiment.

[09:41] ID: Did you know there's a type of fruit that burns your skin, if you don't cut it properly?

[09:41] ID: Imagine if you put that in a fruit salad!

[09:41] ID: .. and who'd ever put a tomato in a fruit salad?

[09:41] SD: did not know

[09:41] ID: That's a vegetable.

[09:41] SD: should find troll and put fruit on skin

[09:41] SD: tomato is fruit

[09:41] ID: That is the opposite of where vegetables belong~

[09:42] SD: tomato is fruit

[09:42] SD: learn that last week

[09:44] ID: See, darling, I'd believe anything you told me, on account of the fact you're just such a swell kind of girl, but -

[09:44] ID: and this is an awfully big but! -

[09:44] ID: I just have to say, I have to question that.

[09:45] ID: Tomatoes grow on trees!

[09:47] SD: tomato does not grow on tree

[09:47] SD: tomato grow on bush

[09:49] SD: am sure of this

[09:49] SD: will take you to farm

[09:49] SD: full of tomato

[09:49] SD: went to a farm perigree ago

[09:49] SD: punched a goat

[09:50] ID: https://www.weedemandreap.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/tomato-ailments-670x785.jpg Looks like a tree to me, darling.

[09:50] ID: .. hmmm.

[09:50] ID: But did you eat the goat?

[09:50] SD: no

[09:50] SD: could not

[09:50] SD: was told not to

[09:50] ID: Also, I just don't know why you're still running around punching things. Didn't I show you, a kick does so much better?

[09:50] SD: heard goat taste good

[09:50] ID: I learned it straight from my lusus's.. well, knee! And it is genuinely gosh darn true.

[09:50] ID: Goat is delicious.

[09:50] ID: Whyever did they stop you, the savages/

[09:51] SD: look like tree does not have tree skin

[09:51] SD: hard stuff

[09:51] SD: shell

[09:51] SD: tree shell

[09:51] SD: very small

[09:52] ID: The goat?

[09:52] ID: Oh, no, we're still on the tree, aren't we.

[09:52] SD: goat does not have tree shell

[09:52] ID: Well, all trees start off as little and delicate!

[09:52] SD: would be weird

[09:52] ID: Oh, I don't know.

[09:52] ID: If they can have wings, why can't they have a shell?

[09:53] SD: goat or tree ?

[09:53] SD: am sure not goat or tree have wings

[09:55] ID: ...

[09:55] ID: Well.

[09:56] ID: Why not both?

[09:56] ID: I don't see why a goat can't have wings.

[09:56] ID: And trees already practically have wings.

[09:56] ID: Why, if the leaves were big enough, why couldn't they just flap them all at once and get off the ground?

[09:56] ID: Like bumblebees!

[09:56] ID: Except with dozens of them.

[09:56] SD: tree is tree

[09:56] SD: not bumblebee

[09:56] SD: punched a bee three perigree ago

[09:56] SD: stung hand

[09:56] ID: It's evolution!

[09:56] ID:

[09:57] SD: swollen

[09:57] ID:

[09:57] SD: was swollen

[09:57] ID: Yes, that.

[09:57] ID: They.

[09:57] ID: Uh.

[09:57] ID: That happens.

[09:57] ID: If you punch a bee.

[09:57] ID: Was it at least a large bee?

[09:57] SD: i did not like it

[09:57] SD: small bee

[09:57] ID: I'd be a little worried if you did, darling!

[09:57] ID: Oh my goodness gracious.

[09:57] ID: Have you ever eaten a bee?

[09:57] SD: have not eaten bee

[09:58] SD: should i ?

[09:58] ID: Well, don't.

[09:58] ID: No!

[09:58] ID: It's a dreadful idea.

[09:58] ID: Stick to, oh, I don't know.

[09:58] ID: Snails?

[09:58] SD: kay

[09:58] SD: will eat snail

[09:58] ID: Bluebloods love snails, I'm told.

[09:58] ID: Good!

[09:58] ID:

[09:58] SD: shell too ?

[09:58] SD: yeh will eat shell

[09:58] ID: You don't have to eat a snail, you know.

[09:58] SD: crunchy

[09:58] ID: That was a metaphor.

[09:58] SD: like chip

[09:58] ID: Or the shell.

[09:58] ID: I don't think it's quite like a chip!

[09:58] SD: will find out

[09:58] ID: Somehow, I think it's more like, oh.

[09:58] ID: A rock?

[09:59] ID: You know what, forget the snails.

[09:59] SD: oh eat rocks

[09:59] ID: And the rocks.

[09:59] SD: rocks are good for insides

[09:59] ID:

[10:00] ID:

[10:00] ID:

[10:00] ID: You know what. Hold off on the rocks!

[10:00] ID: And the snails.

[10:00] ID: And everything else.

[10:00] ID: You and I, sugarheart, are going to get lunch, oh..

[10:00] ID: How about tomorrow?

[10:00] ID: And we can have this conversation in the flesh, with donuts, and no snails at all.

[10:01] SD: yeh yeh

[10:01] SD: tomorrow

[10:01] SD: asbestos and disease donut

[10:02] ID: Just for you, honeyhorns, we'll see if we can't get some plastermold in there, too.

[10:02] ID: Just to keep it on theme!

