c0mbatchameleon

[c0mbatchameleon]

people always talk about leaving comments on ao3 like it's a nice thing to do, or the best way to encourage writers to keep writing, or overall like it's how you Do Your Part in fandom

and yeah, all those things are true, but having spent the past few months leaving enthusiastic comments on as many things as i can, i have a different perspective

you should leave comments on fics because it's fun

taking the time to stop and focus on what i like about a story has made me way more aware of what's going on in stories and what i like about them. there's bit more actual comprehension and appreciation and not just beaming content into my eyes to fill time

i like noticing cool little things in fics, or riffing on funny events. i've never been very good at speculating or picking apart characters, but sometimes something clicks and it rocks.

and of course it's pretty nice when you get a response and it's clear you've made another person happy

so yeah, you should leave comments for your own sake, too. it makes reading better!

[c0mbatchameleon]

butch rugby player marlene mckinnon... save me butch rugby player marlene mckinnon

[c0mbatchameleon]

what is your holy trinity of fruits

#mango #raspberry #orange #but emphasis on mango

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Two brothers in a field are enough for the tragedy to start.

antigone, sophocles / jewish literacy, rabbi joseph telushkin / cain and abel, orazio riminaldi / taking it, vievee francis / the plagues, hans zimmer / harry potter and the order of the phoenix, j.k. rowling / revenge of the sith (2005) dir. george lucas / brother by the interstate, k.c. cramm / cain, josé saramango / famous blue raincoat, leonard cohen / unknown / the prince of egypt (1998) dir. chapman, wells, hickner / a brother named gethsemane, natalie diaz

#sob #rab

[c0mbatchameleon]

Bit telling that for years and years evangelical religious extremists have been allowed on university campuses with their bullhorns and horrific imagery where they harass students into physical altercations and when students complain to the university’s administration they just shrug their shoulders citing freedom of speech but when those same tuition-paying students start protesting against war and genocide they call SWAT

[c0mbatchameleon]

@jegulus-microfic | april 26: aimless | 1,276 words | trans! regulus

james does regulus' tape binding aftercare <3

James lingers in the doorway, quietly observing Regulus in their softly lit bathroom.

He's perched on the ledge of the bathtub, seemingly lost in thought, his head bowed and fingers idle and aimless where they trace the rim of it. He's shirtless, clad in only boxers and socks. His bare thighs press against the cool porcelain, causing goosebumps to rise there. Soft, late evening light leaks from the window, casting gentle shadows against his frame. 

Outside, the rhythmic passing of cars punctuates the stillness, their headlights casting golden beams that dance across the wet asphalt. The nearby stoplight's red glow mingles with them, creating a surreal mix of colors on the shimmering pavement.

There's a soft rustle of movement as James enters the room behind Regulus, moving to the sink. He sifts through the contents of their vanity, hands passing over their shared face wash and the cup holding their toothbrushes to retrieve the items needed for Regulus' tape aftercare. Deft hands gather oil, washcloths, cotton swabs, and salve before placing them on the bathtub ledge. He approaches Regulus with a tenderness reserved only for moments like these, for him. 

"Ready, love?" James' voice breaks the silence with a mellow murmur. He settles his weight behind him. 

Regulus turns his head, giving a small nod against his own shoulder. "Yeah," he says, voice crackling from disuse. 

James leans in to press a kiss between Regulus' shoulder blades. He lingers there for a moment. This close, he can see the faint dusting of freckles that mark his back. They're spattered across the skin like spray from a wave on sand. Speckles in shades of russet, sepia, and chocolate dance across his pale skin, shifting as Regulus shivers lightly. As James' lips leave his back, the muscles beneath those pretty dots tremble.

James reaches for the oil, uncaps it, and warms it between his hands. He presses both his palms to Regulus, carefully smoothing the oil over the edges of the tape. His touch follows the span of the tape from Regulus' back, under his arms, to the front of his chest. His movements are slow and practiced, designed as much to reassure as to treat. The oil glistens slightly on Regulus' skin, catching the dim light as it begins to soften the adhesive.

