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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 4 years

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Pup

You can find the Halloween request post here :3

Thank you for the request @namjin-fangirling-again, I hope you like it, even if it’s not particularly cracky but it’s still funny(at least in my eyes) Request; “ werewolf. Jungkook. Make it extra fluffy and crack ”

Jeon Jeongguk x reader Genre; Fluff and humour. Werewolf au Warnings; Adult language and topics . JK’s dick is mentioned multiple times because i have no self control Word count; 1.5k

Summary; Every full moon you lock Jeongguk in a cell ready for his animal side to take over his mind and body. But little does he know that he’s not the big bad wolf he thinks he is.

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The full moon; the lifeforce and also the bane of every werewolf.

Even though werewolves have been able to switch between wolf and human form at will for centuries now, the full moon still reigns over their bodies and forces them to be in wolf form. In the city, it's a nuisance but nothing terribly bad, most city wolves tend to simply spend the moon hours in their homes watching TV or sleeping it off. Those in the country have it easier; most meet in groups to run and play, take advantage of their wolves natural abilities. But there's a select handful of werewolves that are still affected by the moon like their ancestors; these unfortunate souls lose all grasp on their humanity the moment the full moon makes an appearance and are only aware of themselves again once the sun rises the following morning.

Jeon Jeongguk is one of those poor unfortunate souls and you are the only one that has seen him during these hours in a long time.

"Can't you just leave me here this time?" He complained as you chained the cell he was inside shut. Despite what Hollywood says; werewolves cannot break through thick metal chains during moon hours, they've never been able to either. Though there was that one time Jeongguk snapped his steering wheel a couple of months ago in the midst of a traffic jam leading up to moon hours. But that was purely a mix of stress at the thought of potentially being caught outside once he lost his humanity and his big ol' veiny arms thanks to his daily gym sessions. (We won't go into how hot you found his strength at that moment because that's another story entirely with a different rating and subject matter).

"I'm not leaving you here all night alone." You scoffed settling in your usual beanbag opposite the barred door of his cell and pulling the blanket at your feet around you. "You're lucky you don't feel the cold as much, it's fucking freezing in here."

"You say that every month." He chuckled laying down on the futon with one bare arm behind his head.

"It's the truth. We pay all that money for this room and they can't even install a heating system? We've been robbed, Guk."

"Whatever you say, babe."

You just hummed through your pout and took a few moments to take in his naked muscled form on display for your eyes and your eyes only - it was actually so that he didn't wreck his clothes when the shift happened but you liked to pretend it was all for your viewing pleasure. "How you feeling?"

"Fine, got a while left yet." That had you perking up in your seat. Sensing your movement, Jeongguk looked over at you unimpressed. "No."

"What? I didn't say anything!"

"Every single month you complain about being cold and then ask me to warm you up." He deadpanned.

"As you should, you're my boyfriend." You huffed dramatically.

"We're not having sex this close to moon hours,"

"But..." The look he gave you made you slouch sulkily into your blanket. "It would be fine."

"I'm not risking it. If my timing is off and the moon rises while you're in here... I don't want to even think about what I'd do to you. I love you too much to risk your safety just to get my dick wet."

"I've never felt unsafe around you during moon hours."

"You've never been around me during moon hours without these bars between us." At least, that's what he thought.

You didn't need a window to know when the full moon was beginning to make its appearance, all you needed was Jeongguk's groan of displeasure and you knew.

You straightened up from slouching against the wall playing on your phone to peer over at where Jeongguk was curled up with his arms bracketing his head. As much as you knew he wasn't in any pain during the transformation, you knew he hated every second of it. For the first few minutes, he always without fail tried to fight the change and grasped at his humanity in his mind but it never worked. His animal counterpart always rose up, taking over his mind first before too ruling his body.

The change from beginning to end never took more than five minutes; once his wolf was in charge the physical changes happened almost in a blink of an eye.

"Jungoo!" You cooed flinging the blanket off of your body to crawl over and unlock the gate. A pair of amber eyes peered at you, unfocused at first due to the change but in moments recognition set in and you had a lapful of wolf. Well, lapful is a bit generous honestly.

At any other time, Jeongguk's wolf was a fully grown majestic creature with sleek deep brown verging on black fur. But during moon hours Jeongguk's wolf was...well...a puppy. A tiny little ball of fluffy chocolate brown and you were the only one that knew about it.

"Hey puppy," Your hands rubbed over the little wriggling form on your thighs, scratching and rubbing his tiny body while he yipped and panted excitedly at the attention. "Hm, what shall we do today?" He barked at you, an almost squeak of a sound that had you cackling. If Jeongguk knew what happened to him during moon hours he would never look you in the eye again, he'd be so embarrassed of the fact his most instinctual form was a baby, an adorable little wolf pup that never left your side even to eat. Though to be honest, pretty much all of your friends knew that he loved to be babied and looked after, especially by you and would always choose you over anyone else even before you started dating. So it wouldn't surprise anyone to find out but he sure as hell would never live it down.

Just like all other full moons since the first one with Jeongguk three years ago, you spent the whole time playing and cuddling with his ickle wolfie, and moon hours are the only time that phrase isn't a euphemism- he had begged you to stop calling his dick 'ickle wolfie' multiple times but you always refused.

Before you knew it, your alarm was going off telling you that the sun was due to rise at any moment. "Better get back in there, Jungoo." You sighed wiping the pizza crumbs off of his muzzle. He looked up at you and whined sensing what was coming. "I'll miss you too, little one but we'll be able to play again together before you know it." He made vaguely distressed crying sounds the whole time you carried him into the cell and placed him gently onto the futon. He tried to clamber back into your arms but you quickly backed away after pressing a kiss to his fluffy little head. "Stay still, Guk will never let me come with him again if he wakes outside of the cell." The pup watched you back out of the cell and lock the door before he ran over to the bars and yipped at you.

Jeongguk woke like he did every sunrise after moon hours, curled up against the bars with your hand stroking through his hair. He made a sort of grunting sound signalling he was back to his normal self and earned a hair ruffle in return that had him swatting your hand away. While he reorientated himself you got up and removed the lock and chain from the door to return it to its home on the wall.

A sudden exhale left his lungs when you plopped down onto his naked lap and cuddled up to his chest.

"Did you feed me pizza again?" He questioned after figuring out what the taste lingering on his tongue was.

"Puppy loves pizza."

"You love pizza." He chuckled finally wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tight.

"And you love me which means puppy loves me therefore by default, puppy loves pizza."

"Really wish you'd stop calling my wolf a puppy."

"The cutest puppy ever."

"Whatever you say, babe." Jeongguk laughed and pressed a kiss to your head so you straightened up instead of leaning on his shoulder.

"So, I'm still cold." You grinned mischievously while wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at him.

"You feel pretty warm to me." He teased, sliding his hands underneath the t-shirt and hoody on your torso to touch the warm skin of your waist.

"I'd like to be a lot warmer. And naked. And attached to you by our genitals." Jeongguk burst into laughter at your wording, something beyond fond and loving in his eyes as he admired your serious expression.

"You say the weirdest shit, sweetheart."

"Hm, I do but it works for you. I can feel ickle wolfie rising his head to play!" You sniggered wiggling on his lap.

"Pavlovian response to sunrise after moon hours. You've trained me to be ready for sex. You never should've taken that psychology course with Joon-hyung."

"Shut up and get me naked, wolf boy."

"Whatever you want, I live only to please you, my love!" Was his dramatic and very sarcastic response even if he was already lifting you up as he got to his knees ready to throw you onto the futon and give you exactly what you wanted.

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adahlenan · 3 years

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FFXIV Character Sheet ☼ Kieran Clarke

Link to blank template!

Rules: Things in brackets are meant only as guidelines, to be erased and your answers written in place of. Things separated by | are for bolding and italicising.

Tagged by: some bitch named @thefrostflower

Name: Kieran Clarke Age: 27 Pronouns: She/her Birthdate: April 9th

==PLACE OF ORIGIN==

Race: Hyur (Midlander/Highlander mixed) Hometown/city: A small settlement outside of Limsa Lominsa Current residence/popular haunt: Sharlayan.

==APPEARANCE==

Favourite/commonly used clothes: Comfortable, versatile clothing fit for both casual lounging as well as unexpected adventure. Multiple layers to adapt to sudden turns of weather.

==SKILLS==

For: fun | profit | self-sustainability

==COMBAT==

Any difficulties with magical/physical disciplines?: Kieran is well aware of the fact that magical disciplines aren’t her strength, and chooses to leave those to the ‘professionals’, so to speak. Given proper time and study, she has the potential to succeed, but simply has no interest in the idea, instead preferring the familiar physical forms of combat.

