#I know it’s more likely they’re testing some kind of even more horrific mind control on her

[stargirl-and-potts]

Gemma was so soft and bright and warm and full of life in all the photos of her, but Miss Casey’s half-frozen. Her expression barely changes. It’s not the hapless earnestness of the other innies. Her eyes are shadowed always. Is because she works alone, never with friends? She can only ever sit with a stranger, reading a list, which must not evoke too strong an emotion. Or is it because of what happens when she’s buried down in Testing?

What are they Testing on her?

[darthnell]

These are such good questions yeah 👀 i don’t have an exact timeline myself, but as someone in the replies pointed out, it’s kind of assumed that this all takes place a few hundred years or so after modern day, so theoretically some of the modern day tech could carry over! (It’s also worth keeping in mind the amount that modern tech has developed since the trilogy itself was written. A quick google search says that facial recognition was around in the late 60s but wasn’t quite at the level it is now until much later - the FBI started really using it around the early 2010s, and it wasn’t put into iPhones until 2017; and feel free to look into that on ur own too! My point is moreso that it’s difficult as an author to predict that kind of thing, but u coud absolutely just make it all up LOL). We do know though that muttations like jabberjays and tracker jackers have been around before the Dark Days since the capitol used them against rebels in the war (Rue mentions this I believe, and also Snow spends enough time with the snakes and jabberjays in BOSAS). Mutts (and that type of genetic engineering in general) seem pretty advanced, so it seems reasonable enough imo that the Capitol is fairly technologically advanced since before the Dark Days. How much of that they recycled from the pre-apocalyptic world vs how much they created on their own is up to anyone’s interpretation. I think it’s fun to consider a mix of both (:

As for what might be considered groundbreaking by the 74th… so based on the movies at least, it seems that the Capitol can very quickly fabricate mutts at will (though how much of that is Reasonable is. Hand-wave-y). We do know that the development of the force fields came from Beetee iirc, which means that definitely wasn’t around by the 10th. And we can see that in BOSAS - no way is anyone just gonna up and Walk into the 74th arena 😭 75th games I think show a lot of technological innovation regarding the arena as well - the way the GMs can control what happens so smoothly in each of the pie slices. They can control the beasts and the lightning and a TIDAL WAVE, and they can spin the arena around just to confuse the tributes. Even things like temperature control that we saw in the 74th (maybe books moreso than movies). They had none of that in the 10th games! In my personal headcanons, the Capitol generally sees the arenas as an opportunity for innovation, and it’s definitely a fun sort of testing ground for all sorts of horrific inventions!

Also re: Katniss.. she got away with a lot of stuff before the Games when she was just a nobody from the Seam. The Capitol doesn’t even bother electrifying the district fence in D12, which kinda goes to show how little they gave a shit about D12 and how little of a threat they saw them as. But this changes once Katniss and Peeta become Victors - now they’re high level targets for surveillance, bc of course the gvt would want to keep a keen eye on the pair (!!!) of victors that defied them so blatantly and successfully. Katniss can’t skate by under the radar anymore, and she learns that the hard way.

And your point about the victors having their houses constantly bugged - yeah. I’m right with you on that one (: not sure how much of that thought is shown or hinted at in canon (i could do for a reread also) - maybe Katniss just didn’t know to look for it - but. Yeah. We already know how little the Capitol cares about the privacy of their tributes. I definitely imagine them having eyes on the victors pretty damn often. But also they would have to consider how much they want the victors to be aware of this, and consequently if/when to step in and flex their muscles (a la Snow showing Katniss the video clips). If the victors don’t realize how closely they’re being watched, they’re more likely to act freely, and maybe the Capitol would be more willing to let the illegal poaching slide if it means catching an entire rebel cell later on.

(…sorry for the rambling, i just think this is Neat to think about 😅)

I need a book nerd to create a timeline for me in regards to Hunger Games technological advancements. Because how did they have facial recognition technology and drones during the 10th Hunger Games?? What year is it?? What was considered groundbreaking during the 74th games??

Maybe I need to reread the OG books, I’m currently on the prequel ‘cause I wanted to get ready for the movie. But I guess it makes me wonder that if they had this tech during the 10th Games, what did they have prior to the war?? And how did Katniss think she could get away with half the shit she pulled in twelve if they had drones for 6 decades?? Like, miss gurl, what do you mean you were surprised when Snow showed up at your house and played you that clip of you with Gale?? Or you in the woods?? I’m honestly surprised every citizen in the districts, or at the very least the victors, didn’t have their houses mic’d up or with secret cameras.

[lcnelyinthesky]

admiration - tsukishima kei

a/n: okay hi?? im ellie?? heres this??? i worked on it for like four? days?on and off? and its longer than any oneshot ive written but yk shes cute ig. pls be nice pls enjoy... but also my last piece got 2 notes and im really hopin in not shadowbanned here lmao

genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers!!

pairing: bisexual!female!reader x tsukishima kei (yes bi reader its a vibe)

warnings: a break up with a beautiful woman i made up myself, swearing

word count: 3.7k (ahhhh!!)

enjoy!! :D

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed. 

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out. 

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight. 

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested. 

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything. 

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

Middle school brought in Yamaguchi Tadashi. 

It'd be an understatement to say he warmed to Yamaguchi quickly, but the basis behind that was strange. Tsukishima was never one for friends, even though everyone wanted to be friends with him. He was cool in the eyes of a handful of eleven year olds; letting everything roll off your back seemed to be an admirable trait. Yamaguchi worshipped him, and Tsukishima took him under his wing to teach him the ropes of being a cool kid.

At heart, though, Yamaguchi was kind and attentive. He could tell when things were going wrong, and supposedly it was him that changed the rest of your life.

The rivalry continued just as it had in elementary, just with higher stakes. You'd fight for answering questions first, working ahead of everyone else to just beat him. He’d never bat an eye at it, and sometimes you thought it was all over, but then

“Y/N.” Tsukishima Kei stood three steps behind you, looming over you with the height he was seemingly born with. The hallway was emptying by now, kids walking into their classrooms once again. The white floors rung with the quiet sounds of soft-bottomed shoes and a light above your head flickered calmly.

“Yeah?” You spun around to meet his gaze.

“What’d you get on that lit essay?”

“A 96. Why?”

“No reason,” he smirked and tilted his head up, looking down at you, “I got a 100.”

A huff and a stomp away gave him the answer he needed as he followed you into the classroom, sitting down behind you and next to Yamaguchi just as he did every day. The little shit.

Tsukishima was never better than you, technically speaking. On average and on paper, you were always both roughly the same. You'd fight for being top of the class, the position switching between both of you every day. You excelled in creative things while he excelled at sports, but both of you dabbled in the other. When people in your year began dating, everyone came to assume you two were. It was embarrassing, really, because Tsukishima Kei was a little shit know-it-all who will never beat me at anything ever and people need to stop thinking he will because he won’t I’m better than hi-

“Hey?” Oh right. Friends.

“Koji!” He never left, at least not yet. His nimble fingers tapping on your shoulder brought you back to reality, making you jump and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his body for a split second.

“You looked zoned” his face was riddled with concern that was easy to write off.

“Oh, whoops” a small blush heated your cheek as your hand migrated to rub your neck. “Did you want something?”

As you walked into the classroom a bit further, Koji sat on your right; he seemed to buckle down more when you had moved away from each other way back in the day, so there were less mid-class comedy shows. He grew up just as you had, and with the closeness of the two of you people began to think you were dating. At twelve, it was incredibly necessary to date someone--anyone. Theories bounced from everywhere and anywhere and with you it was either your best friend or your biggest rival. Your lack of attraction to either of them became the center of many late night crises. 

“Not particularly,” his gaze switched from you to the board again, beginning to write something down when he turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Of course I am,” you smiled at him, the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly it was high school.

-

“Tsukishima is really cute! And he's smart, I heard that Kageyama wasn’t too bright somewhere.”

“But Kageyama’s so much hotter! His being a little dumb sometimes is endearing.”

“Are we not going to talk about that third year setter, Sugawara?”

“No, he’d never go for a first year. Besides, that Hinata kid is more of an enigma.”

“Have you even seen them play?” A howl of angry “yes”s fell over the crowd, trying to prove something. None of them had ever seen them play.

That asshole Tsukishima getting popular felt like a stab in the soul. None of them knew him or how much he sucked, but the amount of girls fawning over him was horrific.

-

There's something consistently poetic about young love, no matter where it comes from. Something extra sweet about holding pinkies in school corridors when no one is looking and seeing them every day, smiling loudly as the sun broke over the horizon all bright and early. The raging hormones and dumb, fake social hierarchies of fifteen make emotions run wild, and only the deeply immature end up helplessly infatuated. Others are more cautious, but there's only so many precautions one can take at fifteen. Sometimes some of us just want to be loved, no matter the sincerity of it.

Cared for, and whatnot. No harm in that, in the long run at least. 

“Y/N, right?” Her name was Mei. She was in your class; 1-4, just like Tsukishima. She was pretty. Long, black hair was preceded by two green streaks at the front. She’d always have those down, making her features look like a photo in a perfect frame. She had a collection of hair clips with small shapes on them that she’d have somewhere on her person at all times. Her more mid-sized body was paler than most, and she was covered in freckles and moles. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that looked deep enough to swim in. Her cheeks were always stained with a peachy blush that moved up her collarbones and into her ears, making her look like she was always smiling no matter what her face was doing. Karasuno’s school uniform did wonders for her curves, the skirt swaying up on occasion and making her look so damn perfect.

“Yeah! You’re…” a second of dumbfounded pause felt like years in your mind, coming to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever met. “Ojiro Mei?”

“Yep! I just wanted to tell you you looked really pretty today!” Her voice always had an upward inflection, and was higher than most. It was cute. Incredibly cute.

“Oh.” A moment of confidence fell over you like you weren’t in control of your actions, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you very much,” she bounced back on her toes and then rolled back to her heels, hands intertwined behind her back, “You’re too kind, Y/N.” Her sentences were always punctuated with an eye-crinkling smile.

Later that day, you found her on every social media account you could; she messaged you first.

When you don’t know you’re interested in women, it’s hard to notice that they’re flirting with you, but after a handful of supposed gay panic, you asked her on a date.

She was two inches shorter than you, and somehow that persisted no matter what shoes she was wearing. Every small outing with her felt like cloud nine--watching the sunset, small conversation over tea at a nearby cafe, cuddling in your bedroom with only a string of Christmas lights on. She always looked so wonderful in soft lighting, the potential cold of winter disappeared with pale beiges that made her freckles look like stars. Every action Mei ever did was soft and full of care. She could send every single emotion through her fingertips on your jaw, deepening a kiss you started moments before. She was like magic, until she wasn't anymore.

You supposed, when thinking back, that things fell out around month thirteen. The rose colored lenses everything was viewed through faded a bit, and it's easy to notice her pulling away. There were less late night phone calls and less recommended music and less hands running through your hair. Everything has a natural progression to the end, right?

“Do you still feel it?” It was raining. Large drops of water fell down to the floor, smacking the pavement at speeds you couldn’t even try to measure. She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat that looked almost dull in the four pm light. 

“Feel what?”

“Anything, baby.” All of her words ended with a huffed out sigh, like she was tired of something. Lying, maybe. 

You pondered the question, and it seemed like your hesitation gave her all the answer she needed. 

“Ya know, Y/N.” She looked down and grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing her thumbs on your palms as you grabbed around them. “This was fun. We had a good run.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek at the ending, but there was no use in self pity or anger now. She was so sweet and kind, and it's truly unthinkable how she continued that kindness in the end.

“Yeah. A good run.” The pink in your cheeks grew as you choked out a laugh, pulling her in for one final hug under the dim fluorescent lights on the front door overhang of the school.

Fifteen came and went with love, and when sixteen rolled around you wondered if you’d ever be loved like that again.

-

A spirit can't be broken overnight, and if you’ve spent the last eight years of your life having a strong, consistent rivalry with someone, it won’t leave any time soon. Tsukishima and you were on similar playing fields for most of your life, but you had one thing he didn’t: relationship experience. In that way, you always counted yourself one point higher, like a boy scout badge. 

For a spell, however, your intensity changed. There was nothing more driving you than spite, and there was nothing you wanted more than to beat him. You were well into your second year of high school at this point, and--volleyball notwithstanding--you had wins over Tsukishima. You had seen him play volleyball, every match in his second year, and you deemed he was simply okay. You refused to count his success onto the list of wins for both of you.

June fifteenth. Tournaments were coming up around the corner when it happened, which explained every reason why he was there. You weren’t exactly prepared for the rain, so the best bet seemed to be sitting at the front entrance of Karasuno High School and wallowing in a little bit more self pity before you went home. You were just dumped after all, the tears weren’t done falling. 

The feeling between sadness and shame overflowed you, shades of yellowish green painting the world around you and churning your gut into oblivion. And the tears fell. It felt like a scene in a movie; in a few seconds, a strong, capable man would show up to your rescue.

“Y/N?” what the fuck?

He was sweaty. His face was matte from a light film of saltwater. He had a grey umbrella over his head, keeping himself dry from the still-pelting rain. His six-foot-two frame was covered with a black tracksuit, and he still had his sports goggles on.

Those fucking sports goggles.

“Tsukishima.” you deadpanned, trying to get him away as fast as possible. His words were snarky, as always, but this time laced with concern. Like he actually cared.

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost six,” he stood under the overhang with you, crouching to take a few feet off of his incredible height. 

“Sulking?”

“Ah,” he huffed and sat down next to you, “it’s not great for your posture, ya know.”

“Oh shut up, Tsukishima.”

“Remember when we were eight,” he looked up, studying the moths as they flew around the lights on the ceiling, “and you asked if you could call me Tsukki?”

“Vaguely, but we were eight.”

“Yeah, true” his head dramatically fell to his lap, staring at his knees as he chuckled, “but you can. Call me Tsukki, that is.”

An uncomfortable laugh fell from your lips, and he spoke for you, “this one kid, Koganegawa, the setter on Date Tech, calls me that too. It's not a Tadashi-only nickname anymore.”

“You say Tadashi-only like I wasn’t there first.”

“He never asked.”

“Would you have said no?”

“Probably” he hasn’t actually looked at you yet. 

“Should I not have asked?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Okay, Tsukki” you drew out the last letter, giggling at the situation before you had time to think about your emotions.

He noticed that you weren’t crying anymore and helped you stand, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Tsukishima and you lived closer than you thought, walking the same direction and only splitting up seconds away from your home.

You walked in silence the whole time, but it was comfortable. While he was your rival, he was always a friend. There was nothing scary or intimidating about him, as is with most people when you’ve known them forever; it was almost like his facade just didn’t work on you. You were huddled close to him to stay out of the rain. 

The second you parted ways, you ran home. The rain was more of a drizzle now, but the temperature began a free fall--getting out of the cold as fast as possible was your first priority. Upon entering the front door and taking off your shoes and jacket, leaving everything to sit in the entryway, you took a shower. The rain didn’t do enough to wash away the pain of the day, and warm steam would let the rest evaporate. The expected unrelenting sadness wasn’t really present as much as was expected, though. Everything felt fine. Content. Okay.

-

And it continued that way. He sent you a snapchat asking if you had gotten home safely, which prompted a memory of you never giving each other your phone numbers. After a quick yes, tsukki. no need to worry ;), you sent him your number asking to play some game.

Whatever is meant to happen does, right? Any excuse for falling for him. You didn’t want to, of course, but things happen. Time changes. Thus, the excuses. Thus, the ignorance. Thus, the five stages of grief. 

It started with the denial, because no Y/N you can’t like Tsukishima Kei. He’s so competitive and mean and snarky and horrible and you hate him! Then, the anger, because Tsukishima sucks and he’s horrible and you’re going to punch him in his stupid cute face. Next, the bargaining, because please don’t let this be happening you’ll do anything to lose these feelings, even if it means letting him win at something. Going into the depression, because all you’ve ever wanted was to be free of this assclown and now you’re stuck thinking about him at three in the morning when you’re supposed to be dreaming about anything other than him. And finally, acceptance, when you scowl at him in the hallway because fuck, you like Tsukishima Kei.

The worst bit of acceptance is getting over it. Now you had to confront your feelings. Now you needed to tell him. 

It was roughly five months since he found you sulking on school grounds, and you regretted most days the way you let him text you every morning. It’d always be something stupid, like a joke about the novel you were reading in lit or sometimes he’d tell you, off hand, something dumb Hinata and Kageyama did at practice. Sometimes he’d text you, within the first twenty minutes of the school day, pointing out something little you did with your hair. They were never really compliments as much as comments; he’d say “your socks have a pink ring at the top” and give you nothing to work with from there. A simple yes would suffice, you always supposed, because “yes, tsukki. they do.”

He’d linger at his desk during the break between classes and would stay there if you didn’t leave, but would leave a few steps behind you if you did. He wouldn’t follow you, but he’d watch to know where you were going. Everything he did was concealed though--you'd only notice if you really wanted to know.

Yamaguchi was the only one to notice, even after a while of it. You’ll never know what he said to his friend, but the conversation you had with the aforementioned friend a day later gives some guesses.

“Y/N?” Tsukishima was never the shy type, and you knew him in the days where everyone was shy. He wasn’t loud, but he was bold. His words were always pointed and important. Everything he did always had purpose and intensity behind it.

“Tsukki?” You were sitting under a tree, enjoying the late spring weather of the beginning of your third year. Nothing became intense yet classwork wise, so there was ample time to chill on the school grounds. Overlooking the soccer field was a large oak tree. It was big enough to comfortably have multiple groups of people under its shade, but it was empty at the moment; save for you and the book you were reading.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to maybe go out sometime?” He somehow didn’t pause while talking, but his words came out more something akin to word vomit. You we’re more shocked than you should have been, if you had picked up on the signs. But you were feeling the same as he was, as far as you could tell.