As they wait for the tape to loosen, a comfortable silence settles over them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city and their own quiet breathing. James doesn't stop his ministrations; his fingers continue to trace gentle paths along Regulus' shoulders, the back of his neck, following the delicate contours of his shoulder blades. These moments are so special to him; he wants Regulus to feel loved through his actions, to experience the same palpable surge of affection with each pass of his hands that James feels. There is so much trust that Reg offers him in these moments—it's intimate. James is the only person Regulus allows to see the most vulnerable parts of himself, and that knowledge alone makes James' heart swell with fondness and love. He has never loved someone as he does Regulus.

Regulus, Regulus, Regulus. 

Sometimes, James thinks Regulus was crafted specifically for him; as if the cosmos themselves conspired to mold him to perfectly complement the contours of James' own body, his own soul. Looking back, it's almost silly to him now—he thought he knew what love was like before him. His heart was already overflowing with it for Sirius, his mum, his dad, his friends. He's always had big emotions, brimming with affection and fierce protectiveness for the people around him. He's always cared deeply and felt profoundly, but nothing could have prepared him for the depth of feeling that Regulus brought into his life.

James knows nothing, nobody else could ever make him feel like this.

He settles his hands on the edges of the tape on Regulus' left side. "Gonna take it off now, okay?"

"Yeah, okay James. Go ahead"

James pulls at the tape gently, easing it from the skin. He's careful not to pull too hard or move too fast, patient as he works. He grabs Regulus' bicep, thumb pressing into the underside, fingers curling over. "Lift your arm up, Reg," he instructs softly.

Regulus raises his arm, holding it aloft as James' hand moves back down to steady the skin being separated from the tape. He can't resist pausing to press a kiss to the underside of his bicep before continuing to peel off the tape there. When he encounters a tough spot, where the tape still clings to his skin, James reaches for more oil. He warms it between his fingers once again before lightly holding the piece back, rubbing it into the seam between Regulus' skin and the tape until it loosens enough for him to continue. He carefully removes the first piece, then works at a second, a third, before repeating the process on Regulus' right side.

There's still a faint trace of leftover adhesive where the edges of the tape once were. So, James takes a cotton swab, dips it in oil, and meticulously traces the outlines left by the pieces. He moves slowly, with deliberate delicacy, mindful of the soreness of his skin.

Once he's satisfied, James fetches the washcloth. He soaks it in warm, soapy water and carefully cleans the area, wiping away excess oil and any lingering traces of the day. Then he reaches for the salve—the last physical part of their routine, though James knows the comfort it brings goes beyond just the skin. Two of his fingers dip into the container, scooping up the soothing balm. James is so careful with him, his fingers so gentle as they spread the salve, taking extra care with the tender skin under his arms and over his ribs. He traces the rungs of them, then the dip of his chest, making sure no skin is left uncared for.

James then grabs what's technically his own shirt—a worn, soft thing that Regulus has claimed as his own, his favorite pajama top—from the ledge of the sink. He helps Regulus slip it over his head, taking advantage of every second he allows him to be so close, to take care of him.

"Feeling okay?" James asks once Regulus is settled.

He trails his hand at the hem of his shirt, slipping it underneath to rest gently on his stomach, careful not to brush the newly cared-for skin or his chest. 

Regulus hums an affirmative, "mhmm." Eyes closing and head tipping back as he nods.

"I'm not just asking about your skin, love," James whispers. It's tough for Regulus sometimes, taking the tape off, sitting with his chest. It's a necessity though, for his well-being, despite the discomfort it brings. And James always does everything within his power to make it easier for him. He knows he can't fix everything, but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to.

Regulus reaches back, his palm sliding from James' elbow to his hand beneath his shirt, their fingers intertwining at his stomach. Their faces are so close that Regulus' cheek drags against James' as he turns his head, planting a soft kiss on James' cheek. "I do, I feel okay. I promise," he murmurs, giving James a warm smile.

Leaning back into James' frame, Regulus lets his weight settle comfortably against him. "You make it easier," he breathes out, words floating into the space between them. Another kiss, "Thank you. I love you."

James holds him a moment, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, heart swelling just a little bit more. "I love you too."

