#Enough to warrant a post here as a matter of fact!

[stardestroyer81]

You ever start to draw something as a joke but then it turns out really good? 🍕✨

[rosemaze-reveries]

This is going to be a heavy request, so if it's not your cup of tea please feel free to delete this or not acknowledge it, please.

That being said, would it be okay to request a comforting scenario involving at least Norton with a reader who struggles with SH? And if I had to push, maybe Ithaqua and Luchino as well?

On a separate note, I love your writing and blog. Your past posts are both entertaining and comforting to read. I don't use Tumblr a lot but I check back in to see if you and a few other blogs have updated. Thank you for your time, and I hope you're well.

this kind of comfort fic can be hard to come by, i know 🥲 thank you for the req and the well wishes♡ same to you

inspiration hit for luchino first so i'll post his for now. the others will be linked here as they get finished. they won't all be this heavy on the medical care, i promise!

luchino diruse x you he dresses your wounds; you worry you're a burden to him

⚠️ graphic SH wounds, medical treatment (stitches)

Luchino’s ears prick at the sound of your footsteps.

He could hear you from a mile away—one of the perks of being part-reptile—as you sidestep the creaks in the floorboards, careful not to draw the attention of any curious night prowlers. He hears you pause at his door, your fist hovering above the wood, mustering the strength for that impossible knock. This happens occasionally. Sometimes you decide against it and retreat back to your room. Luchino never stops you, just like he never tells you that he’s been counting each of your visits, even the ones you think escape his notice.

Just when he thinks the silence has lasted a beat too long, his gaze drifts to the door, and it creaks open without a knock. Apparently you’ve decided to skip over it altogether. Not that that bothers him; he was hoping you’d choose him from the start. You’re slow and deliberate when you push the door in, giving him time to protest if he needs to. He doesn’t.

“Still awake?” you whisper.

Luchino is sitting in his reading chair. It’s the only lit corner of his room, with an open book in his lap and an apple core browning on the table beside him. Clearly he’s retired for the night. The sight of it makes your stomach churn, as you know you’re disturbing his quiet evening, but you’re not sure what else you expected. He flashes you a tender smile.

“As a matter of fact,” he says, closing his book and passing it to the table, “sleep has abandoned me entirely. Staying here tonight?”

His question doesn’t hear its answer. You wander into the room, shutting the door behind you. It wouldn’t take a fool to know you’re a little out of sorts—you haven’t even acknowledged him, and your eyes sweep the room erratically, trying to land on anything but him. Luchino watches you with curious patience. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Best to just get it out with.

“Stitches came out again,” you say.

He doesn’t bat an eye. “On their own?”

“Mhm.”

As he stands up, your legs stiffen, hanging under you like lead. All you can do is send him a glassy stare when he comes to inspect your arm. Luchino had just refitted your sutures a few days ago, after their first instance of “falling out on their own.” He’s well aware that wasn’t really the case. Even if he won’t admit to it outright, you know he knows, and you both keep the lie going anyway. He’s considerate like that. Or maybe he’s just placating you. Blaming sloppy stitches should be a blatant insult to his medical expertise, and Luchino is far from unskilled with the needle. Even so, this is one detail he never questions you on.

He curls his fingers gently around your wrist. You’re wearing a loose nightshirt with sleeves that reach your elbows. Somewhere in the back of his head, he finds it unusual that you’d walk around the manor with your forearms exposed, but he reasons that this was urgent enough to warrant an exception. It’s a grisly sight. Frayed silk knots dot your skin, all tattered and picked at, and the wounds between them have begun to pool again. He heaves a sigh as he examines it all. Guilt spikes through your throat.

“I could go find Dr. Dyer instead,” you offer, already trying to pull away. Luchino’s gaze flicks up from your arm. The eyes reflecting back at him are wide and winded and pierce straight through him, as if afraid of something he can’t see. He cups a warm hand around the base of your neck.

“This is nothing you and I can’t manage,” he says. His thumb tenderly traces over your cheek. “They won’t heal as neatly as they might’ve before, that’s all. Wait in my chair.”

He releases you to rummage through his bedside cabinet, where he fishes out some ampoules and a leather tool bag. You don’t move right away. The longer your eyes linger on Luchino’s frame, a burning sensation prickles over them, but no tears want to fall. He turns around with an armful of medical supplies.

“Are you feeling faint?” he asks.

“Kind of,” you admit. The dizziness hasn’t whittled away your consciousness yet, at least.

“Well, I’d rather not have you testing gravity today. Sit down.”

His chair is still warm from his late-night reading. You watch him clear away his book and the apple core before spreading a cloth on the table. You’re thankful he’s able to stay so calm each time this happens, chatting with you as if this is a practised routine. But he surely can’t be ecstatic about having extra work to do this late. Work that could’ve been avoidable, at that. The guilt clouding your mind wins you over again.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, eyes drifting to the floor. “Do you ever regret it?”

“Being good to you?”

“Putting up with me. I can’t imagine it’s been fun.”

“No,” he agrees, unraveling the leather bag. “Seeing you this way grieves me in a way I’ve never known before—hold out your arm.” One of the ampoules contains some kind of clear fluid, an anesthetic he made himself. He breaks off the neck. “But I’ve never considered this to be ‘putting up’ with you.”

“Would’ve been easier to find someone who doesn’t have all these problems.”

“And lose out on you? Not a chance, my dear.”

That cheeky pet name prompts you to shoot him a glance. He ruffles your hair.

“Too good to me,” you mutter again, looking away.

“One of the many pitfalls of being in love, I’m afraid.”

Forceps, scissors, needle and thread. As he lays out the rest of his equipment, your heart skips a beat. This is always the worst part. You always forget how much you dread it until it’s right in front of you. Watching him draw a syringe of that anesthetic, you instinctively squeeze your thighs, clenching your jaw and fists to steel your nerves.

It takes two doses to numb each stitch. Luchino says he’s working on a stronger anesthetic, one that can be ingested, or at the very least one that numbs a larger area. But he is staunchly against the idea of using you as a lab rat, so you’re not sure how far along its progress has gotten. For now you’re stuck with this method. You suppose you don’t hide the unease on your face very well. All he needs is one look at you before he reaches for the foot of his bed. There he grabs the crumpled shirt he wore earlier that day, balling it tight and holding it to your lips.

“Open.”

Thankful to have something to bite down on, you roll your eyes to the ceiling, toes curling off the floor.

Luchino works quickly. You can’t bring yourself to watch, though. He finishes dressing your fresh stitches in thick layers of gauze. You’re sure it’s to deter you from picking at them again. At least for another night, you think, but you refuse to voice that thought. You murmur out an awkward thank-you for treating you.

Instead of answering Luchino keeps his gaze fixed on your arm. It’s silent and scrutinizing, lost in thought. You know that look in his eye—he’s caught on to something. You quickly jump up, trying to sidle past him, but he catches your arm.

“(Y/N),” he starts, standing with you. You don’t say anything. His fingers find your sleeve and slowly begin to roll it up your shoulder. There’s no hiding this from him anymore. He’d figured out your patterns a long time ago. You can’t stop your secret from being exposed, but you can keep your gaze locked on him, searching anxiously for a flash of annoyance, exhaustion, bitterness—anything to reveal how much of a nuisance he finds you. Surprise, you think. More work for you. Aren’t I inconvenient?

Luchino lets no indication of his thoughts appear on his face. All he does is trace a gentle finger alongside a barely-congealed string of blood. These ones are new. There’s a long strip of them, neatly in a row, just a few hours old.

“They’re not too deep,” he observes. “The bleeding’s already stopped. I’ll bandage them now.”

He smoothes down your sleeve and looks at you for a moment. Then he lets out a sigh, drawing your body into his chest. You let him hold you, not quite returning the embrace.

“Will you find me before this happens next time?” he asks.

You don’t answer.

[hinamie]

wanted 2 make a bit of an update post to get a few things off my chest bc i feel like i've been a bit quiet on here compared 2 normal and for that i apologize gsdhjgfdsj I promise I will do better at being chronically online

in all seriousness though, ever since the jjk manga ended, I've started experiencing th dilemma where I am feeling less inspired but also twice as pressured to continue living up to the standard I set for myself by being so active while the manga was ongoing. i'm finding it's taking longer than it should to finish pieces that are not challenging enough to warrant the extra hours, it's harder to come up with what I think are original concepts, and overall i'm just anxious that the high i've been riding since april has finally begun its descent.

I know logically tht these expectations i'm worried about being unable to meet are entirely self-imposed. I /know/ that not every piece needs to be a profound character tribute packed with symbolism and hidden meanings, but tht doesn't change the fact that it still feels really disappointing when I try to dig for that emotional component that I was really loving in the art that was inspired by later manga chapters, only to come up short. I'm feeling myself defaulting back to drawing My Ship Posed Cutely, or Character Lineup In Cute Outfits, whereas before I was really feeling like my art was touching something beyond just surface-level aesthetic. This isn't to say that I don't think I can ever get back to creating those harder-hitting pieces, or that I /dislike/ my more lighthearted aesthetically-driven work, I'm just frustrated at myself for feeling like I have to now dig for what used to be so readily available.

there's no conclusion to this story gfhjsgd this is rly just a vent post. i've been doing this long enough to know that this is just part of what happens with any creative hobby. periods of feeling uninspired unfortunately come with the territory, n it makes sense that those feelings wld be exacerbated now that the series i take my main inspiration from has come to a standstill for the time being. but I don't feel burnt out on jjk yet, which is reassuring in that it means I know I still Want to draw the characters, no matter how boring or overdone all of my current ideas feel. i'm in no rush to move on from jjk as my main fandom either, although I do see myself sprinkling in more art for other series to pass the time n keep me Inspired while I wait for s3. so for those of you who found me through my art (probably most of u), i guess also pls take this as both warning and reassurance that you most likely Will see me start drawing for other fandoms in the coming months, but don't take it as meaning I've abandoned drawing for jjk

and as always, thank u all for sticking with me and for all the support and lovely words on my art, it rly does make my days brighter <3

[darkstarofchaos]

Hello! Another person who is incredibly frustrated with redeemed Megatron.

Me and my friends have all voiced the exact same problems and that main being that we don't ever get the before him like at all. Hints here and there but for the most part NO ONE outside of the bad guys has any bad blood towards him.

I understand not every kid show needs to be these deep emotional epics but at the same time it's still weird to me that the Autobots, who have lost countless family and friends thanks specifically to the actions of Megatron and his followers, show no sort of lingering resentment. After all, the amount of time between the war ended and the beginning of the show would be like a few hours for beings that live for millions of years.

Having the Terrans would be a great excuse to have the devil's advocate angle when other Autobots still don't feel comfortable around him. I said the same thing in my own Starscream post too about how sometimes people can't change because those around them refuse to let them.

Megatron should've felt alienated from both sides and by him not falling back into old habits and committing to staying good would've actually proved that his redemption was warranted.

I'm not asking for it to take over the show, but these little background moments. Hell, Bumblebee's attitude would've been a little bit more tolerable if you were it was coming from a place of feeling slighted pissed that the cybertronian who more or less ruined his "childhood" (I've accepted that headcanon that any given Bumblebee is basically a former child soldier) is just walking free side to side with his mentor.

The sad thing is that the first couple episodes kinda show some hints of that? Like when Optimus gives his "Roll out" bit and Megatron tells Dot he's never sure if he means him, or Bumblebee being kinda wary when he tries to call Optimus and gets Megatron (also, Megatron's matter-of-fact recounting of how he kept his soldiers in line). It wasn't enough on its own, but they could have continued the trend to show most bots are wary of him at best, or even implied that the reason some Autobots don't show up much is because they don't want to be around him. It wouldn't have taken many changes to show Megatron as fairly isolated, with maybe one or two relationships that kept him from backsliding into his old ways (his friendship with Dot works better for me because 15 years is a long time for a human, and we know he saved her life at least once).

Honestly, I was ambivalent about his "redemption" in season 1? After Jawbreaker asked him about his altmode and it turned out all he had to do to get Optimus' trust was scan an Earth alt, I pretty much gave up on getting any meaningful backstory for him, so I was resigned to him just being Generic Ex-Decepticon (and then What Dwells Within happened and he finally felt like a Megatron trying to do better to me. Not just in his interactions with Starscream, but when he interacted with Optimus and Croft too: angry, wanting to do things his way, trying to do better but slipping into old habits. If he'd been more like that throughout the show, paired with the Autobots responding appropriately to him, I would have enjoyed his character a lot more).

And then Season 2 happened. And we went the "Starscream is worse than his abuser, actually" route. And now I'm like... This is everything I do not want from a Megatron redemption. The only thing I want from a Megatron redemption is for him to face what he did to the people closest to him. Every single Megatron redemption sees him running off somewhere and leaving the Decepticons to deal with the fallout of his war, and he never has to face the people he personally hurt. And when it comes to Starscream, it's almost treated like a good thing that he hurt him, because when Megatron isn't there to "keep him in check", he's worse than Megatron ever was. And then people roll their eyes and say "Starscream is always power hungry and evil, what do you expect?" while Armada Starscream is right there, and EarthSpark Starscream in Season 1 was a hell of a lot closer to Armada than to Cyberverse.

On his own, EarthSpark Megatron was boring and a waste of potential, but not especially offensive. Paired with Starscream, and specifically Starscream as he appeared in the final episode of the latest batch, he is possibly my least favorite part of EarthSpark right now. Not as a character, but as a concept. I like Megatron, but I have no use for a redeemed Megatron who still has to believe that he's better than Starscream, and be supported in that belief by the narrative. The early scene in S2 when Megatron tells Starscream to let the war end could have been a really good character moment, because we would see that there are still things he doesn't regret, and that he truly sees himself as better than Starscream (who isn't even the one to blame for the war's continuation - I firmly believe that, since the Decepticons were the ones being hunted and locked up, it falls to Megatron and the Autobots to prove that things can be different now. And if the war is continuing, it's almost certainly because Megatron and/or the Autobots fucked up).

But instead we get, "Yeah, Megatron thinks he's a better person than Starscream. And you know what? He's right." I am so done with the abuse apologetics.

[argylemnwrites]

Anyone Still Here?

So... it's been a while. I had a baby. I traveled with her internationally for a wedding. She turned one. I built a house and moved into it. I had a dental emergency a few days before my closing. Everything in the new house is now toddler proofed... until she thinks of a new way to get into a dangerous situation. I think that many life events safely defines my hiatus as "extended."

The Choices fandom is, I'm guessing, dying. I've not been on Tumblr or even the Choices subreddit with any regularity in over a year at this point, so I don't know this as a fact, but I have my suspicions. The mass culling of PB staff, the acquisition of PB by an AI company, former talent from PB starting a competing app would tend to indicate trouble on its own.