“Sure, when?” You looked back down at your book for a second, placing the bookmark in it and folding the pages shut.

Tsukishima looked dumbfounded, standing there with his eyes bugged out and his mouth slightly agape. He started making unintelligible babbling noises, hoping to get something out that had any meaning at all. You took the reins instead, gaining confidence in his lack thereof.

“I was planning on getting coffee or something today after school. It gets really cold at night now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“There's a break before practice today so” he hesitated, letting the pink in his cheeks finally catch up to the beating in his chest. “Sure.”

You wouldn’t have ever pegged Tsukishima Kei as the flustered type.

-

There was never a drop in conversation, as there never really was between you two. A whole life together and you still had things to talk about, mentioning everything from your individual childhoods to recent developments. Turns out he never knew what genre of books were your favorite. Or what kind of music you listened to. Or what any of your hobbies were. 

Turns out you both had more in common than you thought, competitive spirits notwithstanding. Tsukishima Kei was a strange man in every sense of the word. He was arrogant and snarky and disinterested and bright and passionate and smart. He was your rival, smug look plastered on his smug face making your chest bubble in anger just as it had a million times before--or was that admiration this time? The world may never know. 

All that was real right now was the deck of cards on the table, being separated out into a card game both of you learned as kids. The small, round, cafe table shook with every slap of your hands, but the basis of your relationship would always be competition. It's just that now the anger behind that competition was gone. All that was left was admiration. 

[hamliet]

I think your blog is one of the best out there. Maybe becuase of this , maybe because of your awesome takes... I find it hard being in the fandom. And I wanted to share this very unpopular opinion. The more it goes on the more I wonder : how did Enji turned into this? Most of all in fandom tends to justify touya because he’s the result of Enji’s abuse. However Enji isn’t a natural born abuser. I’ve read and saw plenty: he has not manias of control. He accept easily his wife to leave him (he wanted to build an house for her and since Shoto’s accident he hadn’t forced himself on her). He wanted an heir, true and he was more neglecting (which is a form of abuse). But many time were found evidences in studies neglecting parents have issues of their own. Which can be found in their original family and / or society (if no mental illnesses are implied).

This made me wonder. I love Japanese culture , novels and society. And one of the most recurrent theme , especially some decades ago, is the high pressure people are exposed. It was and sometimes still is a nichilist model in which you die or fly and sometime you can’t hope to Rise once again when you fail. For example the concept of “you need to go at a go prek to get in a good university and find a good job” is often depict and put to extreme in many media. This inspire even books in which families are up for anything to push their children and they are under great pressure. Since Enji seems a not so bad man per se, has no mental illnesses , the only thing left is his immense obsession that must come from something. And the fact that in society a man must be successful... I think here it is.

The fact he can’t express his feeling correctly for the most of MHA , neither he can’t read them at the point of being perceived “with no compassion at all” comply the stereotype of the father with way too high standard , this can’t come from nothing. It’s not hard unreasonable thinking he was most likely pressured as much when younger , and that broke him at some point (which is a recursive theme in many others novels). This doesn’t justify him, but it might explain why he ended up like this.

But while everyone seems to be able to... forgive dabi , justifying his doings becuase of how he was raised while condamning 100% Enji. However the lingering theme of my hero’s villains is that they aren’t a monster , they’re turned into one; and society played a huge role. I don’t stand for Enji’s actions (who would) but ultimately? If all villains were broken by society at some point (being AFO the only exception for now) why can’t be him too? Broken by a society that demands from heroes to be perfect , to never be weak, even through total desperation? Society even made a joke of all might who gave his life entirely and part of his organs for Japan. Rather than only condemning Enji for his doings , much like is doing with Dabi, the spotlight should be society again.

He did wrong. Terribly wrong. and now everyone is ready to crucify him. But how society taught him better ? How society perceive heroes as humans , how far they can be weak and fails and not be blamed? Like father , like son. Touya is the result of his family , I think it should be considerated Enji was the product of a corrupted society. Which never correct itself , never tries to change... they just discard heroes and villains alike just for not being “perfect”.

Hi! Aw, thank you for your kind words <3

So, I’ll break this down a bit, because I think this discussion needs a lot of nuance. I agree society affected Enji, but I don’t quite think that a victim of society is remotely comparable to being a victim of parental abuse.

To start with, I fundamentally disagree with the notion that abusers are born, and hence don’t buy that Enji is somehow different (or better) because he wasn’t born that way.

To note, I talking specifically about physical/emotional/spiritual domestic abuse, not about sexual abuse (and I don’t wanna talk about that because it’s not relevant here, so no one send me asks about it, thanks).

Abuse is a description of an action and its affects. I’ll quote @linkspooky’s meta on Hawks last week: abuser is not a bad word, it’s not just something that bad people do. It’s an unhealthy relationship dynamic that even good people, even sympathetic people can participate in. It’d be great if we could just do a genetic test and determine if someone is an abuser (actually it wouldn’t be great; it’d be dystopian and terrifying), but that’s not how people work.

However, “abuser” is seen as a bad word, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing (nuance/abuse is horrific and takes such a toll on people that I’m glad it is given serious weight in some respects, although imo it’s overemphasized in fandom places and underemphasized in real life) and I’m not getting into good/bad/pluses/minuses of linguistic connotations here.

Hence, I would actually categorize what Rei did to Shouto as abuse, and I do think the story indicates she was neglectful towards her other children. However, I have never labeled her an “abuser” because of the negative connotation as is clear she is not a repeat offender and Shouto doesn’t even blame her--he blames Enji, and I don’t think that’s an incorrect assessment either. It’s complicated. Abuse victims can be abusers at the same time as they are victims (ask many a kid of an abusive dad what their mom was like; at best if they didn’t intervene it’s usually neglectful and often people go no contact with both parents). People we love and care for can participate in abuse.

Mental illness is also complex in its relationship to abuse. Mentally ill people are far more likely to be victims of abuse than perpetrators, and  mental illness doesn’t make someone predisposed to being a bad person. Mental illness does affect how I see Rei’s actions, because she was clearly out of her mind at the moment she burned Shouto’s face; at the same time, mental illness doesn’t erase harm done even if the person can’t be held super culpable. Enji on the other hand was not mentally ill in the same way; he was able to think logically and separate right from wrong even within society (because society clearly still views beating your kids as bad).

It’s actually not really accurate to say that Endeavor didn’t try to control Rei and just let her go--he put her in the institution to keep her away from Shouto, which may have been motivated of course by trying to protect Shouto, but was more likely “trying to protect his masterpiece.” Rei instantly regretted what she had done; Enji didn’t show regret until after Kamino. Also, Shouto himself views it as taking their mother away, not as protecting him. In fact, he sees it as removing his protector and leaving him with just the abusive dad. Plus, Rei’s doctors probably wouldn’t have let him see her. So I absolutely do think Enji is a control freak.

For Enjii, there’s no indication of prior trauma besides just not getting what he wanted. But, as you say, I do think Enji was absolutely a product of society--culturally, though I’m not qualified to comment on that, and within the manga’s own framing of that culture. However, while Enji is a product of society, he is not framed with the child framing that is present around Touya; hence, why he’s not a victim in the same sense. He was an adult when he started doing bad things, capable of reason, as far as we know and there’s no indication this isn’t the case. He was ~20 when Dabi was born, so that means he was looking for a quirk marriage at the very latest by 19. That’s like starting your career as an administrative assistant and being pissed you’re not CEO like, a year after starting! That implies that he had a sense of entitlement at a very young age, entitled to the point of believing kids were not full people but instead extensions of himself to ignore, beat up, and cast aside as he pleased. Every aspect of Enji’s personality screams of toxic masculinity as well.

Also, almost every person who has ever done something wrong (and those who haven’t!) is a product of their environment as well as of their genetics, but I wouldn’t classify everyone as a victim--even though technically I suppose they would be, but the connotations are just not particularly fitting--and I wouldn’t call Enji one. Enji might be a product of society, but his kids are victims of a deliberate choice he had to be a terrible parent. Society sucks, but we don’t choose it and it doesn’t choose us in the same sense a parent chooses to treat their kids a particular way.  So, rather than saying Enji’s a victim of society, I think it’s more of society reaping what they’ve sown in terms of their #1 being revealed as a mass abuser; it’s karmic.

So to return to his character and Enji is also a representation of toxic masculinity--that is why for me personally, his crying this chapter  actually resonated. Like, I think it was well-framed in that his victims didn’t feel sorry for him and he cried before he knew they were coming, and while I get that people think he has no right to cry (as Rei and Natsuo said!). I see why people interpret that as manipulative, and while I absolutely think it was self-pitying, I also personally see it as human and realistic, and perhaps as a slight chipping away of the toxic masculinity that he embodies. We’ll see. I’m still no fan but that was the first moment in his redemption arc that struck me as sincere.

[thegc4life]

Do you any other Hawks fic ideas you'd like to write? Or is Hawks-sensei all you've got on your mind right now?

Wyv. You know not what you ask. I have to put them in categories, Wyv. Categories.

Kid!Hawks:

-Kid!Hawks growing up with the LOV (both as a permanent thing and various ridiculous drabbles) This involves Unwilling Big Brother Shigaraki, scarily willing Big SisterToga who knows all the coolest knife tricks, Best Uncle Twice who sometimes on his real good days doubles as temporary Dad, the Dad who teaches you how to hot wire cars and laugh people’s money straight out of their wallets Compress, mother-henning can-not-leave-you-alone-for-one-god-damn-minute Spinner, True Mom Kurogiri, Big Sis Mag who seems to be the only actual one that realizes that children need to sleep at some point for the love of god, extremely confused but horrifically soft Dabi who may or may not eventually turn his whole life around because of this feathered idiot that needs someone to make sure he lives a happy life whether it be a permanent shrinking or not. Oh, and Machia. The best Mountain Monster Dog brother (?) a boy could ask for.

-Kid!Hawks with UA (staff edition) also both in temporary and permanent circumstances. Temporary is already in progress. Permanent? Oh boy, permanent world. They raise him within UA so as to keep him from the Commission. Hawks often sits in on their classes with coloring books, picture books, or just to sit there and watch them. He is very smart. He picks up on things, but mostly he just likes being around all the staff. He picks a new person to sleep with every week because some of them have really shitty sleep schedules and even as a kid he knows they would feel bad keeping him up, thus forcing them to go to bed through good-person guilt so he tragets the sleepiest looking people for the week (hint: Aizawa gets picked a lot, and even if he’s not sleep deprived Hawks would pick him because he adores his grumpy cat Dad). Thirteen does crafts with him all the time. She watches every kid show and gets really into it with him. Hawks and Mic make the meals and they sing the entire time. They sing together throughout the day. Hawks will chirp out a line of notes and out of nowhere Hizashi will burst in to sing the lyrics. Midnight reads him bedtime stories cause her voices are the best. She does his nails and lets him do hers. He practices on the UA students to surprise her with new designs (the students fall over their own feet to offer to be his test subject). Snipe does little challenges with him. Things that, while technically helping him get used to controlling his quirk, are more fun than anything else because Hawks enjoys using his feathers in games. Hawks dresses up like a cowboy for an entire month, quoting old western movies and driving everyone but a very proud Snipe up the wall. Hound Dog and Hawks go on walks together ALL THE TIME. They explore the woods around UA and Hound Dog tells Cementoss to change up the geography every once in a while so they have something new to explore. He teaches Hawks how to go camping and Hawks fricken adores him and is always on his shoulders just kicking his feet or napping in Hound Dogs hair. Ectoplasm is Hawks favorite person to play any kind of tag based game because the others are too easy to catch with his feathers. But with Ectoplasm and all his clones? hawks goes nuts. Ectoplasm cried once when Hawks asked Aizawa for peg legs for Halloween and when someone asks him if he wants to be a pirate he says no because he wants to be a super cool hero like Ecto for Halloween. No one will be as cool as him. Hawks fricken loves Vlad. Like, adores him. Whenever Vlad is in the room Hawks will just go hang off his shoulders, or tuck under his arms with a book to read, or just lean against him. He has a little stuffed bull dog that has Vlad’s exact resting bitch face and carries it with him every time he leaves the dorm because he feels safer with it. He goes to Vlad when he’s injured because Vlad just takes care of it, gives him a hug, and doesn’t tell him to be more careful. Just asks if Hawks learned something and moves on. Hawks and Nezu are penpals. They see eachother every single day, but they are penpals. Hawks grows up with the most beautiful calligraphy handwriting because he keeps trying to out-do Nezu’s. He absolutely tattles on every single teacher in these letters, giving Nezu years worth of blackmail. Hawks thinks Nezu is a stuffed animal until he is fourteen because Nezu never fesses up. He just thinks the staff is even cooler for letting a stuffed animal run the place. He only ever cries around Nezu.

-Kid!Hawks UA(Student edition): So many. There’s lines I’ve written where they’re still in school when Hawks is kidified. When they’re already pros. In Canon, in Hawks-sensei, I even a small blurb sentence of Deku running a preschool that Hawks gets put into in an AU with quirks still. I can’t even... there’s too many students, cause I’d do all 1-A and 1-B. My favorite one to randomly wake up in a panick and write about though is the one where it’s Hawks-sensei verse based and Kid!Hawks gets taken in by the Monoma family. Rui and Eiko are older and Monoma is a pro-hero by then. The pure amount of fluff, sass, and Hawks spoiling that will happen. Big Brother Rui and Bigger Sister Eiko.  I think about this one a lot.

-I’m currently (slowly but progressing) writing a gift for @saltwater-sweets where Kid!Hawks is taken in by the Uraraka family. Like, he’s not even shrunk in this one. Uraraka’s newlywed parents were involved in the accident he first saved people in and they found him before the Commission. They realized his homelife situation and opened their home to him and now he is Uraraka’s big brother and that one line I threw out there? About him being a global superpower in household moving? Teaming up with Uraraka for that? Yeah.

-Kid!League of Villains and adult Hawks. Yeah, you heard me. They all get shrunk instead of him. And he can’t just... turn them in. They’re kids. They haven’t done any of the crimes their older counterparts have. And if it’s a permanent thing? They stay kids? Then he has a chance to really, truly save them. To give them the happy lives stolen from them. The Commission doesn’t like that. So Hawks takes them and runs. Dabi can be an adult too, I guess, if that’s the ship or something, but I just really wanna write Kid!LOV and Dad!Hawks.

-Kid!Aizawa. Dad!Hawks. Same concept. Beautiful dream. Need I say more.

-Kid!Hawks, Best Jeanist

-Kid!Hawks Gang Orca

-Kid!Hawks RUMI!!

Vigilante Hawks:

- Raven was born and I dived down that rabbit hole so fast I went back in time. Raven. But from a way earlier age. Those guys mugging Hawks when he was fifteen? The spark. Hawks stayed on the streets, he never went back, and he learned some things. He got some freedom, learned some shit, and realized that hero society was pretty fucked up. Shigaraki starts the LOV up and realizes there’s this whole underground community he was never aware of that Hawks has been building for years. It’s great.

-Hawks was never found by the Commission so he was never ‘Hawks’. His Dad raised him as a criminal but Hawks, with his little heart of gold, took every chance he could to make something good out of the bad deeds. Then he got old enough and he took full control. You ever seen the Levi OVA’s of Attack on Titan? Where he’s walking down the stairs and you realize every single person there is part of a huge ass gang of awesome with Levi at the head? That. THAT.

-Hawks loses his shit in Canon and goes completely AWOL. full Feral. He sees the problems, and he is prepared to do whatever it takes get rid of them. Whatever it takes.

AU Hawks

-Horribly injured, recently retired at the ripe old age of 23, and looking for something to save him from depression. Hawks meets Todoroki Fuyumi who gets him a job at her school. This one makes my brain happy.

-Takami Keigo and Todoroki Natsuo meet in college, graduate together, join the same hospital, and open one as partners as soon as they can. Ship or no ship, they go through their entire lives together. (I just... I really like the Todoroki sibs, okay?)

-Takami Keigo was born a lot earlier. So much, earlier, in fact that he is classmates with this overly optimistic ball of light named Yagi Toshinori and the grumpy ball of flame Todoroki Enji. Big Three anyone? Also, everyone needs a dumb smart birb to keep them sane. Hawks loves his friends, and he’ll kick anyone’s ass that tries to hurt them be it physically, mentally, or emotionally. Also, he meets Nana. 

-I LOVE THE IMAGINARY KAMAKIRI FAMILY DYNAMIC OKAY?! literally anything with Hawks involved in their lives, okay?! I did not expect to spiral so hard when I made up Hideo and his relationship with Kamakiri but my god did I spiral! I just really love them!

-I’m a sucker for the classics. Tattoo/flower. Coffee shop. College. Roommates. Love. 

- (she made me write this) a story surrounding the amazing love story of my sister and Iida Tenya with Aizawa crashes the wedding even though he was invited and Mirio is her maid of honor, with Eri as the ring bearer, and All Might is the flower girl. Twice is the officiator. Uraraka releases a flock of fake pigeons (not real ones cause they don’t deserve that). Oh, and everyone else is there too, I guess. Except for Mineta. Cause he’s in jail.

Right now, at this very moment, I can not for the life of me think of any others but I KNOW there’s at least seven more that I just can’t remember because my brain is work dead. Wyv. @wyvernspirit do you see what you’ve opened here? Close the box! Close it before it’s too late! There is always more! I am never without MORE ideas!

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme from "Chapter Two: The Hurricane’s Eye" in the Shadow Lords Tribebook from "Werewolf: The Apocalypse" Part Two of Two

Some of it is true, but most is not.

The details vary from place to place, but any you hear which are “true” most likely are not.

Be aware that the invitation itself is a great honor, and conduct yourself accordingly.