[10:02] SD: heh yeh

[10:03] SD: tomorrow meet up yes ?

[10:03] SD: you pay

[10:03] ID: I pay?

[10:03] ID: Well, gosh.

[10:03] SD: yeh

[10:03] SD: you left

[10:03] SD: now come back and treat me

[10:03] SD: yeh yeh ?

[10:03] ID: Do I have to win your affections through baked goods, like some sort of common harlot?

[10:03] SD: yeh

[10:03] ID: Does the strength of our affection not win me my own way? ( T^T)

[10:03] ID: Oh.

[10:03] ID: Well!

[10:04] ID: Fine.

[10:04] ID: If you insist, you scoundrel.

[10:04] SD: harlot

[10:04] ID: If you insist, you bluefanged harlot.

[10:04] ID: How's that?

[10:04] SD: no you are harlot

[10:05] SD: is six letters too

[10:05] SD: heh heh heh

[10:05] ID: Oh, ha /ha./

[10:06] SD: heh heh heh

[10:06] ID: .. oh, hold my stars and garters, I think someone is poking at my code. Again!

[10:06] SD: oh

[10:06] SD: punch them

[10:06] SD: work for me

[10:06] ID: Be right back, caramel. I'll get back to you after I punch them right in the fucking brain. ( （ ＾▽-）∠※☆ )

[10:07] -- iconicDisquiet [ID] ceased pestering swampDog [SD] at 22:07 --

[ofvernacular]

Can’t Stop Keeping Up With The Kardashians

In the endless stream of content that beleaguers consumers of art, culture and entertainment, people are constantly in the search for the more scintillating, the more engaging, the more exciting. In this search for amusement and momentary escapism from the capitalistic enslavement of the daily nine to five, reality television proves to be a seductive option. Reality television promises a raw, unscripted, and uncensored experience. There is no plot, it is just a production of people’s real lives, no characters, no pretentions. Reality T.V. gives you access to, as implicit by the name, reality. The phenomena of producing real lives serves as “the ideal of what is natural” in the field of the entertainment industry, as it “diminishes the tension between the finished product and everyday life” (Adorno 1944, 5). For the scope of this essay, I will investigate the ways in which this reality is produced for spectatorship through the mechanism of the culture industry by analyzing the television show Keeping Up With The Kardashians. The episode selected for analysis is the first episode of the fourteenth season, which is also a special ‘tenth anniversary episode’, aired on September 24, 2017, celebrating ten years of the Kardashian Empire.

           Keeping Up With The Kardashians, first aired in 2007 and running till date, is E! network’s highest-rated show. The megafranchise, consisting of multiple spinoffs and business endeavors, collectively garners billions of dollars every passing year earned from television salaries, celebrity appearances, social media endorsements, and make-up and fashion lines (Forbes 2018). The show follows the lives of sisters Kourtney (age 39), Kim (38), and Khloe Kardashian (34), their half-sisters Kendall (22) and Kylie Jenner (21), and other close family such as their mother and the family’s matriarch, Kris Jenner (62), brother Rob Kardashian Jr (31), stepfather Caitlyn (formerly Bruce) Jenner (69), and significant others. Each episode documents one event in the Kardashian-Jenner life, spanning from a day long to a week long, interspersed with clips from camera interviews of the separate family members commenting on the event that is taking place. The structure of all the episodes provides the audience with an immersive experience of the event, being shown (selectively) all the angles of a situation, and all recorded reactions. Each situation is dealt with and portrayed in a similar way, be it a scandal, a holiday, a party, or a personal challenge. As Adorno (1944, 9) says, a trademark of the entertainment industry is that the “content is merely a faded foreground; what sinks in is the automatic succession of standardized operations.”  The episode analysed for this essay documented the media coverage of the family’s tenth anniversary celebrations, a trip taken by the three Kardashian sisters to Cleveland, and a scandal regarding Kendall Jenner’s advertisement for Coca-Cola.

           It becomes evident from the beginning of the episode that the producers, in our case Ryan Seacrest and Kris Jenner, do not intend to hide the ‘industrial’ nature of the T.V. Show that they are producing. The first five minutes of the show itself revealed the Kardashian-Jenners in the middle of a production studio standing under artificial lighting against a luxurious white background, surrounded by cameramen, producers, make-up artists, crew members etc, posing for a photoshoot by The Hollywood Reporter covering the show’s tenth anniversary. The filming does not discriminate between the home lives and the business lives of the Kardashians, it testifies its promise of showing the family’s actual lives wherever they go, and so the spectator is left under the impression of watching these people in their natural habitat. The spectator accepts that the production studio is as much of a natural habitat for a Kardashian as a luxury restaurant or their home. Following this acceptance of seeing a Kardashian in a natural habitat, the spectator slowly begins to accept every depiction on the show as a truth and a reality. The episode features a vacation taken by the three Kardashian sisters to Khloe Kardashian’s boyfriend Tristan Thompson’s Cleveland house. The celebrity status of the Kardashians becomes evident as entire restaurants and amusement parks are booked out for their visit, and they are greeted by hordes of fans at multiple locations, all which is caught on camera. This stardom is juxtaposed with interval cuts of the sisters speaking to producers on camera, answering personal questions about their feelings, opinions and thoughts to bring them back in touch with the normal experience of the everyman. On being asked (note: the question prompt is never featured on screen, only the response of the Kardashian-Jenner being filmed, which too is evidently edited) about what Khloe Kardashian and her boyfriend do in Cleveland, Khloe tells the camera that they “are boring, watch T.V.” and “do normal things like cooking, cleaning…” These small interviews that are inserted into the videographical narrative that follows the Kardashians humanizes their lives, their emotions, and helps the audience feel as if they’re being communicated all essential information that may contextualize the events being filmed, while providing real human feelings for the audience to connect to. Seeing Khloe portraying herself as any other girl in a mundane relationship reassures the audience of the realness of the people whose lives they so enthusiastically yet absent-mindedly follow.