But a dying fandom is one that is more worth coming back to, though. I firmly believe that. When the original content is floundering, when fan engagement is dropping, that is the time that fan works matter the most. So, knowing that my readership is likely going to be non-existent and that my series have probably been written off as dead for quite some time, I'm looking to come back.

I've been "writing" in my mind on my commute again lately. Found myself missing engaging with these characters. Most of all, I want to finish my current WIPs. I don't know if literally anyone who was reading them before is still around. But if anyone is, I want to know if you have preferences about how I go about tackling finishing up my two unfinished TRR canon divergent series - Why Are We Still Waiting? and Fight or Flight. (And yes, I still remember how they both end, hahaha)

Not sure there are enough people to warrant true polls, so just going to post this here:

Do you prefer that I alternate between my two ongoing series, or is tackling one first, then moving on to the other preferable? If the latter, any preference on which series I start with?

Do you prefer I post as I have a chapter done without any regular schedule, or would waiting longer for me to finish the series so I am able to guarantee posting dates be better?

Would links to AO3 be acceptable if I find myself getting annoyed with Tumblr formatting, or will you only read on Tumblr itself?

If you have opinions, I want to hear them. If you've left the fandom, I hope life is treating you kindly and don't worry, I'll be posting a tag list clean up post before I start posting any writing again so you won't get spammed. If you've straight up forgotten who I am, no worries. It's been ages. Trying to find my most recent tag list is a joke at this point. I think this is my "up to date" version for my TTR stuff at least, but sorry in advance if you either should or shouldn't be included and weren't/were respectively.

Perma: @forallthatitsworth @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

TRR/TRH: @motorcitymademadame @iplaydrake @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @marshmallowsandfire

@axwalker @sirbeepsalot @iaminlovewithtrr @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @hedgehogs-dilemmas

Drake x MC: @rubiwalker @walkerdrakewalker @petiteboheme @mskaneko

ICWAM: @sunnyxdazed

FoF: @burnsoslow @monstercyclops

[narrans]

One Shot | Worth the Heartbreak

WARNING:

I usually don’t post stuff that has specific warnings, but I think this one may be warranted. I wrote this from a prompt about loss and death of a dear friend who spent years developing a friendship only to have it taken away. I wrote this to be emotionally wrecking and it is meant to be uncomfortable. More importantly, I wrote this to be real. Life is tough and sometimes really bad things happen that we have to endure.

What matters is the strength and the growth each one of these difficult opportunities provide. Bad things happen – good. We can get stronger from them. Life is a test of endurance, mental fortitude, and indominable spirit. Life is a test of forgiveness and learning to trust and love again. Life is messy and sometimes leaves scars and baggage, but isn’t that proof that you lived?

Leave your baggage behind, put the essentials in a backpack, and travel through life with us. Life is too short to haul a mountain of things behind you.

Hopefully, this will help show how precious life is.

If you are uncomfortable or unsure about what was stated above, I don’t advise you read this.

The prompt is listed below.

Still here with me?

Good.

Let’s go…

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

The rain pounded over the windshield. Lightning illuminated the sky in quick, flickering bursts. It felt like the paparazzi snapping picture after picture.

As much as she loved the rain, she hated the lightning just for that reason; but that was years ago.

Thankfully, she would be away from all that mess. She liked begin away from all of it.

Vanessa spotted her shared home just around the corner and braced herself mentally to get completely and utterly soaked. She pulled into her parking spot and looked up at the house as another bolt of lightning streaked out across the sky.

Two quick breaths. Focus. Imagine the movements.

Trust your body to move.

Vanessa stopped dead as she recalled his mantra to her. Curses she thought as her whole body slipped further down in the driver’s seat. It’s been years and it still gets to me.

Vanessa took a minute to collect herself before charging into the deluge before her. Rain hammered at her shirt and pelted her face. The distance was only about twenty meters or so, which was basically no distance at all, but it still soaked her to her bones.

Thankfully, Vanessa prepared and had her keys ready, so the moment the door was open it was closed again with a solid thud.

The quiet of the house was a welcome one, but unsettling at the same time. Vanessa’s roommate, Jody, was far from quiet. Constant chatterbox. Endless conversant. Unfathomable irrelevant facts.

Jody was noisy.

A quiet house didn’t suit her, so it immediately made Vanessa suspicious that there was no sound. It honestly was a bit welcome. After days of travel, Vanessa was ready to relax.

“Surprise!”

Spoke too soon.

Vanessa hadn’t made it two steps away from the entrance when Jody jumped out from the living room doorway. Her backpack was barely off of her shoulder when Jody rushed over and gave her friend a massive hug, her dark curls bouncing playfully as she pranced over.

“Happy Birthday! I missed you!”

Birthday?

That’s right!

Vanessa’s bewildered look wasn’t cleared away fast enough as Jody pulled away to look at her friend.

“Ness! You forgot it was your birthday?!” Jody scolded. Vanessa looked away scarlet cheeked.

“Well, traveling will do that to you,” she mumbled. “And what is this ‘surprise’ nonsense. Don’t tell me you invited people over for a surprise birthday party.”

“No! Ya’ goof,” Jody chided playfully as she rolled her eyes. “I know you’d hate that. I did get you a gift though. Come on! I want to see your face when you open it!”

As well as being a chatterbox, Jody was actually a very thoughtful gift giver. It came from years of talking and weaseling out every story and secret from her victims.

Everyone, that is, except for Vanessa. While a few drunk evenings allowed Jody some stories, Vanessa kept many things close to her chest. It was only natural for the ultimate gossip girl to gravitate toward Vanessa. Every year since the two had become friends, Jody managed to pull off some really great gifts despite the challenges.

“Jody, you didn’t have to get me anyth-.”

“Shush your face and open!” said Jody gleefully as she guided Vanessa into the living room toward a small box fifteen centimeters in all directions. “No shaking. Fragile. Just tear and relish in the joy. Ah! I’m so excited for you to see!”

Vanessa rolled her eyes and tapped the frilly pink paper. The box sounded hollow, which was concerning for Vanessa.

“Good grief, Jody. Did you give me an empty box to start some scavenger hunt?” moaned Vanessa. What she really wanted was a nap after the jetlag set in on the drive back. Too late. Jody’s camera was already on and recording.

“Nope! It’s in there,” smiled Jody. “Now, come on!”

Her whining tone told Vanessa that Jody was moments away from completely imploding and opening the package herself. Relinquishing control, Vanessa sighed and opened the box. Tearing the paper was a bit of a trick because of the ultra-durable clear tape Jody used. Eventually, the paper pealed away to reveal the top of a cardboard box and the tab to open the box.

“Jody, I swear if this is part of your bottle cap collection, I’m…” Vanessa’s voice trailed off as she pried the top off of the box and looked inside.

She looked back.

A pet.

It was a small humanoid. They had been around for a while. Genetically designed, they were practically identical to humans except for their size.

Immediately, Vanessa’s body started to shake. It began as a tremble and escalated quickly to full blown shakes. Her heart was racing. She couldn’t breathe.

This was the last thing she wanted.

“Surprise! Do you like her? I spent quite a bit of time making sure I found the perfect one for y-… Oh! Ness! Don’t cry! I knew you’d love it; well, her,” squealed Jody.

Vanessa hadn’t even realized tears were pouring down her cheeks. From being shaken earlier to now, it was quickly spiraling Vanessa out of control. Vanessa, now hyperventilating, backed away from the box and curled into a ball on the couch.

Now was when Jody realized her reading of the situation was wrong.

“Ness? Ness, are you alright?” Jody put her phone away and rushed over to her friend’s side, reaching her arms around her to hug her.

“W-w-why… did you get that?” Vanessa choked out as she focused on her breathing to calm herself down.

“That? Oh, her? I… well… I thought you… you’d… you know… that you’d like one. I asked your sister an-.”

Vanessa threw her friend’s arms off of her and she glared at her friend, or so she thought, and snarled, “You did what?!”

Jody was absolutely stunned. Words escaped her. Vanessa had never reared her head at Jody like this. They’d had their disagreements and spats, but nothing that made Vanessa act like this.

“I… uh… I mean… yeah. I messaged her to get some ideas for your birthday. It… was on my Insta. She said she knew your birthday was around the corner and said you used to have a pet that you really liked when you were young. I confirmed it with your parents and th-…”

“You what?!” shrieked Vanessa. As if the couch were charged with a live wire, Vanessa leaped off of the couch and staggered away. “Jody, please tell me you’re joking!”

Jody barely shook her head “no” before Vanessa crumpled onto her knees and covered her face, sobbing uncontrollably. Jody tried again to console her friend, but this time only handed Vanessa some tissues.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I… I’m obviously missing something, but I want you to know I didn’t mean it. I swear. I just wanted to give you something great for your birthday,” urged Jody.

Vanessa, on the other hand, could only see red.

Hurt.

Pain.

Everything she had left behind.

“Jody, why? Why why why why why why why?”

“Why what?” Ness, you’re not making sense. Take a breath. Just… talk to me,” said Jody. Vanessa couldn’t manage any words at this point. Too many feelings and emotions were wracking her body. Memory after memory played in front of her eyes. Emotions she’d forgotten she had threatened to strangle her.

Out of all of her emotions, grief was the one that wrenched at her heart.

She wasn’t sure how or when, but she found herself on the couch balling her eyes out and then, after some unknown span of time, she found her voice again. There was a warm mug of tea in front of her and Jody had wrapped a few thick blankets over her shoulders, taking a seat nearby and waiting for her friend to come back.

Vanessa, eyes puffy and stinging, blinked away the blur as she twisted around on the couch and sat upright. The box was gone and, instead, there was a cage in the corner of the room by the window where Vanessa saw a pair of heterochromia eyes vanish.

Just that motion alone formed a lump in Vanessa’s throat. She had half a mind to retreat to her room and not say anything, but it was seeing Jody’s face and the red rims around her eyes that made her rethink those actions. It wasn’t time to forgive her friend, but an explanation was warranted.

After all, Jody didn’t know everything that happened back then. She didn’t know how it all started.

Vanessa leaned forward and clasped the mug in her hands. The warmth spread through her frigid, calloused fingers. It was soothing and brought some semblance of comfort as she sipped the steaming liquid.

“Hey,” Jody said weakly.

“Hey.” Vanessa’s voice was raw and dry like sandpaper. She took another drink of tea and gestured for her friend to join her closer on the couch. Jody practically vaporized from her spot to sit beside her friend.

“Ness, I just wanted to say that I am so sorry. I thought I was doing something good and thoughtful and…”

“It’s okay,” mumbled Vanessa. In her mind, everything wasn’t okay; however, for Jody’s sake she needed to at least invite a dialogue. “It was… just a lot. I’m drained from travel and then everything hit me all at once.”

Jody nodded and glanced at the cage before looking back to her friend and roommate.

“Do… never mind.”

“What?” asked Vanessa. Jody chewed on her bottom lip before she looked back at her friend as if afraid to ask. Vanessa already knew what her friend wanted. “You want to know why I was upset.”

Her conclusion lingered in the air before Vanessa continued.

“Jody, if I tell you, you have to swear that you will never utter a word of this to anyone. I mean anyone. If I find out you did, I swear I’l-.”

“I swear on all I hold dear I won’t say a word,” promised Jody. The look in her eyes was enough of a promise for her counterpart.