Renown is not important, and neither is rank.

Only ideas count, along with the will to act on them when need be.

While most of us are aware of that purpose to a greater or lesser extent, the hard truth of the matter is that we are more interested in our personal agendas than we are in any

higher goal.

All of us lust for power, but most have forgotten the reasons why we pursue such ends, and why the ends we seek most certainly justify any means we might employ to achieve them.

All pursue the path to power in different fashions.

Competition makes us stronger, and divergent philosophies yield opportunities missed by other, simpler credos.

They are not interested in personal power for its own sake, nor in leadership of any sort.

They are more than willing to debase themselves for the sake of others, and their actions free many of us to bring other, more potent schemes to fruition.

Though they will not (usually) use this information for personal gain, they have no compunctions against destroying an unfit leader so that others might take his place.

They are pitiless and remorseless, and cloaked in an aura of mystery that only adds to their fearsome reputations.

They have eyes everywhere, and they are watching.

The lure of power intoxicates them, and they will do anything in their power to bring it within their grasp.

Power is the end for them, not merely a means to an end, and as such dominance and control are their meat and drink.

Few of its members come to healthy ends.

Pity so few of them make good on their rhetoric.

Circles within circles. It’s how we work.

They are, for the most part, fairly deluded individuals, pretending they are responsible for the sins of their forefathers and letting their sense of guilt guide their actions in the here and now.

It should be obvious that the time has come to put the past behind us and move forward, even as we learn from our mistakes to tread more carefully in the future.

But these fools wallow in the pain they feel they’ve caused, and hope to undo it and make things right again.

What they fail to understand is that, even if they’re successful, it won’t help us in the here and now – at best it will appease the souls of the dead, and we don’t have time for that now.

Their hearts might be noble, but their intentions are misplaced, and that might cost us dearly when all is said and done.

From time to time we hear that someone or other has started practicing those dark rituals once again, but none of these reports ever proves to be substantial.

None are immune to this, no matter their station.

They’re a by-product, the proof that we’ve fouled things up, nothing more.

Any fighting force needs strategists as well as warriors to be effective, and you must always remember fall into the former camp.

If you are foolish, however, you will only be consumed by your own ambition. Tread carefully.

You should always remember that it is only overt displays of aggression which are typically frowned upon.

It is mostly a matter of courtesy and ceremony, which means observing it is no great bother.

Accepting an honorable surrender leaves your opponent beholden to you, which gives you a tremendous advantage over that individual and all that are allied with him.

An opponent who surrenders in this instance is either attempting to trick you, or not very honorable to begin with.

Always bow to your betters, but do not let them cow you into submission unless they truly are your betters.

Humans have always feared us, and with the advent of an industrialized civilization they now have the tools to turn that fear into hatred and persecution.

If a warrior, to say nothing of a leader, is not fit to pull his own weight within a sept, then he is not fit to live.

Even an old and frail leader can prove to be surprisingly fit in mind and spirit, and if he is capable of performing his duties you damn well better mind your business and leave him be.

Our leaders must be continually tested to keep them in fighting trim, and that means making power plays when you can get away with it.

Don’t be a fucking asshole.

This isn’t about you, you little shit.

We’re fighting for a cause, and that comes first.

Stay on target, get your tasks done, and deal with any problems in leadership only after your immediate task is completed.

Violate this law, and you will not merely be punished. You will die. Painfully.

In many ways, it seems as though we have passed a turning point.

He’s going to change the world, if he has to kill every man, woman and child on Earth to do it.

You can make these people do just about anything, provided you can make it a point of honor for them to go along with your plans.

Do your homework before coming here, though, because you’ll be skinned alive if you don’t.

We have no business being there, and it has little to offer us in any event.

The ruthless politicking would be worth the trouble if the opponents were worth our time.

I wouldn’t say they’re making nice with us, but their kind and ours are becoming more and more interdependent, and that means the opportunities here are staggering.

We all have the same goal, and that means there are many opportunities for personal glory and consolidation of power if one plays his cards right.

This place is a gold mine, so don’t ignore it.

They are, of course, social outcasts, but that only enhances their utility in many respects. They see all that happens around them, and no one notices them as they scurry about their business. They are so eager to please, and so willing to talk to people who take the time to notice them and treat them like human beings — or even simple dogs. Call them mongrels if you will, but do not discount the wisdom they have to offer.

You should not ignore them, but do not expect much from them, either.

Some of them fancy themselves canny politicians, but this is a delusion. Be sure to indulge them, however, as they do not take insults lightly.

That makes them available, gullible, and effective, three fine traits in any tool.

Just be sure to cover your tracks whenever you make them suffer — they do not take kindly to being manipulated, and they have a longer reach than you might think.

You can manipulate them, if you approach them with care.

You must continue to humor them, of course, but they are no longer your masters.

Valuable allies, if you ask me.

They are stupid and hateful, and do not act on their convictions. I do not even think they have convictions.

We’re better off without them.

Bah! I don’t care how useful the little beasts are!

And do I need to reinforce the importance of dealing through intermediaries? I thought not.

We need no more enemies, particularly those that can rise from the dead.

They are wondrous sources of information, and ultimately disposable. They are ideal tools.

I say they’re vermin, and deserve to be stepped on accordingly.

They are of no concern to you.

While this may not seem like a critical project, it nonetheless deserves our attention.

Most of the others are both dangerous and more numerous than we are, so you must exercise extreme caution when dealing with them.

Do not assume they think like you do, or that they are motivated by the same sorts of goals.

These are alien beings, and you must treat them accordingly.

This disgusts me.

You don’t want to make them angry, but if you can get one in your pocket they can prove to be a terrific ace up your sleeve.

Your humanity is showing.

These beings hold secrets, and secrets hold power.

It is typically not our way to truck with the dead, but they are a resource, which is easily exploited if you know what they seek, and how to get it.

I’ve encountered ghosts in a number of places, typically sites of horrific acts or great battles.

Their time is gone, it seems.

It is a sad thing, I suppose, but they are ultimately of no consequence to us.

I’ve never understood why it is they’re here to begin with.

Unfortunately for them, they are clumsy, disorganized, and more often than not incompetent.

They have no real community to speak of, no formal training to fall back on, and no coherent agenda.

This makes them fantastic tools, since they never know what to expect from us and are just looking for targets which often coincide with our own.

So, a little push here, a little nudge there, and they do our work for us, all without us dirtying our hands or wasting other, more valuable resources on the job.

Great opportunities, there, so long as we can keep their attention far away from us.

They are uninformed, disorganized, misguided, and utterly ineffectual without aid from other sources.

This makes them fine pawns, I suppose, but don’t count on them for too much.

[dredreadsdrawing]

OC-Tober Day 24: Opposites

*flops while screaming* im not explaining this one, just read aaaaaaahhhhh

A hare joins a group of scientists. He’s a prodigy that’s been sheltered his entire life by his family and community. He’d only ever met fellow herbivores and only heard horror stories of terrible things happening with carnivores. How they used to hunt herbivores. How they find children’s meat like a delicacy. And how, even though peace treaties have been signed and they’ve moved towards eating only non-sentient animals, they can change at a dime. They are never to be trusted.

Welp the first face he sees on this expedition as he walks into the lab he will spend a year on is a tiny dog’s. He’s fascinated and terrified by it.

It’s tiny, it’s friendly, and it always follows protocol and orders. But it could slip up anytime.

Hare stares too much and the office suspects something is up. One of them strikes a conversation with Hare about it, acting sleazy, but Hare turns it from romance to uh. Bigotry. “Why is there a carnivore with us? Aren’t they all impulse driven? Am I the only one scared by this?” The team-mate is like ‘Oh shit, I didn’t realize we had a racist with us’ but he explains, the dog has proven himself to be intelligent enough to join. He has lived his whole life with herbivores, has gone through all the carnivore training, and to top it off, he comes from a family of dogs all known for their cooperation with herbivores. They are safe. Still, Hare isn’t so sure. Meanwhile, Dog has been steering clear from Hare, picking up on how tense he gets when he’s around. Living with herbivores, Dog is used to this. He knows it’s better to just stay away and not cause a fuss. But then they get sent to a mission outside.

At it, something goes wrong. Everyone escapes but Hare was hit with something and is bleeding from the shoulder. Dog is the only one that stayed behind with him. Dog has a medkit and tries to reassure Hare to let him use it. Hare is nervous, so Dog muzzles himself as a sign of good faith.

Dog manages to clean the wound and seal it up. He never showed any signs of wanting to bite Hare. After repairing Hare, they have to hold hands through (idk a blizzard? Something like that) to get to the lab/ship again. They make it and the crew is impressed. It’s only after this that Hare puts down his wariness and picks up an obsession instead. Dog saved his life. He wants to study the Dog.

Now everywhere and doing anything, the Hare is glued to the Dog’s side. The Dog thinks it’s because he helped the Hare, and while everyone in the ship finds it amusing if annoying at times, the Dog likes it and doesn’t mind it. He begins thinking it’s cute. Dog also breaks down the boundaries more by initiating more touching, asking Hare personal questions, and following Hare like he does when he is ordered to do something else. The more Dog shows genuine interest, the more Hare is floored with sudden feelings. Rationalizing them is proving difficult; but he still won’t admit it’s attraction. Doing so would be a death sentence… surely? Relationships like those never last….

(There’s a cute instance where Hare is put on another field mission and they panic about it. Dog sees how terrified they are, and though he had to stay in the ship for this trip, he manages to switch work with someone for the day to help Hare calm down. They pretty much hold his hand the entire time.)

Dog eventually confesses to Hare with a smile one day while they were alone. All he says is “I like you”, and that was it for Hare. All his anxiety, his denial and his fear go out the window. Hare goes for a kiss, and doesn’t let go until there’s tongue involved. Then Hare nicks theirs against dog’s teeth and there’s blood. A lot of blood. Hare surprisingly gets into it but Dog is concerned immediately. Dog has to push back Hare as they both gasp and look at one another. Dog sees Hare shaking and thinks he’s ruined things by scaring the sheltered herbivore again. Hare looks at Dog with their blown out pupils, heckles raised, and blood dripping from their mouth and thinks, “I’m okay being eaten by you.” So hooray for vore haha cries.

Dog makes sure to take everything slower now in the few more months they’re together, being very careful not to hurt or make Hare feel threatened. Needless to say, Hare is very impatient and finds himself thinking more and more of the taste of his blood. The feeling of teeth. He’s uh, going down a bit of a spiral. But this crashes with a nightmare of Dog’s waking both up. Dog had a flashback to a terrible childhood memory where they hurt someone. In real life, he did it out of necessity (some bully), but still, he was severely punished. In his dream, there was no one to punish him. And he just kept going. And he loved every moment of revenge.

Dog’s description of his violent dream sent Hare back a lot. Made them snap from their fantasies and go back to the fear they were so used to. Dogs are dangerous. Carnivores are dangerous. What used to be his delight became shameful. To run from confronting himself, Hare instead began blaming it on Dog. He became a victim in his mind. His jumpiness and avoidance of Dog returned the next day.

Then there’s an accusation that Dog messed with the test subjects, now found horrifically maimed and dead in their chambers. The accusation is taken seriously, even without proof.Dog insists that he was with Hare at the time, Hare’s heart starts to feel cold at the accusation. And his sheltered prejudice springs back up with the rest of the team spouting nonsense. Of course it was the Dog that did it. No herbivore could be that cruel. He doesn’t vouch for Dog, instead joining the team with stories of his own. On how creepy the dog could get sometimes, how he noticed Dog brought meat snacks into the ship, and the dream. He told them all about the dream. Dog was locked inside his room as they waited for the authorities to come in a few days. They were far from civilization afterall. But on the very first night, Dog finds a way to escape and run away. Into the frozen wasteland. This only solidified their guilt in the crew’s eyes. Hare felt disgust for the rest of the two days.

The police arrive. Even without Dog around ,they need to investigate the entirety of the lab for evidence against him in order to persecute him legally. The more thorough investigation quickly brings up facts that pile up better than rumors. Dog was right, it couldn’t have been him. It was the head researcher, who wanted to test new drugs for the sake of it, went too far, got drugged herself and went on a rampage. She didn’t even have to frame the Dog in the next morning, no one had noticed the blood on her shoes. She’s dragged away, and the team is left with guilt at jumping so readily onto prejudice. They were all biggots. The authorities search for Dog but nothing turns up. He’s disappeared.

Hare is a wreck. In his sheltered mind, he had felt so justified to quickly turn on him, but now it was clear. Hare was wrong. He has been the whole time. He only has himself to blame… or atleast… a part of himself. Again, his brain shifts the blame. His instinctual jumpiness. His growing up in a herbivore society. His fantasies. The problem wasn’t that Dog was a predator, it was that Hare was a herbivore and he couldn’t understand. He needs to fix this. Then he needs to find Dog. He has to be redeemed.

So in his twisted mind as time rolls on, he will conduct experiments.

Years later, Dog has been living in a cold, secluded European town. He had miraculously found a fishing boat near the ice and snuck inside. No one noticed him until they reached their town. He was cold, hungry, without a dollar and emotional. He explained his story after a cup of coffee and his first taste of jerky. The town was kind and full of carnivores. They agreed Dog was done dirty, and was right to run away.  He was welcomed in. They are glad to have Dog, particularly as company for one of their own. The town is mostly made up of older folks, with a newer generation now born, but only one person Dog’s age. They are eager to get along and help Dog, and they become inseparable. Dog feels valued here, and unafraid of being himself for the first time. But still. If there’s one thing he’ll always hate, it’s the cold. Cue it being winter time again.

“AAUGH I HATE THE COLD!” He yelled at no one as he shivers and stumbles in the snow to go back home. They’re covered head to toe and they still feel cold. Even his tail has a cover! His outburst caught the interest of a new stranger that was having a conversation with a local. He turns to look at the small figure shuffling by, obscured by all their layers of clothing. But his ears never betrayed him. To the old lady he was questioning, he reassures he’s just passing through and bids them farewell. The old lady gives him a look as she sees him slink off. She doesn’t feel right about this. He’s following the person that made the sound.

Dog shakily opens his door and barely steps in, sighing with relief at the warmth, when he feels arms around him. The door behind him closes. He drops his keys. Not alarmed at first, he suspects who it is. “Artemy?” The hare’s name isn’t Artemy. Hare squeezes harder and whispers this to Dog’s ear. Dog is startled as they remember the voice, and he scrambles away, his groceries also dropping to the floor. They look at eachother, Dog on the floor and Hare standing tall. Dog in a panic and Hare overjoyed.

Hare kneels down and straddles Dog as they remain speechless. “Let’s see what you look like now.” He hums as he’s taking off layer after layer, Dog’s body betraying him and letting him. Dog shivers once he pulls the last turtle neck. Dog glares up at him and Hare awws. Hare comments Dog has gotten fluffier. Cuter. But still so vicious. Hare goes for another hug, kissing Dog’s neck. “I missed you so much.” Dog isn’t buying into this. He finally gains back control and pushes Hare away. He gets up, picking up and putting back on his turtleneck.

Dog tells Hare to get out. That Dog is innocent and they’re not going back to be prosecuted. Hare shakes his head. He tells Dog he’s already been cleared once the police came in. That it was the head researcher all along.

Dog laughs. Hare doesn’t.

Hare asks why Dog left if it only made him look more suspicious. Dog said they knew what happens to carnivores in a herbivore court system. They just get blamed.

Dog looks at Hare, eyes still hard. Hare should leave, before they see what happens to herbivores in a carnivore court system. Hare shakes his head.

He’s not there to cause trouble. He came to apologize. Dog growls. Apology not accepted. Dog will never forgive Hare. Hare flinches and gets up. He starts his words slowly but Dog is moving away. Hare yells his immediate thoughts instead. He’s redeemed himself! He can prove it! Just… hear him out…

Dog turns around and sees the baby eyes. He hates how effective they still are.

Dog sighs. Fine. Dog picks up his strewn groceries and goes into his kitchen to make some tea. Before it’s done making, Hare better finish explaining. Hare wastes no time and goes into a tangent about how he knew his herbivore roots failed him. How he realized the problem in their relationship always stemmed from his insecurity in being born prey. So he had to correct this. To better get to know Dog. He slowly goes to Dog and Dog takes a step back. He reaches for Dog’s hands, takes them, and opens his mouth. The Hare has fangs now. He places the Dog’s thumbs to touch them, though the Dog only does so for a second before retrieving his hands and washing them off. “Okay so you modified your teeth. So what?”

It’s not just that, the Hare promises. Dog stares at him, still unconvinced, as the tea kettle begins to whistle. Time is up. Instead of leaving, the hare moves to the bag of groceries and picks up a packet. Pork. Hare smiles. He asks if he can stay for dinner. He’d love to taste Dog’s cooking.

[doof-doofblog]

"I'm Sorry, Kat!"

Friday 30th October 2020

Hello again everyone! I hope you're having an enjoyable week so far! I am back with another post following Friday's episode, during this week I'm going to try my absolute best to catch up. It may take a while but I want to thank you all for being so patient with me, I'll either do one post a day or I'll see if I can manage two post in one day, we shall see! But let's jump right in with Friday's episode!

The episode starts with Honey, after being found by Jay in the alley after being attacked, Jay is sat by her bedside in hospital. This is quite a sad scene to start off with I have to say, Honey can barely remember anything, she wakes to see Jay sat closely beside her. She can't seem to understand how she's ended up in hospital, she remembers being with Paul but she can't remember what events took place. She looks to Jay for some answers but he looks as if he can't find the words to tell her what he's saw. He informs, gently, that she left him a voicemail which left him concerned as she sounded drunk. He explains he went to check on her, just to make sure she was okay, but on his search he found Paul in alleyway taking pictures of her, and before he made a run for it, he was either unbuckling his belt or doing it up! As far as I could tell, he was unbuckling his belt - of course the main worry and fear in their mind is if they don't know for sure whether he's actually raped her or not. Honey can barely breathe as all these thoughts go flooding through her mind.