           The utility of these interview cuts can be illustrated with the way the Kendall Jenner Coca-Cola scandal was dealt with in this particular episode. The depiction of the scandal completely unveiled the mechanisms of the culture industry that may prevail today. One of the first conversations regarding the scandal, about eight minutes into the episode, featured Kourtney Kardashian telling her sister Kendall Jenner on video chat that “Russel called me today saying that we can turn this into a positive and said he’d call mom,” to which Kendal replied saying “yeah, he called me…if I knew this was the outcome I would never have done anything like this.” Many allusions were made to people such as Russell who were the Kardashians’ personal publicists and other business affiliates. The conversations regarding the scandal throughout the episode revealed attempts of the family and their employed publicists to diffuse the scandal that labelled Kendall Jenner a racist for doing a culturally insensitive commercial for Coca-Cola during the Black Lives Matter protests. In an interview with the camera, Kendall explained that when she “first took [the offer] [she] thought it was going to be a good thing. The company is amazing. So many people have done it. Michael Jackson did it, Britney Spears has done it…the list goes on...I trusted everyone, I trusted the teams.” This information reveals the influence of the entertainment business on the lives of the Kardashians. The narratives created when the Kardashian-Jenners refer to the external team recording and controlling their appearances make explicit to the spectator that all social media news on the Kardashians external to the television show is mediated, untrue and ‘gossipy’, while proving the show to be the source of ‘real facts’ or information for the audience to consume unquestioningly. It is the reckless honesty portrayed by the cameras that helps perpetuate the show’s position as an unbiased documentation of now-celebrity lives.

           However, “the culture industry perpetually cheats its consumers of what it perpetually promises” (Adorno 1944, 10). It becomes evident to the suspicious eye that the portrayal of what is true on the T.V. show is just the product of another narrative that is trying to be created by executive producer and also star-mom Kris Jenner to clear up any unwanted controversy and keep the show popular and entertaining. Through the show there are multiple cuts where Kendall discusses her regret over starring in the commercial and having no bad intent while shooting it. There is a scene where the family discusses Caitlyn Jenner’s upcoming media appearances and their apprehension of her tendency to say politically incorrect things on camera or, in Kim’s words, “Caitlyn [being] known for saying all the wrong things.” This implies a right versus wrong narrative that could be associated with the family, and Kris Jenner’s motive to always stay on the right side becomes explicit through the content of each episode. Kendall makes clear to the audience on multiple occasions to not pay heed to her father’s public words as “the only problem is that because she’s [her] dad, people are gonna like really believe it and take it and run with it and like what does she even actually know.” Even the ending scene of the show drives home the point that any controversy created by Caitlyn Jenner regarding the Coca Cola scandal is baseless as Kendall sobbingly testifies to the camera that “my dad doesn’t actually know what happened…I just feel really really really bad…that this was taken in such a wrong way.” The T.V. show naturally monopolizes all the news on the Kardashian family, while easily being one of their most edited and mediated productions that run past several bureaucratic check-posts before the final airing.

           It should be noted that the executive producer of this television show, the kingpin of the mediation who controls the final narrative created around the Kardashian Lifestyle, is in fact personally involved with the family’s fortune and appearance. This kingpin is the Kardashian-Jenner’s mother, Kris Jenner. Her influence can be felt in certain productions of truth on the show, such as writing away her popular ex-husband Caitlyn Jenner as an uninformed liar, however this observation may be based on my personal conjecture. The bitterness, also felt by her children towards their ex-stepfather, can be recorded in this show by Khloe’s statement “It’s not cause you’re trans, that’s not why I’m not talking to you, I’m not talking to you because you’re a bad mean person.” The outrage against Caitlyn Jenner is fierce in this particular episode, and the Kardashians make it a point to feature it extensively in their show, publicly demonizing Caitlyn Jenner. It is also interesting to note in the statement above Khloe’s need to clarify that she dislikes Caitlyn Jenner, but not because of her gender. The fact that the show is a product of a business industry that must appease certain public ideologies is revealed in all the Kardashian-Jenner’s effort to be politically correct on camera, and also clear up controversies outside camera regarding political correctness using extensive means such as publicists, personal social media statements et cetera. These small details make evident the fact that ultimately, the show is being produced for a particular consumer, an imagined spectator, whom the show must adjust itself to to keep him or her unquestioningly amused and involved. As Adorno (1944, 9) says, “it is quite correct that the power of the culture industry resides in its identification with a manufactured need, and not in simple contrast to it, even if this contrast were one of complete power and complete powerlessness.”