With that, Vanessa took a breath and started to speak. It was strange. Other than her journal, she had never confided this information into another living soul.

~~~^*^*^~~~

It started with a move when she was ten years old. Her gymnastics career was already showing great promise. Many of her instructors said that she should consider going professional and try out for the Olympic teams. These seeds of promise inspired her parents to move across the country and hire some of the most esteemed gymnasts who would be willing to teach her.

The very first day was filled with intense training and countless drills. All around, Vanessa saw other girls who were stronger, faster, and more flexible than her. Every turn produced someone who was far more skilled than she was at performing her routines.

It made her feel alone.

It wasn’t until the very end when her gymnastics instructors wanted to have a meeting with her parents that she noticed the cage at the corner of the room and a pet sitting up against the edge of the bars. Vanessa’s fascination with the small human-like creatures was insatiable and she ended up going over and sticking her fingers against the bars.

The pet was an older male. His silvery brown hair came to his shoulders, and he looked tired but well groomed. His legs were out straight, and his arms were folded across his chest. He was wearing something that resembled athletic wear, which included a shirt and sports shorts that came to his knees.

“Hey there little guy,” she cooed, never having interacted with a pet before. She wiggled her finger, but the pet did nothing to acknowledge her existence. He simply leaned back further against the cage and sighed. “What’s your name?”

Still no response. Vanessa felt a bit off-put by the small creature and looked down to see a sign.

“Norden: The Community Pet. Please do NOT feed, touch, handle, or release the pet without supervision from Dimitri.”

Dimitri was her instructor!

“Norden? Is that your name? Norden?” The pet sighed before opening his eyes and looking at Vanessa. His light blue eyes almost looked gray. They were orbs that contained a wispy sky, and Vanessa was immediately hypnotized by them.

“Do you require something?” he asked bluntly. His voice was deep and he had some kind of accent that made him sound incredibly sophisticated. Awed, Vanessa shook her head and smiled.

“N-no. I just wanted to come over and say hi. I’ve never seen a pet in person before,” Vanessa replied. As a child, the concept of pets was a natural one. Her youth played into her innocents of the reality of the situation. Everyone else was okay with pets, and she naturally adopted the concept.

The pet sighed and shook his head before leaning back against the wall.

“Well, if you don’t have anything to contribute to the conversation, then I’m afraid I must decline engagement,” he said. Vanessa didn’t quite understand what he meant until he said, “So, leave me alone.”

He didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t say anything overly unkind.

Still, it made Vanessa wilt and shuffle off to retrieve her belongings. It was disheartening. She always liked little critters and the commercials and stores always made pets seem so friendly. She didn’t think they could be so dismissive, and she certainly didn’t think they could be capable of hurting her feelings.

The days turned to weeks which turned into months. She found herself gravitating toward the cage every few days while she stretched just to say “hi” to the little man in the cage. Responding wasn’t Norden’s forte, but he sometimes acknowledged her presence with a grunt or a huff.

Vanessa’s presence wasn’t just being ignored by the pet in the cage. The other girls and a few of the boys had recently taken to making little remarks and comments to Vanessa or around her about her lack of skill. These jabs initially didn’t bother the youngster, seeing that she figured she was just learning and that she would get better with time.

It was the constant comments that, after six months, really started getting to her. Vanessa tried being strong and even brought it up to her instructors and teachers, but none of them were able to really do anything about it. Even when they held a group meeting talking about sportsmanship and keeping belittling to a minimum, the comments didn’t stop and were now said more subtly.

The jabs came from outside and, sadly, from within. Vanessa’s older sister, Caroline, also had choice words for her little sister. Caroline loved tumbling and gymnastics, but a serious injury knocked her out of competitions for the rest of her career. Jealousy fueled her when Vanessa began to shine and when their parents moved them for Vanessa’s gymnast career.

To make matters worse, Vanessa was struggling. In part of her routine, she was having a particularly hard time with part of her maneuver. There was a sequence of extremely advanced moves that Caroline or the other students had never managed to reach, and Vanessa felt the constant rath from her sister and her peers. No matter how she stretched or twisted, her body refused to move the way she wanted it to, and it usually left her flat on her face.

“Enough for now,” said Dimitri as he pointed to the stretch mat by the cage. “Go stretch it out and I’ll be with you in a moment. I have to work with the other students.”

Vanessa tried to hide her disappointment in herself as she stepped to the side. The glances from the others felt like daggers in her back. If ever there was a demise by a thousand cuts, this was it.

She sat down on the ground and began stretching as her body started to tremble. Her eyes began to burn. Nothing felt right. Did she even want to do this anymore? Was she really ready to try out for the bigger teams? What if she got hurt? Everything would be for nothing.

That’s when she heard it.

“Two quick breaths.”

Vanessa thought she’d imagined it, but then she heard it again.

“Come on. Chin up. Two quick breaths.”

Vanessa twisted herself around and looked up and spotted Norden’s face peering down at her through the bars. He was leaned over casually, and his hands were through the bars, neck craned to get a better look at her.

This was the first time he had said anything remotely constructive to her, and she instinctually followed the command.

One breath.

Two breaths.

“Good. Now. Focus,” said Norden. “Imagine the movements. Think about how your body is going to move through them. Align them in your mind. Play them over and over in slow motion. Trust your body to move.”

Stunned didn’t come close to describing her emotional state, but Vanessa suddenly found herself turned to face the pet as he stared down at her and continued to provide instruction. It was all one sided. It was more of a pep talk than instructions but focusing on the pet’s words made Vanessa feel worlds better.

“Think you’ve got it?” asked Norden.

Vanessa nodded. “I… think so.”

“Good. Now, go do it,” stated Norden as he gestured back to the mats.

Vanessa’s heart was racing as she pushed herself up and walked back onto the mats. The others had something to say about her returning before she was called, but Dimitri’s expression was that of someone who was intrigued. He allowed her to perform the maneuver again with the accompanying warning.

“But just once more.”

Vanessa nodded and stood at the edge of the mat.

The pet’s words played over in her head.

Two quick breaths. Focus. Imagine the movements. Trust your body to move.

She took off running and felt something inside her shift. The overthinking that plagued her had vanished. Every move was already planned out, and now she was just executing it. She twisted and spun through the air, sticking the landing and managing every maneuver perfectly.

Everyone’s jaws were on the floor, even Dimitri’s, but Vanessa was simply beaming as she looked over at the cage and saw the subtle salute from the pet. Practice continued as scheduled. The others continued to shoot snide comments at Vanessa, but she didn’t care. Her eyes were fixed onto the cage where the pet currently was stretching.

While the parents had their meetings and the others scurried over to their corner to smack talk behind her back, Vanessa rushed over to the edge of the cage and peered in at Norden.

“Hey,” she said softly, gaining the pet’s attention as he was currently meditating. He sighed and leaned back on his hands while his legs were crossed.

“Yes? Do you require something?”

“No. Just… thank you. You really helped me, Norden. So, thank you,” smiled Vanessa. She pressed her finger against the bars of the cage and continued to smile even as Norden scoffed lightly and went back to his meditating.

Vanessa returned every day before, during, and after practice to talk to Norden from then on. While the pet rarely engaged in conversation, Vanessa finally figured out how she could make him say more than three or four words.

She would ask him what she was doing wrong.

Evidently, Norden had a keen eye and had been watching Vanessa during her routines. He knew the terminology and began instructing Vanessa on how to better tighten or loosen some of her maneuvers to make everything flow easily. The instruction she received from Norden, a pet, allowed her to improve dramatically with every meeting she had with him.

Then, a month after they began their “conversations,” Norden accidentally let it slip that he had felt a bit sorry for her. He evidently had been listening to all of the criticisms the others were giving their newest teammate, and he took offence to it. He especially found it appalling that her sister would take out her personal frustrations on her. Through Vanessa, he was able to enact an odd sense of justice and vengeance on the kids who so frequently tormented him.

“So, you heard all of that, huh?” asked Vanessa. Norden sighed and nodded.

“Much like yourself, so many forget we ‘pets’ can hear and form opinions of our own. These children have no business picking on you when they look like seals being tossed around by an orca. You, on the other hand, have potential. You have heart and spirit, and they all know it. It’s why you’re the focal point of their torment,” explained Norden.

“So… that means we’re kind of in the same boat,” proposed Vanessa. Norden scoffed and shook his head.

“Hardly. You, unlike me, are human. I am a pet, obviously. You have the opportunity to avoid and conquer your adversaries. As a pet, I’m stuck here in this cage completely and utterly alone. I have to forge my own path with no one to assist me,” grumbled Norden. Vanessa grinned seeing this “grumpy old man act.”

Then, it hit her.

“Well, I don’t see you as a pet,” said Vanessa. Norden shook his head again in defeat.

“Not possible. My size alone is something that can’t be ignored or negated,” he stated.

“No, I mean… I’d rather see you as a friend than as a pet.”

These words struck a chord in Norden and, just for a moment, his features softened as he looked at Vanessa.

“Friend?”

“Yeah, someone to talk to and someone to help you when you need it,” said Vanessa. The pet sighed, but his shoulders slumped. He was obviously amused in his defeat.

“That is very thoughtful of you, darling, but I don’t think pets and humans can be friends. It’s in our nature to act in opposition despite our conditioning.”

Norden’s opinion hurt but was put to the test only a week later when Dimitri announced he was moving. Evidently, he had some family issues at home and needed to return as soon as possible. With that being said, he could not take Norden back with him.

Despite the pet being the “community pet,” Norden technically belonged to Dimitri at the end of the day.

Vanessa saw her chance.

She knew she had to act fast.

Before practice could start, Vanessa ran up to Dimitri and pulled him to the side.

“Um… Dimitri? I… um… I wanted to ask you something before you left. Do… you think I could come by and visit you and Norden?” Vanessa wasn’t sure how her instructor would respond, but the guilt pang in his eye told her something was up.

“Alas, no. I would like to visit and make sure to stay up to date with your training, but you won’t be able to visit Norden. He’s not coming with me,” Dimitri replied.

“You’re not… taking him with you?” asked Vanessa. Her heart fluttered and flipped at this news. She was stunned that Dimitri could just leave Norden behind. Was he even going to miss his pet? Did Dimitri even care about Norden? What did Norden want?

“No. Sadly, where I’m going I can’t take him with me,” sighed Dimitri as he gave the cage a passive glance. Vanessa didn’t pick up an abundance of sympathy from her instructor, but she didn’t address it. She had an idea.

“So, what are you going to do with Norden then?” asked Vanessa. Dimitri glanced at the cage and then back to the little girl he had been training for just over a year now.

“Well, I had planned on giving him to a nearby pet shelter. I can’t take him with me, and the facility here only let me keep him because I worked here,” Dimitri replied. The instructor was no fool. He had been watching Vanessa interact with Norden for quite some time now and decided to beat the little girl to the punch. It was the least he could do.

“But, I was going to ask if you wanted to take him before bringing him to the shelter. He’s a bit of a handful, no pun intended. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” Vanessa’s excitement exploded out of her already racing heart as she jumped up and down and cheered. “Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” As she hugged her instructor, she could see Norden’s smile as he listened in to the entire conversation.

Explaining to her parents about Norden was another issue altogether, but her family ultimately yielded. The one who was the most upset about it was her older sister, Caroline, who had been asking for a kitten for her birthday. It irked Vanessa that her little sister got a pet before her, and it only compounded once Norden was settled into his new home.

“I know it’s not going to be the same,” said Vanessa as she placed the cage in the shady part of her window as he requested. “But I didn’t want you to be sent away. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”

Norden shook his head and smiled as he evaluated the little girl’s room.

“Hardly. I wasn’t looking forward to the shelter either. I… should thank you,” he stated.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s what friends are for. My home is your home,” she smiled. The words took the pet off guard again, but this time he made no snide remarks about how friendship between pets and humans couldn’t exist.

Instead, he stepped to the edge of the cage and continued to evaluate the room.

The little Vanessa beamed and glanced at the cage door. It hadn’t opened since she had known Norden, and finally she had access to opening the gate. The real question was whether or not she had permission.

“Um… do… do you want out? You know, to explore and stuff?” asked Vanessa. Norden’s entire posture went rigid as he whipped around, expression shifting to disbelief.

“Really?”

“Mh-hmm.” Vanessa carefully reached over and unfastened the door, tugging the creaking metal free. To the pet’s surprise, Vanessa actually stepped back away from the edge of the cage and the table he was on top of. She didn’t reach in. She didn’t try to grab him. She made no gesture to even stroke his head as so many others had done in the past. “It’s okay. I’ll stay over here if that makes you feel more comfortable.”

Norden carefully stepped over to the door and, in one quick motion, leapt over the edge and was on the table. His awe at being set free, even temporarily, still seemed hesitant, as if he was bracing himself to be grabbed or pinched by Vanessa. When neither of those things happened, he took to walking around the desk and even climbing part of the cage to see what was further down on the ground.

He eventually returned to his cage, but he was overjoyed when Vanessa said she could leave the cage door open for him so he could get out and stretch his legs and everything.

“You… would really do that?” asked Norden. Vanessa nodded. “Even with the threat I might run away?”

This notion confused Vanessa, but even her youthful mind came up with a satisfactory response.

“Well, I mean you could if you wanted to. I don’t think you know anyone else nearby, so if you wanted to leave you should tell me so I can get you some supplies and stuff. I… wish you’d stay, but I won’t keep you here if you don’t want to me. A friend wouldn’t do that.”

Those words rang true to Norden and, after a beat, it was decided. Though he was resigned he couldn’t change being a pet, he decided that being Vanessa’s pet wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

From then on, the two of them were practically inseparable. Vanessa initially would leave Norden to his own affairs in the morning and afternoon before returning home later after evening practice to do her homework with Norden by her side. Vanessa would talk about how her day went and the different routines she did during practice, but describing it wasn’t enough.

It took only two weeks for Norden to actually suggest that Vanessa bring him with her to school and, subsequently, practice where he could actually assist right then and there.

“I’m doing this for your benefit, Vanessa,” said Norden. “If you don’t require my help or have no need of it, I’m alright with this. Your career is what I’m considering in this offer.”

Vanessa couldn’t contain her unbounding joy as she accepted his offer. She wanted to bring Norden along to class and to practice from the beginning simply because she enjoyed his company so very much, but she didn’t want to pressure Norden into coming with her; especially after some of the stories he told her about what he had experiences as a pet throughout his life.

So, their adventures began.

Every morning, Norden would successfully stow away in Vanessa’s bag in a secure spot that was hidden. It kept him safe and still let him move around freely. She would move off to the side during lunch so she could talk to him before helping him hide once again.

From there, the two of them would go to practice. Everyone knew Norden had been gifted to her, but the instructors were always sure to keep Norden away from the other students while Vanessa was away. He had a place on one of the shelves which had a great overview of the mats and, therefore, Vanessa and her routines.  

There were a few times where there were some close calls. Some of the students tried getting Norden down by luring him down from the shelf and even making a grab for him, but the instructors quickly discouraged that behavior and shooed them away. They advised that Vanessa shouldn’t bring Norden along because he was “distracting,” but Vanessa quickly made the argument that Norden helped her focus on her routine and that she needed him.

A note from a doctor and a chat with her parents later meant Norden was protected as an “emotional support pet.”

“I really disapprove of being labeled as an ‘emotional support pet,’ but there is nothing more satisfying than sticking it to those handsy hormonal teenagers,” grinned Norden one evening after practice while Vanessa was stretching. “Don’t forget to breathe deeply as your stretch. Fill your lungs and hold for a moment before releasing.”

“I’m just glad you’re here with me, Norden. I couldn’t do any of this without you and your help,” said Vanessa as she followed the small man’s instructions. She let herself bend and twist as he instructed, tension and parts of her body relaxing as she did so.

“Hardly,” he scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t get it in your head that your abilities are dependent on me. Get it in your head that you need me as some kind of good luck charm, and you’ll have a crutch for the rest of your life.”

“Can do, sir; but I don’t think having you as a crutch would be such a bad thing,” replied Vanessa. The moment she called him “sir” made Norden straighten up ever so slightly. There was a beam of pride and embarrassment in his cheeks only for a moment before he snapped back to his usual stoic self.

This routine continued for years. The stoic nature eventually was chipped away to reveal a thoughtful, caring soul in Norden. The routines increased in difficulty. Tryouts came and went. Competitions consumed every waking moment when Vanessa wasn’t at practice.

At every turn, she made sure Norden was there with her. He never missed a practice and was always there during competition day. His sage advice broke through to her at every turn. The trust she had in him and the trust he had in her was hard fought and well won. Their bond was unbreakable, and everyone knew it.