#‘to experience the same palpable surge of affection with each pass of his hands that James feels’ #ohhhh wow #the intimacy is VIVID #like idk how to describe it I j love everything abt this #microfic rb

[c0mbatchameleon]

Mentally floating face down in a river

#rab

[c0mbatchameleon]

been thinking abt demon james a lot

#WOOOOO BABY #demon James demon James demon James demon ja #l

[c0mbatchameleon]

(A priest, stumbling out of a confession booth, covered in kiss marks) you should see the other guy

#wolfstar vibes

[c0mbatchameleon]

#me if u even care

[c0mbatchameleon]

Friday Snippet

Ty for the tag @messymoony !!

tiny something from the possession au i posted abt yesterday that has quickly taken over any and all of my thoughts

“You are,” the man intercepts Regulus’ thoughts before they can spiral further. “What?” “Dreaming.” A pause, as he looks off in contemplation for a moment. Regulus catalogs the way the corner of his mouth quirks up, lips parted, head cocked. His body—broad and toned—is reclined in the folding chair, legs spread out, hands haphazardly dangling some book he was reading, head tipped back; he's the picture of tranquility.  “Or, I guess,” he looks back to Regulus, a sly smile unfurling across his face, like he’s about to let him in on some provocative secret, “We’re dreaming.”

np tagging @ecstarry @sommerregenjuniluft @sixlane @bellaxisworld

#fic / possession au #jegulus #jegulus fic #jegulus fanfiction #regulus black #james potter #writing stuff and things #starchaser

[c0mbatchameleon]

#eternal sunshine of the spotless mind #<3

[c0mbatchameleon]

Columbia University students at the Gaza solidarity encampment reading Wisam Rafeedie's The Trinity of Fundamentals and Ghassan Kanafani's The Revolution of 1936–1939 in Palestine (ph. Ian Bartlett).

[c0mbatchameleon]

#me if u even care

[c0mbatchameleon]

#love the vibes here #euge tag

[c0mbatchameleon]

hi anna my love would you mind telling us what the possession au is about 🥺🤲🏼💗

LUNEEE ABSOLUTELY ABSOFRUITLY I CAN.

Ok so the tldr here is James is a demon that possesses reg. This all came from a drunk 3am note in my phone about the “intimacy of literally inhabiting the same body, to become a singular noun; my thoughts are yours now, you don’t even know where you end and I begin, your soul would feel so empty without me here to fill in all the gaps” etc etc. Right ok. Long ramblings below, be warned.

So picture regulus, our resident high-strung control freak who has lived as a puppet on a string at the whims of his family ever since he was a teenager and they began staging him to join / eventually take over their major capitalist conglomerate empire or whatever. Iffy on the details still but there’s a lot of politics involved. Think like the richest of the rich in the world and they want to keep their family on the top—regulus is their vessel to do so.

And the thing is, he goes above and beyond. He gave up on trying to escape the life he’s been (to him) imprisoned in a long time ago, and his (perceived) lack of control and agency has only driven him to climb higher, hungry for even more disgusting amounts of wealth and power, fuck everyone else, he wants to be at the fucking top, and maybe then he’ll be free. He’s terrible and he’s miserable and he’s everything they wanted him to be, he feels like a slave to time and to the life that was carved out for him, and it manifests in him exerting extreme amounts of control over the one thing he can have some semblance of control over, which is his own body.

(slight tw for disordered / obsessive eating / body habits?)

Picture him scheduling his days down to the minute. He wakes up at 5:30am everyday after getting the exact amount of sleep to complete five rem cycles, he has a strict workout regimen every day perfectly planned out for the week, meals all the same mapped out down to the calorie. You’d think he’s in the army. His skincare routine puts patrick bateman to shame. He jerks off once a week cuz he thinks it has health benefits or keeps him sharp or something (if you’ve watched The End of the Fucking World I’m pretty sure this is where my brain subconsciously picked this from) and it’s mechanical and he’s dead in the eyes and he knows it will take him exactly 5 minutes and 8 seconds to come.

And then. Suddenly. He’s having weird dreams about some man he doesn’t know and they’re making him feel things when he has specifically trained his body to NOT feel things and what’s happening to him? And then dreams become daydreams. And then he’s losing time. HES LOSING TIME. Which is literally his worst nightmare. It’s making him fuckinf spiral, his routines are being thrown off, the small semblance of control is slipping, so he’s already at his wits fucking end when a goddamn voice in his head starts talking to him. Like that’ll do it.

