#I can barely function beyond work and it's killing me

[cosmiicfairy]

🗑

[elexuscal]

So just over a year ago, I made a resolution to myself to get better at Fitness, since I was getting older and i knew if i didn't, the Consequences would begin to manifest. One problem? Historically i have always hated working out.

i knew there were two main reasons why: 1. lingering trauma from the usual Fat/Neurodivergent Kid Mistreated In PE Class Experience 2. oh my god it's so so so boring i would rather do anything more entertaining.

So. I'm not an expert, and i'm definitely not a professional fitness instructor, BUT i have genuinely come to not just tolerate but actually enjoy exercise this past year. So if these are any problems you personally have contended with, these strategies May Help.

One: Remove Barriers

a lot of flavours of neurodivergence struggle with switching between tasks and executive function generally, especially towards something you don't find fun. So first you gotta identify any barriers keeping you from exercising, and removing or mitigating them.

For me, a hurdle i recognised is that if I could not easily access the equipment, I was unlikely to use it. honestly if i couldn't see it i would probably forget it was there. So my first order of business was making a Work Out Zone. I unrolled my yoga mat and gave it a near-permanent place in my room. my weights came out of the closet and placed on a low shelf where i could easily access them, as did my resistance band. now they were always Right there.

I also realised something I detested was the general feeling of sweaty clothes, and in particular, having to change out of them. So Gross. so i started scheduling my work outs for in the the morning after breakfast or right before my nightly showers, aka: when I am changing in and out of my PJs. I'll do my routine (mostly) naked and not have to contend with the extra steps and laundry that sweaty clothes bring.

two: secondary entertainment

like i said: i found exercise very boring. and while i've gotten better over the past year, and can find it meditative, i still prefer having something else to catch my attention.

i used to like to put on video essays. but then i realised i was so often pausing my work outs because the particular video ended, or the pace got slow, or the topic turned to something dark and depressing out of nowhere and killed the vibe, so then i had to stop to find something else--

No. You need something that will keep you in the zone, and won't knock you out of it. I didn't used to listen to music much, but this year i took advantage of a Spotify subscription my sister gifted me (😔) and started just putting on upbeat rock, hip-hop, and pop mixes. it doesn't need to be my favouirte music ever it just needs to Keep Going.

i do find the loud, rhythmic music is really good for keeping my pace up, but if music doesn't do it for you, you might find audiobooks or autoplaying favourite old tv shows/sitcoms might scratch that itch.

Three: Find Other Motivators

Or, "if you can't make your own motivation, store bought is fine"

Gameification is really good here. You might be someone who'll benefit from a pedometer or step-counter app. I have a friend who swears by the Switch Ring-Fit, and I've also heard of folks who use games like Just Dance, Zombies, Run! and Beat Saber to rely on the sweet sweet endorphins generated by hitting a high score.

(BUT: do beware the dark side of gameification, which is the risk of demotivation if you don't hit your goals. For example, after doing GREAT on exceeding my step goal for a month, I got hit with COVID. For about a week and a half I was barely moving beyond the kitchen and back. My step counts plummeted, there was no way to edit the record out, and that made it harder to get back into the groove. Be mindful relying too much on gameification!)

Even outside of literal games, there are ways to scratch this itch. I used secondary objectives as a way to encourage me to keep up with my daily walks. Walking my roommate's dog when he was working long days is an obvious one, but we don't always have a furry friend at our disposal. Then I would rely on mini-challenges like, "pick up 10 cool rocks to paint", "fill this bag with wood for the fireplace", "take 10 pretty pictures", or "get to the corner store to get more milk".

And of course, consider team sports! Many folks I've talked to feel having set training/play times with a team that relies on them crucial to keep them on track!

Four: Don't Measure Success By Weight Loss

I know. I know. Easier said than done. It does not help that like 80% of workout resources online are going to mention this. but above all else, you must resist the beast. (and while not as dicey, measuring success by visible muscle gain can fall into a similar trap).

The biggest benefits to exercise are invisible. it improves cardiovascular health, brain function, tissue regeneration, immune system function, lung capacity, energy levels, literally our whole body. no matter what external changes your body does or doesn't go through, you're still going to be benefitting from exercise, and you do not want to get demotivated chasing unrealistic/irrelevant goals.

Instead, to track your progress, focus on questions like these:

How is exercise impacting my mood? Do I feel less stressed or anxious?

Am I sleeping better?

Is my balance improving?

Is my stamina increasing?

Am I becoming more flexible?

Can I lift/carry heavier weights?

Is my breath control improving?

Over the last year, I've seen marked improvements in all of these. My joints don't hurt as much; it's easier for me to to get up and move; I don't get winded as easily; I generally feel more relaxed and cheerful. Those are all amazing outcomes, and I hope that everyone on their own fitness journey can find the same joy there as I have.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Well...That Esclated Quickly

Here is another idea that came to me during my walk to work.  I want you to know, though it goes in a humorous direction it really is not a full fix-it. 

When Order 66 went live, some of the chips did not activate. There is no rhyme nor reason as to which chips activate and which did not. Not a huge amount compared to the whole, but some. Enough that a few hundred Jedi and a Few thousand Clones regroup in the aftermath. 

While you can fill in most of the blanks the following are included in my idea

Obi Wan Kenobi and a company’s worth of 212th clones, including Cody: Obi Wan was still shot off the cliff, to the horrified eyes of the still free clones. The still free clones don't have enough numbers to take on their brethren who appear to have gone insane, but do have enough to steal one of the midsized transport ships, one capable of hyperspace flight.  They reluctantly allow Obi Wan to go to Coruscant on his own, with the rationale that one person can sneak to the surface much easier than a whole company, while the clones establish a regroup point.  From there Obi Wan goes on the Mustafar, which ends as it did in canon. Obi Wan brings Padme to the transport ship where she still dies of complications of her pregnancy

Fox, Hound, a dozen other members of the CG, and the Younglings: Fox and the few members of the CG that were unaffected by O66 raced to beat the 501st to the Temple. They made it just a few minutes before their enslaved brothers. Just barely in time to evacuate the children in the creche with the help (and insistent sacrifice) of the adult Jedi.  While there were a few Creche Masters evacuated with the children, it was now basically just Fox and his CG functionally in charge of baby Jedi ranging from Babies to Pre teens. They connect with remains of the 212th before the events of Mustafar. 

Yoda, who did still have to kill his commander in order to escape, but was able to bring a few clones with him.  They still end up being collected by Bail Organa.

Ahsoka, Rex, Jesse and  a portion of the maintenance team for their battalion: They do not meet up with the rest for quite some time (at least three years). Rex’s chip did activate but he was able to get Ahsoka the message about Fives. After Rex is freed they find Jesse and the other free clones (soft shells all) looking on in horror at their controlled brethren. With the help of the maintenance team they are able to escape from the ship without freeing Maul or crashing into the moon.  By the time they are able to look past the immediate situation, the Temple is already burning and it has been announced that the Jedi are traitors. These 25 or so go to ground in Mandalorian space and try to figure out how to free the clones from the chips (beyond surgery which really does not work with the numbers they have to deal with). They do not realize anyone else has survived. 

Aayla survived, due to one of the clones (not Bly) pushing her out of the way and sacrificing his life for her. Bly’s chip does work. She escapes with two dozen free clones and six chipped clones tied up in the back (Including Bly, even the clones agree they cannot save everyone and hopefully it means that they can figure out what is going wrong).

Shaak Ti, 10 Veteran clones, 40 ‘Shinies’, 300 child and teenage cadets, three junior Kaminoan Scientists (not Nala Se) none of which knew about the chip or Order 66, and Omega.  Shaak Ti had been working with a few Kaminoan Scientists to see the clones as sentients in their own right and the reactions of the clones under the chip's control horrified a few of those scientists.  Between them and Omega, who had been paying attention and used this as a chance to escape the lab (the Bad Batch being off planet at the time) they were able to evacuate anyone not under the control of the chip. 

All of these people (Barring Ahsoka and Co) converge on the ship that had been stolen by the free 212th clones. Had less children survived (about a third of the living Jedi are children under the age of 11, plus the cadets) they all would likely have split into small groups and made their own way through the galaxy. But there was just no way to break into small enough groups to be safe AND still make sure the children (and to some extent the Shinies) were taken care of.  They were also too large a group to go anywhere in the Republic, or even anywhere in Mandalorian space (There were an awful lot of uninhabited planets in the galaxy but most were uninhabited for a reason). Thus there was only one thing they could do.

Take over the Hutt Empire.

To be fair the take over part did start out accidentally. The actual goal was to find a place to lay low in the Hutt Empire, possibly the only place Palpatine’s Empire could not reach quite yet(at least until Palpatine solidified his rule). 

So they found a planet within the Hutt Empire to lay low on, While Bail Organa left to begin planting the seeds for the rebellion (No Leia as the twins were not being split up). As much as I want it to be Tattoine, it just has too small a population to not have a couple of thousand people (Most of whom hide their very distinctive faces) showing not be noticeable. So they choose a planet with a higher population. 

This is where the trouble began. All of our adults are deeply traumatized, trained warriors who are not used to sitting by, universally feeling useless. They are facing an insurmountable task, still mostly directionless, and deeply angry at life.  

It starts with the local Hutt’s minions trying to shake down some newcomers, who were not looking for a target to vent their spleen but found one just the same. It does not end well for the minions. Nor the next six attempts, with different groups of Clones and Jedi each time.  No one has told Command yet, but they look at each other and ‘shit we can’t keep drawing attention to ourselves but we can’t leave either’

The solution (Commander Cody himself would like to reiterate this was not the correct solution)? Take out the Hutt. Then they realize that taking out the Hutt has just drawn more attention to this city as the other Hutts for the planet try to figure out who took out this one.

The next Solution? Take out the rest of the Hutts on the planet. 

They have now drawn even more attention to the planet from yet more Hutts. This is the one thing that is critical they do not have. 

The next Solution? Try three to make this plan work (Commander Cody reminds you that trying the same thing over and over again, hoping for different results, is the definition of insanity) and take out the Hutts looking for answers. 

By the time that these small groups have admitted to Command (Obi Wan, Cody, Yoda, Shaak Ti, Fox) what is going on, a few months later, they have accidentally taken over the Hutt Empire.

The Hutt Empire that is still nominally allied with Palpatine’s Empire. The Hutt Empire that has to stay allied to Palpatine’s Empire if they do not want to draw the attention of the entire Imperial Forces to the largest concentration of living Jedi and free Clones in the galaxy.  The Hutt Empire that no longer has any active Hutts. 

In this the human centric leaning of Palpatine’s Empire is actually helpful.  They very rarely wanted to deal with other species, so it was easy to appoint someone unknown but human to deal with the com calls and visits. It does mean that they have to make up a Hutt that they essentially have to play ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ with, a couple of times a year when a representative insists on meeting with the Hutt in charge. 

Also the fact that Palpatine’s Empire is more interested in enslaving their own citizens for free as opposed to buying them from the Hutts means that they can shut down the slave trade within Hutt Space (over time).  Fox both loves and hates running a criminal empire. 

It should be noted that, even with Bly and the five other chipped clones, no one actually knows what is going on until Rex and Co find their way back to them.  We are going with the thought that a level 5 atomic scan is a ludicrously high level of scanning. Like sitting on a Nuclear Reactor to get an X-Ray kind of ludicrous, so not only does no one think to do that level of scanning to see what is wrong, but they do not even have that kind of equipment readily available.  The reports about Fives from Rex never made it to any kind of centralized repository, there is no way to know why most clones suddenly started to kill Jedi. Bly and Co spend the three years before Rex shows up in a makeshift brig, they can function almost normally until a Jedi is brought up or in the room with them. 

Bail laughs his ass off when he is told, through several intermediaries and coded messages, that the Jedi and the Clones accidentally took over a criminal empire.  Then he starts funneling the Path and the people his rebellion are rescuing into Hutt Space to find the Jedi. 

Three years in Rex, Ahsoka, the clones with them (now having grown to nearly another thousand) arrive with the news that they can disable the chips from a distance of about a large cruiser. 

That is how the Hutt Empire became freedom fighters.