Meanwhile at the Mitchell household, Lola is still waiting to hear news from Jay, has he been with Honey all night? Has Lola been made aware of what's happened to Honey? Clearly she's still waiting to hear from Jay. The next scene jumps to the Panesar's, Kheerat and Vinny are asking their Mum about Jags, it sounds as if she's gone to see her son, or maybe she's just been given an update from someone on the inside - wouldn't surprise me to be honest! Suddenly, Suki just so happens to come up with an idea, having a poker night in her son's honour! Is it just me, or it once again she's using her son's name to do her dirty work! Both her sons are surprised at her suggestion but once she happens to mention inviting a few people over to play and when she happens to mention Kush's name, Kheerat can see straight away that his Mum is up to something, he questions whether it has anything to do with him winning 10 grand and also the fact that she wants to kick the Slaters out of their house. He informs his Mum that he also asked Kush the previous day for a poker game and he declined their offer, even though it was Kat who kind of answered for him. Suki is adamant that their family do not lose, but the offer still stands to invite him to the poker game .... Why do I get the feeling that this is just going to end badly?!

Back at hospital, Jay is trying his best to console Honey and trying to keep her calm, she confides in him that she has been drunk before, but the pure fear of not being able to remember anything is clearly shaking her up. It must be the most terrifying thing not being able to remember what happened. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like. Jay is adamant that he'll be with her all the way through no matter what barriers they may have to come across. He informs her that no one else knows and that her children are safe at home with Lola. It's then that a type of nurse walks into the room, the following scene shows the nurse informing Honey that there are all types of tests they can do to check whether she has been a victim of sexual abuse. Honey agrees to go ahead with the tests, but when the nurse mentions that a police officer will come a visit her to report the incident if she wishes to, Jay is quick to argue that she doesn't have to report it if she doesn't want to. This is quite surprising to me, as Honey asks - why wouldn't she want to report it?!

At the Atkins household, Gray is home and it looks like he's finally been reunited with his children after Shirley suggested that Karen and Mitch look after them while he's getting himself together. As he's enjoying his time with his children, he gets a phone call from Shirley - the last we saw Shirley, she nicked Sonia's car. Could her call to him maybe be something to do with it?

At the Panesar's, Kush is handing over money to Suki which should cover about 2 months rent. As he makes small-talk to the vindictive woman, she brings up the plans of hosting a poker night at the club in honour of her son. Kush, at first, does not seem interested. He seems to click on that maybe the fact that he's won a big sum of money is the main reason why she's wanting him to take part. But Suki just digs her shoes in deeper, kind of almost stabbing him with a knife at his weak spot. She claims that there will be an open space for him and she'll keep the rent money, oh just in case he changes his mind! I actually hate the fact that she's playing on his weakness. She's claiming her sons play big and they play to win, and she has to sit-in in case it gets out of control ... I actually hate that she's almost convincing him to play. Urgh does anyone else hate Suki as much as I do? She is a very vindictive woman! Do any of you agree that she's just as bad as Janine, or could she potentially be worse?!

Meanwhile, at the Café, it looks as if Sonia and Whitney are wanting answers from Gray. As their conversation continues, it's more clear as to why Shirley phoned Gray. Sonia is feeling pretty annoyed that Shirley, not only tried to con her, but also nicked her car and made a report about it. The main reason Shirley called Gray was to try and convince Sonia to retract her report. He speaks for the Carter mother that she's been going through a tough time with Mick lately, she only just wanted to take the car for a little spin, he points out the fact that she's been there for him in recent weeks and he wants to do the same for her. He informs Sonia that Shirley wants to make an offer to make it up to her, Sonia agrees to hear Shirley out, but only for Gray's sake and that the offer she's making must be a damn good one!

Back at the hospital, Honey is still reeling from her recent revelation, as she's slowly coming to terms with everything, Jay pops in to see her. He's insisting that he should go and see Isaac and Sheree, just to explain things as everyone knows that Honey isn't one to get drunk so easily. But Honey makes a brilliant statement, it's not their fault and it certainly isn't her own fault either! Jay is quick to agree with her as a police officer comes in, ready to ask Honey some questions. As they begin to get comfortable, Honey asks for Jay to stay with her. Understandably she wouldn't want to be on her own during this horrific worrying time. I believe there have been many rumours recently regarding Honey and Jay, with everything that has happened to Honey and Jay being the one looking out for her, could their be a romance blossoming between them? I do think people wouldn't mind Honey and Jay being together, but then there are others who see Jay belonging to Lola. The main thing that comes to my mind when I picture Honey and Jay being together, is Billy - won't he feel some kind of betrayal? From perhaps both parties? His ex-wife with the boy he's basically brought up since his Dad passed away? Who knows? What do you guys think?!

At the club, Martin and Ruby are getting everything ready for the poker night. I have to be honest, I am really liking the way Martin is questioning her about the event. It's like something does feel right, know what I mean? Like something doesn't sit right with him. He notices his wife making certain movements of the table and chairs and everything placed on the table, Martin questions her actions. Ruby is quick to defend herself that it's the one time that someone had hired the club out and she wants to make a good impression. Of course, we know that Ruby and Suki are behind this, they know something is going to happen and they're planning something horrendous. As the Panesar family are making themselves comfortable, Kush arrives - much to Martin's surprise. Kush reveals the only reason he's there is to pay Ruby back the money he nicked from her till. As he turns to leave, (surprise surprise), Suki is quick to make a dig at him saying that that repayment could've waited until tomorrow, hinting the fact that Kush couldn't stay away because he knew what was taking place there. When Suki invites him to stay, Martin is quite to defend his friend by saying he can't stay, he even tries to get his wife to back him up, but Ruby - simply - couldn't care less what he does with his money. Kush asks Suki whether she's still kept hold of the money he gave her earlier, as she pulls out a chair inviting him in, he agrees! Martin bows his head and jumps in quick "So am I!" ... I know it sounds silly, but my heart did a little flutter there! The fact that Martin is joining in the game of poker, just to look out for his friend, something I bet Ruby and Suki didn't expect! Could Martin perhaps stop Kush making a huge mistake?!

Returning to the hospital, Honey is sat with Jay as she's answering the questions she's being asked. Did anyone else feel that this was another sad scene? Honey reveals that she doesn't normally drink as she has children and a job. She tries to recall her first date with Paul, how he seemed so excited to see her for a second time, and how he made her feel special. How she made an effort in an attempt to look pretty - but it seems like she's turning the blame on herself, she's feeling guilty for "Pushing" herself. As Honey breaks down into tears, Jay is quick to defend her, claiming that no matter how many dates she went on with Paul, no matter how many glasses of wine she had, he shouldn't have found her in that state in the alleyway. No one deserves the be found in that way. No one deserves to go through or experience sexual assault. Something does tell me that something is going to happen between Jay and Honey though, what do you guys think? The more I see them together, the more I can see it happening!

Ha! I just want to mention one thing - Rainie!!! As Jean are Stacey are looking for Kush on the Square, they bump into Stuart and he reveals he's seen Kush in the club taking part in a poker game. As Jean and Stacey rushes off to find him, Rainie appears from the Minute Mart with an ice cream in one hand and a bottle of tomato ketchup in the other! Stuart looks on in (what I can tell) amazement as she squirts the ketchup onto the ice cream - I simply loved the way she looked up to him and said "What baby wants, baby gets!" - very weird craving but absolutely hilarious moment! - At the club, I loved how idiotic Martin was being, of course he knows how to play poker but I think it was plain to see that he was jeopardising the game to stop Kush from gambling! True friend right there, right?! As the Panesar brother's can't take any more of Martin's ways, they leave the game, calling it quits. When Jean and Stacey eventually find Kush in the club, they plead to him to stop playing, even Stacey begs Kheerat to call it day, and Kheerat agrees - leaving his Mum absolutely stunned. She almost panics that her plan isn't coming together. Kush looks a little bit disheartened also, gutted that he's been caught gambling again and that the game has come to end so quickly. As Kheerat, Vinny and Martin leave the game, with the possibly of Kush leaving to - Suki announces one final game, between her and Kush. What an earth is this evil woman up to?!

At the pub, Gray and Sonia are one again meeting, but with Shirley in tow this time. Gray reveals to Sonia that the offer Shirley is purposing is that she will sell the car on Sonia's behalf to a collector friend of hers, at no extra cost for well more than £2,000 - that way she manages to get rid of car she doesn't want and she'll be getting the car for a lot more than that she thought in the first place, in exchange for Shirley not being reported to the police and going to prison for a mistake that she regrets. Sonia doesn't seem keen on the idea, she even throws in an insult and warns Gray to make sure she doesn't nick his silverware, but from what I can take from that conversation is that Sonia agrees. As she walks off, Shirley is thankful to Gray for helping her out, as he goes to leave, she offers him a job to work for Phil. She explains that he's needing a decent lawyer and with Ritchie being snowed under with other clients, Phil could do with someone like Gray in his defence. Gray doesn't seem keen at first, but Shirley explains that for her, it could be too late to help Mick, but for him, she might've made it just in time. It's an interesting concept, will Gray end up working for Phil? Will he enjoy it? Will Phil be able to trust him? Who knows?!

Returning to the poker game in the club, Ruby watches from the bar as Suki and Kush are sat at the poker table. Jean and Stacey are also also stood watching from a distance. Suki plays right into Kush and teases him that there's two months rent in the pot, there's no cause for indecision now! Suddenly Kush makes a massive move and raises her and pushes all his chips into the middle of the table. The pot has now raised to 4 months rent. Jean and Stacey are absolutely stunned, they're pleading for him to stop until it gets any higher. Stacey pleads to Kush to think of Kat and Arthur, he confirms that he is which is why he's making such a big move, he believes that Suki has nothing he can't handle! -  Oh my god, as this scene goes on I am trembling in my pyjamas! - Suki looks to Ruby and we can see that Ruby has been looking at Kush's cards from her CCTV footage, basically giving small signals to Suki of what cards he's got! - Firstly, how the hell does Ruby know how to play poker?! - And also, that is so bloody sneaky! That was their plan!!! Suki smiles and Kush's comments and decides on a wager, she proposes that if Kush wins, they can live for 8 months, rent-free! But if she wins, they are out of their house by the end of the week. Stacey and Jean are can't believe what they're hearing, their pleas to Kush fall on deaf ears as Kush smiles, he is so confident that she's bluffing and makes the wager from 8 months, to a year rent-free! I fear he's getting himself in deeper and deeper and there's nothing Stacey and Jean can do to resolve it. Suki smirks at Kush's confidence, she asks him whether he's prepared to play or walk away!

Returning to the hospital one last time, Honey is getting herself ready to leave. Jay is still with her, informing her that he'll sort everything out for her regarding work. But Honey is adamant that she'll sort herself out, she asks him why he didn't want her to speak to the police. In her mind, if there was any doubt in his mind that it was her fault, he wouldn't ask her to do that! Honey doesn't want people thinking badly of her, but I truly believe no one will! Jay even admits that he doesn't think that, not even at all! As the police officer announces she's ready to take Honey to the test centre, she asks whether Jay could accompany her.

The final scene of this episode is quite horrendous! Poor Jean is teary as it looks like she's revealed to Kat what has been happening. Kat can't believe what she's hearing, she's absolutely furious to hear that her boyfriend has gone behind her back and gambled again, even though he promised her he wouldn't! What's worse, is that he's only gone and betted the roof over their heads, with the house full, what the hell are they going to be able to do with the children?! Kat hurries herself to go and stop Kush from making a huge mistake, but it's too late - as she gets to the door, Stacey barges through the door, without a word, and marches upstairs! Behind her, looking ever so sheepish, Kush. Kat confronts her boyfriend and demands to know what's happened, but as he turns round, ever so slowly, he looks defeated, almost like he's going to burst into tears! Kat knows that look and tells him not to even show her that face ... all he can muster is "I'm sorry, Kat!"

Kush has only gone a lost the poker game and caused his whole family to be homeless. What the heck are the Slater's going to do now? Surely someone will help them or something may happen? I mean, they've only got a week, but I truly hope things will get better for the Slaters. They're one of my favourite families on the Square, it's going to be hard to see them struggling over the next few episodes. I mean, something tells me, Martin won't see his children go homeless, which might mean that he may take them in, which will just anger Stacey so much more when it means her children will be living with Ruby also. What do you guys think? Do you think Martin will click on that it was his wife who was partly to blame for duping Kush into losing the poker game and causing them to lose their house?! Martin isn't dumb, I do think - in time - he'll come to realise that his wife has been playing games with not just his ex-wife, but his children's lives also, and that is something he will not tolerate! I also hope that this will be a wake-up call for Kush, we know Davood Ghademi is leaving the soap next year, will Kush be able to turn his life around before he leaves? So many questions and possibilities that could happen.

I hope you've enjoyed reading, I apologise once again for it being a bit late. Tomorrow I will do a post following Monday's episode! I hope you all enjoy the rest of your evening and I'll be back very soon! Love you all xXx

[monicawoe]

12, 16, 21, 25

for the fanfic end of the year asks meme (thanks @slytherkins !)

12. favorite character to write about this year: It’s a tie between Eddie Brock/Venom and Sam Winchester. Venom fics have been incredibly fun to write and I’ve really been enjoying writing more humorous fics which is something I used to struggle with. But with Supernatural in its last season I also had a serious resurgence of need to write all the Sam fics!

21. most memorable comment/review:  “M A X I M U M T O A S T BABYBOI NO.”…which totally makes sense in context. Venom had some difficulties operating the toaster.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read: Definitely The Holy Grail Bird by @denugis  Not just because she wrote this as a gift fic to me, but because it’s easily one of my favorite fics of all times. This is such an insightful look into Sam and addresses the Winchester’s Chuck Problem so cleverly, but more than that it brought me to tears in the best kind of way, the kind of tears that happen when somebody just gets it so spot on and so beautifully that your heart leaps and aches all at the same time.  If you are a Sam Winchester fan, do yourself a favor and read this immediately if you haven’t yet, and if you’ve already read it, then go read it again

16 fic(s) you completed this year (*saving this one for last since it’s a long response!) I completed 17 fics this year, of which 16 were posted–mainly Supernatural, Venom and MCU. This was such an awesome year for collaborations, big-bangs and fic exchanges. I had the opportunity to work with some truly stellar artists who are all total sweethearts, so thanks again to @sketchydean, @sdeeys, @vebirascanvasand of course @quickreaver for bringing my fics to life so beautifully. Thanks also to everybody whose prompts I filled for various events, and big thanks to my amazing betas for saving me from my own bad writing habits

Links, fic summaries, and gorgeous art banners below the cut!

Supernatural:

Lakeside Fishing - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (Sam/Patrick(S5ep7), 4k words)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.   After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Thirteen Taps of The Ivory Beak - Death is a transient thing. The bird knows this, because she herself is both alive and not. Her creator made her this way, not by choice but because of who he is. (a companion piece to de_nugis’ The Holy Grail Bird, 900 words)

Whosoever Holds - Just when Sam Winchester needs it most, Mjölnir returns to him. But is he really worthy? (2k, gen Sam Winchester, Steve Rogers; MCU/SPN crossover)

The Devil You Knew - Brady, not Azazel, had killed Jessica, all those years ago. And now he was sitting across from Sam, bound. Trapped. (1k; an alternate version of Sam’s confrontation with Brady in 5x20)

Wednesday - It’s Wednesday. It’s always Wednesday, he thinks, as he stands up and leaves the motel room, not sparing a glance at the other bed. (2k, Mystery Spot boyKing!Sam AU)

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Venom:

Costume Party - Eddie and Venom are invited to a costume party at the museum. While there, they find a mad scientist in the dinosaur wing who is up to no good. (Symbrock, 5k words)

Reckoning Tartare with a Side of Tater Tots - Eddie Brock is writing a story about Will Graham, a man accused of horrific serial murders. But Eddie’s got a feeling Will is innocent, and somebody else is to blame. When Hannibal Lecter invites Eddie to dinner, Venom is surprised by the menu. (2k words; Venom | Hannibal crossover)

The End Times Are Here (But So Are We) - Eddie Brock crashes his motorcycle near Anathema Device’s Jasmine Cottage. She was expecting him, of course. Agnes Nutter’s prophecy had foretold his coming, just in time for the End of Days. (2k words; Venom | Good Omens crossover)

Asunder - (bigbang featuring art by @sdeeys and @vebirascanvas !) Eddie and Venom have grown accustomed to their new life together. They patrol every night, keeping San Francisco just a little safer, and keeping Venom fed. But one night, they’re captured, and separated. Eddie wakes up to find himself imprisoned in a glass cell and, for the first time in six months, completely alone.  (Symbrock, PG-13, 12k words; written for the @symbrockbigbang)

Midnight Snack - Eight hours is way too long to wait until breakfast. Venom makes snacks while Eddie is sleeping. Unfortunately the toaster gives them some issues. (3k words)

They Say It’s Your Birthday - Venom asks Dan to help throw a surprise birthday party for Eddie. (3k words | written for the chocolate box gift exchange)

Marvel/Captain America

Interstitial Light - After Thanos wiped half of life off the planet, the remaining Avengers find a way to reach out to those they lost, using a combination of Stark-Tech, magic and their own memories. Steve makes contact with Bucky, but they spent too many decades apart when Steve was on ice. But there was somebody else who knew Bucky during that time—who trained with him, who knew both the Winter Soldier and James Barnes: Natasha. | 6k, Natasha, Bucky

Stumble and Fall Into You   -   Three months ago, Steve’s world shattered. SHIELD had been infiltrated by Hydra, people he trusted turned out to be enemies, and Bucky, who he thought he’d lost in 1944, had been alive this whole time. Steve tries to get back to some kind of normalcy, but Bucky is always on his mind, and lately he’s been seeing him everywhere. | 5k, Steve/Bucky

—

The 17th fic I completed this year is my Sam Winchester Big Bang fic, which will be posting early next year. I’ve gotten paired with yet another wonderful artist (I think it’s still supposed to be a secret, but it won’t be for long) and am very excited about this collaboration too!