           The “complete power” of these media magnates is shown in the public engagement with their brand that is formulated on the platform of the T.V. show. The blasting sales of Kylie Jenner’s make-up line that makes her one of the youngest and richest ‘self-made women’ (Forbes 2018) or the amused people who flock to watch redundant spin-offs made on different members of the Kardashian clan to remain as connected to the family as possible, prove the influence of the Kardashians on their followers. These followers are provided a “convergent media experience” (Barron 2012, 82) where they can stay in touch with the Kardashian’s personal lives through their social media accounts on Instagram and Snapchat in addition to the T.V. show and Hollywood news, adding a sense of accessibility to their celebrity lifestyle. The fanbase generated by the seemingly innocuous family can be explained by Adorno on page 8:

The consumers are the workers and employees, the farmers and lower middle class. Capitalist production so confines them, body and soul, that they fall helpless victims to what is offered them. As naturally as the ruled always took the morality imposed upon them more seriously than did the rulers themselves, the deceived masses are today captivated by the myth of success even more than the successful are. Immovably, they insist on the very ideology which enslaves them.

Each fan following the Kardashians has become an aspirant to their lifestyle, and a subject of their brand. On page 22 Adorno continues by saying that “the assembly-line character of the culture industry, the synthetic, planned method of turning out its products is very suited to advertising,” claiming that each “interchangeable” shot of a celebrity in a production becomes an advertisement for his or her name. Every public appearance made by a Kardashian-Jenner is controlled by and also controls the brand name Kardashian. The brand infiltrates the wishes and wardrobes of its consumers. The Kim Kardashian make-up line generates its profits not from its inherent goodness as a cosmetic, but through its cosmetic connection with the queen of the pop culture industry. Every “recommendation” by the family “becomes an order” (Adorno 1944, 21). The advertising takes place in the show as well as on all platforms of media outside. Whether it be sponsored Instagram posts on Fit Tea, or in the episode under analysis, a three minute sponsored demonstration of Nurse Jamie’s Healthy Skin Solutions which the Kardashian sisters learn about, experience and review on camera. These endorsements become cultural symbols of a Kardashian lifestyle and control the tastes of the public for economic profit.

Through this essay we realize the not-so-hidden business intentions behind the reproduction of the Kardashian-Jenner family life for public reality television. What started out as Ryan Seacrest’s wish to create a successful T.V. show (Cosmopolitan 2018) has evolved into an entertainment empire headed by Matriarch and Executive Producer Kris Jenner, and her business subjects, also children, Kourtney, Kim, Khloe, Kendall, Kylie and Rob. There are many instances through the T.V. show that reveal its industrial nature to us, be it the brand endorsements casually mentioned through the episode, the intimate relationship of the family with the business associates such as publicists, personal assistants, crew members etc, the revelation of the politics around Hollywood gossip or the constant editorial interruption in the forms of camera interviews that sprinkle the flow of events in each episode. Nevertheless, consumers keep desiring more of the DASH business, and “desire is always in excess of the object’s capacity to satisfy it” (Phillips 1999, 100). The Kardashians could produce as many spinoffs, brew as much controversy, and curate countless media appearances, and the consumers will never be satisfied. That is because the depiction of absolute reality promises a constant influx of possible new information, gossip and news. Because the consumers’ lives run parallel, in the same space-time fabric as their T.V. idols’ lives, the expectations do not cease. Thus every episode, like a kiss, leaves the watcher disappointed, longing for more. This disappointment ensures the return of the consumer for another round, another peck. Like a moth, the consumer lingers in front of the bright screen desiring a minute more of escapism from the rut of capitalistic enslavement, by submitting him or herself into an alternate industry that controls not their employment but their culture.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Barron, Lee. Social Theory in Popular Culture. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013.

 Lerner, Rebecca. "'Keeping Up With The Kardashians' Ratings Improve." Forbes. January 26, 2018. Accessed October 29, 2018. https://www.forbes.com/sites/rebeccalerner/2018/01/17/keeping-up-with-the-kardashians-ratings-improve/#316f29d969c2.

 Phillips, Adam. On Kissing, Tickling, and Being Bored: Psychoanalytic Essays on the Unexamined Life. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999.

 Rees, Alex. "Here's How the Kardashians Landed Their Reality Show." Cosmopolitan. October 07, 2017. Accessed October 29, 2018. https://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/celebs/news/a35457/heres-how-the-kardashians-landed-their-reality-show/.

 Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno, “The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception,” in Dialectic of Enlightenment. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2002.

 Robehmed, Natalie. "How 20-Year-Old Kylie Jenner Built A $900 Million Fortune In Less Than 3 Years." Forbes. July 13, 2018. Accessed October 29, 2018. https://www.forbes.com/sites/forbesdigitalcovers/2018/07/11/how-20-year-old-kylie-jenner-built-a-900-million-fortune-in-less-than-3-years/.

[namjooneh]

you're my weakspot and i'm yours

Prologue: Schenectady

The snow is so deep and thick Sam’s boots squeak through the clean depth of it and his footprints leave a sculptured trail. Pale and lovely under the moonlight, it heaps the embankment where Sam walks and levels the yards to either side, the encompassing white broken only by the black lines of the railway tracks. In Aleut words for snow are infinite, but Sam, warm with company and burgers and beer and new thick padded coat, can remember none of them. Still, it’s parka weather, nanook weather, cold as a witch’s tit and just as harshly, breath stoppingly beautiful.