[ludinusdaleth]

while people have many mixed thoughts about the off-kilter dynamics of the bells hells, i think it provides a very fascinating dichotomy.

from the beginning, ludinus has sowed mistrust in exandria. he grooms the dwendal line to despise every other country and seek isolationism above all else. he attempted to ensure chaos in jrusar so that it would be too difficult for them to react quickly to the bloody bridge. he banks on vasselheim refusing to take the aid or advice of the grim verity to take out both - the verity one by one, and vasselheim in a massive sweep at the key. but he also is known far and wide as a master negotiator. he helps negotiate the peace between wynandir & xhorhas (after war that he sparked - by working with the xhorhasian wizard essek). he keeps the peace between assembly members - hell, the fact he even managed to recreate the cerberus assembly, and created tentative peace between the empire & mages, is a feat in itself. he knows when to put his pride away and accept help. his very first spoken line is loudly agreeing with beau, a cobalt soul member, over the rest of his war council, and he (almost) humbly asks yudala for the cobalt souls aid, and before the nein ask a thing of him personally he ensures the cobalt soul cannot find yasha as guilty for obann's crimes - and absolutely, those actions are connected. he does everything to ensure he wins but he does it with grace, to the point he - avid god despiser who seeks to kill them all - sees fjords wildmother amulet.... points it out cheekily, and never reports it.

the bells, bless their hearts, they try, but they have barely any trust in them. they were already people utterly traumatized by betrayal before yu betrayed them, before fcg was revealed to be wired as a killer, before everything. they have tried to patch things and can communicate at this point but it is obvious even now they lack two very fundamental things - the internalization of the fact that ludinus is counting on discord to win, and most importantly, the ability to wholly agree on a set plan to a set goal. ludinus races with liliana to predathos with the understanding that he, liliana, & otohan are a team that must work as effectively as possible for a goal they collectively believe in. the bells have that loosely - stop ludinus. but the very road to getting there is rocky beyond belief. imogen is pressured by orym to dig into predathos's psyche just as she realizes she's scared of it, just as orym is losing himself to the soldier psyche, and laudna stares him down as she argues. they believe the end goal of their trust is to simply tell the others they're about to do something dangerous when hardly any of them can process they dont have to be cannon fodder. i am aware of the fact we dont have full vanguard context here, but often i think of otohan jeering at zathuda, an archfey, as she wholeheartedly sides with ludinus over him when the elf isnt even there, contrasted with orym pulling fearne aside to ask her to kill imogen if they need to.

ludinus has seen the rise & fall of so much. im sure he witnessed the selfishness of wizards like the somnovem or perhaps the original cerberus assembly. he took it as a lesson, and that is why he is at the top of the world while vess & trent & thousands of others faltered. the bells cannot often take their trauma and turn it into a healthy understanding. they are literal children in age compared to ludinus but many have a kind of arrested development as well due to their trauma, and it becomes more cruelly obvious the longer their quest continues. the difference between ludinus & the bells functionality is so staggering it is one of the most fascinating parts of c3 to me.

[mitsuki91]

@hamriceagenda this is for you! You inspired me.

Enjoy my Katniss/Gale for you 💖

@tumblingghosts I tag you too since you reblogged my post!

What remains

Summary:

"They’re not coming back, Katniss."

Peeta? My mother? Snow, or Coin to destroy my life from beyond the grave?

Prim?

"No one's coming back."

Stressing the obvious has always been his prerogative, and my lips curve into a bitter smile.

"But you're staying."

A moment's pause, as the icy wind rattles the bare branches above our heads.

"I'm staying. Like you."

Link on ao3:

Author notes: I can't format on tumblr. This is visually better on ao3.

It happened after the first incident.

Peeta had only been back a month. A month since I had seen him planting primroses for me, him and his sun-flavored smile.

It seemed like a day like any other, me returning from hunting and him tending the garden. The sun at its zenith and Haymitch's geese quacking. Someone had dropped something heavy just down the street and the noise had made both me and Peeta jump with fright.

Suddenly I had his hands on my neck again, his horrified expression inches from my face. Someone screamed, someone ran and snatched him away from me - someone saved me. From Peeta's murderous fury.

And so it happened, exactly one day, two hours and twenty minutes after Peeta tried to kill me a second time.

Gale came back.

***

"I thought you were in Two, immersed in your military career."

"But you needed me, Katniss."

***

Sometimes I wonder what I did wrong to deserve this.

I know my life doesn't belong to me - I knew this from the first moment Prim's name was drawn in the Hunger Games - but I wonder what the point of fighting any longer is. After all, I have fulfilled my function in this world. I have been a Mockingjay, I have been the Girl on Fire, I have been the Face of the Revolution. The last arrow shot, the end of the Games. Why am I not allowed to escape even from myself now? Why am I forced to stay, why am I not allowed to slip over the edge?

Peeta has been taken away.

'Unstable', so Capitol City declared him. How they found out is a mystery - or perhaps one of the many things I don't want to admit even to myself. A suspicion, an unspoken thing, lurking in the shadows behind me.

Because now I am no longer alone.

I am not and - I would like to abandon myself, but I can't. I cannot because he looks at me.

Gale.

And when Gale looks at me, everything about me tenses by instinct - it's the sadness in his eyes. That magnet that is impossible to ignore. A center of gravity that pulls me along, preventing me from drifting.

An anchor.

And I hate him for it, too.

***

"That's not true. I never needed you."

The flash of a smile, cruel.

"My only quality was taking care of your family. And you are what remains."

 ***

The sun burns high in the sky as July sets, even in the early morning.

Gale is with me in the woods, like every day.

In silence, like every day. He can no longer speak of injustice and revolution now - they are no longer imaginary dreams, but lived nightmares.

I ignore him, as I have become good at doing. But he does not give up. He has turned into my shadow.

I just have to not look him in the eye.

The anchor is always there, keeping me clinging to myself even as Peeta's absence burns in my soul. I can always pretend he doesn't exist, though.

If I don't look at him, he doesn't exist. If I don't talk to him, he's not real.

I know he knows it hurts me. I know he knows that what I had with Peeta was real, and that the loss of what we could have been is destroying me to the core.

Killed before I can even taste life.

But Gale is too much like me and uses the same techniques against me.

If his eyes do not let me go, I cannot disappear. If his mouth is sealed, he cannot lose to Peeta.

The world won't change until one of us gives in. And, deep down, we both know it'll be me who surrenders.

***

"We're too similar to make it work, Gale. You know that. I don't need that in my life."

A step forward, one foot crushing a dandelion.

"I won't believe you until you tell me by looking at my face."

***

The beginning of November brings a week of uninterrupted rain and a sudden frost that turns the primrose bed into a muddy, dead mush. 

I feel myself dying a little with it, watching it through the window and feeling helpless.

It is like losing her a second time. Will this torment ever end? 

Gale comes back into the house at that moment with a handful of wood in his arms and does his best to light the fireplace. I close my eyes for a second and inhale deeply, because I know that if I do it now, I won't be able to go back. But the decision is already made. It is only a question of coming to terms with what I want to do - no, what I need to do. To not lose Prim. To never let her go again. 

"Gale" I call softly, in a whisper, and I hear him stand up and turn to me.

I turn as well.

And I stare him straight in the eyes.

Because I know Prim is there. She is the ghost that inhabits those gray irises, consumed by guilt. And if I look into his eyes, I can almost see her.

If I look into his eyes, I already know that I will have to surrender.

Because nothing breaks my heart more than seeing Gale sad, and I know only one viable solution to erase the torment from his soul.

I try to resist, anyway. I enjoy my sister dancing devoured by the fire at the bottom of his eyes, and I postpone the inevitable to a new day.

***

"They’re not coming back, Katniss."

Peeta? My mother? Snow, or Coin to destroy my life from beyond the grave?

Prim?

"No one's coming back."

Stressing the obvious has always been his prerogative, and my lips curve into a bitter smile.

"But you're staying."

A moment's pause, as the icy wind rattles the bare branches above our heads.

"I'm staying. Like you."

***

'A complete separation is necessary for the serenity of the subject' is the last line penned by one of Capitol City's most renowned doctors, in a graceful and elegant handwriting.

I clasp the letter in my hands as snowflakes fall placidly around me. I didn't even go back into the house before I tore open the envelope, I just stood by the mailbox reading.

It was devastating to discover how, despite all the months that had passed, I still had hope. My mind had long since given up; my heart and soul, however, had different ideas.

I return home feeling almost light, drained while everything around me seems unreal.

It is not real. It is not real. It cannot be real because I, because I...

The letter slips through my hands and I advance towards the sofa, where Gale is taking a nap. I watch him for a moment, trapped in that suspended realm where illusion still dominates over reality, and then I realize. Enlightenment hits me.

 I never kissed Gale because I wanted to make him feel good in the past.

I kissed him because if I could become the right girl for him, even for a moment, then it meant I no longer had to be Katniss Everdeen.

I kneel beside him and grab his face. Before he can fully wake up, my lips are already on his. He won't mind coming back to the world like this, I hope.

If by kissing him I can become whoever I want, then that means I can also be the girl who was never in love with Peeta - the girl who never lost him.

***

"You're the one who wanted it."

Both of our breaths are broken, his cheeks are red and his gaze is hard as steel.

"You can't regret it now, Katniss."

***

There is an aspect of fire that I had never considered before. That destructive force that animates us, that ignites us with its desperation, can be channeled in many ways.

It was with Gale that I discovered passion.

Pain is best expressed when you can carve flesh with your nails, then lick the trails of ferruginous blood returning from orgasm. Guilt is best borne when you can at least partially atone for it when it all comes down to an irrational instinct to grab, to have, to suffer - and only the dark bruises remain, which you look at with a satisfied smile the next day.

You no longer feel the guilt of being alive during the day, if in the night you season your nightmares with sex, which seems to erase all sin.

Even Gale seems more relaxed.

There is always Prim in the back of his eyes, dancing on skulls and ashes. But she smiles, for once. She is serene and watches me live with a mysterious smile.

To have Gale is to have her and that I can never give up.

Gale smiles much more often. When we go out hunting together; we don't speak, but sometimes he holds me in his arms and the world thins out around us.

Understanding each other with a glance and without making noise has always been a prerogative of us hunters. We have known each other almost all our lives and, after all, we both live with the same ghosts.

Since I have had the courage to look, everything seems to have fallen into place.

I'm not saying my life is perfect, not this, never this. But Gale is my rock.

And with him, I know I can live one more day.

***

"Where are you going?"

He smiles, amused by the hint of panic in my voice.

"Just to the market, to buy bread."

"I'll go with you. Wait for me."

"As you wish, Katnip ."

[ivymarquis]

i know i'm late and i want to hear about all your wips tbh but i have to admit that "Boot Worship + Hate sex (COD/Konig x Reader)" got me going real 👀👀👀 (--direwombat)

Fun fact! This is the fic that totally derailed my kinktober! Both between the fact I was rapidly realizing that the word counts I was hitting with my entries was not sustainable with my schedule (3.2k before clothes even came off) and I hit a wall and was hating it (although looking back months later, it’s substantially better than I initially thought it was so maybe I’ll try to finish it. Surely no one will mind if I do kinktober in January/February baha)

Konig being an asshole, unhealthy work dynamics, boot worship, hint of puppy play under the cut

"My problem?" he intones. A man of his stature doesn't need to yell but God does she wish he would. Her skin fucking crawls at the smooth, level cadance of his voice. There's a fire in his eyes that she can see now that she's close enough to him (even if she has to crane her neck up).

He doesn't stop advancing with those slow, deliberate, heavy steps until her nerves finally get the best of her and a single foot lifts and steps back away from him.

"My problem is you are young and cocky and entitled. That for all your talent you don't know what to do with any of it and I'm not sure if you're more of a disappointment because you lack the discipline to hone that skill, or because your newfound independent streak one day will lead to one of your brothers being killed in the line of duty trying to cover your ass, when you are the one who has caused this entire problem to begin with."

For all your talent rings in her ears- it's the first compliment she can recall him ever giving, even if it's placed so nicely in front of the fact that he views her as a disappointment and a liability.

"You are fucking impossible to please, you know that? I have no idea why the hell you've been gunning for me since the day I stepped foot in here. I have tried so hard to prove myself to you that I know how to do my damn job correctly and all you can do is micromanage me to the point I have no choice but to fail because I'm not a damned mind reader and you keep moving the goal post. You're so damn difficult to work with and I just-" Her words cut off abruptly as he steps closer into her space. It's actually incredibly frustrating for her that even in the midst of what she is sure will turn into a knockdown, drag out, ground zero, "clear the air" fight- at the end of the day she knows why König's blatant disapproval bothers her so much.