==PERSONALITY TRAITS==

==LIKES==

==DISLIKES==

==HOBBIES==

==RELATIONSHIPS==

Parents/Legal Guardian/Parental Figure: mother | father | aunt and/or uncle | grandparents | adoptive | foster | mentor | family friend/godparents | other Siblings: One brother, 6 years older. Children: None Romantic: single | unrequited | crushing | dating | engaged | married | divorced/separated | widow/widower | recently split | it’s complicated | other Friends: Her friends are scattered far and wide, acquaintances she’s endeared herself to through odd jobs and selfless actions. You never know just who might pull through in the most unusual of times, after all. Her inner circle now is the small Sharlayan group of misfits under the banner of a certain archon, whom she considers herself lucky enough to be in the employ of. Rivals/Enemies: Kieran has no enemies that are properly known to her, though her line of ‘work’ is naturally leaving a trail of disgruntled and - at often times - angry people behind her. Her primary method of avoidance is simply never staying in one place for too long, or as of late, residing somewhere out of reach.

Any special gestures of affection they have with people in their life?:

Thoughtful gestures, such as taking care of a chore or task someone’s putting off or avoiding, running errands in her free time so they can enjoy their own. Kieran treats those close to her like family, and wants nothing more than to make others lives easier and refusing any kind of payment or debt.

==HAVE DEALT WITH/IS DEALING WITH==

==ODDS AND ENDS==

Notable Weapons A machinist’s gun, a hodgepodge mixture of old and new parts and techniques, as well as a sharp pair of daggers, ornate wave motifs decorating the hilt and blade alike.

Notable Mounts Nothing really! She’s far more likely just to rent something wherever she goes or just walk.

Notable Minion/s Nada.

Keepsakes/Mementos Both her earrings and weapons were made by her older brother, Leighton, and hold immense sentimental value to her to the point that while he does tune-ups on her firearm she insists at least one piece of the original remain, as not to entirely replace the whole thing. Other than that, Kieran is an immensely sentimental person and holds onto letters, notes or gifts as long as she possibly can, loathe to get rid of anything from a person she loves.

Chronic Illnesses or Disabilities Nothing here!

Education Level

She has no formal schooling, though she is literate enough to get through day to day life, but some books or higher level texts can prove an issue at times.

Habits Waking up early to sit on or by the windowsill with a warm drink to slowly wake up in the morning. She’s not really a morning person, despite this, and prefers to slowly wake up over the course of an extra half hour or so with gentle stretches.

Playing with her hair while thinking or talking, if it’s loose.

#Kieran Clarke #my baby girl.........

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trulycertain · 6 years

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Alistair’s Parentage, and why I go a bit Tru Smash

OK, it’s time to talk about why I aggressively dislike the “Alistair’s bloodline” retcons and how they come up in the comics. *sigh* I do try to keep this a positivity blog, but I thought as character arc analysis it might be worth saying. I’ll just thank @aphreal42, @celeritassagittae, @withthebreezesblown, @nanahuatli, a few others. I know we’ve talked about this.

*coughs, shuffles papers* Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Sorry again about the... everything.

On Maric

I was frustrated to see the centering of Maric in the comics, and mention of the hunt for him in Inquisition. It’s something that happens even if you’ve kept Alistair a Warden. And this is my question: Why?

I mean, why should Alistair be hunting for the father who couldn’t be bothered to raise him, when it’s not going to save Ferelden or Thedas? Yes, there’s some vagueness about it, an unrealistic dream of “maybe Maric can go on the throne and be better at it than me,” but that just makes it look like he hasn’t been allowed to learn anything or adapt as king, that he’s still desperately running from it, that he’s still reduced to his bloodline rather than his own choices and personal growth.

We’ve had this arc of him desperately trying to abdicate responsibility of any kind; we had it in Origins, when he was twenty and green. It’s been ten years. Often, smart, perceptive people like Alistair grow rather a lot in ten years, despite or even because of their own fears.

So we’re right back to the daddy issues. And back to the bloodline. Healing is not always a linear process, but it cannot, by definition, go backwards and plonk you right back to the progress you’d made ten years ago. That’s not healing, and it’s not an arc - it’s a circle. Narratively, it’s not a very interesting circle, either.

The frustrating thing? BioWare’s story folk can do realistic, beautiful “healing is not linear and sometimes people have days where they look back and want to undo everything because oh god what if they got it wrong” arcs about parentage. See Dorian’s or Hawke’s. Both of those have some big issues (I will never, for instance, be comfortable with how much you can hide from Dorian, or how heavily you can push him towards reconciliation, and have issues with that being a player choice at all), but they’re far more emotionally genuine and allow for nuance. More on that later.

Why do Maric’s growth and arc, considering he’s basically been dead for nigh-on fifteen years by the time of the Silent Grove comics, have to come at the expense of Alistair’s?

And why do we assume Alistair needs dragon blood to be awesome, when he’s been awesome pretty much forever for reasons of his own choosing?

(And OK, this one just bugs me for petty reasons: why does Maric have a less-fun version of Alistair’s self-deprecating humour in the novels? (Though all right, quite fond of the bit about falling off horses; forgive the nested brackets.) There’s a clear “like father, like son” thing there, but they met... what? Twice? Three times? I’m just fascinated by a fantasy world where there exists an “awkward quips” gene, because I must have it in spades.)

On Fiona

Fiona herself is a mid-tier character I don't mind. She has some interesting aspects but we don't see enough of her for me to have a strong opinion. Even the novels are a bit half-baked and inconclusive on her arc.

Fiona as a character with difficult choices to make and ambiguous, pragmatic motivations? Yeah, OK. She’s not one of my favourite DA chars, because she barely appears and unlike Maric, we’re not given much after-the-fact canon, dialogue and extra codices on her (*sigh*, because Daddy Issues are always more important), but she works. Fiona as a Very Special Warden Who Got Blight-Cured and another aspect of Alistair’s "well, he can't just be normal" story? Goodness no. It does both characters a disservice.

The only aspect that interested me with Alistair’s king-as-father relationship was the class stuff and the terror of responsibility. Other than “a fascination with magic” (which I find way more interesting as something he developed himself, as a non-mage but one with basic empathy and a curious mind), Fiona's motherhood hasn't really contributed much to his arc. The deep loneliness was there already. Yes, he has one more person who let him down for at the time seemingly justified reasons. OK. We’ve heard that... a lot of times already.

So Fiona, who already had a serviceable story arc of her own, ends up with it partly centred around Alistair’s for... reasons? I guess? in order to prop up his story, but not to do it in any way that really affects it or offers closure and just makes a hash of hers?

Narratively, I simply don't get why he has to be her kid, or be a half-elf. My interest is in how utterly bloody ordinary he is, because that's what makes him special. Both the "my bloodline is ultraspecial because Maric" and "my bloodline is ultraspecial because Fiona" stories bored me equally. He for all intents and purposes still looks human, and his story already has a pretty big focus on oppression. There’s no reason to pile “have we also mentioned half-elf and abandoned by one more person” on top of it. It’s just... overseasoning.

On Alistair

For me, the entire appeal of Alistair’s arc was that he made himself. His pain and his abuse were a major part of his story, but he chose strength. He chose to centre himself around being a Warden, around helping people. Someone who went through that could have easily wanted to watch the world burn, but he didn’t. He is not his parents, or his blood. That's not why his story is interesting.

Growing up, Alistair’s most formative influence wasn’t his parents; it was the lack of them. Or of family in general.

If you want to pick major figures in his life, I suppose Maric could be one of them. Fiona? No, he isn’t even allowed to know she exists.

The formative influences we’re given, ones he remembers and mentions and seem to have imparted lessons:

Duncan, the almost-father he idolises, and the first person to believe in him

The idea - rather than the reality - of his mother, a serving-maid whose death he blames himself for; he clings to the idea she would have loved him, hence the amulet

Eamon, who was the nearest thing he had to a father and left him, which clearly affected him, and who continues trying to use him, albeit maybe with some real concern in there

Isolde, who helped seal that he was a dangerous tool or leverage, not a person, and started the chain of events that led to the Chantry

Teagan, who was ultimately ineffectual but made him hope for more, and was one of the few sources of kindness in his life

The Chantry bullies, perhaps

Goldanna, who reinforced that “you’re nothing but an inconvenience” mentality and was his last hope of a loving family

The Wardens, who were the nearest thing he had to a family

The people he meets during the Blight, the Warden in particular but definitely Morrigan, Leliana, Zev and the dog, who all make him question different aspects of himself and broaden his horizons a little

There are a ton of stories to tell there, and certainly, the Warden and their relationship with him - good, bad, indifferent - gets the spotlight, as do Eamon and Teagan. Heck, even Cailan gets a look-in, and Duncan has his moment. So why, ten years later, are we back to the twin spectres of Maric and Fiona?

Look... making an abused, neglected kid still be defined and unable to get away from the parents that walked out of his life, and not letting him have his own story? I don't know, that... bugs me. To put it mildly. OK, I’m probably overstating it and drawing parallels where there shouldn’t be, but it does rather feel like that’s the case. This way, he's never allowed progress, growth or agency. And I just... can't. I can't enjoy a story like that, it's too bloody sad and cheap.