Beside him, Dean says, “Look up,” his voice hushed and his breath hanging frost in the air, and when Sam does the stars are candles in the night sky and the moon a hunter’s lantern.

His feet are freezing.

“Keep walking,” Dean says, and nudges him forward.

“Cold,” Sam says. He’s not complaining, just saying, and Dean grins back at him in acknowledgment over, up-tilted, one of the beer bottles he’s still carrying.

“Thought you said this was a shortcut,” Dean says, when he’s done with the bottle and wiping off his mouth with the back of his glove.

But Dean is not complaining either. Dean’s loose and relaxed under the bulk of his jacket, his cheeks and nose flushed with cold but his eyes curved narrow at the corners, content. Happy Dean. They’re five hours off a salt and burn, bar happy, beer happy, alone and together in this world of ice and snow. Somewhere in their future there’s a warded motel room and two comfortable beds and thick wool blankets and good coffee and, if they’re lucky, a late night movie marathon heavy on the explosions.

“Cause you were born to be my baby...” Dean hums, and then sings, “...And baby, I was made to be your man...”

Sam, unlikely troubadour, matches his baritone to Dean’s. It’s not the first time, but this time, there’s a rhythm to the words he can’t place, a bass thrum that underscores the sound of their voices.

The rails are singing. It’s a train.

“Dean,” Sam says, not urgently, but Dean is already watching the line where one single night star is moving and brightening.

“Hey Sam,” Dean says, standing still. Standing in the center of the tracks. “D’you wanna... ?”

Safe on the edges of the embankment, Sam says, “No. C’mon.” Unhurried. They have time.

“No?” Dean says. Balanced on the balls of his feet, he’s solid as a linebacker, head up, boots on the tracks, hands held wide. He’s got two bottles of pale ale in one hand and a dead flashlight in the other, and he’s grinning.

“Dean,” Sam says, a little more urgently. The sound of the engine is heavy and dull in his ears, and he can feel the rails vibrate.

“Weather’s fine,” Dean says. “Live a little.”

Dean’s still grinning, as if nineteen thousand tons of freight train out of Saskatoon powering down the line will stop, just because Dean Winchester’s standing on the tracks. The headlight of the coming engine is brighter than the moon, whiting out the night, highlighting the folds of Dean’s coat, his cheekbones and the ruffled spikes of his hair. Light in motion, it sends their elongated shadows dancing across the snow. Night vision interrupted shows Sam images in black and white. Dean the warrior. Dean the invincible.

“Move, okay?” Sam says, raising his voice.

“Aw, Sam,” Dean says, but he doesn’t take his eyes from the train.

Somewhere behind the single, consuming light there’s a driver, and even as Sam tries to see past the glare into the cabin, he can hear the wheels scream as the brakes lock on. Sparks fly into the night, steel straining against steel.

“Fucking move,” Sam shouts, and at last, finally, in a contemptuous lazy pirouette, Dean steps off the tracks. Night behemoth, the train splits them apart seconds later with a rush of wheel-born thunder and snow-cold wind that tugs at Sam’s coat and snaps his bangs over his eyes. Sam on one side of the tracks, Dean on the other.

It’s a freight train, low-slung double stacked containers, and in the moonlight the beast is slow enough for Sam to snatch glimpses of his reckless, careless brother in the spaces between cars. Dean in monochrome, freeze frame, split second shots. Dean laughing. Dean waving. Dean paused waving. Dean looking away. Dean caught halfway through a star-jump, clowning for Sam. Punctuated by passing freight cars, reduced to a cartoon image, he could be as inconsequential as Sam’s own reflection in a funhouse mirror. They’re disconnected, uncoupled. An image in black and white, Dean is a stranger in a landscape Sam doesn’t recognize.

Sam looks.

Dean is Sam’s. Dean is family, with every single nuance of thwarted love and exasperation and hero worship the word entails. When Sam thinks of Dean, it’s not his face Sam knows, it’s the way Dean feels in Sam’s head, an emotional image so intricately entwined with Dean’s body that the two have always seemed inseparable. Dean seen by Sam in relation to Sam alone. Just as if there had never been, never was, a Sam without Dean.

The thought’s untrue. There has been a Sam alone, lost, without a compass in a world he did not understand. And there has been a Dean without Sam. Before Sam was even born, Dean. Dean in hell. Dean with Lisa, trying so very hard to be the man Sam had wanted him to be. Alone.

On the side of a railway embankment in Schenectady, New York, Sam looks at Dean and sees a stranger. Flash frame images, movie star stills. A man Sam does not know, suddenly, crazily, so strange and so very beautiful Sam cannot but want. Lust after, so violently, so quickly, that the heat of it sinks into his bones as if it belongs there. As if Sam’s reliving a realised desire, as if he’s looked at Dean before and felt, not love, but hunger. He should look away. He can’t, hopelessly entangled in Dean’s image. Dean shrugging his scarf up to his chin. Dean frowning. Dean turned away, his shoulders down, his face lowered in profile. Dean starting to walk down the tracks as Sam must, keeping pace, his feet stumbling blindly through snow on gravel. Sam seeing Dean from the outside in, nothing more than a fantasy Sam struggles to ground in what is real: this isn’t, can’t be, a casual moment of lust. Dean is Sam’s brother. Dean is half of Sam’s life.