She wants this man so badly that it makes her look stupid. She barely keeps the cognitive brain function to remember how to dot her I's and cross her Ts correctly when he's watching her. Tells herself it’s just frustration and the constant lowgrade anxiety he’s got her tizzied up in from the incessant disapproval as her fingers find their way below the hemline of her underwear at night.

"You want my approval?" The way he’s crowding her space shouldn’t be making her stomach flip like this. “Let’s start simple and see if you can follow simple fucking orders, hm? Kneel.”

This is out of line yet she complies immediately. It’s a hell of a dissonance, being so utterly pissed off beyond all belief at someone who she fantasizes about constantly.

She goes to the obvious line of thought- that he wants her to suck his dick.

She should be telling him to go to hell and booking it straight for Majka and Ridgeback.

Overachiever that she is, once she’s on the ground looking up at him- he has to crane his neck down just to look at her-, her hands moving up towards the buckle of his belt.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Each word has more bite to it than the last and she flinches like he’s slapped her despite him not having made a move.

“I-” she stammers, “I thought-”

He cuts her off “That’s your fucking problem. You keep thinking. You are not paid to think, you are paid to follow fucking orders. I only told you to kneel. You. Don’t. Listen.”

God he is such a fucking asshole.

“You want to act like a puppy with no manners? That is fine. I know how to train a bitch to heel.”

Even for all the vitriol she has dealt with in her career, she's never quite been spoken to so callously. Of course he has no hesitation in doing so, however- why would he.

She should be shooting up to her feet and leaving his office, and yet she sits perfectly still as he takes a half step closer to her. The bulge of his groin- jesus he's not even hard, it doesn't look like he is at least- is at eye level with her before one of those giant hands of his reaches out and pushes at her shoulder- makes her sit on her heels with a featherweight touch as assuredly as if he'd put real effort into it.

She doesn't balk or shy from him even when one hand takes a fistful of her hair to hold her still.

She shouldn't be allowing this. This is humiliating and debasing and she has not spent the last years of her life becoming excellent at her job just to be treated as a living doll.

And yet she sits perfectly still even as he moves one of his massive feet between her legs. She doesn't sink down onto it nor lift up away from it, allowing him to place his boot where he deems fit.

"Don't think I don't know," he starts, and she stares at him with wide eyes. "You're not quite as subtle as you think you are." Oh that is not ideal by any stretch of the imagination.

"I think you lash out because you want my attention. You're so focused on it you aren't paying attention, and subsequently digging yourself deeper into the little hole you've made for yourself with me." he continues like he isn't holding her like a dog on a leash.

"So we're going to get a handle on this, because I'm not going to be as indulgent of your little temper tantrums going forward."

The boot scoots ever so slightly more snug underneath her and she tries to ignore the fact she hasn't had any male attention in quite a long time. She has her faults, sure but she is not about to hump his leg like the ill mannered puppy he wants to claim her to be.

"That's a good girl, Schatz, waiting for me like you are supposed to. Maybe you can be coachable after all. Now, you very clearly have some built up tension that needs an appropriate outlet,"

She bites back a snort. Not a single thing about this situation is appropriate.

"So we will start with releasing some of that pent up energy. So go ahead and use my boot like a good little puppy and we can get on with our day, hm?"

It is never too late to ask me about my WIPs!

[rustycopper4use]

It’s Always Been You pt14

(Kyoya x Male Reader)

Chapter fourteen

-The Refreshing Battle Of Karuizawa!-

   The morning sun peeks throughout the kitchen, the floor reflecting off the light. the cool tiles sending shivers down Y/n’s back. 

   A cup in hand  he heads to the counter, and sits on the sliver stool.  

   For the last few days during summer break has been a drag. he has been working damage control ever since the newspaper incident. He felt guilty about hiding his involvement with a host club, but it was for the best.

   he was able to convince his mom it was all just a misunderstanding. couldn’t even remember the conversation itself, just ended up blanking out and spitting quick answers.

   But still, she wasn’t convinced but she let it go, she’ll definitely bring it up later down the road.

   However, now she’s back to nitpicking his every move. Least to say he was beyond exhausted, a miracle he hasn’t dropped dead. 

  Now here he sits barely functioning, a husk of the little glory he once was.

  Clutching his abomination of a drink. The now cold cup sat there and he just stared at the bottom of the cup, the cup seemly staring back. 

  Maybe he does need to take a break .

He would now have the time to himself-…

 Dudu du du~ 

His phone lit up.

Of course it would be Tamaki, before he answered he made himself another cup,

   He picked up his phone, answered and put in back on the counter.

 “SHE’S GONE!” Tamaki screeched. Making Y/n jump scrambling to lower the volume.

  “My beloved daughter has vanished off the face of the earth! She must’ve been kidnapped by a group of criminals! 

 I just know it! Contact the police! We have to request an emergency deployment of the S.D.F!” Tamaki rambled, pulling at strings.

    Y/n sighed already feeling the headache. Then takes another swig of his drink.

 “Wait slow down, you’re not making any sense. What?” The twins spoke.

   “What do you mean Haruhi’s gone?” 

“Haruhi went missing! And her family must’ve gone bankrupt!” Tamaki frantically tried to explain.

   “That must be the only explanation! I have tried calling her home phone and no one has answered.”

   “Boss please not so loud. Did you tried calling her cell?” Hikaru grumbled.

    “Cell phone! Why on earth would she have a cell phone!” He yelled, before taking a deep breath.

    “Of course, she was issued one by a secret underground network of commoners known as the Phebeian Exchange.” He genuinely believed. 

   “Tamaki how did you make it this far? You can’t really think that’s what happened.”  Y/n finally joined in, taking a sip.

  “Sorry to interrupt your delusion but, Haruhi is currently in Karuizawa.” Kyoya informed.

 “Eh? Haruhi was turned out of her home, kidnapped by criminals, and forced into servitude in Karuizawa?” Tamaki questioned.

   “Moron.” Kyoya plainly spoke.

 Y/n just hanged up the phone, it was too much to deal with Tamaki today. 

   He chugged the last of the drink and tossed it in the sink.

 Dudu du du~

“You got to be kidding me…” he whispered answering the call again.

   “What now?” He groaned.

Some shouts were heard from the other line.

   “Yeah sure, I can go to Karuizawa-.” Tamaki hanged up, ready to tell the others of his sane plan.

  “I can’t have a day off can I?” He

————-

   Now here the host club is in a charming building, the fresh smell of breakfast filled the area, and lively chatter accompanied it.

  “Oh my!” The woman swooned.

 “What dashing young me you are! These hunks must belong to Haruhi!” She giggled.

“Why don’t you call me Misuzu-chi?” She introduced herself to the group.

    “He’s an old friend of Ranka’s. They used to work together in the same shop years ago.” Kyoya explained, looking down at his black notebook.

   “Well naturally you would know.” Tamaki grumbled.

   “Kill me now…” Haruhi groaned looking off to the side.

 Misuzu starts to spin, emphasizing her point.

   “I went into business for myself two years ago, and believe me. Running this adorable little pension is like living a fairy tale~”

   “So then, is Haru-chan like your indentured servant?” Honey spoke holding Usa-chan.

   “She’s more like an unpaid employee. It Also happens to be Ranka’s preferred method for keeping track of his daughter while he’s busy working.” Kyoya pushes up his glasses.

 “What the?” Tamaki slides next to Kyoya irritated.

   “How do you know all of this stuff?”

 “Kill me…” Haruhi repeated, the bliss of this vacation away from the club is now ruined.

 “‘Take my little girl under your wing’, he says. He practically begged me. 

  And since I still can’t afford the expensive hired help, it works out for everyone!” 

    Miszu began to swing Haruhi around by her shoulders, as if she’s a ragdoll.

   “She’s a model employee, really it’s such a shame I can’t pay her anything.” She sighed and turned Haruhi towards the boys.

 “Tell me what you boys think of this cute little apron she’s wearing. I made it myself!”

  The host club all raises a thumbs up. Besides Kyoya who is now writing in his notebook.

  “You are quite an exquisite seamstress!” Tamaki smiled.

  ——

 The sun shined, the grass gently moved with the wind, clouds drifted by. 

   A prefect afternoon day, to spend with people you’re trying to avoid!

“A job huh?” Kaoru noted, 

 as the host club is now all outside enjoying tea.

  “I don’t get it, you turned down our invitation to Bali for this?”

   “And we even asked her to go with us to Switzerland, didn’t we?” Honey adds, as Mori is behind him.

   “We did.”

“Yeah well I still don’t have a passport remember?” Haruhi sighed.

   “Which is precisely why I recommended one of our domestic resorts, at a discount no less.” Kyoya wrote in his notebook.

    “Hell, even I asked her if she wanted to go to an aquarium, I offered to pay too.” Y/n leaned back on his chair with a huff.

  A blonde hair peeks out of the bushes.

“Traitors. Asking Haruhi to go on a summer vacation with you behind my back,” 

  he’s shaking with anger, causing some of the leaves in his hair to fall.

   “Have you no feeling of loyalty, of any solidarity?” He falls to ground.

   “Togetherness is our guiding principle. I work myself to the bone upholding and this is the thanks I get?” He began to dramatically sob 

     “It’s not our fault you don’t have the backbone to ask Haruhi out yourself.” Y/n grinned, as Tamaki began to throw more of a fit.

   “Why was your-“ Hikaru ignored Tamaki’s childish antics.

  “-Phone turned off?”

“I just don’t think about it really.” Haruhi shrugged.

Tamaki turned paled, letting out a gasp. 

    “You… say you have a cellphone?”

  “We convinced her she should borrow one of ours, so we can keep in touch.” The twins states.

   “It’s apart of a special friends and family plan.”

  “-Yeah we are in each other’s top five.” Hikaru showed his phone, with a smug smile.

   “Top five!” Tamaki gasped.

“Friends and family? But wait I’m your daddy and buddy, so I’m part of the plan too, right?” Tamaki nervously spoke.

   “Senpai, whatever planet you’re on, come home.” Haruhi deadpanned.

“Speaking of which-“ Haruhi turned back to the group.

  “Why are you guys even here? I’m going to have to see you guys everyday when the new term starts. Don’t I have the right to spend summer vacation the way I want to?”

   “Well, according to the handbook, jobs are prohibited.” Kyoya reminded, now holding up the school’s manual 

   “I- uh had no idea…” Haruhi stammered in cold sweat.

     “Hey did you hear? Haruhi went and got herself a job without the schools permission.” Hikaru loudly whispered to Kaoru with an evil grin.

   “-No way, that’s ground for expulsion.”   

   Honey is on Mori’s back, while they both read a pamphlet ‘A travellers guid to Karuizawa.’

   “I think Karuizawa is way better than Switzerland anyway.”

   “And overseas travel is so exhausting.” Kyoya spoke.

    “Of course, you do have the right to spend your vacation however you want. But like it or not, so do we.   

And you know, I for one find Pension Miszu to be exceptionally charming.”  Tamaki smirks tilting Haruhi’s head.

   Haruhi fell to her knees with a groan. Tamaki starts to daydream, with a blissful starry eyed expression.

   “Uh, senpai? Hello?” Haruhi waved a hand over Tamaki’s eyes, he was off in cloud nine.

    “Here I got this.” Y/n picked up a rock, a whipped it at Tamaki’s head. Hitting him straight at back of his head, the rock then pounced off his head landing back on the ground.

   “Hey! What was that for!”  He rubbed his head, tears in his eyes.

   “I’m so sorry boys! I’d love to have you as guests, but I’m afraid there’s only one vacant room left.” Miszu interrupted.

     “Only one room you say? Well that settles it, I’ll have to stay here to represent the club.” Tamaki points to himself.

    “Hey that isn’t fair…” honey starting to tear up.

  “Dont you have any loyalty, no feeling of solidarity? How could you betray the hosts club guiding principles!” Y/n mocked Tamaki.

    “I’m hurt..” he pouted, mimicking Tamaki’s voice.

   “My own words twisted and thrown right back at my face…” Tamaki looked down at his hands.

“Here’s an idea. We bet you’ll like it, why not a little competition?” The twins announced.

   “Call it, The Guest Relations Odd Jobs Contest at Pension Miszu’s!”

Tamaki looks at the twins almost excitedly.