Then, the day came.

National championship qualifications for the Olympic team.

Vanessa was an absolute mess of emotions and nerves. Jittery didn’t come close to describing her state of being. Every time she tried envisioning her routine, something blocked her mentally. Every stretch formed some kind of imaginary cramp in her arm or her leg.

What made it worse was that Norden was not permitted to go with her.

“Don’t worry, child,” comforted the small man as he reached over and rubbed her shoulder that he was sitting on while she buried her face into her pillows.

“How can I not worry?” said Vanessa through a mouth full of pillow, muffling her voice.

“Darling, you know I can’t hear you when you speak through layers of cloth and feathers and foam,” pointed out Norden. He jostled a bit as Vanessa turned her head to barely glimpse him out of the corner of her eye, but continued her pity party.

“Tomorrow is going to be one of the most important moments in my career and I haven’t been able to do the routine once in forever. What if I mess up? What if I break something? What if all of the other girls are better an-”

“And are better than you? Impossible,” countered Norden as he interrupted her mental spiral. The teen glanced over and caught his eyes. There was something there that felt so present and reassuring that Vanessa felt the worries melting away and salty tears sting her eyes.

“But… what if… I don’t want to do this forever? Gymnastics used to be fun all the time, and now it’s all stress and competitions,” grumbled Vanessa. The nearby clock chirped, signaling the start of a new day as midnight hit. The two of them sat there in silence for a time before the pet spoke up.

“So, what would you do with your time otherwise?” asked Norden.

“I… well… I don’t know. Never mind.”

“No, really. I want to know,” insisted Norden. Something in his voice tugged at Vanessa’s heart. It sent a pang of guilt through her and, for one reason or another, it plucked the answer from her mind and formed itself into words.

“I… I want to be a chef. I want to cook. I think it would be so much fun to open up my own café and have treats and snacks, healthy and not, and do gymnastics coaching part time. I… I don’t know… it just feels like all the fun has been zapped out of it and I’ve really been enjoying putting myself to the test with my different recipes for diets and nutrition and stuff,” mumbled Vanessa. The words spilled out of her like a whisper, each element spoken in a hushed tone like some precious secret.

It made her feel terrible. As much as she wanted this dream of hers to come true, she felt miserable at the same time. She knew that deviating from her path in gymnastics was basically a slap in the face to everyone who had ever helped her.

Her parents who moved them just so Vanessa could have better training.

Her sister who resented her for surpassing her skills.

Her colleagues and fellow students who couldn’t pull off half of the moves she could on a good day.

Dimitri for all of the time he spent coaching her after hours and before school.

Most importantly, Vanessa felt like she was betraying Norden. He had spent countless hours helping her with her routines. He coached her through micro movements and was there when she needed to talk or rant or just be comforted.

Norden was the one she was the most afraid of disappointing and saying all of this out loud hurt her; especially on the eve of a massive competition that would determine whether or not she made it to the Olympic team.

Then, something happened.

Norden scoffed and, to Vanessa’s surprise, leaned over and rubbed her shoulder again.

“Why do you sound so worried, Vanessa?” asked Norden. “Do you think I’ll be upset with you that you want to pursue your dreams? Do you think your family won’t support you?”

Vanessa buried her face into the pillows again, nodding and sniffling pitifully into her pillow. She received another sigh from the small man on her shoulder as he leaned over and tugged at a few strands of her hair to get her attention.

“Darling, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” The words captured Vanessa’s curiosity, so she glanced over her shoulder to her companion and friend. The awkward crane in her neck prompted Norden to slide off of her shoulder and walk over toward her face so she could better see him.

“Are you listening?” he asked, to which Vanessa nodded. “Good. Remember this. Life is for living. If you are unhappy, then make yourself happy. Why would you endure something you don’t enjoy if you have the option to do something else that you will be successful in?

“You’re human. You’re a fierce, determined young woman and you can do anything you set your mind to, within reason of course. If everyone cares about you the way they profess to, they will support you. They might be upset for the moment, but they’ll see you flying and know your decision was the right one.

“Understand?” stated Norden.

She was absolutely speechless. Vanessa looked into Norden’s eyes and felt the tension tumble off of her shoulders. Relief spread through her body like the warmth of a fire on a cold day, radiating from her heart and spreading through her tingling fingertips.

Suddenly, the jitters were seemingly banished from her body. With adoration in her eyes, she looked back at her friend and sighed. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“Who are you talking to?” Vanessa nearly jumped to her feet as her older sister, Caroline, came into her room unannounced. “Ugg… gross… Vanessa, you need to put your pet back in his cage and get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow and you’d better not mess it up.”

“Or else what? Perhaps if your sister’s well-being is your priority, then perhaps you should reconsider your words.” Vanessa glanced over to see Norden standing as tall as he could glaring at Caroline.

“Excuse me? What did you say you little punk?” spat Caroline.

“I said you should be more considerate of your sister,” stated Norden bluntly. “She’s about to participate in an intense competition determining her gymnastic career, she’s got a lot on her mind, and you coming in here berating her because you are jealous does not make for a flattering image. Now, apologize or leave her be. We’re in the middle of a discussion.”

Caroline seethed and glared at Norden. She even advanced a step forward and hovered over Vanessa and Norden. She looked rather menacing with the light shining behind her and forming a strong silhouette.

“How dare you! You’re nothing but a pet, and a lousy one at that. And if I’m a distraction, then so are you. So, why don’t you crawl back into your cage like a good little pet and…”

“Caroline,” interjected Vanessa as she carefully pushed herself up from her bed to not disturb Norden. “I’m… I mean… I am a bit tired. Thanks for your concern, but I…”

“My concern? You’re pathetic. That thing has more words than you do. Just get some sleep and get a muzzle for that pet of yours.” Caroline huffed and spun on her heel to get out of the room as fast as possible but made a point to slam the door as she left.

The eldest of the two took the tension with her and stomped down the hall to her room, leaving Norden and Vanessa alone once again. Vanessa could have smothered Norden in a hug she was so happy, but she refrained and simply tapped the bed beside him and nudged his leg with her index finger. He turned and smirked ever so slightly, giving him a sassy and mischievous air about him.

“Well, hopefully that put her in her place,” stated Norden. “At least for now. You don’t need unnecessary drama the night before your competition. Now, back to our conversation.

“Vanessa, you need to do what makes you happy. Don’t do it for anyone other than yourself. If you want tomorrow to be your last day competing, then so be it. It means very little, but you have my support for what it’s worth. I wish I could be there to see it, but I know I won’t need to. You will be flawless.”

Vanessa felt her throat tighten. The salty tears began stinging her eyes once again. It was all she wanted to hear.

“Thanks, Norden,” she said once she had a moment to clear her throat. Her emotions subsided, but the desire to dote on her dear friend swelled. Courage built up in her. She swallowed dryly, knowing this would be the first time she would ask Norden if she could do something like this.

She took a breath and decided to take the risk. “Um… Norden?”

“Hmm?” acknowledged the small man. He looked like he was about to retreat to the small shelf Vanessa had right by her bed where he had an entire room set up complete with a small cabin like structure, bed, and lights.

“Could… I give you a hug?” she asked quietly. Her cheeks felt hot from embarrassment. She wanted to retract the statement almost as soon as she said it, but felt her eyes widen and her jaw slacken when he responded.

“Of course,” he said thoughtfully. “Gently, mind you, but I have no qualms with it.”

It made Vanessa’s insides flip nervously, but over the moon at the same time. Vanessa’s hands trembled as she rested her hand palm up on the mattress. She sat up to better keep her balance, and Norden waited patiently for Vanessa to situate herself before stepping confidently onto her hand.

Vanessa had helped Norden around the room by carrying him before, but it was so different because she had never done this before since she and Norden had become friends. It was a trust hard earned, but now was completely unshakable.

She lifted her hand with the small man on it and pressed the edge of her hand to her chest, reaching up and resting her free palm against his back as he stepped forward and reached out his arms as wide as he could. His fingers grasped the fabric by her collar. His body relaxed at Vanessa’s touch.

Neither knew how long they were there, but when Vanessa began to pull her hand away to set Norden back down onto the ground, he gestured for her to bring her face closer. When she did, he unexpectedly did something that made Vanessa’s heart flip.

He kissed her forehead.

It was a tender gesture from a mentor to a student. It held nothing romantic. It held nothing manipulative or malicious.

It was kind.

It was paternal.

It was reassuring.

It was Norden simply being himself and aiding a friend – his only friend.

The two of them drifted off to sleep with ease and, when morning came, Norden did it again, wishing his friend all the luck in the world for the competition to come.

The entire time, Vanessa was a bundle of nerves. From the car ride to warm-ups, Vanessa could hardly sit still. Caroline was going to meet them later since she had an appointment in the morning hours before the competition. Vanessa didn’t mind. She would rather not have her sister there berating her.

It was time. Every moment had been leading up to this, and now she was finally here. Now was her time to shine. Now was her time to go out on the highest note she could.

Because whether or not she made it to the Olympics, Vanessa made her decision to follow her own dreams and passions.

So, as she stood there on the mat ready for her routine, she felt a calm sensation embrace her body. It reminded her of the subtle touch Norden gave her just the night before.

Two quick breaths. Focus. Imagine the movements. Trust your body to move.

And she did.

Vanessa flew through the air and stuck every landing. Every twist of her body was just as she had imagined it. Every flip and turn was precise and flawless.

It was just as Norden had told her.

She wished more than anything he was there to see her as she landed perfectly in front of the judges, but she knew he had already seen her go through each and every motion.

Her parents were beside themselves when she was offered a spot on the team right then and there. Caroline had a smug expression on her face, but Vanessa managed to shrug off the look.

They decided to celebrate and all of them rushed home so Vanessa could change and choose where she wanted to have dinner that night. The cars pulled into the driveway and Vanessa was practically sprinting out of the car before it even stopped to rush inside and tell Norden everything.

“Norden! Norden!” she called as she took the stairs two at a time and burst into her room looking around wildly for her friend. “I did it! It was just like you said. It was fl…”

Vanessa glanced around and saw there was no cage in the corner of her room.

There was no house on the shelf.

There was no sign Norden had ever been there.

Confusion swirled in Vanessa’s mind as she began looking under the bed and other odd places where Norden would never be. The whole time, she was calling out to him.

Nothing.

Then, there was a creak of the door behind her. Vanessa whipped around and saw her sister standing there, looming over her with a smug look on her face. Immediately, Vanessa felt her heart drop into her shoes as she stared at her sister.

“What did you do with him?” asked Vanessa as her insides twisted with unease.

“Well, since you made the team you won’t have hardly any free time left,” stated Caroline. “It isn’t fair to keep around something that you don’t have time for. You’ll need to focus on practice an-”

“Where is he!” roared Vanessa as she leapt to her feet and shoved her sister. Caroline stumbled backward and slammed against the opposite wall. Her eyes were wide with surprise at the rage from her younger sister. Then, that bitter smile tugged back onto her face.

“Gone at this point,” she said. “Vet offices are pretty quick about these things, especially with feral pets.”

Vanessa felt her heart crushing in her chest. A punch in the gut would have been kinder.

She too Norden to a vet office? Gone? Gone! She had him euthanized?!

Vanessa, with a shriek of anguish and fury, galled up her fists and punched Caroline in the nose as hard as she could before flying down the stairs.

Maybe there’s time.

Maybe I can get there before it happens! It can’t have happened yet!

Vanessa stumbled down the last few steps and grabbed her dad, shaking him.

“Dad! We have to go to the vet office. Caroline… Caroline took Norden! She took him there to be euthanized. We have t-.” Vanessa was a blubbering mess, but the look on her parents’ face told her everything.

They were in on it.

Their faces were softened with disappointment and sadness as they tried to bring her in to console her, but Vanessa wouldn’t hear of it.

Without thinking and certainly against the law, she charged out of the house and snagged her sister’s keys off of the kitchen counter. It took a fraction of a moment too late for her parents to realize what Vanessa was doing and when they made it outside to stop her, Vanessa was already driving away.

Vanessa had been studying for her learner’s permit and had been behind the wheel of a car many times to practice parallel parking and basic driving, but it was still against the law for her to drive.

She didn’t care though.

She had a mission to accomplish.

Tears spilled over her cheeks and her whole body was shaking violently. She couldn’t believe what had just happened and that her parents could be so cruel. Her sister, maybe; but them too?

Left turn. Two rights. Red light. Green light.

Vanessa sped as fast as she could and didn’t even bother to turn off the engine as she pulled into the vet’s office. Her body couldn’t move fast enough. Her heart was pounding harder and faster with each passing second.

The door clattered loudly as it slammed against a nearby chair. The vet tech at the front yelped as she looked up wildly at Vanessa.

“Ma’am, is there som-”

“My friend was brought in earlier and is scheduled to be euthanized. Please! Please! Tell me he’s okay. His name is Norden. He’s a little older. He’s about five inches tall. He’s got these piercing b…”

The look on the tech’s face went from startled to concern and then to sympathetic.

The world stopped.

Vanessa felt bile building in the back of her throat. She swallowed dryly as she saw the mortification on the tech’s face.

“I… I’m sorry. They… just took him back… The girl who came in said he was vicious and violent, biting and everything. That’s… that’s against training and protocol so…”

“What room!” shrieked Vanessa. Her legs gave out as she stumbled forward, leaning heavily on the desk.

“Room six. It’s right there.”

Vanessa ran over and threw the door open without a second thought.

As she did, she caught a glimpse of the vet removing a needle from Norden’s arm.

It was already too late.

“No!” Vanessa sobbed as she stumbled over and fell to her knees in front of the table. Her hands were shaking so violently that she couldn’t even bend her fingers. Norden’s little body had been strapped down and his chest was heaving, but his jaw and eyes were set forward; at least until he saw Vanessa.

Through her salty tears, Vanessa could see his lower lip trembling, but he still managed a smile as he looked into her eyes. There was a single tear dripping down his cheek as he looked into her eyes.

Already, his lids were getting heavy.

“Um… sweetie, you can’t be in here,” the vet started to say as the tech rushed in and began explaining the situation. The vet looked absolutely horrified as he glanced from Vanessa to the pet on the table.

“No! No no no no no no… please… you have to fix him. Please,” begged Vanessa. “I’ll do anything, just please… make it stop…”

“I… I can’t. I… I’m sorry. We were told…”

The tech quieted the vet and the two of them exchanged sympathetic glances before ushering themselves out of the room.

“Vanessa? It… it’s okay,” breathed Norden, who sounded like he was already struggling for each breath. His lids lulled again.

“No! No! No!” Vanessa sobbed. She ripped the restraints off of her friend and cradled him in her hand, keeping everything propped up so she could see him. “Please… Norden.”

Norden’s eyes lulled again. His entire body shivered as he bit back a groan of pain. The serum was obviously working quickly on him.

“Did… you…”

Vanessa choked on some mixture of a sob and a laugh. Even now, he wanted to know how her competition went.

“Yes. You were right. It was flawless.” Vanessa couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Every breath shook her entire body.

“Shhh… it’s okay.”

“It’s not! It’s not okay. This isn’t fair!” Vanessa shuddered and pulled Norden closer. “I love you. We were supposed to have so many adventures. We were supposed to open a café together. I have a name and everything for us!”

“Oh? W-what… is… it?” breathed Norden. His breath was labored. He bit back another groan of pain as his body twitched. Norden was fighting, but it wasn’t going to be long now.

“Norden’s Nips.”

He chuckled and smirked in his classic way.

“I love it.”

The pain was too much. Vanessa felt like her heart was turning inside out. Her lungs felt hollow as did the rest of her body. She wanted to melt into a puddle. Anything would be easier than this.

Anything would be better than good-bye.

“Vanessa… Nessie… Listen to me…” said Norden. His breath came in little panicked whisps. Vanessa looked into his eyes and saw his pupils were starting to dilate.

“I’m here… I’m listening. Norden, please! Don’t go…”

“Please… for me… live. Live for me. Live the way you want. Be happy. Don’t take moments for granted. I… I’m so… happy… to have… known you….”

He winced as, with his hand, he tried to raise his hand in his signature salute. Vanessa choked on another sob as she reached over and helped him raise his arm. A smile of gratitude crossed his face as, with her help, he completed the motion.

He gestured once again for her to come closer and his kissed her once more on her forehead.

She barely caught the words escaping his lips as she pulled him away.

“I love you, Nessie.”

The light in his eyes faded. His pupils dilated. There was a momentary shudder as he smiled and closed his eyes for the last time.

Vanessa collapsed into sobs and slunk to the floor clutching Norden to her chest. She wasn’t sure how long she was there, but she didn’t care. Despair consumed her and it wasn’t until both the police and her family arrived that Vanessa registered anything other than the weight of Norden’s lifeless body in her hands.

Right then and there, she cursed her family.

She denounced them and swore she would never speak to them again. Vanessa declared she would never do gymnastics again and that her passions were elsewhere.

The following days of chaos turned to havoc and loathing for months and years until the day Vanessa turned eighteen and moved out, never to contact her family again.