He still can’t look away.

The train passes, gathering speed. Thirty cars. Forty. Fifty. Snow smacks off a container, missing Sam by inches. The second snowball clips one container and splatters against the next. Sam doesn’t even try. Shocked and aching, he stands still instead, watching, until Dean gives up. The train is endless. Sixty cars. Seventy. It’s still a betrayal when the last car passes and leaves Sam alone on the tracks with this man he no longer knows.

He can see the way it should be. They will gravitate together, he and Dean, walking shoulder to shoulder. Dean will have the remnants of his grin in the corners of his mouth and the curve of his cheeks. Sam will be fondly exasperated. Dean will complain about walking and Sam will cite Dean’s blood alcohol level and the iced up roads. They will tumble into the hotel room stripping off gloves and coats: Dean will give Sam the first shower and when he comes out his boots will be damp but clean, stuffed with newspaper and set side-by-side in front of the heater. Ten minutes later, Dean will come out of the bathroom already wearing his boxer shorts and T-shirt, and he’ll sleep on his belly, snuffling.

It seems unreal. It’s a relationship that doesn’t exist. Dean is the same; it’s Sam who has changed, Sam who has been shocked so far from himself tonight that he can barely put one foot in front of the other. His hands are clenched in his pockets, his heart trip hammers double time, and he’s as hard under his clothes as he can ever remember being. He hadn’t realized, while the train passed, but in the snow-silenced afterward his pulse thuds against the skin of his wrists and in the hollows of his thighs, his cock rubs heavy and damp against his belly with every stride he takes, and he’s light-headed and dizzy.

“Sam?”

“Nothing.”

“Chickenshit.”

“Don’t do that again,” Sam snaps.

He can see Dean’s eyebrows go up from the corner of his eyes, but Sam doesn’t look around. Dean says nothing. Sam balls his hands in his pockets, fingernails pressing into the flesh of his palms, and keeps walking. Snow crunches under his boots and Dean’s, a crackling dissonance, although Dean’s stride matches his and they’re walking in the same direction.

The motel’s cranked up the heating. Warmth prickles in Sam’s fingers and the tip of his nose, pinks Dean’s cheeks and flushes his skin under the unwrapped scarf.

“No shower?”

“Tired,” Sam says, no more than his coat and boots stripped off and those reluctantly. With no such compunction Dean’s down to jeans and T-shirt and threadbare socks, all of them and Dean himself stretched out on his bed with the remote. He’s four feet away and the curve of his hipbone would fit exactly into the palm of Sam’s hand. Sense memory, the feel of softened denim and skin under it shivers through Sam’s fingers. He looks away.

“This okay with you?”

“What?” Not explosions on the screen but souped up cars and city streets. Dean doesn’t usually ask, which means he knows something’s wrong. “Sure,” Sam manages, and is caught all over again by the shadows across Dean’s face, the angular lines of his cheekbones and the softening of his jawline. He knows what the creases at the corner of Dean’s eyes would feel like under his thumbs, and it’s a sensation so real Sam wonders for a moment if he’s actually felt it. He’d thought he remembered everything, when the wall crashed down, but he’s learned not to trust himself. His selves.

For a moment, in a flashback so vivid it could be real, Sam sees, feels, Dean arch up under Sam’s weight. It’s an image shadowed with blood and flame, and the heat of it stings Sam so powerfully he almost gasps. Dean, bruised and bloodied, has never looked at Sam with his eyes wide and his hands clawed on Sam’s shoulders, and Sam’s never even dreamed the brutal, velvet clench of the way Dean’s ass feels around his own cock. It’s a perversion of love so sickeningly arousing Sam bites back a gasp. What he’s seeing is a nightmare straight out of the cage, and he thought he’d seen everything.

It’s not true.

But Dean’s lied before. Dean would lie again, to protect Sam.

In desperate retreat, Sam stretches out a hand and reaches down his laptop, thumbing it open. It’s not the first time he’s tried and got nowhere, but, hands shaking, he types memory loss into Google and hits return. He’s hoping for some explanation of phantom memories, unreal emotions that would explain the shape of his desire, so utterly unwelcome and so familiar. Tracing references and case studies and articles, what he finds instead is a case. It’s the strange tale of a Daniel Robertson. A month prior, Daniel had embarked on his usual New York subway commute from South Ferry to 66th Street a family man, with forty-three years of memories. He’d left it an hour and ten minutes later on a gurney, his mind wiped clean as a newborn’s. Nothing left. No family, no job, no memories. Nothing. It’s a thing odd enough for even the Gotham bloggers to take note.

New York City has never been Winchester territory. Sam bookmarks, files, and moves on. In the morning, there will be coffee, and pancakes, and Sam-and-Dean as they should be, nothing more. Along with Daniel Robertson, New York, and unexplained amnesia on the subway (possibly prescription drug induced, possibly minor demon, to be proven), Sam tries to confine his uncomfortable image of Dean as an object to be desired somewhere at the back of his mind.