   “It’s very simple, we all lend a hand around the place for the afternoon-“

  “-And whoever makes the best impression on Miszu-chi gets to sleep in the vacant guest bedroom.”

      “That’s brilliant! I think it’s an absolutely delightful idea! Yes, the winner of the contest will be determined by how refreshing they are! Remember, refreshing is the name of the game in guest relations.” Miszu proclaimed.

     “Refreshing yay!” The twins threw their hands in the air.

   “Now don’t think this will be a walk in the park, I’m planning to work you boys to the bone.” Miszu points the group.

   “Sounds like a blast….” Haruhi completely gives up.

    And so the club is off on their way to win another challenge. They were going all in, they’re willing just about anything to win that bedroom.

   Tamaki tried to repair the fence, emphasis on tried. He bashed his finger with the hammer.

   The twins greeting the guests at the door, and were doing an amazing job.

   Haruhi on the other hand-

  “So what’s a refresher point?.” They asked.

   Miszu went on a monologue about the refresher points, how this place is the getaway from the city life and things of that nature. It was nice to see someone so passionate about something.

  Off to the side sat Kyoya and Y/n, kyoya writing in his prestige black notebook. And Y/n digging through his endless abyss of bag.

     After Haruhi noticed the two lack of involvement and came by their table.

 “You guys seem to be keeping your distance from all of this.” Haruhi notes.

   “Of course. Winning means id end up staying here alone, which frankly doesn’t appeal to me. I much rather just sit back and watch things unfold, then head back to the cottage.” Kyoya looked up at Haruhi.

    “Cottage? You mean, your family’s?”

  “That’s right. We all have one in the area.”

   This clearly bothered Haruhi, why go through all the trouble to stay here.

    “So who’s your favourite to win? There must be someone you have in mind. Care to bet on it?”

   “Hm no thanks, I don’t have a clue.”

 “Boooo you’re boring.” Y/n teased.

 “Really? It’s easy enough to tell at a glance Honey-senpai’s brand of cute doesn’t quite fit Misuzu’s notion of refreshing. So I’m afraid he’s out. 

   Tamaki comes a little closer to the ideal, provided he keeps his mouth shut. 

   But, we both know the likelihood of that. Ordinarily you’d figure Hikaru and Kaoru. Then again, it seems we have a dark horse.” Kyoya looked over to Mori chopping wood, shirtless of course.

   “So then you think he’s the one?” Haruhi looked over to Mori as well.

   “Mori wouldn’t go along with it without Honey with him.” Y/n explained.

“Wait now that I think about  you never explain why you aren’t competing, Y/n.” Haruhi looked back.

  “I just don’t want to.” 

   “So that means…”

three turned to look and saw the twins at another table.

   “Victory will be ours.”

   “Well maybe not, I couldn’t help but notice that the only room still available is a single bed. Even if you did win, you both couldn’t stay there.” Haruhi  mentions.

   “No big deal, we can just bring another bed over from the cottage.”

  “-yeah, or we could even squeeze into the single.”

   “How sweet, I guess you guys are always together, huh?” Haruhi gave a little smile.

“Always.”

  “-the two of us have been together since we were born. So we haven’t ever needed anybody else.”

   “We never bothered making other friends up until a few years ago. We thought the world was made up of idiots.”

   “Oh really?” Haruhi tilted her head.

“But then…. Hm, well that was before we knew you. We’d totally let you sleep with us.”

  “…Uh thanks, I’ll pass...”

  “The contest isn’t quite decided yet. There’s still a number of ways to make this game more interesting.” Kyoya pushed up his glasses.

  “Oh yeah? Thinking about helping the boss, are you?”

   “-We’re not going to lose, it’s no use.”

 “-there, all in a days work.” Tamaki wipes his forehead, behind him was the… fence, if you can even call it that.

   It had screws and nails protruding everywhere, none of the fences were even straight, paint somehow already chipped off. A blind person with one hand couldn’t done a better job.

    “Oh your repairs are totally unrefreshing. Three point reduction.” Miszu cringed at the ‘fence’.

   Tamaki screamed hiding in a corner    “He used so much of his energy trying to be refreshing that his work suffered for it. Is he alright in the head?” Haruhi looked over to Tamaki in shambles.

    “He’s never had an actual job before y’know.” Kyoya looked up from his book.

    “I’m still not over the fact that he did such a bad job Miszu had to make up a word to even describe it.” Y/n laughed under his breath.

   “—Hey cut it out! That’s cold!” Kaoru smiled. As they played with a garden hose outside.

   “We have to chill the watermelon, that’s how the guests like it~” Hikaru basically purred.

   “Oh so refreshing!” Some of the guests squealed.

  Tamaki was fuming, how could those shady twins be better than him!

   “She has to understand that I am worthy of being considered part of her top five!” He blurted out.

  This doesn’t go unheard, and Kyoya finally gets his plan in motion.

   “Grandiose ambitions aside, I think your approach to winning is a bit skewed.”

    “Kyoya can’t you see that her esteem for me as a father figure hangs in the balance?”

   “If I may offer some advice-“ Kyoya stood up from his seat over to Tamaki.

  “There’s something only you can pull off-“ Kyoya looked off to the side of the room.

  “That is if you choose the right music.”

 Tamaki look surprised before he walked off to the piano with new found determination.

    When he got there he started to play, all sense of noise was stopped. Everyone stared at him as he played.

   No one talked louder than a whisper.

Miszu stared in awe at the blondes skill.

   “The twins are gonna have a hard time beating this.” Y/n whispered over to Kyoya.

  They both stood by the entrance, looking at Tamaki perform.

  “Look out!” Kaoru voice screamed, coming from just outside.

  “What do you think happened now?” Kyoya glanced outside.

   “He’s probably fine.” Y/n shrugged.

———

A new day comes and the morning is relaxed, despite the club’s history.

   “Get us some breakfast please.” Hikaru, now with a bandaid over his cheek, sits down with Kaoru.

    “-I’ll have two pieces of baguette toast with clarified butter and garnet seal syrup.”

   “I’ll take poached eggs with bacon and a bowl of whole grain cereal, the kind with the pieces of dried fruit in it.”

   “Hold on! We don’t even have that stuff on the menu!” Haruhi notes,

  “Huh?”

 “Hey-!” Tamaki runs over and smacks them both in the head.

   “Just who in the world do you think you are? Acting like  members of some privileged aristocracy on holiday.”

    “We are an aristocracy.”

   “-and so are you, boss.”

 “You are missing the whole point!” Tamaki holds up a serving platter.

   “When in Rome, do as the Roman’s do, that’s what I say.” Tamaki opens the serving platter showing array of dishes.

   “Just look at this. Karuizawa cuisine fit for a king!”

   “-cold pasteurized Jersey steaks, fresh juice, highland vegetables, smoked salmon cooked over cherrywood; the local pride I might add, and last but certainly not least freshly baked breads with homemade jam. Bon appétit.”

    “Since when have you-“

   “Been such a connoisseur?”

 “Oh, since he started learning from Miszu, he’s been  in the kitchen all morning.” Haruhi joined in.

 Tamaki holds up a big book.

   “While the two of you were sleeping the day away, I decided to do start a refreshing host workshop. I even wrote a Manuel.”

    “This is what happens when you enjoy life a little too much…” Y/n muttered, now reading said book.

   “While you are acting as my apprentice you may not treat me as your senpai. That is the first rule I have written.” Tamaki reads out.

  “Wait-… Rule number five says all members have to be up by six am.” Hikaru notes.

   “Kyoya is gonna hate this.” Y/n chuckled.

 Tamaki freezes, and screams out in fear. Kyoya and Honey are the worst to wake up, it’s a death wish to make a rule like it.

    “We didn’t mean to bring up such painful memories!” Kaoru 

   “Well I did so-“

 A Bell chimes throughout the room.

 “Good morning! Arai Produce!” A browned hair boy walked in holding a box.

   “Good morning to you! Working boy eh? A highschooler?” Miszu smiled.

   “Yes ma’am. I’m helping my uncle’s shop for the summer.” He politely smiled.

    “How refreshing!! Haruhi would you put these in the refrigerator for me?”

    “Okay.” Haruhi came over.

 “Haruhi….. Fujioka?” He mumbled out almost star struck.

   “Hey… Arai.”

[quirkle2]

oh nooo that's quite a bummer :( but i'm very glad that i helped brightening up your day :") tbh your writing brightens up my day too (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

AND WAIT I'VE BEEN ACTUALLY QUITE THINKING ABOUT WHETHER ZOMBIE MOB HAS FOUGHT OFF A ZOMBIE WHEN I ASKED IF HE HAS EVER BITTEN SOMEONE and since you brought it up, well, would be okay to ask about the details of how it went 👁️👁️ (also him fighting off a fellow zombie to protect tome got me sobbing)

- 🪻

aww im glad my silly little words brighten ur day!! ur so sweet :]

and yes, it went horribly <3! tome prolly wasn't paying attention as closely as she should've been and got herself surrounded by a crowd. to be clear, that's not Always dangerous, since zombies arent like,, after ur brains in this constantly. but these zombies did look quite hungry, and human or not, she looked like a good meal,,

she had wandered off a bit from mob n ritsu, but mob heard the commotion first. tome has a big fucking baseball bat in this au that she likes to swing around, but a baseball bat can only get u so far in terms of self defense. she thins the horde but there's simply too many of them

mob lets exactly One zombie grab her and yank her toward them before he goes ballistic

watching zombies fight is a lot closer to watching wild animals fight than anything else, and it gets quite horrid sometimes. since their bites aren't rly "dangerous" to each other beyond the typical Oh No a Chunk of Flesh is Gone (not even painful for them, since their nerves r.. less than functional), the fight is a lot more close up and gruesome than a fight against a zombie and a human would be. humans usually back away from zombies immediately and try not to touch them at all in fear of getting bitten; zombies don't need to care abt that

most of the horde realizes that this meal isn't going to be easy and they wander off, but a few more hungry, more desperate ones try to rip into mob's throat at the first sign of defiance. it's not exactly a fair fight; it's like 1 against 4, so he's sorta bound to lose

thankfully ritsu shows up and shoots two of them down (he's Terrified of shooting mob by accident, but either way he'll probably die, so) and tome gets the last one with a good swing to the head. ritsu rushes to mob and is horrified by the amount of blood dripping from his neck and his arm; tome is equally as shocked, but she's mostly thinking, "ive Never seen a zombie defend a human before"

mob's neck is thankfully mostly just scraped up and clawed, but there Is some gruesome punctures where canines sank in and tugged. it's a lot worse along his arm that's bitten and gouged beyond belief. he loses a lot of blood here, but the whole nerves-no-longer-work thing is a blessing in disguise atm; he'd be in a lot of pain otherwise. while ritsu and tome are patching him up w shaky hands he simply glares beyond their shoulders like he thinks he's still in danger, even when they tighten the bandages. it's like he barely notices what they’re doing

his strangely alert behavior makes them think abt the possibility that maybe mob Knows he could've easily been shredded apart there, and he's a little scared and worked up abt it. the only reason he managed to fight as long as he did without dying is prolly bc the other zombies weren't as well-fed as mob—they were kinda weak and shaky from days of no food, but mob has humans taking care of him and keeping him fed 24/7

they're all shaken up by it pretty good.. tome is still reeling from the fact that mob defended her so valiantly, and ritsu is quietly horrified by the idea of another zombie killing mob instead of a human. he doesn't know which is worse

[thegreatyin]

okay so picture this. just run with me here a little bit. open your mind to imagining. behold the reguel lore (abridged, in vogue, i almost died, 3am challenge)

and you're all alone, even when you aren't.

you're made from nothing by the void to be the most special beautiful adorable little creature in the world. and you absolutely adore the void. you're like a little baby duckling and you imprint on the void from the moment of your creation and all you want in the entire world forever and ever is to make your parent happy. and the void makes a handful of other guys exactly like you but you don't even care beyond that it gives them attention instead of you. why does it do that. all you want is to love it. weren't you made to love it. why is it walking away and why is it looking at other things and what are you without it there to guide you and love you back.

you've existed for all of ten minutes but it's horribly horribly unfair because you were made specifically to love the void and it's gone. it leaves you before you can even process it and you're left standing, alone, without a purpose, because the thing you love so so so so so much abandoned you. and the other things it made like you don't even care! they're all running around and living their lives and they can't even see that the void is gone and they don't even understand why this is the worst thing in the history of the universe (that you barely even know anything about).