He was an neglected kid who was told, over and over, that he deserved the bare minimum. When you've had no love at all, even a half-hearted grain of it is enough. And that has defined his story so much, but there are other stories to tell with him; one of the reasons I like him is his complexity. I want it to stop defining his story. He shouldn’t have to be hunting that family spectre. It may be something that still hurts him, which would be realistic enough, but it’s not all he is, and it’s not what he is to Thedas.

We have so many stories out there where kids are defined by difficult parents. We have so many reconciliation storylines about the sins of families being forgiven, or accepted. (See also: Dorian’s story, depending on how you play it, and definitely Hawke and Leandra’s. I could write a whole meta post on those.)

How about some counter-narratives? Maybe the world needs more “Sometimes family isn’t a matter of blood, and sometimes your parents didn’t do enough and it’s OK to walk away from the unanswered questions. You’re not broken or static, you still have stories to tell, and you can still grow” arcs. Because life isn’t a Hallmark card, blood doesn’t equal love, and, to quote Dorian on this one, “Sometimes love isn’t enough.” That could be a healthier, more realistic kind of fiction, but also a more interesting one.

...OK, now I’m getting off-track.

tl;dr: I am totally with Alistair that his bloodline is the least interesting thing about him. You go guy.

#alistair theirin #maric theirin #fiona #dragon age #meta #ie me rambling #look i'm awkward and english #i always have to preface any hint of negativity #with at least three 'i'm so sorry's #bioware critical #i... guess?#i dunno?

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charlieharry1 · 4 years

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Read Also:- “Domain name scam”, what is it, and how it works?

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greatdrams · 7 years

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Five pours to get you started as a whisk(e)y drinker

Most of my friends don’t drink much whisk(e)y. In fact I’d venture to suggest that the majority of them only really drink it around me, and occasionally only because I press it upon them. Humouring me, bless ‘em.

Still, the recommendation requests pop up every once in a while, so I thought I’d stick a few thoughts into a post. A starter pack for those looking for something more interesting than Bells, if you like.

Whisk(e)y geeks, this probably isn’t for you. I’ve put together five whiskies (plus a special bonus – no extra cost...) and whilst they by no means cover all the flavour bases they’re enough for a decent snapshot.

Needless to say, I think these are all very tasty indeed. I’m sure the list would look different were it to be put together by any other enthusiast; I can already hear the incensed cries of ‘no! Why didn’t you include...?’ ... ‘That one? What are you on about?’ etc etc ad nauseum. Whisky is a broad church, after all, and that’s something to be embraced. All are under £40 per bottle; if you do some digging – and you always should – you can find most of them under £30.

Glenfarclas 10 year old

If you’ve tried any Single Malt, it’s fairly likely you’ve encountered Glenfiddich 12. Maybe even Aberlour 10. Glenfarclas falls into broadly the same flavour bracket. Sherry casks means it’s a fruity number; baked apples alongside pears, with some honey and brown sugar. It’s only 40%ABV, so there’s no real heat, but the influence of the sherry casks alongside a pretty robust spirit makes for a nicely plump body and mouthfeel. If you find this works for you, then good news – you’ve become a fan of one of the whisky community’s best-loved distilleries. And the rest of the range is awfully good value too. Happy exploring. 40% ABV

If you enjoy this, have a go at Glendronach 12 years old and Benriach 12 year old Sherry Wood.

Teeling Single Grain

One of the most dangerously easy-drinking whiskies I’ve ever come across. Which sounds like damning with faint praise, but translates as ‘very tasty, very moreish and likely to please everyone.’ I’ve just finished my bottle, and I’m more than a little gutted. Young Scottish Single Grains aren’t really my thing; they tend to be wheat-based, and don’t lose their spirity edge until they’ve matured for a good long while. Teeling, by contrast, is Irish and corn based, which makes for lovely sweet flavours of creamy vanilla and buttered...well...corn. They’ve also used some red wine casks which add an extra layer of strawberry and cranberry. Are you going to discover previously undreamt-of complexity? No. But of all the pours on this list, I reckon Teeling would convert the most newcomers, because – drumroll – it tastes good. And it does so in an astonishingly approachable and straightforward way. A crowd-pleaser in the best sense of the term. Not sure about whisk(e)y? Try this one. Seriously. 46% ABV

If you enjoy this, have a go at Bain’s Cape Mountain and Kilbeggan 8 year old Single Grain.

Woodford Reserve Distiller’s Select

There are a few good bourbons in this price range I could have gone for, but Woodford converted me, and a few years later it converted my mother too. So it seemed the obvious choice. Deep vanilla and brown sugar, with a little added spiciness from the relatively high rye content. (More on this later...) By the standards of this price point Woodford is also fairly rich on the toasty oak front, and more full-bodied than its direct competitors. The bottom line is that it’s the bourbon that got me into bourbon, and despite having tried hundreds and hundreds since, I still love it every time I go back. Can’t say much fairer than that. The bottle shape means you can also conceal it in a bookcase. Which isn’t a major factor in my recommendation, but what’s not to love about a bottle you can conceal in a bookcase? 43.2% ABV

If you enjoy this, have a go at Buffalo Trace and Four Roses Small Batch.

Bulleit 95 Rye

Bulleit’s design makes me want to throw back a glass in a crowded saloon, or swig it straight from the bottle on horseback as my steely-eyed gaze takes in some mountainous horizon. But both would be irresponsible and vulgar, and in any case I own neither a horse nor the means with which to look steely-eyed. So don’t do that. But do invest in a bottle of this, which has (finally) brought rye onto UK supermarket shelves. Rye is leaner and spicier than bourbon as a style. Some of the familiar vanillas and brown sugars are still there, but they’re accompanied by a whole load of green apple peel, nutmeg and pepper. It’s less voluptuously full-bodied, but the flavours tend to be a bit more concentrated. And that spiciness is a really wonderful thing. On offer you can find this at £22, which is a steal. It also comes with an unequivocally high rye percentage; if you’re a fan of this then rye is unquestionably a style for you. 45% ABV

If you enjoy this, have a go at Rittenhouse 100 proof and Rebel Yell Small Batch Rye

Nikka From the Barrel

I’ve tended towards lower alcohol whiskies in making this list, as the chief complaint I field when doing ‘intro’ tastings is usually to do with heat. But bear with me on this one, because it isn’t a huge leap booze-wise, and the alcohol is fully balanced by body and flavour. More importantly, this is one of those whiskies that everyone who tastes it seems to love. As in properly love. I’ve seen so many people with only a couple of pours under their belt take one sip of this and be instantly smitten. It’s also a brilliant exception to the rule that great Japanese whisky tends to be on the super-pricey side. Flavour-wise I often describe this as a bridge from scotch to bourbon. It has the rich oak and caramel of the latter, with a fruity spiciness and mildly smoky (not peaty) meat that puts me in mind of the former. It’s also much more scotch-like than bourbonesque in terms of structure and body, but that’s drifting a little too far in the direction of tasting note poncery... Anyway, perhaps it’s wrong of me to compare it to either. Nikka from the Barrel is very much its own animal, and a terrific one at that. Pick up a bottle and join the legions of disciples. 51.4% ABV

If you enjoy this, lookalikes aren’t thick on the ground. The Nikka Pure Malt range is great though. Or you could just get another bottle of From the Barrel...

And your extra special bonus...

Paul John Edited

There’s no reason the whisky that wins you over shouldn’t be peated. For that matter there’s no reason it shouldn’t be Indian either. This is my favourite of the Paul John flagship range. It’s their light-medium peated expression, so if it floats your boat you can move on to the more intense stuff, but if you end up swiping left you won’t have had your face completely blown off. Plus I’m just a fan of the happy medium when it comes to my smoke. Sue me. Edited is a rather malty, savoury number. A little honey, a little smoked meat. A little lapsang souchong if you’re feeling fancy and know your teas. The peat is clear, but it isn’t all-consuming. I absolutely love the balance of flavours here, which is why I’ve picked it ahead of some more obvious Scottish alternatives. And being slightly off-piste gives you the chance to sound knowing and authoritative when you pass on the tip. Which is an absolute requirement of being a whisk(e)y nerd. 46% ABV

If you enjoy this, have a go at Highland Park 12 year old and Talisker 10 year old. Add a Springbank 10 year old to your basket too. Just for me. And out of respect.

So there you are. My starter pack for those looking to take their first/new whisk(e)y steps. Hundreds of others could easily have made the cut – that’s part of the fun. But do give one or more of these a go; I suspect you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what you find. And then, of course, you can move in whichever direction takes your fancy.

And if you happen to be a long-in-the-tooth enthusiast and didn’t stop reading after the first paragraph or two, I’d of course love to hear what your own introductory recommendations would be. Comments box is below – the more top tips the better...

Cheers!