Might as well make this my end of year stats post as well while I’m at it.

Words so far: 247,305 as of end of November, I’ll probably come in close to 280k by end of year. About a third of these words were posted as fics, the rest were prior drafts and a handful of short stories.

Thematically this was a very cathartic and iddy year for me in fic. Venom fandom gave me the opportunity to tackle things in a totally different way which has been incredibly freeing and fun to write, and returning to Supernatural fic had me writing out ideas I’d had on the backburner for years, like with Wednesday and my aforementioned SWBB. Nearly every Sam Winchester fic I write is about autonomy (loss of or reclaiming of) in one way or another but I’d say the two iddiest ones by far from this year were His Soul to Keep and Last Drop. 

I’ve got four WIPs heading into 2020, so here’s to another year of writing!

[alenajade]

❛ alexa demie, 19, cisfemale, she/her ❜ was that ALENA MONTANEZ i just saw hurrying across the quad? you’d think they would know what happens when a SOPHOMORE is late to class. then again, the FASHION major has been known to be pretty MANIPULATIVE. maybe being so VIVACIOUS helps keep them out of trouble. i heard that they are BISEXUAL and love DADDY KINK + SIZE DIFFERENCE

ayyye it’s G bringing ya’ll yet another lovable trash heap (i play Ezra too hi) ! figured I’d up my chances of being able to plot with as many people as possible if I had both a male & a female, plus I’ve been dying for a chance to use alexa as a fc so! alena is a brand new muse i’ve never played before & i’m super hype to develop her here for the first time ok so lemme just FINALLY get around to introducing this bitch real quick

OTHER KINKS: CHOKING, ORGASM CONTROL/DENIAL, BODY WORSHIP (REC), FORCE, PUNISHMENT + REWARD, ANAL, SPANKING, MARKING, BITING, HAIR PULLING,  DOMINANCE,  VOYEURISM,  CLOTHES ON, GROUP SEX, SEXUAL PAIN, ORDERS (REC)(GIV), BEING FILMED / PHOTOGRAPHED

alena jade montanez was born that bitch.

 was such a daddy’s girl up until age 6 when he left her, her mom, and her (at the time) 4, almost 5 year old little sister to pursue a new life with his mistress- after that, alena’s grandmother moved in with them, and her mom went through such a transformative stage that she had no choice but to pick herself up and make the decision to raise the strongest, most confident daughters she possibly could, because she never wanted a man to be able to break them the way the one she’d thought was her soulmate had broken her

and that’s exactly what she did 

alena grew up in a small town in pennsylvania; her mom had wanted to move after the divorce, but decided it best for alena not to uproot her when she was already accustomed to the life she had there. her mom made sure she was involved in absolutely everything she could possibly do so she wasn’t bored out of her mind, often driving her miles and miles to bigger cities for gymnastics meets and practices, cheerleading practice/competitions, dance practice/competitions, etc

thanks to child support from her dirtbag dad, who never tried to maintain a father/daughter relationship with her or her sister after she left, and both her mom and grandma essentially revolving their lives around caring for the girls, alena never really wanted for anything- in fact, materialistically speaking, she was spoiled rotten

every toy, every lavish birthday party, every cute little outfit, and as she got older every expensive new makeup release she just had to have, alena always got, and she rarely ever had to make a fuss or ask twice, meaning she was bred into someone who absolutely despises being told no or being told what to do

her mom eventually remarried (alena would’ve been around 8) a dude who alena just never connected with or considered any kind of father figure, but he was loaded, and out of that deal came her step sister around her same age who she loves VERY much (wc!!)

she was head cheerleader at her high school, she was also voted prom queen, but she never wanted to be one of those bitches who peaked in high school, 

so that’s why, even though she partied way 2 much and sucked way 2 much dick to actually be learning anything in hs, she got good grades and always aced her tests because she knew she wanted to be able to go to college and eventually move away- she chose noru bc it’s close to home so she can still visit her mom and her grandma, and ofc bc of its party school reputatuion

she’s a full on bratz doll personified okay she has a passion 4 fashion or whateva, she loves makeup and she’s loved making her own clothes from the time she learned to sew at just 11 years old, which is why she’s at northridge studying fashion- her main goal (is to blow up, and then act like she don’t know noboday) is to eventually get accepted for transfer to the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising in los angeles and get out of PA altogether 

she hates PA because... well, she feels fucking haunted here. literally and figuratively

lemme explain: my girl sees ghosts- like either she was born with something wrong with her (CW: f u don’t wanna read abt this spooky stuff or don’t believe in the paranormal u can go w/ that & skip this whole part but) she sees ghosts, str8 up, bc it’s been this way all her life, as long as she can remember

the house she grew up in was crazy haunted and that means she saw a lot of creepy messed up shit happen growing up- but the rly fucked up part comes in how, even after her family moved out of their house and into a new place right before alena turned 16... the creepy haunting shit didn’t stop, it got worse, with family belongings going missing, cupboard doors and windows all being found open in the middle of the night, incessant footsteps, whisperings, and unexplainable banging sounds. 

instead of a new environment solving the haunting problem, it was like whatever energy had been in their previous home had somehow attached itself to her. alena started having horrific bouts of sleep paralysis literally every time she slept too deeply or for too long- this has continued into her early adulthood, and because of this she:

!!! literally, doesn’t sleep- like, gets as little sleep as humanly possible, as a person could possibly function on, and she does it with the help of her rampant caffeine addiction and (TW: drug use) stimulant drugs- you will never catch alena smoking pot or wax bc it will make her sleepy and she won’t feel safe

that also means she never spends the night with anyone because then they’ll know how fuckt up she really is, so she prefers to keep things surface-level with most people, putting on an individualized performance for anyone she is attracted enough to to pursue, but never letting it get any deeper than casual sex

loves and is so fiercely protective of all the women in her life!!! is more likely to be leery of or mistrusting with men, but ofc there’ll be exceptions

and YEA that’s p much what i have for her so far, like i said she’s brand new so i wanna do most of her development here in this group but i had to get something up !!

i’m working on a connections page for her but some stuff i’d love off the top off my head are !!! ofc her younger sister (would be not quite 2 years younger than alena, so freshman age/ just turned 18) and her step-sister (would be the same age as her, 19 going on 20), best friends / squad, (she’s a cheerleader but she’s not a captain or anything bc her focus is on fashion now that she’s @ uni), an ex bf/ gf / fling (or 12 ), fwb, enemies w/ benefits, frenemies, exes who hate each other but still fuck, a professor / administrator she fucks on the reg (bonus points if they’re older and/or married), anything ur lil heart desires ok hmu <3

[bigskydreaming]

hi, im new to reading actual comics and i just read the court of owls. this was the first time id ever seen bruce actually hit dick—does that happen a lot? i was honestly shocked at it. and bruce never apologized. im trying to understand why bruce would do that—why do you think? i dont think the comic was glorifying it at all but it was still there and im a little dumbfounded as to why the writers thought that was appropriate to put in there. what are your thoughts?

Its shitty writing. That’s the ultimate answer. Every instance of Bruce’s kids ever has been an instance of shitty writing, because it never gets addressed or followed up on, and its not like there’s EVER a good reason to write a father hitting his kids unless you’re specifically centering the kids and trying to write a story of abuse and learning to recognize and accept that yes, this is actually happening to them now what do they do with that awareness and understanding....and let’s be frank, that’s not a story that DC has ever desired or intended to write with Bruce in the position of that father.

So flat out, no equivocation, every instance of Bruce hitting his kids ever, has been shitty, unacceptable writing, no matter the context or the follow-up, because the end takeaway at the heart of the matter is always, always, always, that whatever each writer’s actual intention when writing those scenes, they definitively did not ‘intend’ for it to be seen as abusive.

But that means jack shit in terms of whether what was actually shown on the page, was in fact abusive. Which has been the case, more than once, and with more than one of his kids.

So unfortunately, he has been physically violent with Dick on more than one occasion, in which there was no chance of it being spun as mind control or like, them fighting as equals because of some story position or whatever, where it was just definitively, a father hitting his son for his own emotional reasons or whatever. It happened after Jason’s death, it happened in the Court of Owls arc, it happened after Dick briefly died and was resuscitated in Forever Evil and Bruce was trying to get him to go undercover without anyone else knowing he’d survived yet. There have been a couple other times where the two of them have come to mutual blows in a fight that started as just a verbal argument, but I tend not to focus on those for a number of reasons but tbh, mostly just because its an uphill battle getting people to address even the times when its most clear that Bruce is without a doubt unjustified and dishing out abuse that is in no way reciprocated. There’s no real chance to even get around to the scenes that are complicated by additional layers.

And again to be clear, this kind of shit writing isn’t just limited to Dick. Bruce has been physically violent with Jason ever since he came back as the Red Hood in more than one altercation, with there being the flimsy justification in some of these stories that well, technically Jason is ‘the bad guy’ and Bruce is just doing what he has to in order to stop him....but with more than one instance of Bruce being overly violent with Jason in ways that he isn’t with even some of the worst criminals or villains in other stories, thus making it impossible to interpret as anything other than Bruce’s aggression being heightened by his emotional turmoil at Jason’s actions, the fact that he’s fighting his own son, Bruce’s own issues, etc, etc....

Which ultimately all just boils down to...Bruce is violent with Jason and to degrees that he isn’t with even his most notorious villains, and his own emotional state is the only explanation possible, which makes the over the top nature of Bruce’s violence in these scenes outright abuse, no matter the existence of the ‘well Jason technically was doing something that Bruce was trying to stop, it was more of a hero vs antihero thing rather than a father vs son thing’ attempt at spinning it otherwise. Notable and notorious instances of this are Bruce’s way of ‘finishing’ things in UTRH, RHATO #25, etc.

With Tim, the only real instance so far has been Batman #71, the King written bullshit I spoke of, and tbh I’m still so steamed at his attempt at justifying that, like, just read the latest issue to see the full story there because I refuse to even dignify that particular bit of abuse apologism with a paraphrasing.

And unfortunately, Bruce has definitely been written being emotionally abusive with all his kids at various points or another, with again the real culprit usually being dumbass fuckferrett writer assholes who wouldn’t know how to write a healthy parent/child interaction if your Higher Power of Choice directly appeared in their room, shining with benevolence and full-on “Do Not Test Me On This”  wattage, and then handing them a script that word for word laid out how to write out a healthy parent/child interaction for the scene they were beginning....like, they’d STILL find a way to fuck it up, that’s how bad these particular writers are at recognizing This Is A Good Action and This is A Bad Action, Bad, B-A-D, DON’T DO IT.

And the thing is, that’s not Bruce Wayne at his core characterization. I don’t believe it is anymore than even the most die-hard Bruce fan, which I most decidedly am not. I’m here for his kids, he can stay when he’s doting and on his best Dadly behavior, but he’s always on thin ice with me at this point and on his own, I’m usually just like meh, wouldn’t adopting an orphan right about now be a better use of your time?

But for sure, Bruce absolutely has been written as a good parent in canon as well, and has everything he needs character wise to constantly have that portrayal of him upheld and prioritized instead of his worse traits but like. We have definitely gotten Bad Dad Bruce in canon, and more frequently than any of us would like....which is where we usually turn to fandom, for fix-its.

And there’s lots of Good Dad Bruce Wayne in fanfics. Its even its own tag. And I have no problem with most of those fics in spirit, or the concept in general, I’m just very opinionated and knee-jerk about abuse apologism across the board, so I mean...if it were up to me, I’d much rather normalize tags like “Bruce Wayne Can Be A Good Dad” and “Bruce Wayne Can Be A Bad Dad.” I don’t generally like broad-sweeping declarations made about characters that no one person can ever ensure consistent characterization for, so no matter how understandable the intent, I object to the idea of Good Dad Bruce Wayne protection squads or tags on the basis of like...how easily that can lead straight into abuse apologism, with people making the claim “Bruce would never do what he did in canon story (x)....because Bruce is a Good Dad and good dads don’t do that.” Well no, they don’t. In theory. Cuz problem is in reality, supposedly good dads do things like that all the time, because nobody IMO is truly good or bad, they just do good or bad things and even a person with a track record of doing mostly good things can occasionally surprise people, even themselves, by doing something horrific.

 And like, when we’re talking about fictional characters I’m all for arguing that something was out of character because with fiction you CAN actually consider a writer’s intent and compare and contrast it with what’s on the page, like you CAN technically say well, the writer SAID in this interview here, that they did this because they were thinking x, y and z....and then you could feasibly point to the actual on the page depiction of that scene and say okay but look at x, y and z here...what we actually got clearly isn’t what they claim they were actually going for, so they fucked it up, it wasn’t even their own intention, so like....I argue that this was out of character and shouldn’t be given too much weight. 

You can’t do that in reality. Impact is what matters. The effect. Not the cause. The intent. No matter how uncharacteristic an up until that point  ‘good dad’ striking their kid is for them....they’re not a character. They’re a person. It CAN’T be out of character, its them that did it, their action that caused the effect of their kid being abused, with no take backs for that, no rewind that will ever undo whatever effect that has on the rest of their relationship from that day forward, or whether they even have one at all.

And people have trouble setting firm boundaries on what they will defend in fiction versus what they will defend or call out as indefensible in reality, it isn’t nearly as either or as a lot of people try and tell themselves it is, IMO....like, my stance tends to be that if you can’t even condemn a fictional character for doing a clearly abusive thing, how do you think you can definitively say you’re sure you’d be able to condemn a loved one for doing a clearly abusive thing? Y’know? Its not as easy to separate as people like to make it out to be, so I’m hugely against abuse apologism in fandom because I think a lot of times....the way we react to these things in terms of favorite fictional characters can potentially end up a training ground for how we react to these things in real life, if they end up happening at a later point.

So I’m very critical of Bruce in a lot of my posts, but its not because I don’t want him to be good for his kids or don’t think he can be written that way....and not even because I don’t get the thought process behind ‘well I don’t view his character as being capable of that when he’s written the ways that drew me to his character in the first place, and this kind of behavior isn’t what I’m here for, it isn’t escapism for me and it just depresses me so I choose not to interact with or acknowledge these specific parts of canon.’

My issues arise from the specific ways a lot of fans attempt to write around these instances of canon, in order to not have to factor it into Bruce’s character and their view and depiction of it...while often times failing to apply similarly transformative energy to the characters Bruce hurt in these instances of canon. And when that happens, its a problem, IMO....because you end up writing Good Dad Bruce Wayne....and his kids who are at times resentful or bitter or argumentative or wary...as they are shown at times to be in canon....largely BECAUSE of those moments in canon where he’s written at his worst and does fucked up things. But without acknowledging those parts of canon at all, AND without similarly rewriting the course of events in his KIDS’ lives as much as you do in Bruce’s himself.....the end result often ends up being that you have Good Dad Bruce Wayne and a bunch of stubborn brats that according to this narrative spin have no reason for being as resentful or bitter or argumentative or wary as they’re being here...since THEY’RE still being written according to their full, overall canon characterization, with no specific chunks chiseled out.

And then of course, my other major issue with abuse apologism in fandom arises from how often fans seem willing to tackle the possibility or instances of Bad Dad Bruce Wayne in order to write fix-it fics and headcanons and meta for the times he’s hurt Jason or Tim or Damian, etc.....but then selectively erase or ignore the instances he’s done similar shit to Dick...because so much of this fandom insists on this take that he’s specifically favored by Bruce and has received special treatment that justifies the others’ occasional resentment of him, and the resentment of their fans for him. So there’s this kinda thing where you end up with a lot of fandom ignoring or refusing to acknowledging some fairly pivotal canon events because Bruce Would Never Do That, He’s A Good Dad.....AND then on top of that you have a lot of the rest of fandom ignoring or refusing to acknowledge some equally pivotal canon events because Bruce Would Never Do That To Dick, He’s A Good Dad To Dick...Its Just Everyone Else He Fucks Up With.

And that kind of selective acknowledgment of abuse for reasons of personal character preference like...get under my skin, BIG TIME. *Shrugs*

[musicprincess655]

Atsushi is covered with dog hair, soaked to the bone, and his ribs ache from laughing.

His shifts with Kyouka do that to him. She’s not particularly funny, but something about trying to wrestle a wiggling dog through a bath sends Atsushi into fits of giggles, and the warmth in Kyouka’s eyes every time he laughs like that is enough for him to keep the habit.

“I’m home!” Atsushi calls as he enters the bunker. The doors are reasonably soundproof, but the bunker has started to feel like a home to Atsushi, and he’s used to announcing himself when walking into his home. Atsushi makes his way back to the shared bathroom, stripping his wet clothes off as he goes. It seems like no one is home, so a towel will do for a run back to the room.

When Atsushi steps out of the shower, he expects the hallway to be just as empty as it was when he went in. Dazai in the hallway makes him jump.

“Hello, Atsushi-kun!” Dazai waves. Atsushi takes in his position, squatting against the wall as if he were sitting in a chair. Atsushi doesn’t want to know. He, in fact, knows better than to ask.

“Dazai-san, what are you doing?” he asks. He’s still wrapped in just a towel. He’s exhausted.

“New suicide method,” Dazai says. “I read it in one of the books we stole a while back and I’ve been thinking about trying it out ever since.”

“Why are wall sits a suicide method?” Atsushi asks.

“Wall sits?”