you try to reach out and be normal but it never works it's not the same. you need the void back you need it to love you what are you without it? you can't imagine yourself without it. you can't comprehend yourself without it. even when you fall in love and even when you're happy and even when you're thriving its absence haunts you. your own family dies. your own family dies and you couldn't save her and you bet the void could've saved her but it wasn't here and everything just gets worse.

when the void tells you to ruin everything you listen because it's the only thing you've ever had and you can never comprehend anything else (you refuse to start comprehending anything else). and you do and you kill the only other thing you love and she's laying there beside you, dead, and you run to the arms of the man who killed your family and he twists you around like putty and you're so tired.

you're so alone.

you just want the void back. you just want (its) love back.

you keep going and you keep spiraling and before you can even look back, your family is dead and gone and broken and the only thing you have left is yourself and the blood still drying on your hands. and you're still alone and the void hasn't come back. why hasn't it come back? are you not good enough for it? that must be it. it must be. surely obviously if you're good enough it can come back and everything will be okay and you'll be loved again.

so you casually start a two million year long cult escapade (as one casually does) and it all goes nowhere. and you're alone. and all you've done your entire life is ruin yourself and everyone around you and you barely know how to function without something that left so long ago there's generations upon generations of your kind that don't even know its name.

you're so alone. you're so deeply, deeply alone. when your most hated enemy embraces you it feels like poison but maybe you love the taste and you deserve it anyway. and he turns out to be good. and he turns out to be full of love. and you've been wrong your entire existence but maybe that's okay and maybe you can live outside of the void's love because its never loved you anyway but also who are you without it? who are you without the thing you've spent eternity chasing?

you don't know. you don't know anymore. you could look in a mortal mirror but the thing staring back doesn't even resemble you. you wonder, briefly, if everyone loves you now that you're lonelier than ever. you wonder if everyone loves you now that you can't fly. now that you're not part of the madness. you miss it. you miss yourself. you miss the void. you miss your family. you miss your family that you murdered in cold blood and you miss it all. you miss it all so so so so so so so so so much.

and also throughout literally all of this you're a barbie princess and you fuck severely.

that's reguel. any questions.

[lemonluvgirl]

The Both of Us (Part 3) Happy Early Valentine’s Day Sneak Peek

This fic, which you can read here,  has recently reached over 500 kudos on AO3, and in honor of that, I decided to write a continuation. It is also nice it’s Valentine’s week and I wanted to write something about Everlark being a power couple during Mockingjay and being low-key married. Enjoy this totally indulgent fix-it fic continuation, my babes. Xoxo. ;) 

Friendly reminder, this is a work of fiction and I own nothing. The characters I’m borrowing belong to Suzanne Collins and I get no reward for writing this beyond the comments and kudos and of course the thrill of writing Katniss and Peeta in 13 without the hijacking.

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I’m in surprisingly good spirits this morning while my prep team works to get Peeta and me ready for the new propo we’re meant to be filming later. I’m not sure if it has anything to do with the way Peeta and I spent the evening tentatively exploring each other’s bodies until pleasure and exhaustion overcame us both, or with the increased amount of uninterrupted sleep I’ve been getting. I might have gotten five or six hours last night after all was said and done. 

I sneak a peek at him in the chair a few feet away from where Flavius is brushing some translucent power over his face. He looks better rested and his skin has taken on a more healthy glow that suits him. The thought suffuses me with a small warm burst of satisfaction, at seeing him healthy and recovering.

 I fight a blush when I think about the way I kissed every inch of his face, neck, and chest last night. 

This new thing between us is a distraction, to be sure, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. The days in Thirteen are long and we’ve been working hard to try and fulfill the demands of those around us. It's nice to have a respite from all the pressure. When he and I are alone in his room all of that seems to fall away. That space becomes a retreat of sorts, where Peeta and I can forget about the world for a few hours and just be ourselves. Bare and honest with each other.

Peeta catches me looking and the corner of his mouth peeks up in a small private smirk. 

I bite back the urge to tell him to cut it out, knowing that would only lead to questions from my preps that I don’t want to answer. 

When Flavius turns away Peeta chances a quick wink at me in a way that brings to mind his teasing yet sweet attentions from our first arena. 

I roll my eyes at him affectionately, ready to volley a trademark scowl if he keeps this up, but then Venia strides in with our propo outfits. 

The Mockingjay costume Cinna created for me still takes my breath away when I see it sometimes. So does Peeta’s. They are all sleek lines and beautifully crafted functionality. Dark pieces of geometrically shaped bulletproof armor cover our most vulnerable points, and durable but flexible material bends and moves along our joints and legs to lend mobility to the ensembles as well as protection.

The final effect looks stylish but also deadly if I’m being honest. Especially when paired with the weapons Beetee’s custom designed for us. The way my bow comes to life underneath my hands still thrills me. I’m eager to dress and sling the quiver over my back, even though the only arrows inside will be normal ones. They still won’t let me walk around with the specially loaded ones Beetee made. 

Venia affixes my mockingjay pin over my heart to complete the look and Peeta nods at me to signal his readiness when he finishes clasping his blade and firearm to his belt. I stare for a moment at the image of the two of us standing side by side in the mirror. 

We don’t look like a pair of tragic star-crossed lovers any longer. 

We look ready for a fight, for vengeance or retribution. Maybe both. 

“They’ll either going to want to kiss you, kill you, or be you.” Peeta quips, parroting Finnick’s humorous words when we did our first test run in the costumes yesterday. 

“I’ll settle for them joining us, or simply laying down their arms,” I reply dryly. 

Peeta’s face takes on a more serious expression almost instantly. 

“That’s why we’re doing it this way.” He says reassuringly, cupping my shoulder with one of his large hands. 

“I know,” I tell him. And I do. Plutarch’s explained a hundred times, how just the sight of Peeta and I, alive and united, is supposed to inspire people to join the rebel cause and inspire the loyalists and capitalists to abandon their misguided fight. 

But I still feel guilty asking people to fight for me sometimes. 

“Katniss, Snow is just going to keep bombing districts and sending in reinforcements until he breaks the people’s spirit.” Peeta’s voice is barely a whisper, but I hear him all the same. 

After all this time it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s getting much better at reading me. Sometimes it's uncanny how quickly he can figure out the way my mind veers off in a certain direction. 

“You��re right,” I say because he is. His hand travels up the back of my hair, to fall against my hair soothingly as he caresses my braid. I lean back against him. 

He locks eyes with me in the mirror. 

“If you don’t want to do this anymore, we’ll find a way to get out of it. I promise.” He vows, sternly that I believe him, even though it's unlikely either of us could back out now. 

I shake my head.  Even if we could somehow walk away from this, from being symbols of the rebellion, I could never live with myself afterward. 

“No, we promised Finnick we’d get Annie back. And Johanna. Snow…needs to be stopped. He needs to pay for what he did to 12, to all of us.” I say, voice resolute. Peeta’s hand comes down to twine with mine. 

He interlocks our fingers. 

“I’m with you.” He tells me,  and it's enough to get me moving again. 

.

.

.

.

Soon we’re on the soundstage, where we seem to stand for hours while they seem to adjust our makeup, lighting, and smoke levels. 

Eventually, the commands coming via the intercom from the invisible people in the mysterious glassed-in booth become fewer and fewer. Fulvia and Plutarch spend more time studying us and less time adjusting. Finally, there’s quiet on the set. For a full five minutes, Peeta and I are simply considered. We go through our lines again. Just the two for Peeta and the one slogan for me. Tomorrow they’ll focus on speeches and interviews and have us pretend to be in rebel battles. But today they just want those three lines corked into a propo that they can show Coin. 

“Has the Capitol hurt you, or someone you love? Are you tired of slaving away by day and going to bed hungry at night?” Those are Peeta’s lines. He delivers them with conviction and genuineness that I am in awe of, and to be honest, envy. 

Then it’s my turn. 

“People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!” That’s the line. I can tell by the way they presented it to me at first that they spent months, maybe years working it out and are really proud of it. It seems like a mouthful to me though, and stiff. I can’t imagine saying it in real life— unless I was using a Capitol accent and making fun of it. 

But Fulvia’s in my face, describing the battle I’ve just been in and how my comrades-in-arms are all lying dead around me and how to rally the living I must turn to the camera and shout out the line! 

I catch sight of Peeta grimacing slightly from the corner of my eye but before I shoot him a questioning look I’m hustled back to my place, and the smoke machine kicks in. Someone calls for quiet, the cameras start rolling and I hear “Action!” So I hold the bow over my head and yell the line with all the anger I can muster. 

There’s dead silence on the set. It goes on and on. I turn to look at Peeta. He looks like he’s trying to keep his expression neutral, but I can see it there, beneath the cracks. Something like sympathy. 

Then, Hyamitch’s acerbic laugh fills the studio, crackling through the old intercom. He contains himself long enough to say, “And that my friends, is how a revolution dies.” 

~

Peeta is obviously and immediately happier to see our old mentor than I am. He’s rushing over to the booth to speak to him at the drop of a hat while I hang back and work up the motivation.  It was a surprise to hear Haymitch’s voice, especially after his disparaging comments about my propo performance, but ultimately I put my annoyance aside to join Peeta to welcome our mentor back. 

“Well, well, well, look at you, sweetheart. Your acting skills haven’t improved but you certainly look better than I’ve seen you in a long time.” Haymitch says, surreptitiously studying my face and in particular, the lack of deep circles underneath the stage makeup I’m wearing. 

“Surviving a second arena has done wonders for my sleep regimen.” I deadpan. 

Haymitch raises a brow at me, suspiciously, and his gaze swings between Peeta and me, assessingly. 

“I seriously doubt that. But I can guess what really has you playing nice with these birdbrains.” He says with a knowing smirk aimed in Peeta’s direction. 

Que flaming cheeks for both Peeta and me. 

“Are you sure they drained all the booze out of you? You seem just a little too carefree to be 100% sober right now.” I accuse, defensively. 

Haymitch laughs heartily, then winces. 

“Nice try, sweetheart, but you can’t throw me off the scent that easily. Lucky for you, we’ve got bigger things to catch up on than the state of your love life. Kids,” He says, addressing Peeta and me together, “These propos suck.” He states bluntly. 

Peeta, the traitor, nods quickly. I shoot him a deadly glare and he shrugs sheepishly. 

“I’ve been trying to reason with them for weeks. They won’t listen to me about Katniss’ lines.” Peeta tells Haymitch. 

I huff. He has been trying to get the writers to take his suggestions more seriously. But I had no idea why he was so deadset on it. Now it makes sense. 

“Yeah, I figured kid. Don’t worry. We’ll take ‘em on together first thing tomorrow.” Haymitch promises and Peeta’s face relaxes with relief. 

“Now, why don’t you two show me where a man can get something to eat in this crazy maze?” Haymitch prods and Peeta and I signal to the others that we’re done for the day and lead our mentor away in the direction of the mess hall.

[cassiesdevblog]

Pyo as... Adaptation? Homage? Clone? Thing?

Hey paisanos! I've been doin a lot of work lately helping @zombielesbean finish up their project Grey Area, and I wanna write up a big post about my contributions (including a really big exciting secret one!) once that's done, but the original warioware just hit the switch and with that comes Pyoro >:3

If you don't know about Pyoro, you can get the gist by watching a little bit of this epic video:

Of course, Pyoro on switch means I've got my game Pyo on the mind too. I mean, they are...

...similar games... 'w';

So similar that sometimes I worry Wario is gonna come to my house and beat the tar outta me. Wario, if you're reading this, I can explain

In 2020, when I finally found out you could download DSiware games on the 3DS--not for long tho :')--I immediately remembered a game I had on my DSi as a kid: Bird & Beans, a standalone version of Pyoro (and Pyoro 2!) with 50% more floor space to maneuver in. I bought it and absolutely fell in love with it! It became a sort of hyperfixation of mine for a little while, and so naturally, as one does, I started thinking "alright, but what if this was a platformer?"

See, I think arcade games and platformers mix really well. Platforming is often fun to do all on its own, and a lot of arcade games have sort of non-linear goals. It's a great combination if you wanna break platforming gameplay out of the usual get-from-A-to-B design, which is something I'm always wanting to do. Shoutout to any good boss in a platformer btw

One thing leading to another

So my immediate thought was like, what if you could just jump up there and pop the beans yourself? You could bounce off of them and get a combo going!