But he fails. Over and over again, day after day, Sam fails. Paradoxically, lust sharpens his image of Dean and blurs it: Sam is stupidly conscious of the exact configuration of the curve of Dean’s cheekbone and the hollow between the muscles of his thighs, his stubby fingernails and the uneven bones of his knuckles. Dean’s physical reality is as sharp and painful as a knife to the ribs, and Sam spends half his time looking and the other half looking away. It’s excruciating. Sam can’t let Dean know he’s fucked up again, not by the sound of his voice or the guilty shift of his eyes or the inopportune, haunting arousal, but he can’t not look. It reminds him, shaming and sick, of nothing so much as the focused hero-worship of his childhood.

Everything comes back to Dean. Sam, too. He didn’t leap into the pit to save the world.

Dean notices. Sam’s a heartbeat too late for the punch line, two inches too far away and not sleeping again, and Dean’s watching. All Sam can do is blur the truth: he looks at Dean through glass, flattens his hands against the pane, but he cannot – will not – reach through. He’s alone on this one, it’s his burden to carry. There’s no get out of jail free card for incest.

[kirsty-madden-art-blog]

Marie Antoinette

Marie Antoinette may have not been an artist herself in the terms of physically creating the work but to me she was the art. A walking talking statement of creative genius she was a muse to many such as Léonard Autié Coiffeur de la Reine the hairdresser who created her towering 3ft wigs and Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun Marie Antoinette's unofficial painter who created more than 30 portraits of the queen and her family.

Something I find important to remember is the differences between her childhood in Austria where she was surrounded by love compared to the circumstances she found herself Married into, an unpopular alliance between two historical enemies.

In Austria she was free to dress and socialize with who she wished she wasn't forced into friendships due to ranks. She could retire to the privacy of the royal apartments for relaxation and peace whilst at Versailles she was just an object to be gawked at and gossiped about. Everything revolved around ceremony and pompous rituals. “Marie Antoinette is surrounded by a swarm of courtesans the duchess pulls up the sleeve of the queens dress while someone else pulls up the left suddenly there's a scratch at the door a princess enters her rank is higher the duchesses so they have to start over again and there is Marie Antoinette standing in the dead of winter shivering and losing her patience with the endless ballet." that is why she wanted to get away from everything she hated about court and all its formalities.

The Petit Trianon was Marie Antoinette's first request to LouisXVl after their coronation in 1774 were she was crowned queen of France at the age of 19. A small Chateau built on the grounds besides the world famous botanical Gardens. Originally built as a gift for LouisXV’s mistress Madame de pompadour later given to Madame Du Barry, LouisXV’s favorite who Marie Antoinette originally snubbed due to her position of “immorality” when she arrived at the court of Versailles at the age of 14.

Marie Antoinette hated the structured regiments of court and the aristocrats who prided themselves on their station. She decided to surround herself with people based on their merit usually people around her own age, fun light hearted these people would become known as coterie the queens society. only people invited could visit the Chateau, it is even said king LouisXVl had to ask permission to attend. This caused outrage with the upper class who had never not been able to watch everything the royals did especially the queen. Rumors soon started to fly about the queens attitude and fact that after 5 years of marriage there had never been any children or the fact that there was no evidence of them even consummating the marriage.

The Trianon, 18th century Rococo architecture that transitioned to a neoclassical style. The chateau was designed to never see servants, the dining table even had a mechanism were it could be set in the servants quarters and then raised to the dining room. Privacy was the main aim with the interior decorating, painted screens could be placed in front of all the windows which only caused further contention with the already aristocrats and rumors swirled about what truly happened behind the walls.

Inside the queen wanted to reflect the beauty and grace of nature. Adorning the walls are motifs of flowers and delicate ornaments, feminine and soft touches . A preference for pastels and whites.

It was rumored that the queen had spent fortunes redecorating and that in her newly functioning theatre there were precious gems in the walls. While she did use the finest crafts men most of the work was made to be cost effective, the statues rumored to be solid gold were a form of papier mâché with gold leaf add on top.” The various shades of gold blend harmoniously with the false marble paneling dominated by violet tones.”

Marie Antoinette even took to the stage in private performances where if enough seats weren't filled she allowed the servants to sit in as well, this infuriated the aristocrats that had in thier minds been essentially seen as less than common folk.

Once finished with the chateau Marie Antoinette turned her attention to the gardens. She demolished nearly the entirety of the world famous botanical gardens and in its stead adopted an increasingly popular English style called Anglo-Oriental.A step away from the extremely controlled and structured French gardens it seems she wanted to reflect her new found freedom onto the landscape. when designing the new gardens, Marie Antoinette made the decision to limit the number of buildings. She ultimately decided on two ornamental structures, the Belvedere and the Love Monument, both designed by her official architect Richard Mique.

The queen loved to gamble and play card games. It would be unbefitting of her station to be seen in the same dress twice. Her hair styles the ques-a-co and the poof often consisted of towering wigs with adornments of jewelry and ostrich feathers they were covered in a flour based powder which left many commoners furious since there was a flour shortage in France. She spent and spent with LouisXVl footing the bill most of the blame for all of Frances money issues were placed onto Marie Antoinette but at the same time LouisXVl was fronting the bill against the British in the American war, the French debt was rising rapidly so were the taxes.