“They used to make us do them at the orphanage when we broke the rules,” Atsushi says. Sometimes his thighs still burn from the memory. “They’re hard on your legs, but I don’t know how they would kill you.”

Dazai considers him for a moment, and then he pounds his fist in his hand.

“This wasn’t a suicide book!” he exclaims. “It was a torture book.”

Atsushi is exhausted.

“Why would you try to kill yourself now?” Atsushi asks. He grabs Dazai’s hand when Dazai reaches out and pulls him to his unsteady feet.

“Chuuya had some business on the other side of the West Block, and he’s most of my impulse control.”

“Please never explain your relationship to me.”

“Well, now that I’ve failed to kill myself yet again, can I get you some tea?” Dazai asks. “This place gets too quiet when everyone leaves.”

Atsushi is once again suddenly aware that he’s only wearing a towel.

“Let me get dressed first.”

When Atsushi steps into Dazai and Chuuya’s room with a quiet pardon the intrusion, now appropriately clothed, Dazai is doing his level best to burn everything to the ground.

“You don’t need the heat that high to make it boil!” Atsushi says, shooing Dazai away from the stove and instead turning the burner down to a reasonable level, one that isn’t threatening to lick the walls. “Is this another suicide thing?”

“Chuuya makes it look easy,” Dazai pouts. “He never lets me do anything. Except chop vegetables. With supervision.”

Atsushi has a new appreciation for Chuuya’s patience. He’ll never call Chuuya short-tempered again.

“You’re not much for cooking?” Atsushi asks.

“Never really learned,” Dazai says. “I didn’t have much of a reason to before I left No. 6, and once I was out here, there wasn’t much occasion.”

“I keep forgetting you grew up in No. 6,” Atsushi says. “And you knew Fukuzawa-san. What happened?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Dazai says. Atsushi waves his hand at the kettle. They’ve got time. “Well, as we’ve discussed, I had limited tolerance for my guardian. He was fine, I guess, but I was a rebellious teenager with parents that didn’t want me around. If I’m fair, I was a nightmare.”

Atsushi can see that. Dazai’s a bit of a nightmare now.

“So you used to hang around the detective agency?” Atsushi asks.

“Fukuzawa-sensei taught me the tricks of the trade,” Dazai says. “It was just him and Ranpo-san back then. They found Yosano right before I left.”

“You left?”

“Was taken. Semantics.” Dazai shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Like I said, I was rebellious. My parents were No. 6 officials, really high up. They didn’t have much time for a kid, but they decided they should have one anyway. Something something do our duty something. Mori-san is a distant relative, so he looked after me. But as you can imagine, the perfect outlet for me was poking at No. 6’s secrets.”

“Oh no,” Atsushi says, because he suddenly understands very well what happened to Dazai.

“Oh yes,” Dazai says. “I have to admit, I’m surprised they were able to list me as a suicide victim. I figured they’d say I was executed for crimes against No. 6. Then again, maybe my history preceded me. If it had been suicide, it wouldn’t have been my first attempt.”

“Really?”

“Like I said. I wasn’t an easy kid.” Dazai sighs. “Anyway, they dragged me to the Correctional Facility, threw me in with Chuuya, gave my parents the chance to get me out, they refused to sacrifice their positions in No. 6 for me, Chuuya and I escaped, and the rest is history.”

Atsushi freezes, because there is so much to unpack there that he doesn’t even know where to start, much less the fact that he’s pretty sure the rest is not just history. It takes him through pouring hot water over teabags to decide where he wants to start.

“Why was Chuuya-san in there?” he asks. Dazai leans in, tea clutched between his hands, a conspiratorial look on his face.

“Chuuya was a science experiment,” Dazai says. “They were trying to figure out enhancements. I’m not sure what they were trying to do with him specifically, but what ended up happening was superhuman strength.”

“How superhuman?” Atsushi asks.

“I know you’ve seen him pick up things around here,” Dazai says. Atsushi nods. They’d been moving some furniture around in the room he shares with the Akutagawa siblings, and he’d gone to offer to help Chuuya lift a bookcase. Chuuya had done it on his own, easily, without looking like he was doing more than picking up a book. “That’s not even a fraction of his strength. He could probably punch down the wall around No. 6 if he set his mind to it.”

Dazai and Chuuya have quite the backstory. But they’re not the only ones here who do.

“Akutagawa and Gin, what happened to them?” Atsushi asks. He knows it has to have been something. Akutagawa showed up in a typhoon, shot and running from No. 6. Gin has burn scars on her back. Atsushi has seen her pull up her shirt to put ice on them on particularly bad days. He’s not sure how the two are connected.

“No. 6 killed their whole village,” Dazai says. “I don’t know why, and the two of them were too young to remember. All we know is, No. 6 went into their forest and burned it down, and as far as we know, those two are the only ones that survived.”

“And No. 6 hunted them down for it,” Atsushi says. Dazai nods.

“Gin managed to make it out of No. 6, and we found her,” he says. “Akutagawa wasn’t so lucky. They took him to the Correctional Facility for a few months for testing.”

“Just long enough to implant a tracking chip in him,” Atsushi says.

“We got that out as soon as we found him,” Dazai says. “And all’s well that ends well, as they say.”

“What could one village have that threatened No. 6 enough for them to burn it down?” Atsushi muses, more to himself than to Dazai.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Dazai says. “Why? The siblings were too young to remember much about the people they grew up with, and they spent years on the run before they were finally free. If they knew anything, they’ve forgotten it by now. So what was in that village that meant it had to be torched?”

“It was outside No. 6, right?” Atsushi asks.

“Far enough away that No. 6 still hasn’t expanded enough to take that land in,” Dazai confirms. “As far as the siblings remember, and as far as we can tell, the village never interacted with No. 6.”

“Maybe they weren’t a threat,” Atsushi says. “Maybe No. 6 wanted something they had.”

“An interesting theory, and one we can’t pursue,” Dazai says. “There’s no records to be found.”

That makes sense, even if Atsushi’s sense of curiosity keeps turning the new information over and over, looking for new connections.

“No wonder Akutagawa hates No. 6 so much,” he finally says. “No wonder he’s so angry.”

Understanding Akutagawa isn’t a comfortable feeling. Sympathy is even less so.

But with a story like that, it’s almost no wonder that Akutagawa sees the world as cruel, as a place where the right to live must be taken. Akutagawa has spent his whole life fighting for his survival, and it might be easier for him to see the world as a zero-sum game. Maybe admitting that what happened to him was horrific, was cruel and unusual, maybe that hurts worse than just thinking this is how the world must be.

“He’s actually gotten a little better about that temper since we found him,” Dazai says. “I really did think I was going to end up having to kill him in his sleep.”

“Isn’t that a little extreme?”

“He’s angry, and when his anger takes over his mind, he gets reckless,” Dazai says. “That makes him dangerous. He was a threat to us all. That was what I thought then, and it’s what I thought until recently.”

“What happened recently?”

“Well, you, first of all.” Atsushi must be making one hell of a face, because Dazai laughs. “You didn’t inspire some change of heart in him, that’s not what I meant. Akutagawa…well, he has his shortcomings, but he’s got a good brain in that head of his. His kneejerk emotional reaction might be violence, but if he can override that, he’s good at thinking on his feet, and he’s good at a support role.”

“And I make him override that emotional response?” Atsushi is pretty sure he causes that response half the time.

“Akutagawa is someone who needs an emergency brake,” Dazai says. “Gin works a little bit, but she’s nearly as angry as him. And Chuuya enables them both, but they probably need someone like him. I can admit Chuuya is better at dealing with Akutagawa than I’ve ever been.”

“An emergency brake?” Atsushi asks.

“You make him think twice,” Dazai says. “Especially since you can take point enough for him to step back and think, but also because you challenge him. And that deal you two made? If killing as an option is taken off the table, he really does have to use his head. It was a stroke of brilliance. I never would have taken you for such a manipulative person, Atsushi-kun.”

“Isn’t that a little bit of the pot calling the kettle black?” Atsushi asks. Dazai is the last person he wants calling him manipulative.

“The pot happens to be right,” Dazai says. “I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to say the two of you are good for each other when you’re not trying to kill each other. Maybe even when you are. It’s good to have someone who challenges you, right?”

“I guess,” Atsushi says.

That sympathy for Akutagawa squeezes in his chest again. Even though the boy Akutagawa used to be is long gone, Atsushi still remembers the vulnerable look in those too-big eyes all those years ago. There was a time they could look at each other without fighting, and Atsushi is old enough to recognize that most of the fights they’ve had in the last month are fights he’s picked. Akutagawa largely leaves him alone, and it’s getting harder and harder for Atsushi to convince himself he still hates Akutagawa.

It’s very nearly like they’re friends, although Atsushi has never had a friendship like this.

“Oi, Dazai, what trouble did you get in while I was gone?” Chuuya is back, throwing the heavy door open easily. “Oh, Nakajima. What are you doing here?”

“We’re having tea,” Dazai says, holding up his mug to demonstrate. Chuuya turns to Atsushi.

“Did he try to burn the place down again?” he asks.

“I took over the kettle,” Atsushi says diplomatically. He respects Dazai, but not enough to save him from whatever wrath Chuuya has for him.

“Good man,” Chuuya says. “Clear out so I can kick my shitty husband’s ass.”

“You’re abusive,” Dazai whines. “I didn’t even get in any trouble today.”

“Likely story. Get over here.”

“No!”

Atsushi ducks out. He’s almost certain that was foreplay, somehow. He really never wants either of them to explain their relationship to him.

“Oi, Jinko.”

Atsushi might still be caught up in his conversation with Dazai, but rather than the automatic response he usually has to Akutagawa, this time, he actually stops to listen.

Akutagawa throws a piece of paper at him.

“Your dad says he’s glad you’re alive,” Akutagawa says. Atsushi unfurls the paper with shaking hands to see familiar handwriting.

“You told Fukuzawa-san I’m here?” he asks, voice gone high and breathy.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Akutagawa scoffs. “I wanted his help with something. That’s all.”

Atsushi lets that go, because this is a kindness from Akutagawa, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to keep up their dynamic when Akutagawa can be kind, when Akutagawa inspires sympathy, when Akutagawa is human.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Akutagawa turns, and Atsushi swears his cheeks have flushed a little from the acknowledgement. “Do you think Gin will make stew tonight if we ask?”

Atsushi follows Akutagawa inside, already preparing to help him wear Gin down by asking.

[springawakeningmovieideas]

Act 1, Scene 2

Int. School- Morning

School. The Boys sit upright at their desks, reciting from Virgil's Aeneid. They stand, one after the other, for their recitation. Herr Sonnenstich walks the aisles beside them, listening.

The BOYS sit at desks, MELCHIOR and MORITZ, OTTO and HANSCHEN, ERNST and GEORG. Other students, ANGELIKA and SABINE, KARIN and SUSANNE, MARION and INGRID sit at desks, too. HERR SONNENSTICH is at the teacher’s desk, pointing at the board. The camera zooms in at each of them when they speak.

HERR SONNENSTICH: 

Again.

OTTO (Mid-recitation):

 ... vi superum saevae memorem Iunonis ob iram …

HERR SONNENSTICH ("Well done"): 

Better, Herr Lammermeier. Continue, Herr Zirschnitz.

GEORG:

 ... multa quoque et bello passus, dum conderet urbem.

HERR SONNENSTICH:

 Herr Rilow. From the beginning.

HANSCHEN: 

Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris

HERR SONNENSTICH: 

Herr Robel. And …

ERNST: 

.. Italiam, fato profugus, Laviniaque venit litora

HERR SONNENSTICH:

 Herr Stiefel. 

MORITZ is fast asleep at his desk.

Herr Stiefel.

EVERYONE is looking at him. MORITZ wakes up, slowly.

MORITZ:

 Sir? …

HERR SONNENSTlCH: 

Continue. Please. 

(He hesitates) 

Herr Stiefel …

MORITZ (Haltingly): 

.. Laviniaque venit …

HERR SONNENSTICH: 

Yes ... ?

MORITZ:

 .. litora ... multum enim

HERR SONNENSTICH: 

"Multum enim"?

MORITZ (Taking another stab at it):

.. multum olim

HERR SONNENSTICH (Losing patience):

 "Olim"?! "Multum olim" ... ?! So then, somehow the Pious Aeneas has "already" suffered much "in the days still to come" ... ? 

(No response.) 

Herr Stiefel? 

(No response.) 

Do you have any idea what you're saying, Herr Stiefel? 

MORITZ is too mortified to respond. MELCHIOR rises.

MELCHIOR:

 If you please!

HERR SONNENSTICH:

 Pardon me?

MELCHIOR (Covering gracefully): 

If you please, Herr Sonnenstich ... can't we at least consider "multum olim" as a plausible conjecture for how the text might read?

HERR SONNENSTICH:

 Herr Gabor. We are hardly here today to conjecture about textual conjectures. The boy has made an error.

MELCHIOR: 

Yes. But an understandable error, sir. Indeed, if we could only entertain the fitness of the conjecture-

HERR SONNENSTICH: 

"Multum olim"?!

MELCHIOR: 

Look to the fresh rhetorical balance-"multum olim" introducing "multa quoque" -a parallel, sir, between what Aeneas has already suffered in war and those sufferings on land and sea just ahead.

HERR SONNENSTICH: 

Herr Gabor, since the days of Servius, Aulus Gellius, and Claudius Donatus-nay, since the moment of Virgil's death-our world has been littered with more than sufficient critical commentary on textual conjecture.

MELCHIOR: 

With all respect, sir, are you then suggesting there is no further room for critical thought or interpretation? Why, indeed, then, do we even-

HERR SONNENSTICH strikes MELCHIOR across the knuckles with a ruler.

HERR SONNENSTICH: I am suggesting no such thing. I am confirming that Herr Stiefel has made an error. And I am asking-nay, demanding-that

you amend his faulty text and proceed from there. Do I make myself clear? 

MELCHIOR’S jaw locks.

 Herr Gabor? 

No response. He strikes MELCHIOR more forcefully.

Herr Gabor, do I make myself clear?

MELCHIOR: 

Yes, Herr Sonnenstich: "litora multum ille."

HERR SONNENSTICH: 

All of you-together with Melchior Gabor: "Laviniaque venit ... "

CHILDREN:

 ... litora, multum ille et terris iactatus et alto vi superum saevae memorem Iunonis ob …

The CHILDREN’S recitation grows louder, more insistent, more numbing-as if somehow we were entering into MELCHIOR'S psychic experience of it. A bit of contemporary, electronic music drifts through. Shimmering song light finds MELCHIOR. He turns out and sings-like a rocker in concert:

MELCHIOR:

All that's known

In History, in Science,

Overthrown

At school, at home,

by blind men.

You doubt them, 

And soon they bark

and hound you 

Till everything you say 

is just another bad

about you.

All they say

Is, "Trust in What Is 

Written."

Wars are made, 

And somehow that is wisdom.

Thought is suspect,

And money is their idol,

And nothing is okay unless it's scripted in their Bible.

But I know

There's so much more to find just

in looking through myself, and not at them.

Still, I know

To trust my own true mind,

And to say: "There's a way through this . .. "

MELCHIOR begins to walk through the aisles of desks.

On I go,

To wonder and to learning 

Name the stars and know their dark returning.

I'm calling,

To know the world's true yearning-

The hunger that a child feels for everything they're shown.

You watch me

Just watch me,

I'm calling,

And one day all will know

You watch me

Just watch me,

I'm calling,

I'm calling,

And one day all will know

The song concludes. As he rejoins the CHILDREN in their recitation, the lights shift back to the classroom.

CHILDREN: 

... multa quoque et bello passus, dum conderet urbem …

HERR SONNENSTICH (Onto fresh matters): 

Thank you, gentlemen. Now, if you please: "inferretque deos Latio ... " The following seven lines of Pious Aeneas' journey. From memory.

The CHILDREN begin scribbling. HERR SONNENSTICH steps away. MORITZ taps MELCHIOR shoulder.

MORITZ (whispering): 

Melchi, thank you.

MELCHIOR: 

It's nothing.

MORITZ: 

Still, I'm sorry. You didn't need to-

MELCHIOR ("Not to worry"; ironic): 

Think what Aeneas suffered.

MORITZ: 

But I should have known it. "Multum ille." It's just ... I didn't sleep all night. In fact, I, uh, suffered a visit from the most horrific, dark phantasm …

MELCHIOR: 

You mean a dream?

MORITZ: 

A nightmare, really. Legs in sky blue stockings, climbing over the lecture podium.

MELCHIOR: 

Oh. That kind of dream.

MORITZ (nodding): 

Have you ever suffered such ... mortifying visions?

MELCHIOR: 

Moritz, of course. We all have. Otto Lammermeier dreamt about his mother.

MORITZ: Really?!!

MELCHIOR: 

Georg Zirschnitz? Dreamt he was seduced by his piano teacher.

MORITZ: 

Fräulein Grossebustenhalter?!

HERR SONNENSTICH grabs MORITZ by the arm, hoisting him up.

HERR SONNENSTICH: 

Moritz Stiefel. I need hardly remind you that, of all our pupils, you are in no position to be taking liberties. I will

not warn you again.

MORITZ nods-absolutely petrified. An intense alt-rock guitar riff, HERR SONNENSTICH freezes. The world around MORITZ comes to a halt as concert-like light finds him. He turns out in song.

MORITZ:

God, I dreamed there was an angel, 

who could hear me through the waII,

As I cried out-like, in Latin

"This is so not life at all.

Help me out-out-of this nightmare." 

Then I heard her silver call

She said: "just give it time, kid. 

I come to one and all."

MORITZ climbs onto his desk.

She said: "Give me that hand, please,

and the itch you can't control,

Let me teach you how to handle

all the sadness in your soul.

Oh, we'll work that silver magic, 

then we'll aim it at the wall."

She said: "Love may make you blind, kid

but I wouldn't mind at all."