And so, if the beans themselves hitting your head is no longer a hazard, naturally the pits they create should be how you lose the game. In Pyoro they're functionally walls, but in a platformer that doesn't even make sense

But wait, if you pop beans just by touching them, can't you stand in one place forever and the ground under your feet will be safe for eternity? Ok, there'll be a special, extra dangerous flavor of bean that sends explosions left and right when it hits the bottom of the screen

As you can see, a lot of the game's design just flowed naturally from solving the problems caused by turning it into a platformer. Just by changing these few things, the game is already pretty distinct from its inspiration, but I took it a little further

Taking advantage of the genre

Beyond just patching holes in the design caused by that one change, I wanted to change other things in order to better take advantage of the focus on platforming

This is where @bisthefairy comes in. While ground in Pyoro is restored by eating a white bean to summon an angel to fill in nearby holes for you, I wanted to encourage the player to use platforming to get high up on the screen. I also wanted ground to be stackable, because that could spice up the platforming and even lead to unique, creative strategies

This led to the idea of having something like the angels from Pyoro flying around up high, so you'd have to bounce up there to get them to drop their block, pit or no pit. I gave the role to my friend Bis since they're small and they fly around

This desire to get the player to bounce up high also led to the creation of the worst feature in the game, the "clear line," which was quickly cut. As you'd rack up a big combo, a horizontal line would start rising up from the bottom of the screen. If you fell below it, it'd kill your combo and clear all the beans off the screen. 0/10. Having to play on half the screen and barely having time to react to incoming beans suckssss

Seriously. One of the worst aspects of Pyoro is that you get huge score for nabbing a bean right as it comes onscreen, so the best strat is to just keep spamming your tongue out hoping to get lucky. No idea why I thought making you play near the top was wise. The best interactions happen near the ground anyway, where you can skid and bonk into blocks

Also, stripes!

Not sure if this counts as a connection between the two games, but I feel like it's also worth mentioning a very indirect source of inspiration: the color banding on the sky in Pyoro. See, in Pyoro, the screen is divided into horizontal slices, and eating a bean from a higher slice gets you more points. I remember thinking the color banding on the sky should indicate the different slices, but it just doesn't! I think that put the idea of stripes conveying information in my head though, and that's probably unconsciously where Pyo's distinctive pit-indicating stripes come from

So, will Wario harm me?

Well, I got pretty bold using a bird and some "beans" in my game. I could have used the classic trope of a horse and some babies. Honestly, I used a bird and beans because I was sketching up ideas for the game and really liked Margie as soon as I drew her, and I liked the beans too much not to use them

"What about the name?" I hear you say, complaining you've not been able to tell which game I'm talking about this whole time. Well, I found the "Pyo" part of "Pyoro" really satisfying to say, so I put it in as a placeholder name, intending to change it later. Then I decided the sound of that syllable was so satisfying that Margie should say it every time she pops a bean, and by then it had grown on me so much I, once again, couldn't resist. It's all ok though, because baby chickens say "pío" in Spanish, and Margie is a chicken!

Well, I've baited some mouse traps with garlic just to be safe, but honestly, I think Pyo stands on its own two talons

Its inspiration is extremely obvious, but I think everyone agrees that, after the first passing glance, it has an identity all its own, in terms of both gameplay and presentation. I might even say it surpasses Pyoro in a few aspec--Oh fuck guys he's here

[muted5ilence]

Do you wonder if the rising prices and shitty economic and political and societal and environmental stuff as a whole is kind of just to do

Erm

I dont know terms well enough, but…

Weaken everyone who can’t afford it so only the elite few survive selfishly?

If you are weak you will eventually die off

If you are weak you wouldn’t be able to fight back

But this is why a bundle of sticks is so strong compaeed to a single stick.

But they’re making sure that bundles cant form. And even if we could, they use growing technology and destroying those sticks from the inside out to ensure those bundles can be broken. Every time. Without fail.

The longer it goes on, one of two things happens. One day these twigs will finally piece themselves together, and be able to overpower the technology that breaks them repeatedly

Or they all die, rot in the ground, to be consumed by the fungi and such that take the decay to keep themselves and their interconnected web alive.

Like the whole deal with capitalism at this point (which is why I’ve liked other ideals a little more when its combined for the BETTER) is that you take advantage of others for your own gain. Be unique enough to be successful to survive, but be smart enough to abuse those that are not smart enough. Eventually it perpetuates a cycle of stupider and stupider people, weaker and weaker, more compliant and complacent. That’s what work has always been, afterall. Which is what school was meant to teach. It teaches you to be compliant, to obey, to work and toil away with your life for meaningless grades until you die. The teachers dont benefit much beyond their meager pay. Students dont benefit because the system actively DENIES what they need to learn to FUNCTION. The only beneficiaries are the ones above ALL of them. The government and corporate entities that feed off of those stupid drones. Teachers, like many workers, are NOT paid enough to actually care, and are stuck being unable to do anything. If they tried to change things or speak out or do anything that might be considered manipulating the kids to believe smth specific, anything to get people to care, they could get fired and lose their lifeline. So they’re stuck in complying in order to survive.

This should not be how a society functions EVER, but it’s the BARE BONES ENDLESS CYCLE. Wars, revolution, etc etc. Every dystopia has this. I am reminded of the promised neverland.

We shouldn’t have to feel like we need to fight back against oppressors. You always root for the underdog because that’s literally how it works in society anyways.

I’m getting mixed up in my train of thought, hard to focus, but my point still stands. Flowers blooming in antarctica had made me break down over life. I want to die but I know I can’t. I can’t kill myself or let myself die. I care too much, I think. I can’t really tell inside my head, but I think some part of me (could be survival instinct, could be smth else) is just too stubborn. I can’t NOT have hope for the future!!! I can’t!!

I can’t stop myself from hoping things will be okay in the end, which is the only reason I can’t die. Because I need to live to see better days again. Despite the objective fact that there may never be better days in all senses.

Society sucks because people are just… selfish, close-minded, and disrespectful? Like in general? All things that have likely been cultivated BY the whole capitalist system.

Politics sucks because it became capitalist. And considering the whole Palestine genocide, I am pretty sure that capitalism is just as bad if not worse than communism at this point. Could be fascism but like I said before, I’m not great with terms. But its colonialism, too. Politics sucks because it’s ran by the elderly usually, or by idiots. I stand by statements I’ve made that experts should be the ones in charge. People who have done the research, have the knowledge, who care about it actively and always, SHOULD BE THE ONES IN CHARGE OF THOSE THINGS.

It kinda bleeds into the whole mental health issues that happen, because you have people who aren’t professionals saying that people dont have any issues. Inherently, those people must have issues of their own. But they have to be out of touch or selfish or close minded (which ig is related to out of touch) BUT ESPECIALLY disrespectful to do such things. And the only ones who can actively make things RIGHT with the people who HAVE the problems, say it with me… ARE PROFESSIONALS!!

Professionals, being people who were interested in the topic, did the research, learned the skills and have the knowledge, and actively care.

You are not a professional if you do not care. Then it’s just a profession. You are simply a worker at that point.

We are led by idiots. Not professionals. Perhaps professional politicians. But that just means professionals at looking good and appealing to others. Professional actors. Actors should not get that seat of power. You cannot act your way out of your genuine beliefs and behaviors—or even lack thereof. The fate of society should NOT be determined by a popularity contest, but even in school that’s promoted!!

I stand by my belief. Professionals in the specific fields of study should be in charge, and not the ones who haven’t done the research or put in enough work (like they insist the newer generations should do). This is an idealized and general series of statements from someone who doesn’t have in-depth knowledge of language: Historians should probably be in office in the way that they could be advisors. They know what has happened, how it happened, how it affects things, and how it should be avoided. Economists should probably be the ones in charge of how the economy goes, even though I’m sure they work more like commentators. I think just in general that a whole advisory council should be made of professionals. And you need someone who knows how to listen and critically think, who cares about society as a whole, to run the country if we follow a similar structure. Traditional checks and balances are not working!!!

I was told by my U.S. History teacher, a male history teacher that I enjoyed for the time I had him (before covid hit): Normal people should be running this country. But they wouldn’t want to.

It’s so fucking true, too. But like… have a council. Of professionals. Professionals IMPLYING that they care. Not workers. Workers leads to compliance, complacency. To a damn salary.

Have people who actively research things and always want to learn and keep up with those specific things, be in charge of those things!! They know more! And it should be because they fucking CARE!

If you want this stupid structure to work, with a president, then a qualifier should NOT be age. Obviously boomers are fucking stupid anyways at this point because they’re out of touch, stuck in the past. You need an open-minded individual, who actually has a heart, that can make the right decisions! Especially in times of crisis.

Please. Let it be that people who are stronger than I am are able to fight for these things. Fight for the good causes.

I’m not mentally, physically, nor emotionally strong enough for this. I’ve been sheltered. I’m cursed with so many mental issues from trauma and abuse and likely the ways my brain wouldve been structured anyways. I could never progress at the fast pace that is expected. And I am not strong enough to fight like I wish I could.

I am simply a dreamer. Someone that has been left isolated for so long that I can only think. About nothing, about everything. And I wish I could lose hope, that I could kill myself, but I can’t. I’m a coward, always have been. I could never set myself free in rebellion to fight. I would get killed by someone sent to do so. And you would lose another human life. Insignificant only when you consider humans as stock, a number in a category. But every individual matters, I promise you. I don’t do much, but I’d like to be a person who supplies hope.

(Seriousness aside, I’ve literally been called an “emotional support creature /aff”, and a “perfect friend”, so I am completely fine with this support role.)

Please… Let there be people who can understand such messages, and who are stronger than me. Because power has always mattered in societies. Don’t let money = power in the end. Money can change, because that’s what is valued in exchange. It’s all bartering. Please, do not let cotton and paper have a higher value than that of human lives. Houses have a higher value than human lives do in the current economic state. The VALUE placed on HUMANS and THEIR POTENTIAL should NOT be LESS than that of the OBJECTS MADE BY HUMANS

Break this system down. Make it bad for business if thats what they care about. And once one thing ends, dont stop. Keep forcing their hand. Make sure that the corrupt system used to overpower us is unable to do so. If you recognize they are making advancements to increase force used, I see no reason that we couldn’t do the same. Dont play games. Its not a game. It’s life. They will see it as a game because they are winning, they made the little game with a handicap in thei favor. Turn the tables. Treat them like a game. Show them it’s more than that. Show them that it is good to care. That they dont care, and they should.

Ideally no mass self-destruction lmao, ik they need workers to supply themselves and we are the workers, so dying would mean no more supply, but they have technology on their side as time goes on, so they still dont care.

You have to make sure they CARE. CARE can do good.

Have hope for a better future where people care. Dont stop caring. If you stop caring, you comply. If you comply, you die. Hope fosters care. Have hope. If you lose hope, you cant care, and that is quite literally why suicide rates get so high, isn’t it? A hopeless situation?

That is my message. My belief. And I have certain beliefs I will always hold. They are what keep me from killing myself, afterall.

Let Hope foster Care to work with Action to bring Change.

Its the ideal family system (/hj).