[gallery type="rectangular" link="file" ids="24077,24078,24079"]

The post Five pours to get you started as a whisk(e)y drinker appeared first on GreatDrams.

from GreatDrams http://ift.tt/2ntPVfY Adam Wells

#whisky #GreatDrams

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heirloommtomatoes · 7 years

Text

I (really) need you.” (Sam x Reader, fluff, requested drabble)

Happy New Year’s everyone!!! Here’s to a healthy & lively 2017! Haven’t written anything fictional in a while let alone for Sam, but hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Somethin’ short and sweet and calm to start off the new year. Inspired by Mumford & Sons’ Red Rocks performance of ‘Lovers’ Eyes’, if anyone’s so inclined to listen while reading/interested :) Requested by @nataliarmnov xx

P.S. Put the “really” in brackets since I omitted it from the text.

Word Count: 1,951

————

Despite the fact that it had taken several attempts to persuade you and a promise of no pirate puns for a whole month, you had to admit that spending your summer exploring Avery’s ruins in Scotland wasn’t always the worst.

The wind buffets the sides of your tent, the crashing of the ocean far down the cliff barely a fifty metres away from your tent mingling with the sound of Sam’s gentle breathing behind you. The chill of night had settled in the tent, but the only indicator of it was the numbness of your nose poking out from the sleeping bag the two of you had decided to share. Your senses come to you slowly as you wake and you’re suddenly aware of the weight and warmth of Sam’s arm around your middle. You let out an involuntary grunt as you carefully lift his arm. A soft incoherent murmur causes you to look quickly over your shoulder, your fingers still wrapped around his wrist and thankfully, his eyes still closed.

You slip out of the sleeping bag, grabbing the pants and long-sleeve henley you wear over the long underwear Sam had insisted was necessary even in the summer. The almost overwhelming light-headedness you were currently experiencing due to the heat of having a 6”3’ teddy bear at your back all night might disagree. Pulling on your clothes and tugging your hair into a quick ponytail, you reach over your sleeping lover to grab your water bottle, carefully opening both the mesh net and flap of the vestibule to be greeted with a strong, salt-scented wind singing in off the sea.

As much as you complained about the wind waking you up at dawn, you couldn’t deny the view. The world beyond the edge of the grass-covered cliffs is nothing but foam and monochrome, painted in pale blues and greys because the world hasn’t had the time to give it any colour.

The snap of a twig behind you is the only thing preparing you for arms that thread themselves swiftly around your middle, prompting a soft umph from you. As if the fact that there were cliffs and a powerful ocean wind seemingly tugging you toward them wasn’t enough to get your heart racing this early in the damn morning.

“You should learn to watch your back,” Sam’s voice sounds in your ear as he rests his head on your shoulder, lips tickling the flesh of your neck, sending a string of shivers down your spine.

“I don’t need to. I have you,” you say, only to tease him because you know how much he worries and how ridiculously over-the-top sappy it sounds coming out of your mouth.

“Ha ha, you’re a comedian,” he mutters half-heartedly, his disgruntled tone betrayed by the way he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your shoulder, “I’m only half-kidding, you know.”

You turn your head slightly and he huffs in protest as your hair covers his face. You know he wanted to come here; hell, he’d practically begged, despite your initial wishes to go somewhere warm like last year. You smile at the memory of Sam in that ridiculous floral shirt, too-baggy cargo shorts and flip-flops, swaggering with a grin on his face down the streets of Havana.

But you also knew what being here meant for him. The smile begins to fade as you remember why this is the fifth time in two days that he’s brought up teaching you how to fight. This place brought back memories; ones he’d thought he’d left behind years ago now. How long had it been? Barely six years, you think, though it feels longer. Six years since he’d swum away from that burning ship; both literal and proverbial, and the memories still creep on him in hours both young and old.

It wasn’t as though he’d left the life behind entirely; you and him would take the odd job here and there, if only to bring Cassie back a little gift she would obsess over for months on end and get some extra cash. Not that you necessarily needed it, not with the book Sam had written on the life and times of the Drakes several years ago.

“I know,” you respond finally, lacing your fingers through one of his and bringing the back of his hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there.

He hums in response and sucks in a breath through his nose that warns you he’s about to get up.

And somehow, not even twenty minutes later, you find yourself with a pistol in hand and Sam beside you, swinging his arm forward to show you how to club someone over the head with it.

“No, like this. Why are you snapping your wrist?” he mumbles for what seems like the millionth time of you copying him exactly.

“I am doing it like that,” you protest in return, adjusting your grip on the gun. Who knew it was such an art? you think dryly.

He shifts out of his stance and places a hand over yours to adjust the position, “It helps if you use your middle finger like that.”

You use your middle finger.

“Funny. Get on with it,” he replies with rolling eyes.

“You know, when you told me we’d be spending our summer in Scotland, I somehow pictured more hiking would be involved. And maybe marginally fewer guns. Marginally.”

Sam frowns and sighs. The sun was only now lending the ocean and trees around you some colour, exploding the world in an array of bird calls and blades of light dappling through the pines. It was too beautiful a day to learn how to kill, too beautiful a day for your lover to give you a crash course in the art of soldiers, both destroying them, and becoming one.

“I’m sorry,” he says, a twinge of guilt in his voice as he takes the gun from you, double-checking that the safety is on out of habit. Now there’s that tone you’ve come to recognise all too well.

“Come on, let’s just go for a hike, okay? You can teach me how to clobber someone over the head later. Promise,” you tell him, the hint of a playful, welcoming smile dancing on your face.

Sam refuses to meet your gaze for a moment, gun limp in his grip. He runs a lazy hand through his hair before letting out a soft, humourless laugh and turning to store the gun back near the tent. You let out a soft whoop of victory, if only to hear his laugh. It works.

The sun rises steadily above the two of you as you walk silently hand-in-hand through the old ruins of the monastery, squeezing each other’s hand back and forth in some silly competition that arose out of boredom. A tug on your hand makes you realise he’s stopped walking, and moments later he’s pulling you toward his chest, resting his forehead against yours. He slides a hand down your shoulder to rest on your forearm, the other just above your hip.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says. The years have put a bit more gruffness in that voice of his, making his accent lay a bit more thick. There’s more iron in the dark brown hair, worry lines across his forehead. He’d always seemed happier treasure hunting, though you didn’t think content was a word in his vocabulary until months after the day that obsession ended and your lives began. Now he just seemed to be more full of worry; for you, for the lack of certainty in your futures. Perhaps he just needed something to worry about, so he could stop worrying. Something bigger, more distracting.

“I need you,” he adds as almost an afterthought, though you can tell in his tone that he’s been wanting to say it for a while now. You wonder how long. Perhaps before any of this began, before Avery, before Panama.

“I know. Where would you be without the undying love of a good woman?” you tease, lifting your head to press a kiss to his cheek, rough with several day old stubble.

He snorts at that, “Don’t joke,” he murmurs, and somewhere in the back of your mind an intrusive voice tells you that’s the only time you’ll ever hear Samuel Drake tell someone to not joke, but you keep your mouth shut.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know that, right? And neither are you. I know it’s not so simple, and I won’t pretend to understand, but I wanted to…remind you,” you tell him, and he lifts his head, surprise in his eyes as though he’s wondering if you’ve just read his mind. No, Sam, you want to tell him, I’ve loved you for almost half my life. You can stop being surprised that I know you as well as my own mind by now.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, a twinge of a smile on his face, “I’ve never understood how you do that.”

“What?”

“Know what I’m thinking.”

“See, you’d make an awful pirate. It’s all there on your face, darling,” you tell him, voice dripping with a teasing humour.

Sam rolls his eyes and leans in to press a kiss to your cheek in return, “I don’t have to be a good pirate. I have you,” he says, mimicking your words from the morning.

“Aww,” you say, struggling to keep a grin off your face and failing, “I’m swooning. And this pirate Queen wants to enjoy herself while she’s here, so she demands a race back to camp.”

“Does she now?” Sam responds, eyes glittering with delighted humour. There it was. That look on his face, the one he gets when he’s trying to not give in to laughter. The boyish lop-sided smile, the tilt of his head, the mischievous glint in his eyes.

You nod in the most regal and authoritative manner you can muster — which if Sam’s poorly concealed snort is any indicator, is not very regal at all — and barely have time to react before he’s taking off, bounding up the hill and through the trees back to your campsite. The cheeky bastard.

You knew that the years behind were far from easy and the years ahead wouldn’t likely be much different, but if there was anything the Drakes had taught you, it was that an ending was never an ending. It was the start of another adventure. You’d once thought that to be the most cliché thing you’d ever heard, but the older you grew the more truth you saw in it.

Night settles and the fire you two made to cook your dinners on top of crackles and fades, and you settle back into the sleeping bag. Another week here, maybe less, and you'd be flying back home. For now, you listen to Sam’s breathing in front of you, soft and gentle as the crash of waves below. He mumbles incoherent words and you lift your hand to his back out of habit, running your nails softly over his skin.

His dreams were usually not of Panama, not of Avery, but were his own personal show of all the times he had failed his little brother, failed their parents. And failed you, though you don't like to think about that last one, if only because you’d forgiven him years ago and know he can’t do the same for himself.