The other BOYS (except MELCHIOR) stand up, slamming their hands on the desks and joining MORITZ. OTTO jumps on his desk.

MORITZ AND BOYS:

It's the bitch of living

With nothing but your hand.

Just the bitch of living

As someone you can't stand

MORITZ and OTTO get down and GEORG gets up, while MORITZ and the BOYS pick up and slam down the chairs to the beat.

GEORG:

See, each night, it's, like, fantastic

tossing, turning, without rest,

'Cause my day's at the piano

with my teacher and her breasts;

And the music's, like, the one thing 

I can even get at all,

And those breasts! I mean, 

God, please, just let those apples fall . ..

BOYS:

It's the bitch of living

With nothing going on.

Just the bitch of living,

Asking: "What went wrong?"

Do they think we want this?

Oh-who knows?

Int. Locker Room - Afternoon

The scene switches to the boy’s locker room. ERNST is in the shower, looking down.

ERNST:

See, there's showering in gym class . ..

HANSCHEN is getting dressed. He catches a glimpse of BOBBY, a boy a year older. 

HANSCHEN:

Bobby Maler, he's the best

Looks so nasty in those khakis

ERNST:

God, my whole life's, like, some test.

OTTO walks into the gym to see ANNA, hurling a dodgeball into OTTO’s stomach.

OTTO:

Then there's Marianna Wheelan-as if she'd return my call.

HASNCHEN walks out and playfully punches OTTO.

HANSCHEN:

It's like, just kiss some ass, man-

then you can screw 'em all.

MELCHIOR walks out of the locker room.

MELCHIOR:

It's the bitch of living,

And living in your head

It's the bitch of living,

And sensing God is dead.

The GIRLS run out of the locker room, starting to pick up balls and throw them.

BOYS and GIRLS: 

It’s the bitch of living

And getting what you get-

It’s the bitch of living

and knowing this is it

God, is this it?

This can't be it.

Oh God, what a bitch!

The CHILDREN drop the balls as the bell rings. 

FRAU SHAFER: 

Kids, hit the showers and grab your bags. I’ll see you tomorrow.

OTTO: 

Well, I'm off.

ERNST: 

Me, too.

HANSCHEN: 

I'll walk with you, Ernst.

ERNST pauses, turns back.

ERNST: 

You will?

HANSCHEN: 

We'll huddle over the Homer. Maybe do a little Achilles and Patroclus.

GEORG: 

Melchior, Moritz.

MELCHIOR: Home to Bach? 

GEORG: 

Fraulein Grossebustenhalter will not be kept waiting.

GEORG shivers involuntarily, and goes.

MORITZ: 

Ach, Melchi! Sixty lines of Homer, all those quadratic equations ... I'll be up all night again, haunted by another of those ... dreams. And still I won't get through it.

MELCHIOR: 

Oh, yes. Your dream.

MORITZ: 

Melchi, why-why-am I haunted by the legs of a woman? By the deepening conviction: some dark part of my destiny may lie there between them?

MELCHIOR: 

All right then. I'll tell you. I got it out of books. But prepare yourself: it made an atheist out of me. 

(A beat.) 

So-

MORITZ: 

No no-not here! I can't talk it! No-do me a favor: write it down. All of it. Put it in my bag-after lunch-tomorrow. 

(A beat.) 

If you like, you could add some illustrations in the margins. 

(A beat.)

MELCHIOR: 

Top to bottom?

MORITZ: 

Everything.

PRINCIPAL KNOCKENBRUCH and another teacher, FRAULINE KNUPPLEDICK, stroll past the gym and pause.

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH: 

Unfathomable. Fraulein Knuppeldick.

FRAULEIN KNUPPELDICK: 

Herr Knochenbruch-

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH: 

Look at that. Melchior Gabor, a young man of distinct intellectual capability-

FRAULEIN KNUPPELDICK: 

Thoroughly distinct.

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH: 

A young man who could be our top student-

FRAULEIN KNUPPELDICK: 

Top, Herr Knochenbruch.

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH: 

But there he is, polluting himself, cavorting about with that, that …

FRAULEIN KNUPPELDICK: 

Hysterical imbecile, Moritz Stiefel?

HERR KNOCHENBRUCH: 

Thank Heavens we can only pass sixty.

[writeanapocalae]

Nano Day 5 Writing

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4

“Stand what?” Sarah asked, drawing closer and kicking at the android’s foot with her boot.

“Being alive?” R’s voice was tinged with emotion, as if it could actually feel, but that ability was quickly draining from it. “While connected I was able to feel what they felt, all of them. There were multiple personalities inside of the android and, for a moment, I felt completely taken over.”

Anton didn’t know if what he was doing was soothing, if it was wanted at all. It felt too intimate, the touching of anothers’ face, as if it were some calming motion that was more often practiced between lovers.

“What did it feel like?”

“Fear, anger, and most of all, hunger.” R pushed off of the floor, holding onto the desk for support, Anton’s risk for more of the same. “Feeling it was. I do not know for certain as I am not sentient, but it felt like a great deal of pain.”

“So wait,” Micah squinted, finally joining the rest of them, “You’re telling me that Caecus actually did create sentience? That that thing could feel real emotions?”

R turned towards her. “I am not saying that. What this is is not sentience. That would mean that the android has a personality, free will, and control over itself. This was a husk, controlled by five other personalities.”

“So a robot with DID?” Sarah pondered.

“Only if you follow a Hollywood concept of the mental illness,” R stated, voice as level as it usually was. It released Anton. “And even then, that would be a loose comparison.”

“Oh! I have something to say!” Lan perked up. “That gross bubblegum soda feeling is getting stronger!”

The computer, while smashed and laying on its side in one corner of the room, flickered on. The plug was loose and sitting in a bloody patch of the floor. It was just static and lines, scrolling over the screen, traveling over the broken screen of it. A red circle, some shapes and symbols, appeared on it, and then pink started to ooze through the cracks and broken pieces of it, bleeding out pepto bismol all over the floor.

“Alright, that’s creepy as fuck. Anyone who actually wants to survive? Because I want to survive and I’m going. Now.”

She stomped out of the room, the rest of them turning to follow her. They had a good amount of data, for the moment, at least enough to get a proper team in. It would be hard to write it into a report because none of it made any sense, but they would make do and with there being five of them it was less likely that they’d be discredited. Anton had had that before, when he was caught sleeping on the job, and someone decided that the evidence he’d found was dreamed up instead of real.

R put a hand on his shoulder and that made him pause. It was the kind of hand that meant to hesitate, not to support, and Anton was so used to R supporting him. That made things feel very wrong.

“They’re hungry,” R repeated. “And they’re many. They’re not going to let us go.”

“They aren’t going to stop us,” Anton reassured. It felt strange, to reassure a machine. He’d never had to do that before. “You said the feeling was what, five stories down?”

“The center of the sensation, yes, but there are androids up here that have been affected.”

R’s gaze went down, just for a moment, and then it was grabbing Anton by the waist, making him cry out in surprise. It spun on its own, dropping Anton back onto his feet, closer to the door.

“Go!” R demanded, its voice still soft and stoic but the term drawing anxiety from Anton’s mind.

The broken android had its hands around R’s ankle and it kicked, forcing the weaker one off of it. It didn’t have the many faces, nor the voice, but it was alive all the same, even though its battery was low.  It crawled up R’s body, trying to get to its feet, ignoring how R kept pushing it off itself, setting it off balance.

“You don’t have much time,” R stated. “I’ll catch up to. For now, you have to run.”

This time Anton listened, running to catch up to the others, ignoring how his legs felt too weak to hold him for long, the fatigue that felt like a constant weight on him, a weakness in his joints. They were still walking, quickly, but when they saw him running, they started too run as well.

“Where’s R?” Micah asked, sweeping her flashlight back and forth on the floor to make certain none of them would trip.

“It’ll catch up!” Anton gasped through a breath and he looked back, seeing R escape the room, dragging the door closed behind it.

Arms escaped the room and it slammed the door on them, making them go rigid and then flail, as if the plastic of the joints were just thin rubber, filled with micro beads. They shimmered and jumped, thin at the point of contact and then stretching and jiggling, no control over where they were going.

It was a relief that R was catching up, running faster than any of them. It couldn’t get tired or strained, it would be on them in a moment.

“Uh oh spaghetti-os!” Lan cried out, pointing forward with one tiny arm. “There’s more of them coming that way!”

It didn’t need to warn them. They could see the oncoming androids, their heads slightly glowing from glitching, intertwining heads, faces combining and replicating like the firsts. They were just walking towards them from down the hall but, the moment they saw the humans, they got down, hunched, and then kicked off of the floor. Like R, they ran too fast, their echoing heads blurring, as did their arms. They were perfectly synchronized, not touching each other was one limb lifted out of another one’s way. It was horrific, in a word.

They just had to round the corner, get through the lobby, and they’d be outside. For some reason, that alone was the thought that Anton had, not getting to the car, not getting away from the facility, just getting outside. If they were in the light, they would be safe.

There was a lot of light though, as they took a sharp left into the lobby. Behind the reception desk there were screens, a wall of them, and they all buzzed into life at the same time. Test signals, static, and symbols, red and glaring, danced from one screen to the next, as if they were all one and all different at the same time. The symbols jigged and burned into the screens, the ghost of them lasting in the darkness when such a thing finally appeared on them. They didn’t have time to look, to watch, but Anton was certain they were the same symbols, the same circle, that had been on the broken computer, not to mention the piece of paper they’d found in the occultist’s office.

There wasn’t time to say anything. There wasn’t time to even think about it. The androids had caught up to them.

They moved, in mass, to circle them and some of them were speaking, some of them screaming, all of them creating a cacophony of sound, far more voices than bodies. They were corralled closer to one another, pushed into one another’s space, as the android’s peered at them, not yet touching, not yet grabbing.

They all had their eyes, as many of them as they had, on R. It was as if they were waiting for it alone to make a move or order them to do something.

R had no orders to give.

And the androids were hungry.

They lunged forward. Sarah screamed. Micah struck out with the bolt cutters, hitting one of the android’s in the shoulder. Anton brought up his hands to cover his face, to defend against the attack. Lan did absolutely nothing. R shoved forward, trying to break through the ranks of them.

“Oof!” Lan called out. “Too heavy!”

It was a very short warning before the flooring crackled, floorboards creaking and snapping. Anton felt a hand on his elbow and he was being yanked to the side. There was no time though. There was no way out. There was no way to reach the safety of outside.

The floor collapsed with a painful groan and they were falling, all of them, down and down and down, deeper into the facility, hitting the floor below before that too gave out from the weight and the force.

Anton fell into darkness at the third story down. He didn’t know about the rest.

@detectivesebcas​ @inthemoonshadow​ @etjwrites​ @lordfenric

[purrincesscatitude]

angst 14

Why did I write this in present tense?? Good question. 

This probably turned too sweet for angst but whatever it happened I’m not overthinking it.

Prompt from this list. Yes, if you like this, you can still send me things! 

######################

Adam comes to the Barns after school, because he doesn’t have work for once in his life but does have a ton of calculus homework and a whole act of Hamlet to read & summarize scene-by-scene and college app deadlines looming like a swollen thunderhead. The Barns isn’t normally his most productive workspace, but it is warm and has more space for him to stretch out all his papers and textbooks, which feels like a thing he needs to do with the way everything is tangled in his head right now.

He’s been in a mood all day, can feel it festering just beneath his skin. He’s evolved over the months, now able to identify and acknowledge his bad days before they surprise him and his victim by shooting barbs from his tongue and condemnations he can’t take back. But knowing that he’s in a shit mood isn’t the same as controlling it. Growth is, as always, a slow and arduous process.

This evening, he sits at the dining room table under the kitchen’s yellow fluorescents. It’s only 6, but it’s already dark outside. Autumn winds rush over the mountains and rip through the valley, a harsh reminder that winter is only a month away.

Adam has a headache. Not a bad one, but enough that it bugs him, makes it that much harder to focus on equations and soliloquies and why he’s worthy of an Ivy-League education. Spreading the papers out hasn’t helped organized his brain like he wanted it to. Instead it just makes him more stressed, seeing all the work he has to do, all the expectations, all the time and money and thinking he needed in order to get through it all.

And then Ronan comes in.

Ronan understands why Adam does work here, encourages it, even. But that doesn’t mean Ronan finds it fair that Adam comes into his home only to completely ignore him. Some days he’s fine with it. Other days he goes and sulks elsewhere until Adam comes to him.

Today, however, Ronan wants Adam to be here and present. Wants to talk to him. Wants to sit with him, be with him, wants Adam’s undivided attention.

Currently, Adam’s cheating on him with a calculus textbook. And really? Calculus? He’d rather Adam shove his tongue down Skov’s throat.

He sits down at the table with him. Adam ignores him. Not unusual; they do this all the time. Homework-Mode Adam is a one-track mind, set to finishing whatever worksheet or essay or chapter he was working through and loath to be pushed off-course.  

Sometimes, though, Ronan likes to toe the line. Because Adam’s line, in his opinion, needs to be more fucking flexible.

Ronan starts small. Just to see where Adam’s line is today. He picks up a page of notes. Adam, scribbling through an equation, doesn’t react. Ronan scoff, drops it back on the table. Still nothing. He picks up more papers, reads them through with feigned interest and then lets them flutter back down to the table.

Adam is intentionally ignoring him now. Ronan can tell the difference.

He starts trying to build a card tower out of looseleaf papers. It’s going about as well as expected, and making plenty of noise. Opal, ever drawn to the sound of rustling, edible paper, clambers into the kitchen.

“Don’t, brat,” Ronan warns. Opal hisses at him. He rips a blank page from a notebook, crumples it into a ball, and throws it back out the door. Opal chases after it with a screech.

Adam winces. “Cut it out, Lynch.”

But he still hasn’t taken his eyes off his book, and Ronan still feels like a third wheel in his own home.

He starts drumming. Not any particular song, just a series of beats using a discarded pencil and his index finger. Adam tightens his grip on his pencil, glares at the problem sets.

“Lynch,” he grumbles. It’s a warning.

“Parrish,” Ronan replies. It’s a challenge.

Adam grinds his teeth, presses his pencil hard enough into the paper to leave imprints on the pages below it.

Ronan adds his foot to the rhythm.  

“Stop,” Adam demands, finally rips his eyes away from the page to shoot him a signature Adam Parrish witheringly frigid glare.

Ronan raises his hands in mock surrender. Adam returns to his work.

Ronan drums harder.

“Ronan.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just feeling the beat, you know?”

“There are ten other rooms in this house where you could go right now.”

“It’s my fucking house, so I’m going to stay in whatever fucking room I want.”

Adam rolls his eyes. Ronan is pretty sure he’s walking the line like a tightrope right now, and it’s dangerously close to snapping.

He lets Adam go back to work. Manages his energy quietly. Tries to not get jealous of a goddamn textbook.

He resolve lasts maybe five minutes.

He starts drumming again. On his leg. And then his leg starts jittering, and then his foot starts tapping.

And then he hits a beat too hard, slams his knee into the table, which makes Adam’s hand jolt, and the pencil catches in the paper and rips a hole in his problem sets.

“Ronan what the fuck,” he shouts, throwing his pencil on the table.

“Whoops,” Ronan says.

Adam rips the page from his notebook.

“Dude, chill. Just tape it, they won’t give a fuck.”

“That’s not the point. You’re being an asshole.”

“I’m not the one eye-fucking a damn textbook in someone else’s house.”

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“Just keep doing your damn homework, whatever,” Ronan says.

“Are you going to stop being an asshole?” Adam spits back.

“Does keeping you company mean I’m asshole? Then yes, I’ll gladly fuck the fuck off and let you keep nerding alone.”

“Bullshit, you’re not keeping me company. You’re being selfish and immature and it’s fucking obnoxious.”

“Fine. I’ll fucking stop. Jesus,” Ronan growls.  

“You say you’ll stop but then you keep doing it! Making noise and hitting the table and, just, being a fucking brat.”

“What do you want me to say, Parrish?” Ronan snarls, throwing himself out of his chair and storming towards the door.

“Nothing! You don’t need to say a goddamn thing!” Adam snaps. “Just stop.”

They stand apart: Ronan curling and uncurling his fists by the door, Adam digging his nails into the peeling cover of his calculus textbook. A war of wills.

Adam breaks the glare first. It isn’t a surrender. He shoves his schoolwork into his bag.

“I’m going home,” he announces.

Ronan scoffs. “Do whatever the fuck you want.”

Adam clenches his jaw. He leaves.

He bikes back to St. Agnes in the dark, pedaling hard as the frigid November air cuts his cheeks and turns his fingers white as bone. Running his trembling hands under hot water doesn’t do much, only heightens the pins & needles pricking under his skin. He flexes his fingers over and over as he settles at his desk. He starts rewriting his calc problems. It takes him an hour to finish, when it should have been thirty minutes. Valuable time sucked down the drain. He resists the urge to throw something. 

The wind rattles the window, howls through the gaps in its ill-fitted frame. Someone is practicing the organ. They’re not very good. The low notes send vibrations through the floor. It’s almost as annoying as Ronan. Almost.

But it’s a different kind of annoying. It’s cold, and distant. Turns him inward, makes him glare and grumble and bite his nails. The sort that can’t be remedied, that can only gnaw and curdle until he accepts the inevitability of constant suffering.

Ronan’s sort of annoying is infuriating, makes his blood boil, fills him with a sort of fire that can only go outward, that demands he confront it head on, in an almost cathartic kind of way. It makes them bicker and argue and shout at each other.

But it’s familiar. And sort of warm, in a weird way. In that it’s almost comforting in how he can expect it, how Ronan always seems to know the exact right buttons to press to set him off even if he doesn’t mean to.