~~~^*^*^~~~

“Sweetie! I am so so so so sorry. You never said anything about this. So… that’s how you started your business? Or, rather, why?” asked Jody. Vanessa nodded numbly as she looked at her friend.

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

“So, Norden’s Nips was for your pe-… er… friend?”

“Yep.” Vanessa wiped away the tears from her eyes and stared at her friend. “And it’s not something I share. I’ve told maybe one other person about this, and they laughed that I would name a business after a pet. We don’t talk anymore.”

“Yeah, but if I had known I wouldn’t have… oh gosh… I… Ohh…. I’m so mad right now. I’m going to message your sister and give her a piece of my mind!”

Vanessa didn’t have time to stop Jody as she stormed out with her phone. Vanessa knew there was no stopping her friend and, instead, she stayed huddled under her blankets and stared at her now cold drink on the table.

Then, she heard something.

In a sniffly voice, she heard the female pet from the cage say, “I… I’m sorry… but… please… please don’t take me back. I… know I’m not going to be like your friend… but…”

Vanessa sighed and pushed herself up off of the couch and walked over to the cage, kneeling in front of the door to better look at the pet. She was beautiful and obviously had an empathetic soul based on the tears dripping down her own face.

“No, I’m sorry. I… It’s been a while since I’ve faced those feelings. I… well… you don’t have to be scared. Not of me,” said Vanessa.

Immediately, the pet looked up and started breathing quickly, nerves obviously getting the better of her.

“Please, I’ll be the best pet I can. Just…”

“I don’t want a pet,” stated Vanessa. “But I wouldn’t mind a new friend. How about it?”

The look on her face said it all. Things were going to be different around here from now on, but Vanessa didn’t mind. Change was good. And sometimes, someone is worth the heartbreak.

Norden was one of those people.

As was Jody and some of her other friends.

This new friend would certainly make that list as well.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Thank you. Apologies…

Cheers and, as always, stay awesome!

~Narrans

@gtzel

[tinydefector]

Saviour

Prowl & Male human

Warnings: Vent Fic, Angst, talk of dead parents, police investigations, documents over accident,

Word count: 1.9k

Before reading: This fic is mainly a self insert for myself, I write to help cope, and we'll Prowls one of my comfort characters. So if you don't feel comfortable, don't read. This was mainly just self-indulgent for myself and to try and help me heal over this situation I am currently in.

Request are open, please see my masterlist pinned post for rules or other fics

________

A young human stalks through the Autobots base, many bots giving a puzzled look as he storms past, barely acknowledging them. They can see the tear marks on his face as he walks by but any call from them falls on deaf ears and he stalk further into the Arks halls. 

It's only when he arrives at the large set of doors does he finally stop for a moment, taking a deep breath and walking into the office room. Prowl is sitting at his desk looking rather annoyed to be disturbed when the young man storms in. Prowl lifts his gaze from his data pads, bright blue optics focus in as the human enters his office unannounced. 

He takes note of the tear marks and heavy breathing, signalling the other's distress. However, as SIC of the Autobots, his time is limited and responsibilities many, and he didn't have time for this. "State your business," he says evenly, optics flickering back to the multiple screens as he scrubs through data while also running diagnostics and calculations. "How may I assist you?" He hopes this is a matter of true importance, and not merely the twins causing issues again, he had enough on his roster without them ruining his schedule. 

the young man took a shaky breath before speaking. "You're a Tactician, and work with the police force here on Earth?" They ask, staring into his optics pleading.  

Prowl stills for a moment, optics flickering back to them, a low hum resonates from his engine as he debates if this is really worth putting on his work to entertain the human’s inquiries. turmoil is rather visible to the bot. "You are correct. I assist the Autobots by providing strategic analysis and planning, drawing from my previous experience in the Cybertronian enforcement corps." He replies, his lips forming into a thin line as he stares them down. 

"Are you able to get access to police records and information not available to the public?, and are you under the same restrictions as human police with information?" He can see the desperation on the young man's face, he knew people didn't come to him for things, and the fact of how riled up and desperate the human looked, something was up. 

"Accessing classified law enforcement files without due cause could compromise ongoing investigations and is highly illegal to bribe for information" he replies firmly. "As an officer, I am bound by the protocols and restrictions of that position." 

He can see the desperation in their expression, yet allowing emotions to sway his judgement would set a poor precedent. "Explain your need and I will evaluate whether accessing such data is worth my time. But understand that my role is one of procedure, oversight and lawful conduct. Mere personal matters do not warrant breaching security protocols." His optics remain fixed on the human, silently prompting them to provide a reasonable rationale before he makes any decisions. Emotion will not compel him on such a matter. 

The young man sighs looking defeated, "it's not an ongoing investigation, I just want a report that I keep getting blockaded over. I've tried going the legal route, tried getting in contact with the investigation team, but no one will talk to me." They state, he can see them dancing around the subject. And it makes him rather on edge of what information they could possibly be looking for, he knows some of the humans with the Autobots have rather sketchy past mainly Raoul. But the evasion doesn't sit well with him. 

As SIC, protecting sensitive data and maintaining lawful conduct is paramount to his position. "Emotional appeals will not sway me from my duty," he replies crisply. "Your personal affairs, while no doubt important to you, do not merit risking classified files without clear cause pertaining to the Autobot mission or threat assessment. If authorities have deemed the matter closed, I suggest accepting that."

His optics narrow slightly. "Either provide specific details to justify accessing records, or this discussion is over. Vague suspicions benefit no one. My role is to uphold order and protocols, not enable frivolous adventures or satisfy idle curiosity at risk of my position or partnership with our human allies." 

Prowl keeps his tone neutral but firm, brooking no argument. He turns back to continue typing away, he can see the young man sitting his lip, looking around, he looked as if he was a caged creature. 

 "I want the Accident Report on my mother's death, and the Coroner's report" the young man finally states, the quiet of the room is almost deafening as the young man stares at the floor trying not to start crying again, his eyes already puffy and red from the last time.

Prowl's doorwings shift thoughtfully upon hearing this new information. A deceased relative's case was not what he was expecting. His optics dull slightly as he watches their movements. "I see." His tone softens marginally. "However, accessing closed files still requires due process. What makes you believe the reports you seek were improperly withheld?"

He places his digits together, optics remaining fixed on the human. "Explain your rationale. If you suspect foul play or cover-up, I will review the circumstances officially. But I cannot act on mere feelings or to indulge mourning. My role is to facilitate law and order through protocol and facts. Convince me your request is warranted." Prowl remains poised. 

 "No, no nothing like that, like I know why she's dead I know what happened. I'm getting blockaded by my mum’s boyfriend out of spite because he didn't get my mums super, so he's been doing everything he can to make it seem like my siblings and I aren't part of the picture to the point I have sent multiple emails, certificated copies of identification to police, investigations teams and other people just to try and get these reports and I've been dealing with this for months, I just want some paperwork stating what happened instead of everyone's theories and lies." He starts choking up a bit as he explains the situation. By all means he had done everything legally, but still had nothing, he wouldn't even be asking this of Prowl but he had exhausted all his resources.

Prowl listens closely, processing this new context. Clearly emotion runs high in this private family matter. While personal vendettas do not concern him, withholding lawful documentation to undermine grieving kin is another matter. "I see. Harassment and obstruction of legitimate requests is intolerable." His doorwings flick slightly. "Providing your identification and relationship is documented, accessing the files you seek should not be denied. However, the appropriate channels must be followed to avoid further issues." 

He swipes away from the channels he was monitoring and flicking over to another Web, typing away quickly and he begins starting a search file. His optics meet the human's calmly. "Supply me with the details necessary to verify your claims. With that, I will contact the enforcement team associated with this case. to request the situation be properly resolved and the requested reports." He states plainly as if it was something he could do rather simply and it nearly makes the young man want to start sobbing.  

He gives the details, and other information Prowl requests, the exhaustion on his face is very visible. If anything he looked worse than Prowl had ever seen a living human before. It makes Prowl soften for a moment as he moves from his seat towards the young man, He nearly gasps as Prowl gently picks him up. Placing him up on his desk as he grabs a rather large fibre cloth and drapes it over the human as he makes himself busy running details and information hunting. 

"Prowl...thank you, I'm sorry I bothered you with this but, I'm just at my limits" they mumble as he pulls the neon green cloth around his shoulders. Sitting on the table close to the cybertronian. Prowl let's out a partial hum and he types away Contacting investigation teams using his Alias as an FBI agent to bypass the red tape that many others would have differently with, Prowl makes the case directly yet discreetly. Ensuring proper verification of identity and claim, he "requests" full disclosure and closure of the matter. And personally requesting all documentation and information over the case.  

Soon after, he looks down at them. "It is done. The reports should be processed and the request sent to my file in the next lunar cycle. Let this ordeal be over, till then I'd recommend proper recharge, your frame is rather dishevelled." He promised that this would be over the moment he got the files. And if he had to he would personally deliver them to the young man. Prowl acknowledges the human's gratitude with a respectful nod. "You have endured more than enough. Your request was reasonable and deserved seeing to."  

As the man settles with the protective covering, Prowl returns his gaze discreetly to his work shifting from his data collection, ark status reports and also monitoring local radio chatter as he continues flicking between them. With matters now progressing as intended, Prowl's processor. The young man sits there quietly; it makes Prowl wonder, he never looked into how he had come into being one of the Autobots humans, he wasn't very social with many including the other mechs. 

He knew the basics, He was aware Beachcomber had been the one who had brought the young man in and the two a rather close. did anyone else know about this part of his life or had he kept everyone blissfully unaware. Prowl had his own questions now of the little mystery of the human on his table.

his attention shifts to backlogged files on this individual's integration among the Autobots. Cross-referencing records show their association, though specifics are scarce.

Turning to address the man, Prowl inquires, "Your partnership with us began through Beachcomber, yet details remain undefined. How did you fall into the custody of the Autobots?."His tone remains calm and professional. 

The young man lets out a soft noise as if embarrassed over it. "Ahhh it was so fucking embrassing!, I was out in the middle of nowhere because who else would be out there because I just wanted to be away from people so I could scream and just melt down and this blue beach buggy just comes out of nowhere, while I was having my moment and he scared the shit out of me, transformed gave me a panic attack, calmed me down and we just kinda sat together for a few hours" he explains,  "umm since then he kinda kept an eye on me, think he thought bring me here would make it easier to keep tabs on me, he's good like that"

Prowl listens with keen interest, storing the new data point about Beachcomber and Their unorthodox bonding. "I see. Beachcomber does have a way of drawing organic lifeforms under his circuitry, it seems." A flicker of amusement enters his tone - rare, but this tale piques even his logical sensibilities. It goes quiet between them for a while before Prowl finally speaks again. 

“Your welcome to stay for a while. Please don't distract me while I work, Optimus has me running multiple reports” he hums, quickly typing away. “Thank you” he mumbles softly as he presses against Prowl's side. Just enjoy the quiet of the office, and Prowl works. 

___________

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[nerdylilpeebee]

Not gonna lie, a little disappointed in @tracingpapier. Turning off reblogs so I couldn't even respond to her is a bit of a petty move. This is a long ass response, so I'm gonna use bullets to respond to each point.

If you have me blocked, tracinpapier must be a side-blog or something cuz I can see your blog just fine, reblog your posts, and mention you.

I actually am worried about someone being scammed. GoFundMe's on Tumblr have nearly all been scams since they first started appearing. GoFundMe's based around Gaza are all phrased the same way, often have the same images and are usually vetted by one single person. But all of them completely lack evidence they're legit in any capacity. I don't want scammers taking advantage of people's compassion to get a little richer. If this wasn't my motivation, I'd just leave y'all to keep donating. XD

(The next screenshot requires reading the one above and the below as it involves that screenshotted post)

How is that deligitimizing what they experienced? If it's not a genocide, it's not a fucking genocide. Correctly labeling something is only "deligimizing" if you think it needs to be wrongly labeled as a worse thing to be legitimate. A very Oppression Olympics way of thinking.

The UN has Iran on it's human rights council, has uncritically backed Hamas' lies to the point they've had to roll back their estimations on how many have died in the conflict due to Hamas doing so themselves, the ICJ, a UN court, fell asleep listening to Israel's defense in the South Africa case, and an UN judge stated he was going to go to Israel to gather evidence and instead didn't go to Israel and called for arrest warrants against israeli leaders. This is all to say, I really don't give a fuck if a random UN Reporter (or "Rapporteur") said something. This is an appeal to authority fallacy using a very biased authority. And for that matter, it was was so cut an dry, and the UN had evidence of genocide, why didn't the ICJ convict Israel of genocide? Sounds to me like this is more an opinion piece than an actual piece of evidence.

The next screenshot and half of the following is the rest of the excerpt she provided. Feel free to read if you want.

If you can't verify the GoFundMe's are legitimate, and I know for a fact you've 100% been on Tumblr long enough to know that most GoFundMe's on here are scams, sharing them uncritically is irresponsible.

Your best option is 100% to ignore it. GoFundMe themselves say that they cannot send money to Gaza, as it is not listed among their supported countries. And quite frankly, it is far FAR more likely to be a scam than a legit cry for help from a group you think is facing genocide and, given you hold pro-pal beliefs, famine. This means you also likely buy into the idea they have no electricity, water or shelter. Tell me, how does that equal "is capable of live-blogging to social media"? Hell, if this is legit, why would they ask for tens of thousands of dollars instead of the actual amount they'd need to evacuate (which is a LOT smaller than that)?

Hey, you can post what you want. I wasn't telling you to delete it. If you want to spread a likely scam because there's tiniest fraction of a chance a Gazan is actually asking for help, and being greedy as fuck while they do so, them by all means, spread it. As you say, it's your blog. I was just giving the info that GoFundMe does not operate in the middle east, so that way anyone who uses their brain and looks through the notes of your post can realize they're most likely looking at a scam. Just as you have the right to post whatever you want, I have the right to give information proving something you posted is unlikely to be legit.

My tag isn't a general discourse tag, it's a general filter tag. One I've used for years and see no reason to stop using for potentially triggering content simply because it's a bit more serious than the usual stuff I use it for. And I disagree about this being a genocide. That should already be obvious since you called me a "Zionist" and you people think basically means "Nazi who gets off to the idea of dead kids."

Yes you are, and I never said you were the person to argue with about this. I wasn't trying to argue, I was giving information to anyone who sees the post. Unlike you, apparently, I care about avoiding giving money to monsters who take advantage of people's compassion.

As I said before, I can see your blog, mention you and reblog from you. I had no way of knowing I had been blocked by you, especially since I've followed you for years and you've not once even TRIED telling me you weren't comfortable with that despite all the times I've faced and reblogged your art. So don't pretend I'm doing something wrong here. I had no way of knowing you did not want me interacting with your blog.

Let me make this last part clear so you can't complain about it later:

I will only respond to you. I will not seek your blog to send you asks or to stalk any posts you might be making behind my back. This conversation ends when you stop responding.

If you don't want to have this conversation, then go ahead and ignore this post. :P

I love your art, and your choice of ship. I have nothing against you personally, even if you might have something against me for not agreeing with your point of view. Have a good day/night, or whatever time it is for you if you choose to ignore this.

[cpvnksabm]

Hey Harper!

I was wondering, what your thoughts are on mobility aids as a weapon in each context I've seen it applied to Ricky. Such as Ricky using them, having them in SABM, and even his own creative lore for the character of the space-age bachelor man in a fictitious context. With the issues connected to the trope, how do you feel context differs and affects it here with Ricky?

Thanks!

Hi, good question!

So, for the readers who might be missing context on what this ask means: there's a common idea in media, and in general, of mobility aids secretly being weapons. The most basic version of this is just, for example, whacking people with crutches. But there are more elaborate variations, mostly seen in fiction - seriously using a mobility aid as a weapon in a drawn-out fight, swords hidden in canes, even mobility aids that double as sci-fi weapons.

I've occasionally seen jokes about this in the RTC fandom, in relation to Ricky's mobility aids.

I don't think people often realise that this is an existing trope in media, or that it's an idea a lot of disabled people are frustrated with. I don't think it's inherently problematic to use this trope. In most cases, it's more a matter of personal taste than something objectively harmful.

I do think it's worth learning more about the trope before using it. Some examples of this idea are more respectful than others, and a lack of awareness can lead to people not realising how their ideas may be harmful.

Luckily, that's what this post is for!

So, to start:

Is it realistic for Ricky to use his mobility aids as weapons?

No, probably not.

It's not impossible, technically speaking. Canes and crutches are, essentially, just big sticks, and any stick could be used as a weapon. But the fact is that canes and crutches aren't batons - they're not designed to be used for combat, whatsoever. Whacking someone with a crutch in a moment of frustration, I'll buy, but I find it unrealistic & annoying for disabled characters to have a badass fight scene where they effortlessly fight off the bad guys with a cane.

(Swords-hidden-in-canes do exist, for the record - but they are more for novelty than for actual mobility. They're harder to access than regular canes, more likely to cause legal issues, and most importantly aren't good at supporting a person's weight to help them walk. I've also heard mixed reports on whether they work well as weapons. in short I don't think it would make sense for Ricky to have one.)

On top of the fact that mobility aids aren't designed to be useful in combat, you have to keep in mind that Ricky's disability affects his whole body. That would include his arms, which he's presumably using for this stick-wielding combat. It's easy to forget this with all the cool choreography he does in the musical - the premise of which, I'll remind you, involves him being capable of feats in the afterlife that he physically couldn't do in life - but since Ricky canonically has a disease that affects his whole body, most likely some sort of neuromuscular disease, we can assume he has muscle weakness in his arms. The idea that he would, in a moment of combat, suddenly turn out to be incredibly strong in order to defeat an antagonist - it just isn't realistic.

Again, a lot of these things are possible in real life - but I think they wouldn't make sense in most cases, and I also personally believe that it's generally a frustrating way of depicting disabilities.

Well, what if realism isn't a concern?

I think that, while this trope is generally pretty unrealistic, it can make sense in contexts where realism isn't the goal - for example, fantasy or sci-fi.

First of all: you should be very cautious taking a "it doesn't have to be realistic" stance in relation to depicting disability. This is a complex enough subject to potentially warrant its own post, but in short: if you're not including supernatural elements or something similar in your RTC fanworks, then you should be trying to portray Ricky's disability realistically, because if everything else is realistic then he should be too. If you are including supernatural elements, and there's some sort of reason for his disability to not affect him in a realistic way (i.e. "karnak removed his neuromuscular disease when he died"), you should still be making an active effort to think about how you're depicting this, and whether it would be upsetting to disabled people.

With that said - yeah, I can see this trope working in specific contexts. A full-on fight scene is unrealistic, but Ricky whacking an antagonist's leg with a crutch on his way past is something that could totally happen! Real crutches obviously don't shoot lasers that destroy furry alien spaceships, but in SABM they could! It even sounds like the sort of power fantasy that Ricky would write into his bachelor man fantasies.

But even in contexts where this trope completely makes sense... I still think it's one to tackle carefully. And there's a reason for that.

The Villainisation of Disabled People

I've spent all of this time talking about whether it would be realistic for Ricky to be capable of using his mobility aid as a weapon, but there's a more important question I've ignored: would this be in-character, for the character who has "The bachelor bible has just one commandment: don't be a dick" as one of his most important quotes?

Genuine question, by the way! Maybe it would be - I don't think it's inherently a "dick move" for a disabled person to act in self-defense. I don't even think it's necessarily that bad if, for example, a chronically ignored disabled character resorts to a method that can force people to listen to him. I'm sure there's situations - many of them - in which this sort of thing could totally make sense with Ricky's characterisation.

But the fact is - disabled people are automatically seen as aggressive, untrustworthy, and dangerous, moreso than able-bodied people. It's just a stereotype. The "mobility aid as a weapon" trope is part of this.

Ricky might be the only character in RTC who's in the habit of carrying (essentially) large sticks on him at all times, but he's certainly not the only character who's capable of grabbing a stick to use as a weapon. There are other characters who would be more physically capable of combat, or have personalities that make them seem more likely to resort to violence.

It's worth considering why "hitting people with sticks" is seen as something casual and funny to reference Ricky doing, whereas if (for example) Noel bought a large stick into choir to hit Ocean with, it would likely be taken seriously or at least seen as a bizarre thing to do. Is it because Ricky always has the "sticks" in question on him, so he doesn't have to actively prepare to hit people? Or is it because of a false idea that disabled people simply won't hesitate to hit people with our mobility aids?

This is unfortunately a very common idea in real life, and it impacts real disabled people. By default we are seen as more bitter or more aggressive than able-bodied people, and this idea is used to justify ostracising us as well as to discredit us when we make reasonable complaints about the way we're treated. But specifically, disabled people are often banned from using mobility aids, in specific contexts, because of this idea that we're likely to use them as weapons. In the worst-case scenario some people are even physically attacked, in some attempt at pre-emptive self-defense to stop them from potentially doing harm.

And all of this happens despite the fact that it doesn't make sense - mobility aids aren't very effective as weapons and a lot of us are less physically capable of combat! With all this harassment tied to something that so rarely happens in real life, you can understand how some of us are adamant about emphasising that it's not an accurate representation of us, even if it's technically possible.

None of this is to say that it's inherently problematic for Ricky to ever be violent, in any way. In fact, the other side of the "villainisation of disabled people" issue is that, when we're not seen as automatically more likely to become violent, we're seen as less justified when we do resort to violence. Self-defense is not a dick move, and neither is - situationally - a moment of anger, considering Ricky canonically deals with a lot of ableism.

It's a complex subject. I think you should depict it carefully. I'm willing to give advice on how to do so, for anyone's fic or art - just shoot me a DM with more context and I'll tell you my thoughts!

But in cases where there isn't more context in a serious depiction, and people are just offhandedly referencing Ricky hitting people like it's a given that he would do that... you're potentially referencing a lot here without meaning to, and the joke is a little overdone. I'm not saying to never make the joke. Just to maybe cool down on it a bit.

Sometimes a crutch can just be a crutch

One of the things that bothers me most about the constant "you can use your mobility aid as a weapon" jokes is that, I think sometimes they come from a place of wanting to deny what a mobility aid is. That is - a device that allows a disabled person to get around easier. I think sometimes people are uncomfortable with that, because they're uncomfortable with disabled people in general. And sometimes people deal with that discomfort by pretending, jokingly or not, that a mobility aid is actually for some other purpose.

Frankly - the (false!) idea that mobility aid users are usually carrying big sticks which they intend to use as weapons? That should make you more uncomfortable than the reality, which is just that people are carrying them around to walk with.

I think a lot of the time when people turn fictional mobility aids into something other than just mobility aids, it's an attempt to make them cooler, or more interesting. And this can make sense in some contexts... but why should Ricky's crutches be modified to make them cooler, when other important props aren't?

Ricky's mobility aids are already pretty damn cool and interesting - they let him move around! If he didn't have access to them, he might have severely limited mobility. That's pretty cool to me.

Idk. I'm sure this trope can make sense and be done well in some contexts. But it's just a little overdone.

[project-niji-official]

DISCLAIMER: This post has been used by multiple accounts on multiple sites. You may have seen this before.  TRIGGER WARNING: While there aren't any dark topics mentioned in this post, they are abundant in the story. If you are uncomfortable with self-harm, swearing, depression, suicide attempts/suicidal thoughts, mentions of rape, eating disorders, substance abuse, child abuse, domestic abuse, sexual references, personality disorders, intrusive thoughts, or obsessive behavior, then this isn't for you. (I know that's a long list, but it's a long project, and they're spread throughout the story.)

Do you like relatable characters? Do you like Project SEKAI? Do you like fandom? If you like any of those things (emphasis on the first one), then you might like SPECTRA LIGHT: Project NIJI! (If you're not interested, keep scrolling. If you are... carry on.)

This isn’t an ad to get your money. It’s an ad to get your support. Project NIJI is a nonprofit fanproject run by a bunch of… well, fans. It’s technically an Alternate Universe (AU) for Project SEKAI, but someone without knowledge of the game could still understand the story perfectly well, as the main cast is composed of 20 Original Characters (OCs).

Since this is a fanproject and doesn’t have to abide by copyright laws, ambitious collaborations or ideas can be accomplished more easily. This means that we don’t have to dance around more mature topics to hold onto that sweet, sweet 9+ rating. 

There’s five musical groups: 

Welcome TO Purgatory, a band dedicated to showing the world the truth, no matter how uncomfortable.

Sparkling☆Smile☆Stage, a group who wants the world around them to be a little less sad (even if they’re doing much worse).

LITERALLY HELL, who wants to show you that not every story has a happily ever after.

StarSuit Go!, an idol group who doesn’t believe in letting others change who you are.

Night blossomS, an online music group with questionable PR decisions who wants to reach someone.

That’s simplifying the groups a LOT, but it gets the general point across.

Now, I’ve spent most of this rambling about the project itself, but here’s why I’m making this post: We need people. Lots of them. In fact, we need:

Writers

Artists

Storyboarders

Beta readers

Music arrangers

Vocal tuners

Video editors/animators

Singers/voice actors (keep in mind that you might have to speak in another language a lot)

Translators

Color artists

Moderators (for our Discord server, and our subreddit if we get one)

Publicists (social media managers)

Chart makers (iykyk)

List of languages that we need translators for (we need people to translate these languages into English, or vice versa):

Japanese (we need the most translators for this language, as it's the primary language. Project NIJI is set in Japan, after all.)

Dutch

Swedish

Portuguese

Vietnamese

Chinese

Cantonese

Tagalog/Filipino

Russian

French

Arabic

Korean

Danish

Italian

German

Hindi

Spanish

There are other languages featured in the story, but they don't show up enough to warrant a translator.

If you can do any of those things (or maybe something else that could be helpful), then you can apply in this form. Please DO NOT DM THE ACCOUNTS IF YOU WISH TO BE A PART OF PROJECT NIJI.

[redfish-blu]

An Open Letter to the Danger Days Tumblr Community:

Now that you’ve read that overdramatic title and are wondering who fucked up, I have something to say about the Danger Days Tumblr community: I Love You.

Danger Days was the first fandom I ever posted for on any site. All the way back in middle school (ho-ly shit). And let me tell you what I found out even way back when: this is not an easy fandom to be in.

For one, most people don’t even know it exists. For two, even less know it in the way it’s been cultivated on Tumblr. Almost every single person has such a niche interpretation of every little detail, that it’s impossible to draw a line through any two versions of the story. Which is a fact I personally love, but I also think it scares a lot of people away. You have to work to be in this fandom. Both as a passive and active fan. It requires patience and tolerance for disappointment.

But that’s exactly why I want to encourage everyone who creates and everyone who listens to Keep Doing That. Like I cannot stress this enough, that is what keeps this fandom and IP alive. Danger Days as a universe would be absolutely nothing without fan work (re: the California Comics), especially a decade later. Without fans who care about this story way more than it has warranted us to care, it would be six feet under. And sometimes I really think that’s what it deserves (and maybe the writers think that as well), but for the life of me I just can’t let that happen. I’ve tried to let this fucking thing go, believe me.

And funny enough, that exact feeling is evidenced by the community on this site too. Which has changed faces almost completely from what it was three years ago for better and less better in some cases. And it’s something I still struggle with adjusting to, but I look at the tag daily. I look everyone’s posts and blogs and art and effort. If you have posted even once in the dd tag my eyes have 100% seen it. So even if I still feel a little out of place, like a ghost of fandom’s past, at least I know everybody. And I know people feel the same way: No rest for the wicked.

When I reanimated from my fandom coma I was fully expecting to find that the community had gone extinct. Partially because all the blogs I used to frequent had straight up died in the three years I was gone. But I pulled up to the gates of the Danger Days tag like Rick Grimes outside of Alexandria, fully expecting to be devastated, only to find New People tilling the fucking field. And it didn’t matter that I now had no idea who any of you people were, it was The Most welcoming thing ever.

I’ll be the first to tell you this fandom bares almost no resemblance to the one I left, and I’m not going to lie and say it’s better now, but the foundation didn’t get blown away in the storm. That’s what I find uniquely profound. That everyone here still wants to try. And that makes me really want to try. And I’m sure everyone would agree that there is often little reward for the effort; but that’s precisely my point in saying all this shit. That even despite the not fun aspects, we all still clock in; and there’s a new post, headcanon, drawing, or fic every freaking day. It’s commendable, really.

If you’re lurking, or post sometimes but feel afraid to actually take a leap here because (the fandom is comparatively tiny to the greater MCR fandom) you’ll be way more out there, and the already established figureheads of the fandom will definitely see your stuff: post post post. This is my formal endorsement to Just Post That Shit. And Interact With That Shit. I spent a year gathering the courage to publish the tiniest thing while behind the scenes I literally wrote about 60+ works. You have to respect your own creativity and trust that other people will give it the time of day.

So do not feel crazy or discouraged about your ideas here! Like we literally need them to function, I would not be here if it wasn’t for all the people three years ago who just posted all their thoughts about Danger Days. About everything. Obscure or not. It’s truly a gift that this fandom has attracted people who are willing to work their brains because the original creators let it fall flat. I cannot tell you how much being in this fandom has actually helped me out in my writing and analysis skills.

So yeah. I fucking love this fandom, I love being in it and I love seeing that people are still stoking the flames. I wanted to say all this crap because I knew I’d be able to articulate it for the people who can relate but don’t want to be the first to say it. Which is okay, understandable. As I said earlier this fandom is like yelling your thoughts out into a very echoey room that only has a few people in it. So I’ll shout first and maybe it’ll make other people more comfortable to shout back.

[dailydamnation]

They Were Roommates... Eventually

An X-Addendum fanfic (The start of a story five nights long.) (This one is for Tyramir, who once also dedicated an X-fic to me.) (Also posted on AO3.) (Banner art by Chris Sprouse.)

THE FIRST NIGHT

Katherine Anne Pryde had been in advanced classes for as long as she could remember. (Figuratively, because her memory, even of her youngest years, was quite good.) So often in her life when not among grownups, she’d been surrounded by older kids. Even then she was used to being one of the smartest people in the room.

And there was nothing... nothing... that got on her nerves worse than when the older kids—by only one or two years—had treated her like a child.

Among the X-Men, she was once again the youngest, but she’d earned their respect as a teammate and an equal. Mostly. There were a couple of them who she was still working on. And Ororo mothering her didn’t count, no rational being could possibly object to that. The point was, they sometimes forgot how young Kitty still was.

And secretly... secretly one of her favorite things about living at the school in Professor Xavier’s mansion was the fact that nobody here ever thought to wonder if young Kitty Pryde ought to have a bedtime.

That’s how she found herself wandering the dark halls to fetch some soda she probably shouldn’t be having past 2 AM. She wasn’t the only night owl on the team, but perhaps the only one who hung around indoors. Logan was weird. And sometimes a li’l scary, if you innocently asked what he did outside all night. Kitty rubbed her eyes, bleary from staring at her computer screen for what even she admitted was too long. Let the Wolverine roam the grounds all he wanted—she was happy to have these halls all to hers—

“Yaaah!” she shrieked.

A figure had appeared in the doorway to the lounge, silent as... as Logan, but much slimmer.

“Hello, Cat.” The moonlight reflected in blue eyes as the figure stepped forward. “Tch. Kitty. Hello, Kitty.”

“Illyana!” Kitty said calmly and not at all in a shrill and terrified voice. “Still up? Couldn’t sleep?”

“No,” Illyana said without further explanation. She regarded Kitty with equally bleary eyes, staring through her as if looking for someone else.

Her teammate’s sister was not scary in the way that Logan was, but she was... unsettling. That was the best way to put it. And Kitty honestly wasn’t sure if she felt that way because Illyana genuinely did unsettling things, or because she was so different. A week ago, Illyana had been six years old (“almost nearly seven!” if you’d asked her, in Russian because that was the only language she used to speak) and now she and Kitty were of an age, or close enough. Seven years of her life lost to... another dimension, where time moved differently.

“Oh... all right, then.”

Neither of them moved. That definitely counted as unsettling, right? The way Illyana just quietly watched people now, with something like suspicion in her eyes, or... sadness? Longing?

Kitty shook herself and rubbed her eyes. Living with telepaths was giving her ideas—she couldn’t read this girl’s mind. Not even Professor Xavier could, he’d let slip as much. And Kitty wasn’t sure how she felt about him trying that sort of thing without a body knowing, but she couldn’t say it wasn’t warranted. Unsettling.

Then, because it was very late at night, she yawned.

Illyana yawned back. Kitty almost laughed. No matter how stoic or weird the other girl came across, she was human enough not to be able to stop herself from doing that, even if she briefly looked cross with herself for it.

“It’s getting way too late,” Kitty said. “I’m gonna go to bed. You really should too, y’know?” Great, now she was trying to enforce other people’s bedtimes.

From a moment, Illyana looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t, so Kitty turned around and started walking back to her room, holding herself back from glancing over her shoulder.

Halfway there she remembered she’d been on her way to fetch a soda. Eh, that had been a bad idea anyway. She’d get a glass of water from the bathroom and lie awake with her brain buzzing for another two hours anyway, whether she had any soda or not.

That night, though she couldn’t figure out why, she spent most of those two hours wondering whether Illyana had followed her advice and whether she was getting any sleep at all...

(Part two.)

[clorofolle]

Hello! I just found your post on pirating. I'm relatively experienced and I think most everything you suggested is smart.

I just wanted to ask, in regards to the VPN, do you have in particular gripes about Proton in regards to the privacy aspect?

I was trying to find a good VPN recently and thought that Proton's offers were pretty good, if expensive in comparison to the competition.

(I promise I'm not a shill, I'm actually wondering if I should regret my purchase lol. I also get that the post is dated last year and things may have gotten worse or better with them since)

Hi!! Sorry for the very very late reply, I didn't check tumblr for months.

To be honest, I did write that post a while ago and should I write it now, my position would be different and much milder. While throwing shade at Proton I was thinking of this incident specifically where, facing a court order, Proton was asked to log and provide the IP address of one of its clients, a French climate activist.

I take issue with companies that market themselves as useful tools to keep you safe and protected instead of actually disclosing what their service truly is about and what data they do have about you, as people might fall into a false sense of security and have no idea what they're actually paying for.

I am generally more warm towards Mullvad since they're extremely transparent about what kind of data they have on you and actively try to get as little data from you as possible, even favouring payment methods where they won't have to store any data on you whatsoever. They also allegedly were subject to a search warrant and were simply unable to give any data whatsoever as they truly had none, which if we want to assume good faith that they aren't making that up, is a good look on them as a whole. Though they've recently started to market themselves as some kind of saviours from "mass surveillance and censorship" in a way that seems... to be really alarmist and out of nowhere and might fool more people into thinking they need a vpn than they actually do, and I'm not happy about that direction at all, though their services still seem like some of the best around.

Still - I recognize that this is a big discussion, one I don't have enough knowledge over to completely discuss it either! And that for torrenting... this doesn't matter at all. In fact, Mullvad is not being recommended for torrenting anymore as it dropped support for port forwarding - for some apparently legit concerns - and it makes the torrenting experience much worse for many people. (My internet is slow as shit so I don't notice either way lol!)

All in all, I'm not a very experienced or savvy user at all. I try to learn about things as much as my lil brain allows me to understand, but were I to rewrite that post now, I wouldn't mention things that are still so murky/difficult to understand for me as well. Hope I sent you some interesting links to start some more research from though! Here's to understanding more of how things work as we go on :D

[verishere]

Chapter Two

Previous Next

There is no context post that I need to link here, I think. If you happened to read that post on my worldbuilding sideblog about how transgender people came to be in my worldbuilding, ignore it entirely: almost all of it is inaccurate, now. What is still accurate is described again here.

This has had no proofreading from anyone but me at all because my brother- the only person who proofreads my chapters- is unaware that I am trans and for multiple reasons I am not going to send this to him. So it's probably filled with errors. I hope it's still readable, I did read it over for that at least, but if it isn't at any point please tell me where.

EDIT: FUCK FORGOT SOME CONTEXT okay so people in this world reach adulthood at like 50. Liam is roughly 12 or so here, but because of the scale being weird that puts him at around 7 years old in human years. He is officially "too big to carry" age, which Luonim usually enforces but at this moment does not give on single fuck about and proves he is not in fact too big to carry. Liam forgets to point this out.

Luonim really had little idea what was going through little Leigha's head. Her granddaughter was currently wearing only a her father's tunic and slip-on shoes from when he was slightly smaller than she was, making them just barely wearable. She was clearly extremely uncomfortable in them, but she wasn't taking them off. She was trying to reach the shelf above her that had the hair trimmers on them, but she was only tall enough to reach Luonim's waist, and those clippers were slightly above her eye line. Instead of bringing one of the nearby chairs over- they were in Leigha's parent's room, after all, so even aside from the several chairs in the room there were plenty of stable objects available- or going to fetch someone to ask for whatever it was she needed them for, she just kept jumping off the floor over and over again as if hoping that next time she jumped, it would be high enough. She hadn't even noticed Luonim in the doorframe, she was so focused on her task.

Luonim walked over behind her and kneeled down to eye level. Leigha still didn't notice she was there, she just kept jumping over and over again, though Luonim could hear that she was whispering now. "Why am I small" and "why did daddy put it so high" and just before Luonim patted her shoulder, a very distinct "fuck". Luonim decided given the extreme amount of anger, frustration, fear, and a small amount self loathing, that was telepathically oozing from her granddaughter's soul, that right now was not the time to educate the little princess on proper language.

She finally put her hand on Leigha's shoulder, who jumped almost out of the too small shoes she was wearing. She turned around and flew back so hard her head hit the dresser, which brought tears to her eyes. Luonim wrapped her arms around her shoulders, bringing her close, putting her head on her shoulder. Leigha was actually sobbing, now, far more than was warranted for how hard her head hit the dresser. Luonim rubbed her hand up and down her back, whispering what comforts she could. She didn't know what was wrong, all she knew was her youngest baby was having a very bad day, so she would be there for her. When Leigha got better control of herself, she'd ask what happened.

She knelt there with Leigha for around three minutes, all the while wishing someone else was here. Every member of their family was out in the kingdom or in council. Even teenage Axel was apprenticing with the stoneworkers. Whatever this was, she was Leigha's grandmother, and she would help, but it would be much nicer if Leigha needed to know she was not alone if there could be more people than just her. She genuinely considered for a second sending a message over the Mark, but that would bother anyone who had the Mark over a family matter, and she can deal with it herself for now.

Eventually, Leigha stopped sobbing quite so much. She was still sniffling, and her breathing came in heavy rasps, but it seemed she might be able to articulate herself. Luonim thought to start with the clippers, instead of asking. She stood up, carrying Leigha up with her, grabbed the clippers, and went to the door. Immediately Leigha tightened her grip around her shoulders, and the toes of her stolen shoes dug into her hip. Luonim paused, and waited for Leigha to explain why she had to be in this room. Leigha didn't say anything for a moment, and just before Luonim prompted her, Leigha reached up to wipe her face. Luonim then finally Leigha was forcibly slowing down her sniffling and making her breathing quieter. Her breathing was clearly forced instead of loud, and Luonim's heart broke for the second time that day. She was afraid to be crying or possibly vulnerable where people could see her, not even the servants in the palace who were almost family to them at this point.

Would she have let me see her like this, if I hadn't snuck up on her? Has this happened before but she didn't tell us?

She put that thought away for now. It wasn't important yet. She shut the door, instead, and walked over to the bed. She put Leigha down on the edge and then sat down next to her. Turning, she got the first good look at Leigha she'd had since she started crying. Her cheeks weren't wet anymore, but they were still red, and her face was scrunched up like she was trying not to cry again. Her hands were clutching the sheets and her knees were pulled as tight as she could, digging her feet into the side of the bed.

Luonim draped an arm around her second princess' shoulders, leaned in almost till her head was on Leigha's shoulder, and whispered, "No one here would mock you for crying, you know."

Leigha looked away quickly, blinking back more tears. Luonim waited for any kind of response, even nonverbal, but it didn't seem she was going to get one.

"No one; not the servants, not the lords, and especially not your family. None of us would say anything bad to you."

Leigha still didn't move. Her breathing was disturbingly regular, as if she was counting them. Her telepathy was completely locked down, which she had idly noticed happened when she'd set her down on the bed but hadn't put thought to.

She's hiding from her own grandmother when she's down. Luonim didn't know why, and didn't know what to do with it. She needed to know that she wasn't alone, but if she hid herself then she would be alone.

Still, that thought was better than nothing. She needed to know that she wasn't alone. "Every single member of our family has cries, you know."

Leigha's face snapped back around, her mouth open. She just stared at her for a moment, utterly speechless.

"We don't like crying with other people either, but sometimes we need other people. Sometimes talking about it is the best we can do. We didn't like to show you when we cried, because we didn't want you to worry about us. I see that maybe we should have, though." She was still leaned over, even though it hurt her back somewhat to stay like this for long. Just one of the woes of the world, now.

Leigha kept spluttering for a moment, mouth moving silently like she couldn't get the words out. Eventually she found her voice. "What could you have to cry about?" She whispered, but the tone of voice was one you would use to shout.

Luonim laughed, soft and bitter, inwardly sad to see they've raised Leigha and she didn't see this. Keeping her from being worried about them was one thing, but that she didn't know they could ever be sad or hurt was just lying to her. Not intentionally, or at least not always, but it was still lying, and it's hurt her.

"What don't we? My father is a star, Leigha. You have never met your great grandfather. "

Leigha stiffened even more, which Luonim didn't think was possible. It was clear she'd forgotten that. That she could forget he was dead was another reason to cry.

"We cried for your parents, before Freya came with the Mark, when we thought they would be mortal and die. We cry still for the mortals who are going to die, since the Mark can't spread to everyone. We cry that the sky has stars almost beyond count, and that the moon is bright. We cry especially because you're sibling, you're parents, and you, my little princess, don't have wings."

For that whole speech, Leigha seemed to be unwinding a bit, and she could feel a little of her emotions again. Not fully, but she could sense that the anger and frustration from earlier was gone, or at least inactive. The only thing emanating from her now was sadness.

Until the end of the speech, that is. When she called her "princess," Leigha stiffened again, and Luonim sensed a single shoot of self loathing and slight anger, and then her soul was closed.

Oh.

Luonim was the first child born, but she also happened to be the first... they really needed a word for that concept. The Nuthri had predicted once they saw what was wrong with Luonim's soul- or rather what her soul was rightfully rejecting- that she would not be the only one, though they had thought it would be rather rare. She remembered them laughing about it, later, that the first child happened to also be the first child who was... Like that. She would create a word for it later. It would certainly be needed eventually, as more people who were Like That popped up.

She had been born with the body of a boy, and her soul had rejected it. The Nuthri had created a spell to fix that after a person was born, and later said that anyone could do it now, it would just be harder to do it without the stones.

Not to jump to conclusions, but it did explain everything that had happened today. Leigha was dressing up with her fathers old clothes, and reaching for the hair clippers. Luonim had always felt angry both at the people around her and at herself when certain words were used. It wasn't with every word- she hadn't felt it at being called "he" but she had when she was called her parent's son. She won't presume yet, but now she has an idea, she knows what to ask about. She also wouldn't verbally use any more gendered terms like that, until she was sure.

Leigha was still stiffened up a bit, but not quite so much anymore. They had both let the silence hang for a moment after she'd finished talking, and only now had Luonim realized it, lost in her thoughts as she was.

"Now, can you tell me why you were sad?" She didn't want to use the word crying. Leigha was scared to let people see her cry, even her family, so she just stuck with emotions instead and hoped it would be easier.

Leigha slowly unwound, and finally leaned a little into the touch. She nodded.

It still took her a minute to finally get the words out, during which she scooted over so the whole right side of her body was pressed up against the left side of Luonim's, and leaned her head against her. Luonim almost sighed with relief to not be leaning over so far anymore. It was easier, as one of the Mark, but without the light of the True Sun bones don't heal as they weaken anymore, and movements like that still hurt.

Finally, Leigha opened up.

"I wanted to cut my hair like how daddy has it."

Well, this is a strong start to confirm her suspicion. Leigha's hair was currently almost down to her hips, while Dowan's was down to his shoulder blades. Most of the people in Blonicku started mirroring this look, as they seemed to mirror all the royals, making hair length a gendered thing in the people of Blonicku's minds. She thought it was insane, honestly- it was just hair, everyone has it- but that's what's happened in Blonicku, so she had to live with it.

It didn't really surprise her that it seems to affect Leigha too. Leigha was growing up in Blonicku's culture, not in the Blessed Years, and it was noticeable sometimes. She used the prefixes instead of suffixes- aka the wrong way, but she was aware she was now in the minority on that point-, she almost never went barefoot outside on the roads, and her voice even was different. She didn't know how to describe it, but the voices of everyone born and raised in Blonicku, as well as some who had lived in Blonicku for almost it's entire history, like Vlorindul and Nrolin- had a weird lilt to it. It was always the same lilt, too, so it wasn't just a voice thing, it was how everyone talked.

That the idea of gendered hair had spread to her too made sense. Her Numorn family wore their's following that idea too, except for Axel but Axel was not gendered, though the rest of their family did it out of preference rather than acceptance of the cultural norms, which is in fact what caused the cultural norm-

Wait.

She is talking- thinking? Whatver- like Leigha wants to cut her hair because she's accepted that norm and she is Like That. She needed to remember, just because all the signs so far today made it seem that way, doesn't mean Leigha is Like That. She might just like her hair shorter, or she might be aware of the cultural norm, also thinks it's dumb, and wants to go against it. As she said before, she had to be sure, not just presume.

"Did you want it exactly like daddy has it, or a little longer?"

Leigha shuttered when she said "longer" which was definitely another point for the Like That column she was only just now aware she was making in her head. So far there was not a single point for not Like That. Nuthri damn it, she needed to make a word for being Like That. This is getting annoying.

Leigha shook her head, and croaked out the single word "same." So Luonim took her to the bathroom, held her head over a large waste bucket, and trimmed it exactly as close as she could get to her son's hair without him there for reference. Afterwards, they went over to the mirror and, Leigha shaking, while emanating pure anxiety, Luonim picked her up to show her her new hair.

It was the first time that day Luonim had seen Leigha smile.

She kept smiling, though she was still quiet, as Luonim walked her all the way back to her room. Her soul was pouring out with glee, as a child's should be, and there was not a single other emotion had she felt from her grandchild since she'd seen the mirror.

Once at Leigha's door, she waited for a moment for Leigha to sit down, before knocking herself. She had hated as a child when her family opened a door before knocking. It had caused her to invent door locks as a teen. They all knew now to knock, the whole family, no matter who was on the other side.

"Come in!" Her voice was utterly delighted, and when she opened the door she saw that Leigha was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing the full length mirror she has next to her dresser. She was kicking her legs, hands on the edge of her bed, grinning at her reflection.

Luonim walked over to her, knelt down, and removed her right foot's shoe.

Leigha shouted wordlessly.

Luonim laughed and said "If you want to wear shoes like this, we will get some for you that fit. These are too small. So is that tunic, but it's not as bad, if you want you can keep wearing it for now. These shoes are small enough to hurt you. He wore these clothes when he was three years younger than you are now, you know."

Leigha grumbled for a second but let her continue, and just kept staring at her mirror.

Luonim sat down on the bed next to her, and finally decided to broach the subject directly. "Do you remember, when I told you the story of how my body was wrong, but the Nuthri changed it?"

Leigha straightened up again and turned her head to her, full of horror.

That was entirely not the reaction she was expecting. Even if Leigha was not Like That, horror is the wrong face. Her soul was still ungaurded, and right now there was not a part of it still given to the glee from before. She was emanating pure fear, like she hadn't felt from anyone since coming to Blonicku.

"That... the Nuthri had to do that themselves?" Leigha asked with a shaky voice, eyes still wide with honest terror. She sounded like all her hopes had just been dashed with one single sentence.

Luonim didn't laugh, even though she desperately wanted to. She was nigh entirely certain now that Leigha was Like That, but she still wouldn't say it directly yet. "No, sweetie, no. They were just the best at doing it, and they were the only people who could do it the first time. After that, anyone can do it, it will just take longer and be harder, apparently."

Leigha sagged, the fear slowly dissipating from her soul to be replaced by relief and confusion.

She didn't know where the confusion came from yet, but she would wait a minute before prompting.

Leigha looked to the floor for a bit, clearly thinking, and from her soul Luonim felt rising courage and anxiety. Then she looked up at her face in the mirror, and from her soul Luonim felt resolve. Leigha turned to her and said "I thought that just... happened."

Luonim wasn't entirely certain where the anxiety of that question was coming from. Was she embarrassed to be wrong? She shouldn't be, if she was.her

"You thought that when a person's body is wrong, they're body just changed on it's own eventually?"

"Nonono, I mean. I thought everyone's did."

Luonim blinked.

"You thought. Everyone's. Body is born wrong. Like mine?" She was usually a stickler for grammar and sentence flow when she spoke, but the shock over that question was too much for her.

She must have interpreted it wrong. Surely.

Leigha did exactly what she did not want her to do, and nodded. Slowly.

Luonim felt embarrassment from Leigha's soul, and remembered what she was just thinking about. Leigha needed to feel comfortable to be wrong around family. One day, when Leigha was an adult, she would be teased for this for all her life, but right now she needed reassurance.

Luonim hugged her him and said "No, love. I thought when I explained it to you I did it better than that, I'm sorry. Only some people are born like that, it's not supposed to happen, but by the time the Nuthri noticed it they couldn't stop it from happening. More kids will be born like that too, eventually. They made a way for us to help those people, to fix their bodies to be the way their souls like, but they couldn't stop it from happening to start with."

During this speech, she heard several sets of footsteps outside the hall. She wasn't sure whose they were, but paid little attention to it.

Leigha hugged fiercely for the latter half of this speech, and then shouted, "I could have been a boy this ENTIRE TIME?"

Outside the room, the footsteps stopped. The door slammed opened.

End Chapter Two

[yr-obedt-cicero]

I read your post about how Laurens was infamous for his diplomacy skills in Europe, but was he ever banned from the country for it? What did his father think about it, especially since the Laurens reputation would be on the line? Did Franklin ever try to do anything about Laurens’ diplomatic skills?

Definitely not banned, but his name was nonetheless a bitter one amongst the higher-ups of France. He had broken French etiquette but it didn't warrant anything that severe, other than being renowned as a total nuisance. In fact, even after leaving France he was still pestering them for more, that Vergennes wrote to Lafayette;

Despite the enormous efforts we are making for the United States, we have not been able to satisfy Mr. Laurens. That officer has much neglected me since I announced to him His Majesty's decision. I know he is complaining rather indiscreetly, and I foresee that he will make every effort to get at least his chief to share his sentiments. Please warn the latter and engage him to instruct his aide-de-camp and, above all, to make him realize the necessity of giving Congress the most temperate account of the mission he carried out in France. I hope we shall not be sent any more such messages; France is not inexhaustible, and it would be absolutely impossible to give them any consideration. We are doing a great deal for the Americans, but they must do their part to help themselves, too.

Source — Comte de Vergennes to Marquis de Lafayette, [May 11, 1781]

He sent a similar report to the Chevalier de La Luzerne and instructed him to minimize any “damage” Laurens may have caused with a biased report to Congress. Funny enough though, after Laurens had taken leave of the court, Vergennes told La Luzerne; “I hope that no one will be sent back here.” [x]

Although I haven't found anything about Henry's knowledge of Laurens's conduct in France. He was taken to London under suspicion of high treason, and imprisoned in the Tower of London on October 6, 1780, until being officially discharged on April 27, 1782. So, I doubt it was easy for the story to be passed around, especially towards Henry who was imprisoned the entire time. Nonetheless, he knew his son's temperament and warned him about discretion in the past—I doubt the story would come as a surprise, but that's not to say he wouldn't be infuriated about it. Especially since the Laurens family did travel through Europe often.

And surprisingly - despite not agreeing with Adams's similar conduct in France - Franklin seemed pleased with Laurens. I suppose because in the end, it worked, no matter the terrible methods. But it could be speculated he probably tried to regulate or give better advice to the hot tempered Laurens during the whole ordeal. Regardless, he even suggested he continue as a diplomat;

Inclos’d is the Order you desire for another Hundred Louis._ Take my Blessing with it, and my Prayers that God may send you safe & well home with your Cargoes. I would not attempt persuading you to quit the military Line, because I think you have the Qualities of Mind and Body that promise your doing great Service & acquiring Honour in that Line. Otherwise I should be happy to See you again here as my Successor; having sometime since written to Congress requesting to be reliev’d, and believing as I firmly do, that they could not put their Affairs in better Hands._

Source — Benjamin Franklin to John Laurens, [May 17, 1781]

But Laurens was firm on his word that he would not be returning to any diplomatic positions;

I take this opportunity of returning Your Excellency my best thanks for the indulgent expressions in the letter which you did me the honor to write previous to my departure from Paris_ I repeat to Your Excellency that it was only a principle of obedience that brought me to Europe on the present occasion_ that I have not the most remote inclination to engage in the diplomatic line_

Source — John Laurens to Benjamin Franklin, [May 22, 1781]

[venture-through-the-mist]

Tennotober 2024

My collection of works based on the Tennotober 2024 prompts.

Hi all! I wanted to take part in Tennotober 2024, but I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to draw 31 art pieces, so I’m doing some fics instead!

The Warframe Tennotober 2024 Prompt List can be found here: https://forums.warframe.com/topic/1412660-official-tennotober-2024-megathread/

Day 1: Captain: Rescue No. Two-Thousand and Eighteen

He had two-thousand and seventeen successful rescues to his name. Yet, it seems that the Captain’s luck has run out.

TW: None for this chapter.

The fic begins under the cut. Hope y’all enjoy!

He taps his long claws along the wall of the ship, careful not to scrape the paint.

Click. Click. Click.

He checks his logs, ensuring that the rescue had been properly recorded. One more for the docket. Yet, he knows that his mission isn’t over, a fact solidified as a garbled plea echoes through the comms.

“If an—ne’s out there, we are S——a—re in n-eed of as–st—nce.” He turns to his Navigation console, tracing the source of the distress call to an area of Corpus-controlled space. He shakes his head, disgust flickering in his nearly-silent mind. ‘For Profit’, aye? No concern over the citizens that they capture. The Captain keys in the coordinates, readying his ship for the rescue. His Shadow swirls eagerly around him, knowing that its claws would taste the blood of the wicked soon enough.

“Void Storm ahead. Take caution.” The warning echoes through the ship’s PA system just before the skies turn turbulent, as the bright flashes of teal energy thunder across the empty sky. No matter, he thinks, he has braved these storms before. It will pass. His ship can weather the damage, and once it comes out on the other side, he will be able to add yet another rescue to his tally. 

They totaled two-thousand and seventeen thus far. A startling high number for any ship, much less one with…a being such as him at the helm. He should feel pride in that fact, but he does not. He does not feel much of anything, not aside from the biting urge to keep going. He has the ability to be the salvation for those trapped in deep space, those taken hostage by enemy ships. He must put said ability to use.

The enemy calls him the ‘Reaper’. He supposes that the title is not incorrect. His Shadow rather enjoys the feeding it receives when faced with the terrible, corrupt beings. If he must be the Reaper in order to strike fear into the hearts of those who warrant it, then so be it. 

He feels the ship shudder, engines screaming over the howl of the Void. She lurches as the burning rubble pelts her hull. He remains at his place, his experienced hands at the helm, guiding the ship further into the storm. This is not her maiden voyage, she will see this through. He propels onward as the Void wails, the wave-like energy rippling through the sky. 

When he hears the hiss of air seeping out of the ship, he knows that something is wrong. A piece of rubble, flung wildly by the tempest in the sky, had struck its hull, piercing it. It seems that this storm is of a larger magnitude than he had presumed, a larger magnitude than his ship can cross. The Void sinks its fangs in, tangling through the walls, leaving mangled metal in its wake. 

The ship lurches, and he watches as they are pulled towards a gaping maw, swirling with viridian light. He sends out a distress signal, though he knows that it will be too late, as his ship is swallowed whole. He feels himself moving, realizing that the hole in the hull has widened. The Void swirls around him, and his energy wanes. A calm washes over him, though he fights it, digging his claws into the wall. 

His efforts are for naught. As he is dragged from his post, his Shadow swirls, following him. He silently commands it to halt. It does. It listens to his final orders.

Do not abandon our ship. She cannot lose both her Captains. Find my corpse. A proper burial is in order when we return to our home skies.

His grip loosens, his claws slipping. The Void drags him from his vessel, though oddly, he feels something close around him as it does—a life-pod, he realizes, his Shadow’s final attempt to save him.

He floats into the Void, his strength sapping from him even with the pod’s shell. He thinks of the crew of that unnamed ship, of rescue number two-thousand and eighteen. The single failure in all his years of service. He will remember them. 

As his vision wanes, the dark teal of the Void turning to black, the Captain of the Tempestarii listens. In the midst of the Void’s silence, he wonders if he is imagining that quiet, sorrowful call.