He doesn’t call out in his dreams as often, and the thrashing about has been kept to a pleasant minimum. It helped that you would lay awake on the more difficult nights and stroke the back of his neck, hold him when he needed to be held. As it approaches 2 in the morning, then 3, you realise this is one of those nights.

The rippling silver sea-light plays on the ceiling of your tent, and the dawn sun paints the cloth gold, and you lay and gaze at the roof, while Sam sleeps, and does not dream of the past.

#doesn't really have a plot but #i felt like doin somethin of a slightly older sam #havin a calm life with his lover #sam x reader #my writing #sam drake #uncharted 4

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sofaradaysogood · 7 years

Text

Benefit of the Doubt || Faraday & Goodnight & Billy

[ even more border patrol au for @isaidgoodnight and @knivesnothingtoit. ]

“Well, well,” Faraday says when he catches sight of the two familiar figures. “If it isn't two Mexican kids in a trench coat.”

He grins, smile loosened by the three or four drinks he's had already, despite it not yet being dinner. He's just come off a week of nights. Time is barely a coherent concept any more.

“And Billy,” he adds, graciously.

It's a back-street sort of place, not often frequented by those who don't already know it's there. Far enough from the mess that he probably won't run into anyone he works with, but close enough that he'll be able to get back, later, when his keys have inevitably been confiscated by some well-meaning barman.

Goodnight raises a brow. Billy remains stoic.

Faraday, not to be deterred, extends his arm in an expansive gesture, sweeping across the empty table and the bottle of whisky in front of him. “Gentlemen, please,” he says, graciously, and then turns, addresses the weasel-faced bartender with familiarity that’s only partly the consequence of drink.

“McCall! Gimme two more glasses for my friends, will you?”

“You don’t got friends, Faraday,” the man tells him as he skirts the bar and slides two empty glasses onto the table. “You only got men that ain’t realised they’ve been cheated, yet.”

Faraday responds to this with a perfectly mature middle finger. The barman retreats, chuckling. In front of him, Billy and Robicheaux are still standing, looking down at him. He gives them an exasperated look, uncaps the bottle, and pours a generous measure into each glass.

“I don’t cheat,” he tells them. “I just happened to be a lucky man. C’mon, sit down.”

The two men exchange a look -- a whole, unspoken conversation that Faraday’s not privy to, and then sit. Robicheaux carries a degree of wariness in the tightness around his eyes. Billy’s unreadable. Faraday entertains a fleeting desire to sit across the man at a poker table.

“How’s business?”

He asks casual, a foil for any listeners. Robicheaux understands the question; a fraction of that tension melts away. Billy could be crying inside, for all Faraday knows; his face gives nothing away.

“Business is just fine,” Robicheaux says, with the slightest nod. Gratitude, tucked quiet under the tinny music filtering through the joint from cheap speakers. “Just fine, Corporal.”

“US border patrol is a federal agency, not a military one,” Faraday points out. “And I’m not a Corporal. Not any more.”

Robicheaux has looked him up, and Faraday doesn’t know whether to take that as a threat. More and more threads are tangling themselves in this web. Back when he didn’t know Vasquez’s name, this was simple. When he was just some anonymous border patrol agent who’d turned his back, once or twice.

Now he’s got a face, and a name, and Robicheaux knows them both.

“Well, son,” Robicheaux says, and slides a glass towards Billy before he takes his own. “I find some things just never quite leave a man. Iraq?”

“Afghanistan. They called you ‘Goodnight’ Robicheaux.”

“Still do,” Robicheaux agrees, pleasantly. Faraday thinks that Billy’s gaze might have hardened, just a little. “As I said: some things never leave you. Colours of a man’s soul outlast the dyes of his flag.”

Faraday takes a mouthful of his drink instead of answering. By all rights, he ought to have ignored the two men. Pretended that he barely remembered them. He sure as hell wouldn’t invite any of the men whose houses he’s raided in the past to join him for a drink. Somewhere behind his sternum, the siren song of the risk is too strong to resist.

He’s inclined to regret giving into it when he sees Robicheaux’s gaze flick to a man who enters the bar and heads through to the back without stopping. He’s a solid-built man, dark hair and intelligent eyes and the look of a man who’s not much of a conversationalist. Native, if Faraday were to hazard a guess.

Belatedly, he realises that these men are here to do business, of some sort.

Robicheaux confirms it by swallowing his drink and pushing his chair back from the table.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” he says. It’s a shame he’s not wearing a hat, because Faraday’s half-expecting him to tip one. Faraday watches him go, and turns back to find Billy staring at him, flatly.

“He always talk like that?”

Billy’s hand is lightning-fast. It’s almost a magic trick, the way the silvered hairpin appears between his fingers and buries itself between Faraday’s fingers on the tabletop with a quiet thack. Billy leans forward. If he means to intimidate, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. Faraday is, in many ways, not a clever man. He leans forward instead of back, and when he speaks, his tone is low and conspiratorial.

“This about the gun?” he asks. “‘Cause I wasn’t actually going to shoot you.”

McCall, if he’s noticed the minor property damage being perpetrated on his table, has chosen to make himself scarce rather than speak up. Wouldn’t be the first time Faraday had scrapped in his bar.

“This is about Vasquez.”

The name fixes the smile on Faraday’s face, brittle where before it had been supple, easy.

“Yeah? Well, I wasn’t planning to shoot him, either.”

There’s a deliberate silence, and Faraday quirks an eyebrow, mutters tough crowd as he leans back. His hand stays where it is in a gesture of defiance, fingers bracketing the surprisingly sharp blade that had landed with precision between them.

“That’s not what I’m concerned about.”

Faraday gets the feeling that he’s on the receiving end of what is possibly the weirdest shovel talk in history. Something curls at the apex of his spine at the thought of Billy knowing what he and Vasquez do in the dark and the dust.

“You should be,” he points out. “After all…”

He lets the sentence trail off. He might not be the most sensible of men, but even he’s not going to detail to a public space the sordid details of this whole affair -- the border patrol agent and the Mexican, the men who take in the kids they smuggle across the border. The messy emotions that have become tangled up in it all.

Billy finally pulls the hairpin from the table, and leans back. Faraday takes the opportunity to top up his drink.

“He trusts you,” Billy says, as if it’s explanation enough. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but Faraday hopes for Robicheaux’s sake that the man is at least capable of speaking two sentences together.

“But you’re still making up your mind, huh?”

Billy’s gaze flickers away for a second, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s pulled toward Robicheaux, like magnetic north.

“You helped Goody.” Goody, Faraday thinks. Lord. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

He lifts the glass to his mouth, takes a steady sip that marks him as a man with more sense than Faraday’s got. He should be in the car. Should be on his way home. When his phone rings in an hour or two, he’ll lie and say they’ve pulled him in for an extra day. She’ll hear the looseness of his words and know he’s lying. They’ll argue.

For now, it’s good.

Billy seems to read his thoughts. When his hand reaches out, it’s with the casual grace of a predator that’s decided not to kill, today. He taps the ring on Faraday’s finger once, twice. A warning that doesn’t need words.

He’s saved from a pathetic attempt at defending his honour by the sudden return of Robicheaux and his new companion. The hardness in Billy melts away, tucked back into whatever hollow of his heart he stores it in when he’s near Robicheaux. The man doesn’t seem to notice anything as he retakes his seat.

“This is Red Harvest,” he says. “You don’t mind if he joins us, I’m sure.”

Faraday kicks out a chair.

“More the merrier,” he says, with high good humour that doesn’t hint at all to the nature of the conversation he and Billy have just left behind. He reaches into his pocket, grin mischievous against his teeth. “How’d you gentlemen feel about a round or two of cards?”

#drabble: m #au: border #v: this little no man's land #isaidgoodnight #knivesnothingtoit #will i ever stop?#no #no i will not

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greenflamedwriter · 3 years

Text

Angel part 2

He heard Shiro laughing and turned to see him facing Keith, Lance almost rolled his eyes until he saw Shiro and Keith kiss, his face must've done something because Shiro's eyes flickered to him and scowled "What is it this time?” Lance’s eyes flickered at Keith then back up “Um easy on the Pda like come on.”

Keith instantly looked irritated his chest puffing up “The heck did you say?” Lance rolled his eyes “The fact that you guys are always sucking each other face off. It’s gross.”

He saw Keith huff and stomp away with Shiro running after him. Lance sighed then glanced back to the Garrison Duo. They had a barbeque going on and Lance found himself going over and smiled as he took his own plate and stole some (What looked like meat) from Hunk's plate.

Hunk scowled "Can you not?" Lance beamed "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Pidge glanced up then gestured with her hand while munching on her food, "Hey Lance, what was that about?" She gestured with her spork both Keith and Shiro far away arguing with one another, Lance turned confused but once he saw what she was pointing at he sighed.

"Just feeling like old times, y'know. Having Shiro kissing other guys in front of me to make me uncomfortable because he's a jerk like that."

Hunk's head shot up, "Is Shiro secretly a bad boyfriend or something- or are you just jealous?"