A Ronan Lynch who isn’t annoying as hell isn’t the Ronan Lynch Adam learned to tolerate, and then like, and then like like; isn’t the Ronan Lynch Adam will probably decide he loves; isn’t the Ronan Lynch who can piss Adam off one second and have him laughing with side stitches the next; isn’t the Ronan Lynch who’s impulsiveness and brashness and pigheadedness can be as frustrating as it is liberating and joyful and wild and adventurous.

It isn’t the Ronan Lynch that Adam wants.

The apartment vibrates with a horrifically discordant note. Adam digs his nails into his scalp. Scrubs his hair into a ferocious mess.

The old walls creak. The organ resumes, quieter and in a higher register.

It’s been a long time since he was at St. Agnes alone. Truly alone. He’d sequestered himself here before, told Ronan he needed time to study, needed to finish a paper, needed to focus without distraction. But there was always a hope that Ronan would stop by for half an hour– perfectly timed when Adam was at his most exhausted or frustrated, a study break calculated, Adam guessed, by the months he had spent with him in the latest and earliest hours watching him study–with food in hand and a smirk on his face that Adam would spent 20 minutes kissing off and replacing with a very different sort of grin.

There isn’t that hope tonight, which…fucking sucks, if he’s being honest. Just one more load to weigh on his shoulders.

Adam’s stressed about school, about all the essays he needs to write and the tests he has coming up, and the fact that grades are due soon and he’s sure he’s doing fine but there’s always a chance that someone’s parents are going to buy their slacker son a 4.0 and kick Adam down to Salutatorian. He’s stressed about the SAT Subject Tests he needs in order to apply for the schools he wants, not just the studying and the psychological prep work necessary to outsmart the test in the way it wants you to, but the money it’ll cost him and the weekends he’ll lose taking them means he has to stack hours at Boyd’s and the warehouse and the factory now, and even then he doesn’t know if he’ll have enough money for food after he pays for the tests. He’s stressed about having to take all these shifts to pay for the tests and the college applications, because even though he got a waiver for a few of them (it was Gansey’s idea, one that made Adam absolutely furious. The way he coincidentally mentioned it at lunch the day following Adam venting to Ronan about their discriminating pricing and Ronan ranting about how “it’s the fucking system, man. Rigged bullshit, is all it is.” And don’t even get him started on the humiliating conversation with the Aglionby college counselor that followed) he still has to pay for the supplements for a few of them because Ivies are nothing if not completely ignorant to the concerns of people making below a yearly income of 200k.

Oh, and he’s not sleeping well. None of them are, he guesses, from the bags under their eyes when they gather around the table at Nino’s. It’s only been 55 days since…all that. And when Adam can find a few spare hours untouched by work and admission essays and calculus problems and Hamlet reading notes, he shuts his eyes and finds himself choking the life out of Ronan again, or seeing Aurora’s mangled corpse in a field of rotting trees, or watching Gansey fall lifeless into Blue’s arms again and again and again…

Shit.

This is his fault, isn’t it?

He wasn’t pissed at Ronan. He was pissed about everything else and Ronan just happened to be the target in front of him when he burst. And then he’d upped and stormed off like the biggest asshole in the world.

Adam was the problem right now. Adam was the shitty one.

If that didn’t make him feel so damn guilty, he’d relish this personal growth and newfound introspection.

Instead, he was lonely and annoyed. And regretful. And cold. And these calc problems were damn near impossible. And that stupid amatuer organist was so bad did they really think this hobby was worth continuing? And…

Oh, fuck it.

Adam grabs his sweater and barely remembers to lock the door. He bikes, fast and hard, ignoring the bitter wind as it makes his eyes water and nose burn. He almost eats dirt on the side of the road when he rounds a corner too fast, but he keeps going.

The wind is still howling when he drops his bike in the gravel driveway of the Barns and bangs on the door. It take him a minute, but Ronan eventually answers.

“Parrish?” he says, pushing open the screen door.

“I’m stressed about my SAT scores,” Adam blurts out, shoulders hunched and hands squeezed in the armpits of his sweater against the whipping winds. “And about needing to take these stupid subject tests. And about picking up all these extra shifts just to pay for them, and I need to get all these college apps in soon, but I have no idea what to write about for any of these stupid essays without making myself sound pathetic or pitiful and melodramatic. And I can’t sleep anymore, after what happened with…everything. I feel like I’m running on empty all the time, which, by the way,  my car is since I’m spending all of my money to take these dumb tests and buy transcripts, and did you know that teachers who write you recommendations expect a gift? Like what bullshit is that? So now I have to get these, too. And it’s just so much, Ronan. All the fucking time. And, shit, your mother fucking died in front of you. Like, my shit is so…stupid compared to what you’re dealing with and yet I’m the one being an asshole and taking my shit out on you and I’m just…” Adam breathes. And freezes.

Ronan had led him inside. Sat him on the couch. Draped a blanket around his shoulders. And Adam hadn’t realized.

Ronan sits on the coffee table, chewing his leather bands and avoiding Adam’s gaze. Their legs fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Ditto,” Ronan says around the leather. “‘Cept not the school shit. Obviously.”

He drops his wrist, leans his elbows on his knees and runs his fingers in circles along the faded denim stretched across Adam’s knee. “I just. Today was rough. I wanted…I needed someone else. Something to focus on, other than…”

He can’t finish. Adam doesn’t need him to.

Adam sighs with relief. “I’m sorry,” he says. It feels weird to say. Weird but good. Another step forward.

“Me too,” Ronan echoes.

They sit close, legs fitting together like puzzle pieces.

“Okay, seriously though,” Ronan says suddenly. “Don’t bike at night again. You never know what sort of assholes are going to take those corners too sharp and flatten your ass into a pancake.”

“If the asshole in question is waiting for me at his house, then it shouldn’t be an issue,” Adam replies with a smirk.

Ronan rolls his eyes. “Just fucking call next time, loser.”

“Good to know you’ll still chauffeur even if we’re fighting.”

Ronan snorts. “That was barely a fight. You want to fight, I’ll show you a fucking fight.”

“Oh yeah?”

Ronan tackles him into the couch. Adam cries out with laughter.

This wasn’t their last fight. There would be more disagreements, more spats, more storming off and misunderstandings and cursing and regretted words. But they’d be okay. They would always be okay.

[twitchesandstitches]

Pokemon in Crossthicc - Overview

Pokemon and its relevant stuff in Crossthicc! This is gonna be a long one, requiring several posts, so bear with me on this one.

First off, some thoughts on the character line ups. Most of the canon Pokemon trainers, professors, gym leaders and other characters are either associated with the Endowed Fleet, or living within their territories without actually being IN the Fleet. Trainer like Misty, May and other important characters are probably Endowed, as are the Gym Leaders, professors and other ladies like Wicke, Lenora and so forth. They’re a kind of mixture of MILFy heroines and summoner-type magic users. Most professors are researchers into giant monsters and magic in general, with Pokemon being tied into both, and Gym Leaders (including all related jobs from the games/anime series, such as breeders, Alolan captains and Kahunas) tend to be independant adventurers and treasure hunters.

In general, the more heroic Pokemon characters, and Pokemon of every species, are part of the Endowed Fleet and main cast, with the most prominent among them being Wicke, gym leader-types like Lenora and Olivia, and the most prominent trainer characters like Misty. Most of them, especially characters and Pokemon tied to previous generations, were originally a part of the Smash Fleet prior to it merging with the Endowed Fleet.

Lusamine and a good portion of the Aether Foundation form the scientific backbone of the Cobalt Stingers. Lusamine is one of Vriska’s top people, and has a great deal to do with the way their mod development process works, both their refinement into highly expensive products with many benefits, and her habit of testing them on random groupie serfs.

Popular trainer classes (such as Hex Maniac) are individual characters here! That said, the core idea of those trainer classes are present in the form of common roles the trainers may use or adopt as they grow; they likely use different names, if they even have specific terms for, say, someone who uses the powers granted by Pokemon partners into disciplined raw power (Black Belts).

Most of the criminal Teams are still their own thing; defeated in past exploits, but largely still around. A few exceptions: Team Skull is a major part of the Fleet, and a lot of their iconography is popular in the fleet’s outfit styles. (Bonehead is a common term for scavenger units, in reference to Team Skull and the scav’s own stubbornness.) Team Rocket is a powerful criminal empire that initially started as a part of the Imperial Commonwealth but is growing into its own force, and Team Aqua is also a part of the Stingers. Other Teams are still present as their own thing, but either greatly reduced, in hiding, or just a total mystery.

Now, the Pokemon themselves. Unlike canon, Pokemon and the human characters are not from a specific world at all, but a multiversal phenomenon; Pokemon materialize from all over the place, and I DO mean materialize in a very literal sense. Trainers and all people who work with Pokemon in canon are translated into occupations that fit into the setting of Crossthicc, akin to summoners. Pokemon are a good deal weirder here and a lot more mystical in nature.

Pokemon, here, are not really animal-like beings, nor are they simply races of monstrous sapient beings with powerful abilities. They are explicitly animistic personifications of broad elemental concepts that make up the universe, taking on forms and concepts that are relevant to them, and when they are born into the material world, they must take on the weakest forms that can express their nature; the baby or initial evolutionary stages from canon. Consider them as being like spirits, or even summons, and would make excellent summons for the setting as a whole. It’s a bit of a shortcut for Pokemon, as otherwise they must grow in experience, calling down more and more power from a raw font of their essence from beyond, and as they power up, they develop into more complex and powerful shapes. In short, they evolve! And they MUST bond with a mortal soul to do this, to grow; they can’t really do it on their own, and rely on the experiences of others to expand their horizons.

Legendary Pokemon are explicitly gods here; not like gods, not so powerful they might as well be gods, but they are actively worshiped across the multiverse, empowering clerics and paladins,and once materialized in avatars that carried only a small portion of their powers but were nonetheless shockingly mighty. When they arise, the multiverse quakes, and that is only with a tiny fraction of their potential.

Pokemon can breed, though there is a difference between them spontaneously emerging in the ether, being summoned into being, or being born via pregnancy and eggs. In particular,  the former are initially more powerful and akin to ‘wild’ Pokemon; they’re much more reliant on mortal viewpoints to grow, and tend to prefer their more monstrous, elemental forms. They can be kind of weird, in the fashion of angels that are SO good that they’re a little alien. Pokemon born in eggs or through mortal pregnancies, are more in tune with mortal viewpoints, but have a harder time expressing their powers. They invariably treat their monster girl/boy forms as their default, and revert to it in times of stress, having some trouble shifting outside it. These are most akin to ‘trained’ Pokemon from canon, and are the most common.

And as per this AU’s theme, they are VERY big, ranging from kaiju-sized when they’re really trying, and even at smaller sizes Pokemon that are canonically small are nonetheless large enough to ride. And they can transform into humanoid monster girl/boy forms, which follow the usual rules of thiccness power in this AU. Powerful Pokemon are often extremely giant-y, and VERY curvy!

They are fully intelligent, sapient beings, and should generally be written as being almost angelic, wise entities with a bit of a wild edge. They’re very empathic, receptive to feelings from those they bond with, and Pokemon training is a friendship experience for them; if a Pokemon challenges you, it wants to go with you if you’re strong enough. The partnership goes both ways; as Pokemon grow strong, the trainer becomes more powerful, and a strong enough bond even allows one to fuse with the other, merging into a more powerful being that embodies their friendship. Across many worlds, before the cataclysm, across all species, Pokemon would teach mortals and be taught in return, both growing and continuously evolving.

At least, that’s how it used to be. But the corruption broke all Pokemon.

During the cataclysm, the magical catastrophes and shockwaves of so much death terrorized all things sensitive to such currents, driving many spirits into demonhood from sheer trauma. Negative emotions overwhelmed many magical beings, causing them to go berserk or become overwhelmed by invading forces welling out of the magical realms, adding to the death tolls. The Pokemon were especially badly hit, their minds dissolving and their powers going completely out of control, growing to massive size and becoming monstrous caricatures of their former selves. The Legendaries, the gods who derived from Pokemon, have been unable to soothe them until recent times, and even the Legendaries themselves, at least those most closely tied to the mortal planes and embodying mortal concepts, had their mortal vessels driven berserk as well.

If you’ve played Pokemon Colosseum and its sequel and recognize Shadow Pokemon here, it's very similar! But imagine that… mixed with Shin Godzilla, the apocalyptic rampage induced by traumatized horror and unending pain, and you can appreciate the scale of the horrors going on here.

The Pokemon are lost. Corrupted, driven totally feral by fear and the lingering deaths of untold trillions of souls, dying over and over again in their minds, and all this pain DESTROYS that Pokemon. The pain floods them, and all they can do is lash out, their natures becoming wild and knowing nothing but pain and fear. And in this, they have lost control of their bodies, weaponizing it purely in their most destructive force in a desperate attempt at self-defense.

Nonetheless. Even in this state, their longing to touch a mortal soul and find true friends, to create bonds across species and share their power with others remains still. To become more than what they are. Mortal hearts can touch them, remind them who they really are… and free them.

A dedicated human partner (a trainer) can bond with them, gentling their hearts and banishing the horrors they have witnessed and done, until the Pokemon gradually reverts to its true form, mind fully restored. Pokemon characters who work with Pokemon in canon are, in the AU, all particularly skilled at this and even specialize in it, but owing to the nature of Pokemon here, are more akin to summoners and spiritual mediums than monster trainers or researchers. Assume that any younger characters born into the Fleet and raised among its customs are at least familiar with what you have to do, so they can all at least calm down a feral Pokemon. Bringing back the Pokemon is a priority among the fleet, as is finding a way to bring back all the Legendary gods, who are presently lost within the magical realms and dominating vast swathes of it, their presence distorting the physical realm and causing horrific disasters. Journeying to save them from themselves and reconnect them with their godhead sources in the outer planes is a quest of epic proportions, and of dire importance. Legendaries embody the fundamental forces of existence, and are some of the most important gods remaining. They MUST be helped.

Corrupted Pokemon are analogous to Wild Pokemon from the games, mixed with pitable but highly destructive kaiju. Pokemon naturally born into the mortal realms, or those who have bonded with summoners enough to be moderated by their perspectives and freed of corruption, are akin to Trained Pokemon from canon.

Some general clarification:

There is no single Pokemon world or setting. Instead, Pokemon are native to all worlds and used to randomly show up in places that resonated with them or called them. Those born in the mortal realms tend to form their own societies here and there, while the most powerful ones from the spirit realms are most often summoned and that the two are really the same was not common knowledge. All Pokemon, but for a few, are still corrupted; the few born in recent times are not, but all others, including the Legendaries, must be helped. The canonical trainers, Gym leaders, professors and other human characters are, if still human, descended from Earth nationalities that correspond to the real life inspirations for their respective regions. Follow up posts will assume that they are human, but alternative ideas for them are VERY welcome!

Wild Pokemon are effectively all corrupted and totally feral, in the vein of Shadow Pokemon. They are broken and in pain, randomly lashing out and exploding in destructive fits. They are EXTREMELY large, many hundreds of feet tall and horrific to behold, elemental forces incarnate. With their sheer power, subduing them by force is an extremely poor idea.

Once freed from corruption, Pokemon can assume forms similar to their canon appearances and use their abilities freely, and these are explicitly magical in nature. They are, in fact, divine, as Pokemon are essentially mortal incarnations of certain principles of reality. They can also merge with people they are especially close to, granting them use of their powers, and monsterize that person with more of the Pokemon’s characteristics and giving them more power, though the person tends to become more wild. Once restored to their true selves, Pokemon follow the ‘totally sapient and probably smarter than humans’ interpretation of canon, and are equal members of the fleet or whatever organizations around ‘em. They might also fulfill the role of all purpose magical entities, or summon spirits; assume that purified ancient Pokemon fall into the latter category, and the monster girl versions must work to tap into their ancestral power and call it down, so they are also summoners in a way.

Pokemon here are FAR larger than in canon; they’re scaled up to giants, and can sizeshift freely to act as steeds, guardians or whatnot; Ash’s Pikachu, for example, is large enough for him to ride it into battle while also punching things. Assume that any given Pokemon can be as large as they feel like… within reason. While Pokemon are absurdly powerful, they do have individual limits and they’re often rather restricted in what they CAN do; they require experience to draw more of their power into their material forms.

Pokemon can also transform into two ways; they can morph into bipedal anthropomorphic monster girls (that tend to be extremely thicc, in proportion to their powers), or they can willingly transform into gigantic kaijus similar to their corrupted forms, but fully controlled; guardian monsters. These tend to be pretty dang monstrous and very elemental in nature. Pokemon born into the mortal realms, as mentioned earlier, tend to treat monster people forms as their baseline, while the Pokemon from the spiritual realms tend to prefer a kaiju-like form; those who have a strong enough bond with summoners may compromise with a giantess form, and something similar would apply to natural-born Pokemon..

Pokemon shifted into anthro form are scaled to an appropriate size: a Pikachu or Bidoof girl is going to be on the smaller size (perhaps 15 feet or so), while a Nidoqueen MILF is going to tower at at least fifty feet. The ones infamous for being big, like Wailord, will be FAR larger giantesses, on par with giantess-scaled aircraft. They otherwise have the same thiccness ratio as others; more powerful Pokemon are larger than normal and grow indefinitely, and are hyper curvaceous to suit their power levels. They can, as any other being, mod themselves up and even develop mutations appropriate for them.

All Pokemon species, save Legendaries, are represented within the Fleet, Stingers, and other factions that suit them. They provide an excellent source of powers, appearance mods, and traits from Pokemon are extremely common mutations on all people within the fleet. Natural-born Pokemon are also likely to be random populations, though are so divorced from their origins that they are likely to be very weak and indistinguishable from ordinary beastfolk; rediscovering their true heritage is a big moment for them. “Don’t you know what you ARE?”