But then the voice, the man, the figure from his dreams, James, is telling him to relax. Telling him you’re so wound up. I can feel it, you know? How tired you are. It’s okay baby, let me take the reins for the day. You just have to sit back up in that head of yours—of ours—and let it all turn to static for a bit. Don’t worry. I’ll give you your body back tonight. Don’t you trust me? Wouldn’t it feel good to just.. let go for a bit?

And eventually regulus discovers that it DOES feel good. He fucking loves it. He gives up control willingly for the first time, he lets James do it all for him, to move him around like a puppet in the most literal sense but it’s different from his family, from everyone else. It’s freeing.

and it’s like this weird corruption-anticorruption thing because yes james is influencing him and planting thoughts in his head and literally taking over his body at points but it’s all to make him do…kinda good things? “Fuck the company, don’t show up today, let’s go to the coast like you used to as a kid,” “don’t pick up the phone, I know you’ve never declined your mother’s call before, but just try. Don’t you feel powerful?” Until eventually reg is sabotaging the company, his family, he’s basically suicide-bombing the stock market, he’s giving all his money away, etc etc. he’s more free than he’s ever felt in his life and to the outside world he looks absolutely insane and, shit, maybe he is, but it feels fucking amazing.

I just love the thought of James’ more mundane influence on him too. He’s craving hot Cheetos for the first time in his life and absolutely appalled and confused and James is like “shit my bad I was thinking abt them.” James has him smoke weed for the first time (the scene I have planned for this……) and he has to take over to roll the joint for him. Why the fuck is reg enjoying abba music? But also—why the fuck is a demon enjoying abba music?

I’ve rambled way too much so I’ll reign it in there. Lots of details subject to change, but this is basically all I’m thinking abt these days.

#lovely lovely lune thank you for indulging me #I fear this response got away from me. forgive me—I’ve been possessed once again #fic / possession au #lune tag #mail #jegulus #jegulus fic #regulus black #james potter

[c0mbatchameleon]

@jegulus-microfic April 25, prompt: headlights, words: 458

He’s been sitting out on the curb down the street from his house for maybe 10 minutes when headlights and the thrum of an engine cut through the still, 3am darkness. Bag in his lap, burning in his throat; as the truck pulls up to a stop in front of him, Regulus is acutely aware of what it means once he steps inside.

It’s an ending, he thinks. It’s thick layers of dust lining the shelves in his bedroom—how quickly a room can become a relic. Can become ruins. Stale and rotting, a place where life only exists in past tense. In other words, a haunting.

To be fair, the haunting long precedes this—this crux, this threshold. To be fair, it was always more rot than anything else. To be fair, he can’t recall the last time the dark green walls enclosed something truly alive and breathing and not soured by the state decay. After all, it’s only been him for years now.

But Regulus thinks he remembers a time, just one time, when the room was much bigger than him, was everything; a time when a woman who, much the same, was much bigger than him floated into the room like an angel or an apparition, and, having heard his cry in the middle of the night, brushed his hair back behind his forehead with her ever-sharp nails and a whispered promise that everything was okay. He thinks he remembers believing it, then. He thinks it might have been a dream. He had never known his mother to be gentle.

And now, to open the door and cross the threshold is to relent, to find finality in the fact that he never will. He’ll never find out if something soft underlay all that ice-hot flame and sharpened teeth and barbed wire. And he’ll never know if it was a dream. And he’ll never know her, or him, or the home and the ghosts that haunt it, in the way he so desperately tried to.

His lifelong fight. And surrender is only a couple steps away.

Before he can take them, the driver’s side door opens with a click that pierces through the oppressive quiet this street has always known. And there he is, backlit by the single dim yellow streetlight like something holy, something divine, circling around the front and stopping at Regulus’ feet with an outstretched hand.

A hand. An offering. An end. A beginning.

When Regulus takes it, lets James pull him to his feet, let’s him take his bag and the weight on his shoulders to store in the backseat, he thinks that some endings might not be so bad. That maybe, some fights are worth giving up.

He thinks he wants to live.

#2am stream of consciousness while I procrastinated studying for my exam today #I just feel like James would drive a truck and be annoying abt it #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus microfic #jegulus fic #jegulus fanfiction #starchaser #the marauders #marauders