It did sound believable but kinda funny, Lance shook his head "No- no, I...was confused and didn't understand some things so I understandably got upset like going out with a guy? Okay whatever," Now Lance scowled "But two at the same time especially when I-"

"What Shiro cheated on you!?" Hunk almost spat out his food and Lance flinched looking spooked and wondered if Shiro heard. He turned around and saw both him and Keith...kissing. Lance rolled his eyes then scowled at Hunk.

"No- no, not me. I mean they were both okay with it but I wasn't-Anyway we had a few arguments so that's we're me and Shiro are a bit-" He grimaced and waved his hand and saw both Pidge and Hunks faces looking shocked he mistook it for him.

"It won't affect Voltron I promise- I hate the guy but I don't detest the dude."

"Wait...so did you and Shiro date?" Hunk asked unsure and Lance blinked surprised, even as Pidge eyes narrowed "Is your attitude just a bad break-up?" Lance smile faded.

"No, it's nothing like that," he grew somber as he gazed into the fire.

"You have to be in a relationship to have break-up." Both Pidge and Hunk could only stare. Lance looked...older and weird all of a sudden. As if he was glowing and it wasn't the fire.

Suddenly they heard footsteps and Lance turned brilliantly and waved "Hey Keith- try some of this stuff that Hunk cooked, it taste's like chicken!"

Lance cursed a steady mantra in his head, getting his ass shot at was not the way he wanted this to go. So far Voltron was steadily toppling empires and liberating more planets what Allura told him, is that the universe was so huge most of it was still explored but the maps they had for what they did discover is split into four.

Alpha, Beta, Delta and Omega. The Omega quadrant wasn’t explored yet and Allura’s plan was to free, ¾ of the quadrants of the Galra’s rule. So far Arus, Bulmera and even the Olakri solar systems in the Alpha section were taken care of and that gave an edge to the Voltron coalition (They have a coalition now!)

So far their missions were going well and nothing could beat Voltron even the Robo-beasts haggar sent them. Honestly they were so easy.

When Voltron destroyed a robo-Mecha Lance whopped with Joy.

“Are you a bottom? Because you just got fucked by Voltron’s big ass sword!” Lance crowed and the others groaned.

“Lance-”

“For god's sake-”

“Never say anything like that again.” Lance snickered, it just slipped out? But he had no idea why they all had to pull that face like he spat on their mother or something. Lance shrugged and decided to ignore them.

After when they greeted the party on surface side, the people thanking them they showed off their shops and stalls for Voltron to pick out a suitable gift as a thank you.

And Lance couldn’t help himself, he tapped Keith’s shoulder and raised a something that looked like a funky looking tye-dyed t-shirt.

“Hey look how gay this thing looks?” He beamed, he only said that because he would totally wear it.

Again Keith scowled and looked away, Lance blinked confused then shrugged. Maybe he didn’t like the shirt? And then when they saw other aliens together Lance just stopped walking when he saw other species kiss one another.

“Hunk- Hunk look at that!” He pointed at the couple surprised even Hunk raised an eyebrow then frowned when Lance gasped “I can’t believe that’s even allowed .” Keith heard and almost broke the food pouch in his hand.

He noticed it’s been happening awhile each time he made any types of jokes the team would...grimace. It was really starting to bug him out but like all other things he ignored it since he had no idea what the problem really was.

Until he had a mission with Keith.

“Oh cool, so me and pretty boy on a mission alone, huh?” Lance glanced a Shiro and wiggled his eyes and lowered his voice so only Shiro could hear. “Are you sure I won’t corrupt him?” Shiro’s eyes narrowed and even Keith scowled.

“Do I have to go on a mission with him?” He scowled and Lance pouted “Do you not like me? I like everyone here!” Except Shiro and Lance suddenly teased “Or maybe I should start rubbing off on you?” He beamed and Keith’s hand met Lance’s face and pushed him back.

“-Ow!”

“Keith,” Allura started as Lance began cursing up a storm “You’re mission is to distract this base while Shiro and I are to download intel from this base in the west. If we’re lucky we can possibly find other known rebellions.”

“Or my father.” Pidge piped up and Allura nodded “Any intel that can give us an edge will help us out. I need both you and Lance to cause as much trouble as possible.”

Before Keith could even nod he felt Lance’s arm wrap around his shoulder.

“Trouble is my middle name, and Keith was kicked out of the garrison for punching a student so we’re pro’s at this.”

Allura didn’t look reassured.

Lance leaned against the wall and gave a huff of laughter, the whole corridor was erupting with explosions and Lance was having a great time. Each shot hitting its target pow pow pow Even Keith was being extra swishy with his sword. Lance raised an eyebrow.

“Are you showing off for the Galra dude?” Lance aimed his gun and shot again “I don’t think you’re their type.” He heard Keith growl and slice an android in two. Lance chuckled to himself and saw some Galra guardian a panel, he paused then aimed taking a slow breath and shooting the panel. There was a beat before it exploded.

Lance flinched “Shit-”

He ran towards Keith and grabbed him shoving both of them around a corner for cover as the blast shot past them in a fiery inferno. Lance painted bracketing Keith in and glanced to see all the burning robots around them he snickered.

“Wow. Non-Binary robots have just been fucked nine ways till sunday.” Keith scowled and shoved Lance hard and the boy stumbled confused.

“Dude-what the fuck?”

Keith scowled pointing his bayard at Lance.

“You know what- Shiro said he had no problem with it. But I do- you better cut the crap out or I’m going to punch you.” Lance eyes bulged “What? What the hell did I do?”

“You’re Homophobic,” Keith said simply and Lance’s brain switched off. Even Keith could recall Shiro stating it outloud when Lance was at a stall hassling an old lady.

“I don’t know if he was always cagey about that type of stuff and even commented on it. I guess some things never change.”

Keith continued “Get over it. We’re in space- some aliens don’t even have a gender so sexualities mean shit to them. But stop acting like some christian angel that thinks we’re sinning or some shit like that-”

“Whoa- whoa stop right there.” Lance pointed at Keith his face flushed red “Okay- what when have I ever acted homophobic?” then his eyes narrowed “Did Shiro say something?”

Keith’s eyes suspiciously trailed to his left and Lance almost fist punched the wall behind him.

“That utter asshole! You see Keith- he’s nothing but a lying backstabbing-” Lance made the gesture of strangling something but then the sounds of guns and explosions grew louder.

“Shit- we gotta move before it gets worse!”

Before Lance could run back into the chaos he turned around and pointed at Keith “We’re not done with this discussion!” He growled before running out. Keith frowned after him then followed.

Once they returned to the ship Keith was waiting for Lance to yell in his face and lie about being a jerk but instead he rounded the corner then walked back pointing at Keith.

“Team meeting- get everyone else in here!” Then vanished, Keith sighed then gathered the others Hunk and Pidge were experimenting with something and almost hurt themselves.

“What?”

Keith shrugged “It’s Lance, he said he wanted a team meeting or something.”

“Why?”

“To explain why he isn’t homophobic?”

“THis is going to be awkward-”

“Let’s just humour him and then rip him a new one if he sounds stupid.” Pidge nodded “That sounds fun-”

“Guys I don’t think we should-”

“I’m with Pidge.” Both walked side by side and Hunk could only groan as he knew this would end in disaster. It wasn’t until they sat down that Hunk rememberd “Wait didn’t Lance say he liked Shiro?”

Before they could respond the doors slid wide with a swoosh and Lance entered with a purpose in his step and a mind meld device gripped in his hand.

He paused then glanced around the room “Where’s Shiro and Allura?”

Keith scowled tense “They’re on a mission.” Lance blinked then sighed “Well I wish I could tell Shiro off for talking shit-”

Keith scowled “Lance don’t even start-”

“Oh no, I wanted to clear something up with all of you. Some of you think a certain way of me, so I’m going to prove myself although I shouldn’t have too.”

He places on the mind meld, it cackled before revealing a picture- a memory.

Suddenly a st bernard appeared the others frowned “What does a dog have to do with-” suddenly the visual moved from a dog to a man.

“Lance,” The man spoke softly “I’m starting to think you love the dog more than me.” Lance’s hands were kneading the dogs fur, “Well, duh why else would I be here?”

The others glanced at one another as more images appeared. Some of Lance being hugged from behind, candle light, a kiss against the moon light a small apartment with golden light.

Pidge frowned, somethings about the apartent looked...off it was real but it was old. Ryou was either a hipster but he had VHS and record players, Pidge learned that only her grandparents had that. Though they could be wrong. Suddenly a visual of a hospital appeared an iv- an arm small and weak on the bed sheets with the iv attacked- it flickered before the others could question it and soon they saw Ryou naked. Pidge screamed covering her eyes.

And Lance smirked as it showed the many scenarios he and Ryou had together, Lance dressed in skimpy outfits, Ryou with belts tied around his chest. And many more.

The hospital was forgotten by the juxtaposition.

“Enough- Enough!” Pidge yelled covering her eyes even Hunk was looking up “Okay can we stop now?”

Keith was staring somethings in there he hadn’t even heard off before. He covered his mouth his face flushing wide.

Lance unintentionally bringing his friends into voyeurism he removed the meld and his eyes opened into a glare.

“Ryou was one of many partners- many different genders might I add. Homophobic? If I was then I’d be the biggest fucking hyprocrite on this space ship.” Lance flung the device at Keith the others still looking shell shocked.

“Tell Shiro to stop spreading lies about me.” Lance stormed away with a huff the doors sliding shut behind him.

Hunk twiddled his fingers then chanced to look up to see Keith biting his lip and Pidge still eyeing the device and looking grossed out.

“Was it just me or did Ryou kinda resemble Shiro a bit?” Keith’s lips curled “He looked nothing like Shiro.”

Keith lied, he saw the similarities and it was becoming so painfully obvious that his own chest hurt. Both Lance and Shiro were pining and from the looks of it misunderstandings on one side affected the other.

Shiro thought Lance was straight- and straight up hated men.

And from what Hunk said before maybe Lance still likes Shiro. Keith covered his face with his hands. This drama was beyond confusing and he didn’t sign up for this with Voltron. He wanted to fight the Galra and save the universe. Why was that so hard?

Lance could barely fume in silence and lorde it over the others for a while. Nope the universe had other plans. The alarms blazed and he stiffened then oved towards the hangers.

That would only happen if something bad happened on Shiro and Allura’s mission.

He guessed right when he saw a galra pod open up and Allura stumbled out, Coran caught her as she collapsed into his arms.

Lance turned to looking for Shiro to ask what the hell was going on.

But he couldn’t see him anywhere.

Lance glanced at Allura as the others appeared and saw how heer skin was pale and her breathing was laboured.

Shiro stole her quintessence...but why?

“Allura? What happened?” Coran asked looking panicked and her eyes flickered over.

“We were compromised- Shiro he sacrificed himself.”

Lance pressed his lips together. With the way Allura was looking, her sunken face and hollowed eyes, Shiro took all of her quintessence.

Or maybe he had no idea how much he took and thought Allura would be fine...though that was unlikely.

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lehhoh7822 · 3 years

Text

One of the issues with the canon content. And, no, I don’t make sense. I make sensory deprivation around here. (Extra points if you understand the joke.)

Also, quick note. I am an asshole who shouldn’t be given free rein over my posts. If you want the simple speech then read the

big

text. If you want more of my [very useless] personal thoughts then read text in

italics

and if there are more brackets (Or really, any brackets that are []) then it will be in bold, and it is just to help you read. If you guys want I can repost this as a big chunky bit of paragraphs, but this is actually easier to read, especially if you don’t want to hear my thoughts. I hope I didn’t offend and have a good timezone.

Guys, I think I have figured out one of Sanders Sides issues. Maybe everyone knows this and I’m just ‘I do be idiota’ing again but I haven’t seen many people talk about it.

Sanders Sides is torn between being an accessible

(yes I’m very sorry for all the shit limiting this content from being accessible, from the source material and the fan base, but we can talk about this after this, but I didn’t mean anything unsavoury with that word choice. Anyway.)

way to get information about stuff

(great English Lola)

that concerns people.

It was relatively simple, you would get fed information about how to deal with these issues

(eg: How to deal with cognitive distortions from anxiety. It was put as a easy to palate, non-personal for the viewer, funny debate where the bad guy was defeated.)

and you would learn a little bit of the information. The topics weren’t that heavy and generally also had a root in Thomas. The characters may have had the spotlight but the idea was to teach.

But.

The other thing that is pulling at the series is the fact that Thomas is a nerd. And he couldn’t manage to make a series without a massive, deep lore, relatable and loveable characters and a sort of secret, underlying plot line. The characters had to be good enough to captivate the audience. But they also had to be funny. And distinctive. And they couldn’t be too nice or too mean

(look at Roman, or Janus, or Virgil. Take a long look at some negativity blogs and don’t try to tell me that ‘it’s - fault because (insert weird reason here)’).

Now, when he makes a video, firstly, it cannot be taken well. I mean, at the start of Sanders Sides, people wouldn’t look almost obsessively for issues in the plot. They wouldn’t be chasing demons. Now, no matter what he releases, it is definitely going to be really hated by a fair chunk of his viewership.

(Fun fact: I only learnt yesterday that Remus says “If you really want to challenge your viewership then you’ll need a little help from me.” No this isn’t relevant at all. No, I don’t care.)

Secondly, when you watch the Nostalgia episodes, do you think about the actual message, or do you think about Patton’s repression, Roman’s insecurity, Logan fricking pulling a disappearing act

(Buddy, we would like you in the fricking room. It is not necessary for you to give us chills when you speak through your human.)

and Virgil’s symptoms of a panic attack?

I feel like most of you, if you answered honestly, would say that you cared more about the drama between the characters. You heard the message. You heard the ideas about Moving Forward and looking ahead, and not living in the past, and not repressing emotion, and- BUT, you were more focused on the characters, cooing about the one(s) you love and looking obsessively for flaws in the one(s) you hate. You spent the episodes looking at the pictures in the background change, looking for clues of other sides.

And there have been only a few episodes that don’t have any message that isn’t too useful

(or honestly, I think the first one that comes to mind is the Disney Channel one, which was made to tell news in a more interesting format, but it still managed to have the little one at the end about inspiring others.)

like the Crofter’s videos or the Cartoon video.

(but, the cartoon video has that one, very over quoted line, where Virgil remarks that he’s the bad guy) (And the Crofters videos were to heal Logan stans hearts.)

The rest of the episodes have aimed to do that, present ways to manage problems or situations or thoughts. But they have gotten increasingly complex. You need to do a lot of research and write it up in a way that isn’t plagurism, you need to verify and try not to be *insert ism/phobic thing here*,

(which isn’t to say it’s not warranted, I just feel like he must know he’s treading a dangerous line, and also, people do need to care for what they say and to not be massive jerkwads).

There’s a lot of moral stuff now, and that means swimming through a lot of good ideas and a lot of pretentious bullshit. They still also want to help with problems, like they did

(well, depends who you ask. I personally think that they did pretty well for a complex and varying disorder/condition [some people get annoyed when people call their anxiety a disorder because of panic disorder, diagnosed anxiety disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder and anything and everything else, so I’ll put down both] on a [generally] kids-friendly channel. In a series that manages to be funny, deep and somewhat like a [really really good, remember the deep bit] soap opera, I feel like they tried their best and made something good. But that’s just my opinion.)

well with anxiety. They tried to do that again with Intrusive thoughts. But, it doesn’t work as well. firstly because there was and is so much going on in the plot, and the fact that intrusive thoughts was almost treated like cognitive distortions was. Like something that can be handled in one episode, something that isn’t as serious as anything else. Which isn’t trying to be dismissive of how fricking horrible intrusive thoughts are, how they make you feel bad, keep you up, make you question yourself, etc, but also, at the time, they had a lot of content they were managing.

However

(yes I’m trying not to say but, considering I’ve already said it 8 times in this thing, you don’t need to call me out like that)

they could have managed. They could have packaged it up into a nicer, cleaner episode, a clean sweep dealing with the issue, the humour and it all, but they don’t. They can’t. Because of Remus. Remus made the episode a lot more complicated. They had to establish a new character, all of his connections and etc, they had to establish all of Remus. His brotherhood with Roman, his weird thing with Virgil. The lore, the lore of the series is what made the episode feel off. They were using one of their more original formats to try to deal with a more complex issue, further along in a precariously balanced series, and then they tried to balance out the lore. Balance out the Remus being Remus with Virgil’s reveal. They tried to make something similar to the start. It didn’t work.

(But, [I did it again] think about it. Let’s compare to the My Negative Thinking video, because for some reason that one keeps coming into my mind. You have established bad guy. [MNT: Virgil. DWIT: Remus.] Your established problem. [MNT: Thomas is overthinking and having cognitive distortions about his work and talent after a rough day on stage and Logan helps him find and combat the cognitive distortions caused by Virgil. DWIT: Thomas {and by extention, most of his sides} are having a rough time sleeping because of a constant stream of disturbing thoughts that are keeping him up, so Logan helps him understand and learn to “accept”* his intrusive thoughts and deal with them, helping the others back off so he can sleep.] Your established aforementioned hero. [MNT: Logan. DWIT: Logan.] But, MNT is around 10 minutes. DWIT is around 40 minutes. The reasons being is that, firstly, in order to set up intrusive thoughts, was going to be harder than with cognitive distortions. Secondly, the plot has evolved, and there are more characters in DWIT than MNT and the format was different. But neither of these things explain why there’s a 30 minute gap between the two. It’s Remus. He’s only established just then, and all the establishing work, from the song, which we love, to the bit at the end with Roman and the Funhouse mirrors is what makes it so long. The original format no longer works, but they tried to use it. Does any of this make sense? Or am I just rambling? I don’t know.)

The lore is too strong to really ignore and the ideas are the idea of the series.

So, why is this an issue?

(this question is here for the people who didn’t understand the rest of my bullshit).