After years of marriage and inexperience on both parts Marie Antoinette and LouisXVl consummated their marriage after seven years. They had four children, first Marie-Thérèse-Charlotte, Marie Antoinette's birthing room was so cluttered by aristocrats clambering to get a view of the heir to France being born that the queen nearly passed out until a window was opened. Her next child the future dauphine Louis-Joseph-Xavier-François was the child France most wished for, she had finally produced an heir she had done her duty as queen. Louis-Charles was third then Sophie-Hélène-Béatrix who sadly died of tuberculous very young.

Tales of Marie Antoinette's promiscuity ran rampant especially since her inner circle consisted of young handsome gentlemen. Though much of this is untrue gossip she did allow herself one love Count von Fersen. After giving birth to a son she after many years of having a fondness for the Swedish count felt she fulfilled her duty to the state and wanted to fall in love. The English gardens had done what they were designed for create an idealic landscape as if out of love poem.

Marie Antoinette now set her sights on a new project the queens hamlet she tasked Richard Mique once again with her vision extending the gardens to the north and building a whole model village around an artificial lake. Based off a Normandy village full of cottages and barns. Each of the buildings had a specific function five were reserved for use by the Queen and the other seven had a functional purpose and were for agricultural purposes.

These buildings were never meant to be permeant fixtures for centuries to come. They were designed and built like stage props. All the bricks were painted on so from across the lake they would seem real. The scattered small buildings gave the illusion of a working village. A guard house was disguised as a peasant cottage, there was a dairy, fishery working farm as well as a boudoir and a dressing room even a decorative mill but most importantly and the largest of the buildings The house of the Queen. Marie Antoinette used the hamlet as teaching tool of what a commoners life was for her children.

Though simplistic and beautiful it was an untrue assumption of life in France. hopeless poverty and starvation is more accurate. And all their anger was pointed to the only person they could find the queen.

Marie Antoinette started to move away from the heavy make-up and the popular wide-hooped panniers. And onto a more soft feminine and freeing ensemble gaulle, a layered muslin dress. She commissioned a painting by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun in one such dress and a straw hat holding a flower. At Le Brun first Salon, she displayed a number of portraits, including one of the queen in a white muslin dress and straw hat. The way the queen was depicted caused much controversy since it was seen as unbefitting of someone of her status to be seen in something akin to undergarments. People argued that she was putting the whole French silk makers out of business since all the muslin used had to be imported after all this it was decided that Le Brun was to paint a replica portrait but of the queen in formal attire.

The final point in her demise in the eyes of the public perception is something she had nothing to do with. Cardinal de Rohan someone who Marie Antoinette disliked even when he had been the French ambassador to Vienna when she was a child and had never spoken a word to him at French court. In 1874 the cardinal trying to gain favour with the queen so he could join the king's council meet Jeanne de la Motte who convinced him she could get him access to the queen. So began the cardinals and the queens alleged correspondence where he grew enamoured and feel in love with the so called queen, he arranged a meeting through Jeanne de la Motte in the gardens of Versailles he thought he was meeting Marie Antoinette but it was actually a prostitute that had a great likeness to the queen that Jeanne de la Motte had paid. She with her fake relationship to the queen was able to request large sums of money from the cardinal for the queens "charity work” and often boasted to the courtiers about her fake relationship with the queen.

The jewellers Boehmer and Bassenge who had many times tried to sell a diamond necklace worth 2,000,000 livres that had been commissioned by the previous king LouisXV for his mistress Madame du Barry to Marie Antoinette. Had decided that they would try again to have Marie Antoinette buy it through Jeanne de la Motte. She originally refused the request but ultimately agreed.

Jeanne de la Motte wrote to the cardinal as the queen ordering him to buy the necklace, saying that she wanted to purchase the necklace but didn’t want to do it publicly due to the price. So, he did, he agreed to pay the jewellers in instalments and gave the necklace to Jeanne de la Motte who promptly sent to have the jewels removed and sold on the black market. When it was time to pay Jeanne de la Motte gave the jewellers the cardinals letters but that wasn’t sufficient and the jewellers complained to Marie Antoinette, who when asked said she had done nothing of the sort.

The cardinal was arrested but later found innocent and Jeanne de la Motte and her accomplices guilty but that did not stop the public outrage and blame from being placed upon Marie Antoinette, an image of her as a manipulative spendthrift, more interested in vanity than in the welfare of her people.

Marie Antoinette began to abandon her more carefree activities to become more involved in politics and royal affairs after the birth of her children after the diamond necklace incident and to try to portray herself in a better public light. She commissioned a painting by Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun once again to paint her in a more human light with her three surviving children around her and her eldest son pointing towards the empty cradle, a grieving mother. She wore mature clothes with less decorations but still in a formal setting. But this did not help revolution loomed. On the 4th June her eldest son the dauphine died the queen went into a deep mourning.

Paris was besieged by riots that culminated in the storming of the Bastille on 14 July. Courtesans and aristocrats were all being evacuated from Versailles in fears of an attack, but Marie Antoinette choose to stay with her husband even though she was in great danger. Her husband LouisXV1 was executed on 21 January 1793. Marie Antoinette was charged with depletion of the national treasury, conspiracy against the internal and external security of the State, and high treason because of her intelligence activities in the interest of the enemy.

She had her hair shorn off and was made to change her clothes in front of the guards, she wore a simple white dress. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back and was made to ride on the back of an open wagon for an hour. Marie Antoinette was guillotined at 12:15 p.m. on 16 October 1793.