[moontheoretist]

"And it is with that I highly recommend we begin shifting our focus to addressing the inevitable: extraterrestrial life. You have before you a copy of a statement made by Thor Odinson regarding the existence of, to be blunt, a shit-ton of planets and beings far beyond our little patch of space." The UN delegates didn't even blink at the language, now used to Tony's way of speaking. "I realize this is far easier said than done and there is a lot of history and bad blood to account for; however, we have got to get ourselves together and we need to do it soon. The next encounter may not end so well." A picture of the symbiote dragon was now projected in high-definition for all to see. "So you do believe there are more to come?" Asked the Nigerian delegate. "Yes, ma'am. I'm not saying all close encounters will necessarily be hostile—honestly, we should craft our policy with an eye towards non-aggression and open trade. But in this case? We were damn lucky this eldritch abomination was weakened from a previous battle and a 1000 year nap. It would be in our best interest not to wait around and hope that my team can handle the next one with zero casualties. We're amazing, but we're also a small group and there are billions of people on this planet. The time is now. The public is now aware that magic exists—that the supernatural exists—that there are extraordinary individuals among them. At this point aliens won't even be much of a stretch and shouldn't cause mass panic. But we must be smart about it." "You sound as if you have a plan?" India's delegate said. "I always have multiple plans and a love of talking. Please direct your attention to page 56. We have three large issues to tackle: adapting the UN's scope and function in addressing supernatural and extraterrestrial issues, updating our existing infrastructure to support evacuation and emergency measures planet-wide, and finally, a means of increasing access to information and resources for all peoples. If that means that certain States provide reparations for certain past activities then you'll just have to deal with that discomfort-" "Dr. Stark, you are not suggesting we resort to socialism-!" Tony sighed and pointedly clicked back to the slide showing Big Mother in all her glory. "Okay, look, this beast from Deep Space was two steps away from infecting the entire planet and sucking our brains out through our ears. Do you think she gave a flying fuck about our economic systems while tearing through the countryside? We are only as strong as the weakest among us and there are billions of human beings suffering from food insecurity and a whole host of issues—not through their own doing, mind you. What do you think will happen if hostiles gain a foothold in one of those regions? If our continued survival as a species ultimately comes down to a redistribution of wealth and workers controlling the means of production then you'll just have to get over yourselves. I, myself, prefer living. But, hey. Whenever E.T. decides that humanity is better off eradicated, I'm sure your family will be thrilled that you fought for the continued existence of an intangible stock portfolio." The American (and several other) delegates glared at him while a few had to discreetly duck their heads or take a sip from their glasses of water. "What we've been doing won't work, Ladies and Gentlemen. The average human being is comparatively short-lived, easily killed, and our technology? It is laughable. And this is coming from me. This thing flew around the cosmos with nothing but the wings on its back for eons; meanwhile, on the same scale we've barely figured out indoor plumbing. You guys wanted my honest assessment so I'm giving it—as we are right now? We are fucked. Some of our honored States have a vested interest in the status quo. I get that; to be honest I'm certain you know better than I what system will work best for your particular communities. I'm talking about the *global scale*. On that level the mess we've got is not going to fly any longer. If the next threat came tomorrow with a dedicated force our current distribution of resources prevents a timely and effective response. Our only saving grace right now is Asgard. Thor Odinson has reported that the King has a duty to see to the protection of the Nine Realms, of which we do fall into. But he's also admitted Asgard hasn't bothered with our little ball of mud in a millennium. If you want to put all your eggs in that basket I cannot stop you. But I'm not going to help you keep your head in the sand and I'm certainly not going to put my family's safety on something so fickle. You have families of your own—are you really going to risk their lives on a race of beings who have little to no regard for us? Are you?" Tony pointedly looked around the chamber. When he was satisfied, he clicked back to his previous place. "I've never been the type to roll over and give up easy so, again, these are my recommendations. You asked. Take them or leave them, but I really suggest you take them."

Have Time — Will Travel by flower-of-el (NibelungVelocity)

I seriously wish I could show anybody who screams "aack socialism! take that away" a huge cosmic dragon to scare them into shutting up.

[o5-blackbird]

Visibility: Visible to all Word count: 786 Tw: arguing & minor misunderstanding

[Audio: a recording lasting about five minutes.]

As soon as the audio connection was established, some noises could be heard nearby. Every few moments, a soft scratching noise accompanied by an occasional chirp would be distinctly picked up in the audio, the birds seeming to be in the midst of playing.

But… As the audio continued, something else could be quietly picked up in the background. It was muffled as if it was coming from behind a closed door. It could only be heard distinctly if one were to listen very carefully.

There were two lightly familiar voices. One was softer and held a slight accent, sounding a balanced mixture of feminine and masculine as the person spoke.

“I did not intend to make you feel as if you were being left out or that I did not have as much respect for you-”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you did leave me out and that you did disrespect me. Whether it was intentional or not, you continuously pulled that shit,” The other person interrupted sharply in a lower feminine tone, the last few words holding a tinge of something harsher then the rest.

A pause of silence followed before the other person began to speak again, barely able to get a few words out before it was cut off once more.

“I-... I am very sorry but-”

“How the fuck was I supposed to respond to that? How was I supposed to respond to you telling me that I was making too much of a fucking deal of this? How am I seemingly the only person taking this seriously while you and Dogwood ran off on your – on our – fucking date night? How do you do that and then look someone in the eyes when they are trying to talk to you and trying to ensure that you’re not some fucking traitor and yet you still have the audacity to continuously excuse their concerns?”

“... I am so sorry… I did not mean to-”

“Stop saying that. You’re repeating yourself.”

“...”

“... Nobody wants to think about this possibility… It still needs to be taken seriously. Dogwood was nearly killed. Nine was killed. Now Mana Charitable is gone – only a few days after we had agreed to settle on more relaxed repercussions – almost as if they had been planning on using that time to make a break for it before we could change our minds. Now Anderson is leaning out of neutrality? You can’t tell me this is all a coincidence?...”

“I just-... I understand your concerns; I really do… But I cannot fathom how any of us would do this…? We have all been loyal since the start… I cannot understand why someone would change so suddenly? To switch loyalty to Mana Charitable out of all groups as well…?"

He paused for a moment before continuing. "I can understand Dogwood being targeted as a method of weakening our defense but–... I do not see any reason for Nine to be targeted…? There were not any other attempted attacks identified, this was not an organized attack on the entire Council – which would certainly make more sense but this–...”

Blackbird trailed off.

The seconds began to pass, slowly trickling by; as if neither were going to make any effort to fill it, as if none of it needed to be filled, as if to admit it were to bring it to truth.

But… As the seconds passed tensely, Blackbird was finally the one to break it.

“I respect you, Maya… God, I respect you. You have been a constant source of stability in every function of our roles, our time, and everything. For that, I admire you beyond reason… Though… I cannot bring myself to accept that any of us – or any of those that we have entrusted to work directly beneath us for so long – would commit such an act…”

He trailed off for another moment before saying a few more quiet words. 

“You mean the world to me. I encourage your efforts and I share the belief that they are noble but… Please do not hang yourself on fruitless efforts.”

Another silence followed. Then quiet distant rustling of fabric as if someone were retrieving something before a few hollow steps could be heard leading further away; Green exiting.

“I-... I am sorry… Green, are you alright?...”

“I am fine. Don’t apologize… I am-..." Someone could be heard sniffling softly in the gap of quiet. A single time, followed by more silence before she continued, her words a bit more stiff. "I feel unwell. I am sending Eight to stay with you for tonight. I do not want company at the moment.”

Blackbird remained quiet for a few moments before answering. “Oh… Of course… I am-... Okay. Please take care of yourself…”

A door could be heard softly opening. “I always do,” she responded gently.

Just as quietly as the words had drifted from her lips, the sounds of another couple of quiet footsteps and a door gently but swiftly closing could be heard.

Soon after, the audio excerpt ended.

[sambinnie]

Due to illness and ageing and natural and unnatural river states, we’ve barely swum for the last six weeks, so between Christmas and New Year’s we take ourselves to a lake and dip in near-freezing water, crystal clear and smooth as the pond it is. I make it all the way to the first buoy and nearly back before I’m shivering in the water, which I’ve never experienced before, not even when we had to kick our way through the river-ice and dip in the truly freezing non-flow. But the lake is a drive away, so instead of running home in wet kit, we’re on heated seats in a heated car, eating leftover panettone and shortbread slices, which somewhat dilutes our connection to nature but does a great deal for plummeting core temperatures. I wouldn’t give up the river while I can, but a change is as good as a heated, cushioned rest. 

The year has kept me from nihilism, at least as I look immediately around and behind. Ahead, I’ve been feeling alarm, until I watched this (long, be warned, by Instagram standards) video from Martha Beck, an author who by any measure I should back away from with my fingers in my ears — she’s a life coach, she’s published a book involving the word ‘starlight’, she’s got her own podcast. But she also worded exactly the growing feeling I’ve had for the last five or ten years in such a neat and clear way: that our insistence on individualism and prioritising wealth as a marker of ‘success’, or indeed ‘goodness’, is damaging us beyond words, and that if we make the mental shift away from ego and towards collective thinking, we’ll thrive en masse. 

I feel too old to give any credence at all to anything remotely hippyish (unless you couch it as witch-based, then I, like any middle-aged woman who daily sees more than a handful of trees, am fully in), but the inverse makes our current position even clearer, like this Thread which says, ‘2024 isn’t “a weird time in history”, we’re living through the inevitable conclusion to doing everything wrong’ which, yes, is exactly the feeling I’ve had, that almost all of us are having day by day. 

So far, our attitude has been: Privatise everything, give more money than is possible to spend in a lifetime to a handful of people, ensure politics becomes a circle-jerk of super wealthy individuals protecting other wealthy individuals, or, at best, good-hearted individuals only able to make the most short-term of decisions because politics is cripplingly partisan and no one is able, practically, financially, politically, legally, narratively, to make any longterm plans that might pinch this week but will help us all a year or more down the road. Make our environment worse, make our poorest poorer, make our health services barely functional, make every news story about how This Group is to blame; normalise violent porn and telling children that the distress they feel about this weirdo world is because their bodies are sinful, or wrong, or broken; remove art and poetry and serendipity from people’s lives, tell them every hobby should be monetised as a side-hustle, or maybe just remove the chance for hobbies at all because they probably should be working multiple jobs to afford just to eat and pay rent; remove Third Spaces and tell people that connections should be on their phones, not in person; teach us all that women and men are enemies, all the time, and we should be afraid of each other, in different ways, and remind us that enemies have nothing in common; make tech addictive, and use it to terrify people so we’re too anxious to come off it but we’re also scared constantly at everything we’re shown on there; make wanting more things all the time so important that we pay beautiful randos online to tell us that we want this thing now, and aren’t they our friends so can’t we trust them? Make war the most profitable business in the world, and make young men and women kill each other, plus kill old men and women, plus children, because business is great, isn’t it, and it helps shore up our valuable economies, even though it destroys lives and countries and land and water and generations. (I mean, we know all this stuff, don’t we? This is not groundbreaking Human Existence content.) 

As someone said on twitter several years ago, ‘The modern condition is mostly trying to do things on your own that people have historically achieved with a large support network and wondering why you’re tired all the time.’ Quite. Or a more recent summary of AI: ‘No one has satisfactorily answered the fundamental question of why I should bother reading something you couldn’t be bothered to write’, or on the terrible, terrible existence of crypto, from a few years ago: ‘Cryptocurrency is literally like an eight-year-old’s concept of an evil businessman. He just plugs his pollution machine in and gets money for it. It doesn’t make anything, it just. Pollutes. And makes money. Like a fucking Captain Planet villain’. 

We don’t, as we’ve established, want to give art and culture over to AI so we can work more hours in a shitwork job enabling global enshittification; we want to work fewer hours and still be able to make art, or enjoy it, or share it, or laugh with our friends, or make a meal together, or dance in public without worrying that our gullible volunteer Stasi won’t film us and make us the Internet’s character of the day. (Do you know that’s real? That hordes of youth won’t go out to clubs/discos/parties because they’ve seen how people can be filmed anywhere, everywhere, by anyone, and turned into an online figure forever? If you read that in a book thirty years ago that would definitely have been a dystopian novel, wouldn’t it? But we’ve just let it become normal somehow, like live-tweeting strangers’ conversations as if we’re breaking the news on an International political scandal, rather than just chipping away at our collective humanity for the sake of a thumbs-up from an internet @-sign?) Also, did you know that Pokemon Go, that fun way to take our Covid walks, was actually a tool for geomapping the entire planet, especially paths that cars couldn’t get to or inside buildings, of which a cleverly placed Pokegym could lure players into getting full images? Tech is great! And not at all sinister in almost every Neo-capitalist manifestation! Tech is for the people, and in no way purely for increasingly the profits of the shareholders and normalising the collapse in personal privacy and security! You are a person with a spirit and a legacy, not just a data-heap with a face they’ve scanned for later use! We’ll send you a personal discount code to prove it! 