Let’s list some of the problems. (I’m sure there’s more, I just don’t know where.)

Thomas can no longer make content that will satisfy people with enough lore and character in order to keep trying to give us important knowledge on life. I know that at some point your fans won’t ever be satisfied with your content, but this isn’t a “We hate x and y character for a and b reasons.” it’s either; This doesn’t feel right and make sense, but it feels like I sorta learnt something. Or, I don’t understand the message.

In order to fix the above problem a bit of the format would have to be changed or compromised, which is really hard to do.

There can never be the perfect balance anymore. The Sides can no longer be fully in character and have good continuity because the series does not have good continuity. There’s also now going to be a precarious balance in between starting a witch-hunt.

The ideas are important, but people are forgetting or caring less about them. There’s so much research and work that goes into finding them, turning them into a speech, slotting that speech into the script and etc.

This means that as well as uprooting the idea of the series, the story, characters and lore are also making it impossible to create continuous content that follows a specific goal. To introduce new characters you have to do something that isn’t a usual episode or else it will feel forced or wrong.

So. I hope you enjoyed my ramble. This took a lot of time and effort and feel free to add on. I hope I didn’t offend. Also, please someone tell me, does this make sense at all? Anyway.

#sanders sides #sanders sides criticism #remus sanders #I shouldn't be allowed to use a keyboard

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theworldgate · 5 years

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Now that I’m done with the avatar change, some somewhat spoilery thoughts on the epilogues are due!

And some non-spoilery ones first: Both of them are ‘creepy’ for want of a better word, though this seems to be mostly intentional (the more “wait is this meant to be creepy or not” stuff is in Candy; I can’t recall something like that in Meat). Like, I suppose this is a somewhat spoilery thing but also there’s a massive wall of trigger warnings, and it comes before the choice for a reason.

I think Meat sticks the landing better.

I hope you aren’t too attached to two particular Alpha Kids <laughs in ‘literally just changed my avatar from one>. I think it’s compensating for the actions of them in ‘canon’ that didn’t age well, and I’ll stop before getting into spoiler territory.

Gamzee makes everything terrible.

Seriously, Meat is pretty solid, though I can see why it’s polarizing. I’m not sure I want to read it again, but I’m also not sure that I don’t.

The second part of that sentence doesn’t really apply to Candy. I think it does provide some key context. Probably. But meh, a lot of it isn’t my sort of thing, and there’s a plotline kind of but it doesn’t go anywhere.

There are strong satirical elements and the issue is that, especially in Candy, it gets a bit muddled as to, like, how satirical it is.

This one is a spoiler a bit, but I think putting it above the cut is in the same spirit as the warning tags: there might also need to be one for Gaslighting.

There is a LOT of content there; that I finished it within a few hours reflects that I have the literal exact reading speed that Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds brags about when it comes to fiction. Also ngl I did kind of skim some of the relationship stuff in Candy. But also there being a lot of content means that this is not going to be comprehensive.

Not to mention that there are some explicit callbacks that could really do with links.

And into the spoilery stuff:

Honestly, you would think Vriska would have a bigger role given that there are 8 epilogues in each? She also provides one of the “I think this is meant to be creepy but I can’t tell???” moments in Candy. (well, I mean (Vriska), but the one who wasn’t in brackets during the canon but acquires them)

The Gamzee ‘redemption arc’ stuff really did not need to be dragged throughout the literal entire Candy epilogues. I mean, the core of the joke is pretty funny (it’s very dark humour, but still), but it’s eggs it a bit too much and Alive Calliope’s rationale for it is confusing and seriously Jane went full fash like 10 chapters before, have her do something to get him out the story before that. Like, it’s sort of what I got mad at wildbow for what (I thought) he was doing with March in Ward late last month, except if March also did nothing actually plot relevant and was just there being obnoxious. I mean, I’m glad the Homestuck comparisons still stand (though I think the content of Candy in particular vindicates Wildbow for drawing his lines where he does as far as sex stuff goes).

Oh, yeah, right. Jane went full fash. Twice. In one timeline I’d actually be willing to chalk it up to “yeah, this is a Dirk idea”, but he full on removed himself from the timeline (... suicide feels like an odd word when it’s not-unlikely that that Dirk did it in order to merge with Dirk Prime) and she just kept at it. Her actions, and the responses of the cast to it (universal horror by the end) definitely fall into the things I was thinking about with the level of satire being muddied. I can sort of see the point, but I think Hussie Hussied too hard and... it does actually read like a not-terrible-but-not-great-edgy-AU fanfic now I think about it. Like, the resistance is totally a stock fanfic setting for Homestuck. Huh.

Also, like... poor Jake and Tavros.

It actually nails Kanaya’s voice reasonably well? Which, yeah, makes sense, Promstuck is like the only fic I can think of that features her heavily and actually pulls it off (she is... not lacking in smoothness, but also not particularly interested in being a force of seduction), and from urbanAnchorite’s other fics I’m pretty sure that’s down to cephied_variable.

And that actually does bring us to our sometime narrator of Meat: Dirk. He’s actually a pretty well written villain. Very much in the Lord English vein which, like, makes sense given his handling of Caliborn and how the latter seemed to like him. Said handling was also the thing I meant yesterday by the “this shows the danger of humouring assholes”. But, y’know, there’s an element of assuming Dirk is memeing when he isn’t that is also very present here now. And, y’know, not exactly lacking in cultural relevance given that, again, Jane went full fash and at least some of the rationalisations for it were provided by him.

The other narrator of Meat is pretty chill, though leaving us hanging was kind of a dick move not gonna lie.

Oh god yeah, poor Jake again. Dirks is such an asshole. I mean, I can’t say enough how well written his assholery is, but that doesn’t, like, make him not an inutterable asshole.

I am not particularly qualified to comment on the Roxy gender stuff (beyond “the pivot to he/him is literally something I’ve had several AFAB NB friends do, though usually accompanied by a name change”. Although I will probably just avoid using pronouns for Roxy unless I mean specifically Meat Roxy or Candy Roxy since I think they (plural) did ultimately settle on different approaches to their gender(s? I think they’re both agender (like, specifically; Candy!Roxy very much reminds me of agender people I know) due to being the same person but go very different ways about it due to life circumstance stuff; I imagine Candy!Roxy would consider herself a woman for sociological purposes, but I very much doubt that Meat!Roxy would do the same himself).

Back on Candy discussion - there’s definitely a narrator, and actually maybe the final bit of Meat before the postscript (which follows on from Candy and likewise Candy’s is the immediate follow through on Meat) implies that it’s Dead!Calliope, but then the stuff that makes me think it has a particular speaker (before Dead!Calliope outright says so) makes me think otherwise. I know I both briefly thought Rose and then encountered some stuff that made it make less sense for it to be Rose (even ascended robot Rose, even if that would provide a neat symmetry to Dirk’s hostile narrative takeover+desire). It’s also a lot more... heterosexual than Meat, which makes me wonder if it’s Dead!Caliborn, but dead!Caliborn wouldn’t care about seeming sexist in this one line early on. Rose totally would despite being (as far as I can tell) a woman. Hmm...

Actualy, rereading the Meat postscript, I’m more sure that Candy is... not so much non-canon, as utterly orthogonal to the main storyline. Or it is now.

I mean, at least some of it will intersect; it gives us background for davebot for starters. Actually, given the treatment of robots as frequently de-facto nb but happy to roll with gendered pronouns (a la Candy!Roxy; I believe Mark Rosewater has said that this is broadly how Karn (the silver golem) thinks of himself, for example).

Okay, so I’m also 90% sure that Barack Obama is not actually the real Barack Obama, but that doesn’t give me any insight as to who created the fake Obama in order to get Dave to turn into Davebot. Unless it’s literally actually Jake because he does have some random robotics skill, and Jake is also a hope player. Plus Jake also used his Hope powers briefly in Candy I think? Which was near the end and I think possible precipitated it. But, like, Jake would have to have a reason for that, and I don’t think “Jane is a genocidal maniac” would prompt that specific response.

Speaking of an English... did Lord English take over the narrative of Meat briefly? I kind of kept hopping up above the line to add extra non-spoilery thoughts. Or acceptably spoilery thoughts. Like, the sort of thoughts that amounted to making the very intentional trigger warnings clearer. So, uh, I’m on about the callback to the vine thing. That thing. Plus some other stuff.

Another cognitive aid might have been a few drawings (I don’t think it needs full on panels, but just to make it clear where certain scenes take place), though I get why they wanted to avoid illustrating some of it.

#text #long post #homestuck #homestuck spoilers #the symbols hol dall the power #upd8 #upd8 thoughts #as an aside holy shit my fucking custom runescape tag is actually going to still be relevant next decade isn't it #like it explicitly states there's another adventure coming #it's another fucking hiatus #I haven't even actually played rs in months ffs #it turns out that during homestuck hiatuses this is a runescape blog #is the tag #if you're wondering #tag novel

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vittrup00villumsen-blog · 5 years

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