Which is all to say: I think we need a shift, and I see, thank god, that feeling everywhere. In Martha Beck’s video, in this jokey post from Cassie Wilson, with her “Outs” for 2024 including cancelling at the last minute, AI dating apps, celebrity gossip, “I asked ChatGPT to—”, binge watching, and her “Ins” for 2025 including craft nights, flirting, familial lore, dusting your room, and going outside before 3pm every day. We’re beginning to recognise, little by little but also more and more, that we all feel shit because this world isn’t built for our needs. We need challenge, and quietness; we need collective celebrations and collective action; we need to recognise our biological connection to Nature and what our psychological disconnection from humanity feels like, when we sit on screens all day, and we need to stop being trained to find violence and malicious error in evveerrrrythiiiing. Isn’t that called getting past your teens? We need movement and music — I went to a Taylor Swift gig this summer and my god, I finally get religion, I would join her cult in a heartbeat, and I know cults are by their nature bad and no person is perfect and should be worshipped and no one individual should have the pressure of being worshipped but at the same time thousands of people singing together, dancing together, in special clothes we’d chosen for this occasion, I get it, I get it, I kept weeping for weeks afterwards every time I remembered certain moments and I see how humans love this stuff when it’s the thing that clicks for you — and we need to do things we don’t want to do for the benefit of the greater good. 

I see this shift, these new questions, in the feed the terrible internet has curated for me. In an interesting episode of Search Engine on ayahuasca and the ego we’re currently not only driven by, but encouraged to foster until it’s big and strong like a spoiled toddler, and in Strong Message Here, where Armando Iannucci and Helen Lewis discuss how ‘everyone shouting in the Twitter town square means you end up with a wrestling heel as president’, and also how when words mean absolutely everything, when words can be ‘literal violence’, you end up losing sight of real reality, with sunlight and caring responsibilities and laundry and meals and how much money you get in your bank account for doing a full week’s work, and in The Rest is Entertainment, when Marina Hyde observes how the three biggest entertainment products at the moment are Traitors, Squid Game, and Beast Games, and how they’re essentially the same thing: a programme about betrayal, about being the worst person you can be in order to win against hundreds (or thousands) of others in a terrible, hopeless, anything-for-the-win society. No collective betterment, no improving of the many, no realist narrative, just disconnection in order to sell more product. It makes me think of that dull crushing modern mantra, ‘You’re born alone, you die alone.’ One may or may not technically die alone, but we 3,000,000% do not get born alone. Every single one of us is carried by a woman for nine months, who nourishes us and keeps us safe before giving birth to us in various methods ranging from a bit sore and achy to actually lethal, and if she’s made it through then she’ll continue to feed and care for us for months, years more, just like she was birthed by mothers before her, mother before mother before mother, all the way back to the start of the human race. In the same way that we don’t make it on our own further down the line either: we drive down roads others built wearing clothes others made, drinking water others have piped to our homes, taking medicine others have created, walking down streets others keep clean, using computers others have designed and manufactured, eating food others grew and packaged and delivered. There is not a single thing we do that is untouched by the hand of someone else, and to pretend otherwise is so egotistical it’s either wilful blindness or actual mental illness. 

As always, it comes back to Mad Men. Slight spoilers, but it’s been ten years and really you should have at least started by now: in the series finale, Don Draper, handsome, brilliant, wealthy, successful, realises that he is nothing. After taking himself off and experiencing essentially a breakdown/breakthrough, he telephones the people who mean the most to him: his ex-wife and mother of his children, his equally brilliant protégée, and his daughter, as wilful and sharp-minded as he’s ever been. He’s not calling them as service animals, to care for him as they perhaps had always seemed to do at distant points in his past; he’s calling for connection, to try and remind himself that they are the best thing about his life, that his money, career skill and looks count for nothing if he can’t connect again with the people who know him best. The episode is called, of course, Person to Person, and it ends with the clearest possible portrayal that it’s the most humble person to person connections we have to choose, ultimately, if we want to find happiness. 

I think of all the things I don’t like perhaps much more than I ought to do, and the things I do like maybe more than I ought as well — perhaps I should be creating more and appreciating/envying less — but I do know that for all the popular things I don’t like (Breaking Bad, E.T., Gladiator, most John Hughes films, Ghostbusters (except the Melissa McCarthy one), cosmetic surgery, putting your life on social media) my tastes are hardly art-house niche; I don’t spend my Saturday nights being the sole member of the audience at a drag interpretation of Brecht’s least-known play in a room above a pub, so my likes almost certainly overlap with yours somewhere. In fact, if you take the most die hard super-fan of Breaking Bad, Ridley Scott and botox, I bet there’s still more than a handful of things that we have in common, because generally people like loads of stuff, it’s just that the internet likes to make us feel otherwise. I like most food, for instance! I like to hear about the history of most sports, even thought I’ll never be a sports fan, so tell me about your team and the long-running rivalry they’ve got with whoever! Tell me about how you built something! Let’s talk about the best colours there are! Let me make you some soup, and we can debate the greatest soups we’ve each had! Describe your favourite Breaking Bad episode to me, because I’ll probably even like that! 

If you want to enjoy any of the things I’ve enjoyed this year that aren’t soup-chat or favourite colours, here you go: rewatching the whole of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was incredible. Despite Whedon’s best attempts to really fuck it up for all of us, it remains staggeringly good in the main, and even the worst bits (the boyfriends, fat-shaming) are valuable lessons for teen girls; The Body makes me in awe of the writers, in capturing not just grief, but the weirdness of death, so well. Rewatching Spaced, too; you never know how deeply something will embed in your consciousness, but I can still recite vast swathes along with it (and you can imagine how much my housemates love that). The Rehearsal was amazing, weird and unexpected; I had to beg my fellow watchers to stick with it but they were glad they did, and I still think about it regularly. 

Paul Mescal performed the triumvirate for me, between Aftersun (beautiful, quietly devastating), All of Us Strangers (beautiful, loudly devastating, will reshape your brain into a wondrous flower) and this musical number from SNL, the highlight of the year for the only one of my housemates to have watched both Wicked and Gladiator. The Fall Guy was great cinema, fun and funny and the mid-tier film they don’t make anymore (and probably won’t make anymore, goddammit), A Quiet Place: Day One was far better than it had any right to be, thanks to Lupita Nyong’o and Joseph Quinn; Heretic likewise, with Hugh Grant grinning and sighing ruefully and having the greatest time of his life in this slight, immensely fun horror film. 

In older films, I watched Laurence of Arabia for the first time and was silenced for several hours after by its beauty and power; Cabaret will, sadly, probably never not be relevant, as well as being painful and gorgeous and bleak; Fried Green Tomatoes may always be my favourite lesbian romance film/menopause power flick; Matt Reeves’ The Batman is the first Batman film I’ve liked since 1989, and Pattinson somehow captured the broken, dissociative nature of the figure for the first time, for me. I also rewatched The Prestige for the first time in at least a decade, and wondered both at how perfect a film it is, with the constant chronological leaping (around one timeline jump per minute of movie, according to IMDb) always crystal clear, and echoes between characters and plots and subplots forming the most perfect jewel-box, but also how Nolan has become such a meandering self-indulgent filmmaker in latter years (opinion: maybe Inception was his last good film, and I had to rewatch that at home because I couldn’t hear one single word in the cinema). 

Books-wise the only two that stand out are Love & Let Die, by John Higgs, a marvellous analysis of two great twentieth century shapes: James Bond and the Beatles, one standing for death and sex and the old ways, and the other for life, love and new possibilities. It’s funny and clever, and I listened to most of it on audiobook, read by the author, as I painted seemingly infinite walls an eye-achingly bland white this autumn, and didn’t mind at all. I’d loved British Summer Time Begins last summer, by Ysenda Maxtone Graham, so read her Terms & Conditions this summer, a wonderful history of girls’ boarding schools from 1939-79. It’s full of beauty and cruelty, friendship and injustice, larks, nature, freezing cold and terrible food, and it made me wish we could all just have a year without smartphones and see how all our children might turn out after those twelve months. 

Other things: I saw the Barbie exhibition at the Design Museum with the housemates, and seeing the Barbies I’d played with, hand-me-downs I now realise from the release dates, and a very similar house to the one I was given by my godfather, I wept and felt like a dip-dyed Marcel Proust. It was physical, this sense of time tunnelling between the Now, of forty-something women taking pictures with their iPhones, and my tall, amused housemates watching my reactions to these toys, and the Then, of holding these dolls, dressing them, their lives being my life, their clothes becoming the outfits I would generally gravitate towards even now (recent discussions with a school friend made me understand my dress-code thirty years on as half-Angela Chase, half-Rayanne Graff, but this exhibition made me realise it’s actually two thirds My So-Called Life, one third Crystal Barbie). I also went to Whitstable with friends to visit other friends, and the Whitstable friends took us to the sauna by the sea in October, and both sea and sauna were the best versions of those things I’ve ever experienced. Highly recommend, but I won’t link because maybe those host friends may not want more people in there and might refuse to take me there ever again. Finally, the podcast The 99% Invisible Breakdown: The Power Broker, hosted by two of my favourite podcast hosts, Roman Mars and Elliott Kalan, who took twelve months and several hours each episode to go through the entire enormous book by Robert Caro about the man who built and shaped New York in the twentieth century. It’s funny and fascinating, and the way history repeats itself when it comes to power, those who want it, those who have it, and those who’ll do anything to stop others getting it, is worth reminding ourselves about even at the best of times, let alone at the tail end of centuries of mostly terrible political, cultural and social decisions. 

I hope our shared 2025 will be full of hard work that rewards us, of connections that might be tricky but make our lives better, of dancing if you like it, and not if you don’t. Let’s diminish our egos and eat more fruit and walk outside every day, and refuse to use AI and band together in a global movement that removes grotesque wealth from billionaires and enables everyone to feed themselves and their families, and to read books and build their community. Let’s prioritise long-term political thinking, making art and not being reactive online, reshaping global thinking and chatting less on our phones in public and making each other laugh more, and reteaching ourselves critical thinking and media and cultural literacy, and re-embracing collective action that we on the left seem to have abandoned in favour of self-care. I hope we can remember all the things we have in common, and stop letting people tell us all the things that we don’t. I hope we remember the things that make us behave better. I hope, I hope, I hope. 

[lovepmd]

(Even if Hero, Multi or Otherwise, didn’t know when they were going back to human world. Gardevoir deserved the option to know her past.)

TO: Gardevoir.

Read this ONLY when you have questions, concerns, or even doubts about before you joined our team.

‘You have questions. Questions I may or may not be around long enough to answer, so I wrote this. Sorry if my writing’s atrocious. I swear I had better penmanship as a human and in my native tongue.’

‘You are beyond kind. That is a fact from the past you and the present you I have seen grow out of the confusion that plagued you for so so so long. Remember this. You are… were the Pokémon partner of a human, the human who Gengar used to be. He wasn’t as kind. He touched a Ninetales’ tails despite all the warnings against it and was supposed to be cursed. You jumped in the way and took it.’

‘At the time, oh give or take a thousand years ago—you impressed Ninetales enough to for her to offer he take the curse to save you. The human version of Gengar a thousand years ago was a coward and selfish and he ran. Thus, the curse turned you into a spirit that would monitor the world. Gengar was cursed to one day be reborn as a Pokémon. I’m not sure when he became one, but it was much longer ago than most think. He told me that.’

‘It wasn’t until he knew you were still around and still thought of him fondly, that he started to feel guilty. One day after I saved the world. He came to me and had us match up Mt Freeze to meet with Ninetales to free you from the curse. Gardevoir. He had the training and strength of a freshly hatched Caterpie. I spent so many Reviver Seeds keeping him conscious!’

‘There was a lot of weird spirit stuff when we finally freed you, but essentially Gengar himself had to be honest about how he felt. He had to feel genuinely bad about his past cowardice to be able to free you. You lost your memories as a consequence of being a spirit for so long—we think. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe it was for the worst. Regardless, you deserve to know the truth.’

‘Humans, like me and Gengar, are very selfish when it comes to our own survival. We don’t have powers like Pokémon do—a baby Pokémon could kill or otherwise wound us with a single move. This isn’t an excuse. Merely me trying to explain how humans work. We are suspicious of anything non-human or even things that almost look completely human. Our brains are wired like this because of evolution from predators. I can barely remember much.’

‘In order of importance that I wish someone could confirm for me:’

‘Yes, you are a good person. No, you didn’t do anything bad or hurt anyone. No, we didn’t kidnap you. You—when I asked Gengar—were someone he raised from a Ralts. You were a wild Pokémon who strangely hung around him in his own words. Always so kind. Always so considerate. And strong. Like, “rip apart the fabric of the universe because a big strayed too close to me” strong. The whole myth about Gardevoir’s making black holes is real. And terrifying on a functional level.’

‘I hope this reassured you on some level.’

‘-Hero’

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH