#I was like ok MAYBE it’s a way of exerting control but ALSO I can just have a scholarly interest in mapping the critical landscape ok

[whentherewerebicycles]

therapy was “helpful” and I “liked it” and sigh I’ll “keep going”

[weebsinstash]

People keep asking me if I have any 'yandere Alastor vs. yandere Lucifer fighting over Reader' ideas, and I gotta say one of my favorite ones is uh

Ok so I just am trying to kick myself in the ass to write this in of itself, but, I really like the idea of Alastor just straight up tricking you into giving him your soul. "Oh what if Reader takes a deal from him" no what if he makes a deal for your soul and you don't even fucking realize what you're doing and it's completely unintentional. I'm talking, my specific idea, is that after a prolonged series of events where you both gain and then lose Alastor's respect, he then approaches you when you're just like DRUNK DRUNK and, you're being all social and slurring and honestly he's embarrassed for you but at least you're talking to him, and, he sets his trap: making it seem like just an innocent little game, Alastor suggests you two have some kind of drinking game, and the winner can take ANY ONE THING from the other, and he's even all "oh, you don't even have to bother yourself with thinking about it! I could simply JUST TAKE IT and not even inform you, so then you wouldn't even have to worry yourself about whatever it is I decided to... acquire for myself :)"

And here's your drunken delusionally confident ass, thinking YOU'RE gonna pull one over on HIM, YOU trick ALASTOR "oh haha there's definitely nothing I have he wants lol, what would he do, take my cellphone or some of my shitty clothes or collectibles, lmao, I'm gonna win and I'm gonna ask him for some sort of special power or cool thing or gossip, this is low stakes high reward for sure"

Cue you like IMMEDIATELY losing his challenge, and even then, you're all smiles and laughs, "aww, I thought I had you there! So what are you taking?" And he just "Ohhhh, nothing :) actually I... even already took it from you!" And he starts LAUGHING laughing and you're just like "oh, you bastard, you got me! >u< more drinks, yay!"

I like the idea that Reader wakes up the next morning STILL in compete ignorance but uh, eventually you find out exactly how terrifying having someone else own your soul is when Alastor gives you some sort of command of something you REALLY do not want to do and you can't even control your own body to stop yourself from doing it anyways. Just the... violations of privacy, the loss of autonomy. He can force every thought and secret out of your mouth, your head, and move your body to the best of its abilities, and also just, PLUCK you to his location at will

So. Lucifer finds you just absolutely BROKEN in bed, like emotionally devastated, you are as close to suicidal as you can be for someone who cannot die, and, maybe you've even self-harmed. And after some gentle prodding from the Devil, you reveal what Alastor did, but, even more than that, how it made you FEEL. Alastor had approached you as some kind of friend, then started to want to exert some kind of ... control over you, commenting on your lifestyle choices, wanting you to do things with him in HIS way, and then when you resisted, he acted like you were a disappointment, even stopped spending time with you, and THEN, after you thought he was done with you, TRICKS YOU into giving him YOUR SOUL. It's just completely destroyed your psyche. It's reinforced horrible things you've thought about yourself your entire life. It made you feel alone, and now, you don't even have your soul anymore

So naturally Lucifer is like, "That's horrible! I'm so sorry he hurt you like that, I won't let him do this!" AND JUST FUCKING UNDOES IT. Contract WHAT? Radio Demon WHO? this is HELL and Lucifer is, you know, THE DEVIL FROM UH, THE BIBLE, and he's just snapping his fingers and you FEEL your soul come back to you and now you're breaking down crying for entirely different reasons while Lucifer holds you

MEANWHILE ALASTOR, who is fucking off elsewhere, may or may not be lovingly gazing at whatever form your soul is taking within his grasp, HAS IT RIPPED AWAY FROM HIM AND STARTS LOSING HIS MIND. Some "Wait, what just happened? Ffffuck." shit for real, he's, abruptly jerking out of his chair so hard it's sliding across the floor and he's racing back to the Hotel. Charlie stands up for him and shouts down her father that he has no right to ask the Radio Demon to leave, but, Charlie "attempts" to give Alastor "a stern talking to" about how "friends don't take other friend's souls, taking other people's souls is not how we get into Heaven" which, of course, falls on deaf ears, but Charlie isn't the Morningstar Alastor is wanting to concern himself with

And of course, there's Lucifer, making sure he's standing close to you, maybe even between you and Alastor, standing in front of you protectively, MAYBE EVEN HOLDING YOUR HAND TO COMFORT YOU. Alastor just immediately putting two and two together what happened and all but grinding his teeth into dust. Not only has Lucifer interfered and taken something IRREPLACEABLE from him(which was something he took from YOU lol), but, Lucifer has driven a wedge between you ans the Radio Demon. Alastor is watching you regard him with nothing but anger and sadness and fear while clinging to the tiny fallen angel and just, ohhhh, if looks could kill, the staredown these two are having with each other over you...

You've got one yandere who had your soul within his hands and had it taken back before he even got to enjoy having it, didn't get to DO anything with it, and another yandere who, quite understandably, feels that it isn't safe to let you leave from under his protective wing, and BOTH of them are convinced you have to be protected from the other while ALSO being super powerful

You know, the perfect combination of dangerous abilities and dangerous minds :) obviously our favorite Appletini is the more powerful one, but I think our Bambi could give him a good run for his money through sheer trickery alone. If you thought it was annoying getting pulled into antagonistic musicals BEFORE--

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Jafar Part II

When Jade sees Yuu stumble into the lounge, he knows they should have activated the bracelet sooner. Her body struggles to stay on top the soft carpet that floats beside her, its bright little tassels shaking with exertion. Her eyes are wide, grasping at a red parrot that seems to be hacking air as well.  

He doesn’t have time to look much further into it before Scarabina students are flooding the doors, demanding Yuu’s body like an escaped criminal.  

Well, that simply won’t do, will it?  

His magic feels different in this fight though. Violent. Borderline feral. He glances at Floyd and Azul, and they seem to be doing the same. Azul is bothered by the lack of finesse he’s spells usually have, flowing wide and causing damage to the walls and furniture. Floyd however, seems to be revealing in it, but continually glances back at Yuu, a concern that isn’t normally present. 

Is that blood?  

They finish the fight quickly, a small spittle of blood on the ground from where her and the parrot are.  

“I’m ok,” she whispers, “I-I just bit the inside of cheek and that’s what it’s from. I’m ok.” 

Right.  

“As that is, allow us to have the school nurse check on you.” Jade reaches underneath her knees, easily pulling her up. “To ensure the health of our guests.” 

“We don’t have time. Something is wrong with Jamil.” That certainly catches Azul’s attention. “Maybe Kalim? Something is wrong with the entire Scarabina dorm.”  

She looks at Azul, eyes pleading the same way they had when he had lost himself into the Blot.  

“One of them is going to Overblot.”  

Jamil’s overblot is beautiful in it’s own strange way. Feral and elegant and poised and unhinged. A man of contradictions.  

But they don’t appreciate being thrown into a desert, especially as merpeople. Honestly, they are lucky that Kalim was thrown with them. Otherwise, well, they were looking into actual threats on their lives. And it’s better to keep one’s cards as close to the chest as possible, especially for that spell. It simply comes at too high a cost.  

Floyd and Jade carefully remove what sand they can, waiting underneath the tree as Kalim easily controls the rains into the portion of the dried oasis. Azul watches with quiet fascination, as he always does with such displays of power. He trusts them to keep an eye on Yuu, rubbing her temples. She was already in a... fatigued state, and the fight only seemed to make it more prevalent. Grim is blowing green fire onto her injuries, the scrapes and cuts sealing themselves cleanly, though it doesn’t seem to help the fatigue. 

It seems that Grim is also taking lessons from these so-called teachers.  

“I know,” Jade hears her mumble, “But I don’t know why. Everything feels fuzzy.” 

The parrot, who has been helping Kalim direct the clouds, finally lands back, nudging her hand and hopping to the water’s edge. Well that’s curious. 

She cocks her head, walking to the water’s edge and looking down. The charm Azul gave her shimmers in the reflections unusually though.   

“I don’t understand Iago.”  

The parrot, Iago apparently, gives an indignant squawk, glides over to Jade and starts pecking his shoe.  

“There is no need for that.” He smiles, rising from his spot. Floyd rises after him, before the bird makes the mistake of pecking his shoe as well. Something tells him that Yuu wouldn’t like it if he punted the thing for messing with his shoes.  

He looks a bit more disheveled than he would like, but overall, it is exactly what he expects. Though...something feels off when he looks a bit harder.  

Yuu notices it first, crouching down to look closer at...him and Floyd’s reflections.  

“Jade? Isn’t your gold eye on the right?”  

Floyd glances down. His reflection has it on the right. Jade’s is on the left. That-why are they switched- 

His reflection smiles, cocks it head to the side and ripples.  

He doesn’t know who is staring back at him.  

[transmutationisms]

ok inch resting to see reads of frankenstein as subtextually incestuous. i do see how monster creation stories lend themselves to that type of read. and like for example i have always said that lucy westenra's vampirism seems to be clearly reenacting her own blurring of identity w/ her mother: even their states of physical health were sympathetically linked when they were alive, and that sort of dual-subject production is then heightened and becomes the hypnotic control that lucy as a vampire exerts over the children she preys on. frankenstein just strikes me as an unusual example though because i can't remember victor ever actually pursuing the monster in the sexualised way lucy does the children. like you can draw a pretty clear line from satan/sin in paradise lost to lucy, where both represent a 'monstrous' form of familial possession that is in truth only differentiated from 'proper' conduct by its intensity; whereas with frankenstein it seems more tenuous, maybe because the text really hinges on victor trying to disavow any shared identity w/ his creation. so stoker and milton have essentially configured filial bonds as literally consumptive, where that act of eating is a result and expression of identification-with (lucy is always and also the child subsumed into the mother; satan births sin as a reflection of his nature but also, their relationship is the heightened form of both heterosexual marriage and the paternal relationship between god and his creations). frankenstein i remember as being less interested in that sort of family microcosm... i haven't read it in a while tho

[wazzappp]

Ok @moosemonstrous here we fuckin go.

OK SO. I apologize if it comes off more Evangellion than Pacific Rim but I thought that making The Charger more slender would help to differentiate it and allow for a focus on agility (also helps it to look more skeletal and unsettling).

The Charger is built in layers. An outer layer that constitutes the armor, a thinner covering, metal scaffolding, secondary thin covering, and then finally the essential wiring that makes the 'nervous system' of the Jaeger. Most of the damage (corruption scars, nicks, paint chipping) is just cosmetic, and the structural nature of the Jaeger is intact.

HOWEVER. The same can not be said of the reactor core. At some point (maybe during Eli's death?) corruption made its way behind the main fans of the outer engine and into the main reactor that powers the Jaeger. In theory this should lead to a catastrophic failure, but in this instance Im thinking there was a chemical reaction that essentially stabilized the corrosive nature of the Corruption (were gonna circle back to that).

For the most part my version of Robbies suit is fairly standard. I added an orange tint to his helmet screen for flavor because hey. Why not.

The spine of the suit is probably newly integrated to allow for an updated interface, I imagine theres at least a little development in the technology between the time Eli dies and Robbie comes into play. That would make the suit a weird mishmash of past and new technology which could be VERY fun.

Also I LOVED the white accents @cicada-candy added for their design but I didn't want to steal ideas so I just added it in my own places. Your art fucks severely bro I just wanted to make sure and let you know that <3

TIME FOR MY FAVORITE PART: SPECULATION ABOUT THE CORRUPTION AND ITS THEORETICAL GENETIC EFFECTS IN DOSES ON A SUBJECT!!!!!! (AKA self indulgence part 2 electric boogaloo)

I believe you mentioned the Corruption being a Neurotoxin which would be Very fun and VERY cool but I also have a suggestion. Mainly because you also referenced an increase in Robbies strength, as well as another person who got fuckin deaded shortly after.

A rapid growth in muscle density to allow for this strength would be very interesting, but why would the Corruption cause that? Simple answer; it isn't. At least not intentionally. Whats actually happening is a kind of nerve damage that changes the brains regulation of muscular exertion. Our brains really only let us use a certain percentage of our real strength, because if we just let loose and used it all we would cause significant physical damage to ourselves. Like. ripping your own tendons free from their anchors. you could break your own bones. you would die SO fast bro.

Now it is POSSIBLE to access this strength in situations of extreme stress and thats how you get people lifting cars off of loved ones, but this does still cause damage. It also gets more complicated when you consider Fast Twitch muscle reactions but for the sake of simplicity: You Would Die.

So a release of cortisol and other stress hormones, combined with a lessened ability to control strength. This means they would be USING that strength A LOT against ANYONE AND EVERYONE. But maintaining this sort of metabolism is not reasonable. Someone suffering from Corruption would likely also suffer from Hypoglycemia fatally. So extremely strong, extremely scared, and extremely short lived is the kind of deal we would be talking about here.

SO. Having said ALL OF THAT. WHAT IS ROBBIES DEAL. Well heres my proposal: The Corruption is a virus that causes neurodegenerative disease.

If Robbie was exposed to very small amounts of it as a child, it's possible it was inactive or defective, which would have allowed for an immunization point. Its also highly possible that this is a virus that can not survive (well i say survive very lightly. theres significant debate as to wether viruses are actually alive at all but I digress) outside its usual area AKA Inside a demon. He could have been exposed through contaminated water, direct contact, maybe even breathing burned version through the air. Either way, he came into contact with a weakened version of the virus and it helps him later on.

As he comes into DIRECT contact with Corruption via plugging into The Charger this is when we would start to see some more interesting effects. This Corruption would still be different though because of the aforementioned stabilizing chemical reaction in the reactor. Also, because I think Eli's DNA would be integrated into it. This provides Robbie with genetic compatibility for the virus to jump off of. Remember, viruses don't want to kill a host, they just want to reproduce as much as possible (which does end up killing a host but still). And a fun fact about viruses is that we never actually get rid of them, we just get rid of the symptoms. Once you have it its in you forever.

SO. 1. Immune response from Robbies body begins to cause the nervous damage that would allow for his rapid increase in strength. 2.Immune system recognizes the genetic material is familiar (Eli doing something good even inadvertently I guess). 3. Immune system neutralizes the virus and incorporates it into Robbies genetic coding. All good right? Happy ending? WRONG.

BECAUSE WHEN THERE ARE COPYING ERRORS IN YOUR DNA (SOMETIMES FROM VIRUSES) WHAT DO WE CALL IT?? DING DING DING 10 POINTS TO THE MUTUAL THAT SAID ✨MUTATION✨

This virus still carries genetic material from demons, this would also be getting integrated into Robbies DNA. Places like his spine which would have the most regular contact with the Corruption would probably take the brunt of these changes. It's possible that the nerve damage never truly goes away and he continuously tears and then rebuilds those muscles, resulting in overall increased strength thats technically?? stabilized?? Also I could totally see his body going 'oh shit were finally growing with decent access to fuel? BET' and just. Reactivates the growth plates in his bones ('Look! I've fixed his runt of the litter insecurity!' 'YOU FUCKED UP A PERFECTLY GOOD PILOT IS WHAT YOU DID. LOOK AT HIM. HES GOT ANXIETY ABOUT THE STATE OF HIS HUMANITY').

Oh yeah its also worth noting that this would be like. Pretty painful. We're talking constant soreness, cramps, deep aches that just won't go away. General suffering <3

Of course tapetum lucidum OF COURSE TEEF obviously as if I could go without it. You can get funky with mutations because hey. fucky wucky demon genome integration whoop whoop. Also could be interesting to see damaged areas on the Charger manifest on Robbie as damaged tissue. His skin says 'AH. Damage' and copies itself as scar tissue instead of the usual.

Oh god Ive been writing for a solid hour and a half I was supposed to be asleep a while ago ok. Moose I love this au and its making me unwell thank you for sharing with the class I hope you will consider my virus proposal for body horror purposes.

[fairycosmos]

girl hey how are you?? any tips when you get rejected from a job you really wanted?? 🤡🤡 please send me your wisdom also hope ur doing well hows georgie give her a kiss from me xx

godddddd i'm so sorry to hear this!! the job-hunting landscape is fucking awful at the minute and i know it's extremely difficult to hold out any sort of hope when stuff like this keeps happening. i feel like whenever this has happened to me that i was always told to just kind of move on and pick myself up and while that's true to an extent it's also like ok but i'm losing my mind this is the fucking worst so i think you should allow yourself room to feel like shit over it. don't judge it or try to push it away but don't internalise it or drown in it either (e.g don't fall into the trap of thinking in absolutes such as "this is always going to keep happening" or "i've got no chance of finding a good role because that was my only shot" - it just leads to pointless despair that often isn't based on anything factual.) it's ok to cry or vent or write or scream about it, it's ok that you feel bad because something bad happened. and no it won't always be like this and yes you will have ample opportunity in the future to find another version of your dream job but recognising that right now you're in pain can be healthy and good, too. whenever i'm job-hunting i always try to get to a place where rejection just feels like a dull hit and then i move on to the next, like truly i just force myself to go in with no expectations, fuck it nothings real, trying out whatever persona i think they'll like best and then leaving it all behind me when i get the rejection email LOL. but when it's a position you deeply want, understandably, you'd need some time and space to process not getting it. i rmr what sometimes made me feel a tiny bit better was going over what i learned from the experience, even if it was just getting more comfortable in an interview setting or answering a question well, and building a plan to optimise my approach and basically give myself a better shot at the next interview based on the one i'd lost out on. i could console myself by saying at least i'm growing and at least i'm building up my interview skills and how i present myself every time i do this crap. i can say it wasn't a waste of time even if i didn't get it. if they offer feedback ask for some so you can work on whatever so-called "weak" spots they perceived if any (at the same time though seriously! do not internalise anything job people say to you as like a severe moral flaw like these people would reject an applicant for not smiling enough it's truly meaningless. but for the sake of job-hunting it's just something to keep in mind.) anyway i've noticed sometimes we feel a bit better about this sort of thing if we're able to exert some control over it, if there's some actionable steps we can take like working on our speaking skills or upgrading your CV or whatever. ultimately i think it's good to remember that there are so many different ways for your life to turn out well. the illusion of one path being the absolute key to everything you've ever wanted or dreamed of is just that, an illusion. there's endless versions of the future spanning out in front of you and you have happiness in so many of them - when it comes to friendships, jobs, dating, whatever - there's no singular right way to "be." sending you a massive hug. i know words ring hollow then you feel terrible so maybe come back to this another day if you want to. will give georgie the biggest forehead kiss from you <3 mwah xx

[hellonerf]

OHH same anon as lasg time!!! now rhat we have confirmation of relationships can we maybe get a list of em?

OK... i will try my best... keep in your mind i am ame guy i always think about ame its a torturous existence but i will use this opportune to explain my 2ptalia. i wont make a list cz thats hard so i'll just write as much as i can. long paragraphs here we go

2p fra and 2p eng live in the manor and he's the head of the household there (of like two people lol). 2p eng plays the role of a stay at home mother and 2p fra the father. years back meri and nada lived there as the kids. 2p eng likes playing house but he wants full control of the house so its suffocating for the others. meri especially had always needed particular kinds of help and rejected alot of 2p england's ways. but 2p eng was also very particular about things so they clashed really badly. 2p eng fed him shit like human meat idk how to fit this in but this old 2p thing is so funny to me i have to keep it anyways that was a thing meri was kind of the problem child there. 2p eng did not like meri lol but it was under layers of strange lying and false affections

nada was like... a lying kid he'd just go with what was told of him quietly and kind of halfassedly to get things done. but he also would try to cool down situations to keep himself and meri safe. he fed meri wild berries or whatever other foods that meri wouldn't get sick from and puke out so he didn't end up seriously malnourished... a good older brother. if not a little aloof. (and meri could be difficult sometimes because. you know. obviously. and nada didnt always know how to respond to him properly). he is all annoyed by meri Now bcz of how clingy and needy he is and how meri seems to want him to prioritize his needs over nada's own. meri doesn't intend this but nada to him is someone who'd never drop him anyways and meri wants to feel whatever counts as happy at the moment (does whatever he wants lol).

2p fra is useless husband lol ok but he is a sad sad guy and he doesnt gaf anymore and just stays in the manor and during the brothers childhood mostly turned the other way. he can garden tho theres that! also 2p eng can actually cook he just does shit but he can cook well. hes demanding of his husband and purposefully difficult sometimes... likes testing him.

nada and 2p eng's relationship is a lot better but nada holds his tongue a lot anyways. they get along pretty okay and meri is like im really chill about that (not really)(but well nada likes me more than him anyways... he'll always take my side no matter what he tells england...). meri thinks 2p fra hates him too but 2p fra doesnt he just doesnt gaf about those damn kids. after meri and nada ran away 2p fra was like well i guess this family doesnt really have kids anymore. and 2p eng waslike no they just left for college. (2p fra: college doesnt exis.t.. okay). now meri and nada adventures the small deserted world they live in on a shitty motorcycle doing errands and jobs for people.

now for other guys. 2p ita is an asshole to like everyone but he gets things done. he keeps things in line in most of the area though some people dont listen to him even if he threatens them. he's pretty aware of whats his strengths and what isnt so hes calculating about who and how he exerts control... hes the one who figured out the very faraway portal door to 1p world. he lives in a long asymmetric tower that looks like a radio tower... 2p ger works here for him and basically lives there too. 2p ger is a kind of mechanic thats weirdly clumsy but also really good at his work. (2p ger gives us gratuitous fanservice from tripping over lines that werent there previously and 2p ita pops three whole blood vessels at once!) 2p jp is the bodyguard ish. but he kind of hates being under people so he doesnt always listen to his bosses. (2p ita knows how to get him to listen tho even if its a hassle). 2p ita hires meri and nada to do shit sometimes (mostly nada cz meri is worse at listening than him. but meri shows up there anyways so they get to know each other's working styles). they dont like each other but due to a job now 2p ger, meri, and nada all know about the door so he has to figure out to keep them in check about it

2p pru is 2p ger's older brother that was a major deal but lost his whole arm!!! and is now weak and sad. so 2p ger mostly takes care of him and his mechanical arm. 2p ger has little loyalty to people, but he takes care of his brother anyways. he'd probably sell him out lol but then take care of him after anyways.

2p roma is on the radio Oh i forgot to mention everyone has a little walkie talkie or radio that connects to the radio tower and this is like their only source of entertainment (unless germy lets them borrow his shitty laptop) and well communication of sorts. anyways hes on the radio always and has to keep coming up with material and sometimes has to pretend like hes 2p ita when giving announcements... 2p ita thinks hes annoying and thinks whatever "entertainment" he gives on the radio sucks ass but they got each others backs anyways.

2p japan as i said is a kind of bodyguard but he's very protective of his work and also not friendly like at all. 2p chi is not rly his mentor but they keep running into each other anyways. 2p chi is kind of true idgaf guy he lives in one of the houses closer to the radio tower because its convenient and he couldnt care less about the other people around. he keeps a lot of old things in his house like old jewelry old trinkets just old old things of their world. he might've been the one who found the laptop and just gave to it to 2p ger just cz he asked. 2p ger gets his mechanical materials from him because nobody else keeps shit they find cause they suck and are lazy. so germys always like man that guys the best! and 2p japan grits his teeth and stars come out from him gritting his teeth cz of how hard he grit his teeth. 2p chi does not gaf abt 2p japan of course its like a weird beef... he keeps the old trinkets because its useful and he might find a thing or two that makes his life more convenient... if not he'll sell or give them away. he listens to the radio and thinks it sucks but not much else to do.

2p spain is a little further away from the radio tower but he's there. he lives in someplace that looks like a church but if you walk in its basic house interior. he is a shit guy but knows and keeps and sells information around here. 2p ita has beef with him for that(but its fine... he's a patient guy... kgh...) and instead of talking directly for managing stuff he just sends 2p roma to do it.(romas like i dont rly wanna... but fine.. cz im just rly charitable...) 2p spain likes throwing glass at people thats just a thing he does. meri and nada doesnt like doing jobs for him but he pays a lot so they do it anyways. 2p ger wouldnt mind working for him but 2p spain doesnt trust his weird mechanics and technology... he does things manually. of course he doesnt know but many things of his house runs on the same mechanics...

2p russia is closer to the radio tower than 2p spain is but relatively not close. he likes keeping the plants and ecosystem in this world alive because nobody else is managing it. (2p fra would but he's in that fuckass manor all the time... this pisses 2p rus alot cz instead of being useful to the environment hes just There). meri has no idea but the only reason there was wild berries all around and various non-meat food is cz of 2p rus. 2p rus barely knows of him tho he just hears abt them like oh those two who would do anything for a little piece of money. 2p russia always has the radio on because information is valuable even if right now its just a shitty improvised soap opera on the radio... he doesnt like other people and only interacts if he must.

aaand i forgot to mention but 2p eng's manor has one singular radio connected to the radio tower but its like always turned off and hidden. 2p eng doesnt like 2p ita and doesnt agree with how he runs things at all and is the one who is most uncooperative with him. thats why 2p eng is really secluded living in the manor... he's the furthest away from the radio tower. 2p ita thinks hes a freak but hes mostly not causing trouble for him so he lets him do whatever that shit is.

[articskele]

YIPPEEE MEADOWCLAN INFODUMP :D

Basically I took the Tomodachi Life philosophy of shoving all of your OCs and favorite characters into Situations together and applied it to warrior cats to see what would happen and it’s so fun and I already have so much lore akjfldf!!!!

OK SO. Meadowclan! This grassy hilly area with lots of flowers, a river, and a forest off to the side! Cats often decorate their fur with flowers, both bc it’s pretty and to hide their scent so they can hunt more effectively.

Kits batting at butterflies and bees (and quickly learning not to attack the latter lol). Cats mostly hunting rabbits and birds and fish, with the occasional frog or deer or fox.

And then there's the Moontree, this big old cherry blossom tree at the edge of the territory, whose petals seem to glow in the light of the full moon. Maybe there's some water pooled at the roots, and when significant events happen, cats will look up to see cherry blossom petals blowing in the wind ouo

---

Mothstar arc, aka We Didn't Start The Fire:

It's a rough concept but basically there's a prophecy from Starclan about fire overtaking the valley, something about snow and flowers. It's around the time the clan was first founded so Stonestep (Stone) was going to be appointed leader, but he dies under mysterious circumstances.

Mothblaze (August) becomes Mothstar and is appointed leader, though I'm thinking he doesn't get any extra lives? Something something the clan is just starting out, Starclan is quiet, this is new territory so nobody's there to give the lives, I dunno.

He's charismatic and pretty good at keeping the place running since times are tough, but more suspicious things happen and the rules start to get bent and changed. Cats get exiled and poisoned.

Snowblossom (Artic) discovers the truth and tries to expose him for the murder of Stonestep, he tries to start a controlled fire as an exertion of power but it quickly gets out of control (a gas canister near twolegplace?) The fire is stopped and Mothstar gets kicked out, left to wander the forests beyond the territory.

Which actually lines up fairly well with canon August's story; founding a town, creating a well-managed but ultimately corrupt system, messing with forces outside of his control in an attempt to show power, and getting exiled once his lies are exposed.

(Except in the case of canon, August supposedly drives off this calamitous dragon and uses that to emphasize how dangerous the mountains are and that it's safer with him, until Artic figures out that this dragon is herbivorous and only acting this way because of people being aggressive to it and taking its territory.)

Shimmerwing (Estelle) becomes Shimmerstar as the new leader, and is given a second life by her ghost cat husband Stonestep. Also she was the one who discovered the Moontree!

Cherry blossom petals are seen flying in the breeze above camp, and Snowblossom keeps one in her fur ouo

At one point Mothstar tries to come back to take revenge, but Shimmerstar just stares him down like "this is my house now bitch" alksfjdf

I was joking around with a friend about her giving him coal BUT COAL IS USED FOR FIRE SO IT’S LIKE MAKING FUN OF ALL THE DAMAGE HE DID AAAAUGH

---

Birchfall arc, aka that time the Onceler invented cat capitalism. Catpitalism, if you will:

So cat Onceler starts out as a kittypet named Ollie but ends up in Meadowclan. He's loud and clumsy and easily grossed out, pretty rubbish at hunting and fighting, and he keeps sneaking into the medicine den to eat the mallow-

But what he does have is knowledge of twoleg stuff, and he invents a system using herbs as currency. It quickly catches on and spirals out of control, because now cats are picking so many herbs that they can't grow back.

And with all these herbs being stashed away or constantly in circulation, Nettlefur (Medic TF2 the medicine cat) can't get his paws on the plants he needs to Do His Job.

So it ends with Birchfall getting exiled and he just. Goes back home to being a kittypet like nothing happened akfjakdf

---

Misc character stuff:

- Mothstar is this longhaired splotchy mix of red-orange and brown, with markings on his sides that resemble a moth's eyespots!

- Snowblossom is a small floomfy white cat with blue-gray stripes and little spots on her face like freckles ouo!

- Daffodil is either a birman or ragdoll? She's Snowblossom's mom, currently in the elder's den getting some much needed rest ouo

- Shimmerstar is this sleek black cat with shiny fur that turns blue in the light, like a crow! And the classic white four-pointed star on her forehead

- Nettlefur is a silvery german longhair with the messiest fur alive. He brought a cat back to life once and Starclan HATES him for it

- Stonestep and Thornsong (Cedric) are tuxedo cats but Stonestep has gotten more and more white fur with age, like this! Also Stonestep has a missing arm like in canon + a bobbed tail, and Thornsong has a rose in his fur ouo

- Unlike canon Stone who died before Cedric was born, Stonestep is still alive by that point so he was able to mentor Thornsong and be there for him when his parents dipped out ouo

- Doveheart (Dove) is this cream point ragdoll (white heart mark on chest? White lily in fur?), Maple (Mel) is this BIG floomfy orange and white tabby loner, and they and Thornsong all meet up at the clan borders to hang out. They’re friends your honor

- Cloudpaw (Cloud) is an all white cat, and Dustpaw (Petra) is a sandy brown cat with long ears and a bobbed tail that make her look like a rabbit ouo

- Cloudpaw is super fast while Dustpaw can jump super high, so they work well together! And since they never got separated like in canon, they never had such a strained relationship and they love going on adventures together!

- Their warrior names are Cloudflight and Dustbite! Which is an Another One Bites The Dust joke but also fits the rabbit theme bc dust bunnies!

- Twinkie (Wink) is a red-pink kittypet with a shimmery light blue bow and polydactyl paws!

- Birchfall is a tall, lanky gray cat with white on his belly and socks and face, darker gray stripes on his tail and legs and back, and little freckles hehe ouo. As a kittypet he likes wearing tiny hats

- I haven’t fully decided on a name for Ink but I’m calling him Leafwhistle for now! He’s a calico that was originally a loner, joined for free food, but nothing really changed and he just comes and goes whenever he pleases and nobody has been able to stop him

- Harespring (Springtrap). Yknow that one post about the green cat? He looks like that, but with a lotta scars (including burn scars from the fire), longer ears and a bobbed tail like Dustpaw.

- Harespring is the guy that Mothstar framed and subsequently exiled for Stonestep's murder, but they brought him back after everything gets resolved lol. Currently in the elder's den telling the apprentices scary stories

- Hollypaw (Holly) is one of if not the most reckless cats in the clan- She got exiled during Mothstar's rule for snooping around too much, and she has a habit of eating berries without checking if they're safe

- Her warrior name is Hollydash! Also what if she's the one Nettlefur brought back from the dead bc she ate deadly berries alfkds

- Cloverleaf (Forgetica) is the mediator aka the much-needed therapist

- Spiderfang (Sylvain) is a gray-blue oriental shorthair, very angular shapes. He thinks Nettlefur is the coolest dude ever which is such a bad influence alkfsjd

- Sporeshade (Kieran) is this short and stocky brown maine coon, with a scar over his nose like in canon. He has a rogue partner named Concerto (The Escapist), but nobody knows what a concerto is or how to pronounce it so they just call him Connie for short akjfsdf

- I'm thinking Cloudpaw is being mentored by Thornsong, Dustpaw is being mentored by Doveheart, and Hollypaw is being mentored by Leafwhistle? Also maybe Spiderfang is a second medicine cat

Heeehehehe ouo

[fen-the-magnificat]

more thoughts on a soc &j au (beware spoilers for both!!)

ok so.

juliet and romeo as nina and matthias. i really feel as though nina is simply a more mature juliet; they share a very similar charm and wit. plus nina being a heartrender i feel like gives 'oops i did it again' vibes even though that is not what a heart render does lmao. i just feel there is a symbolism to be found between juliet as a lover and hearts + exerting control over them (this takes me back to year 9 writing r&j essays, were they in control of their romance or was it fate, that kind of idea).

matthias and romeo are not very similar characters in terms of personality - what with romeo being kinda airheaded and Matthias being a more stoic character. BUT. matthias is raised druskelle, who hunt and kill grisha (what nina is), which is about as close as you can get to a capulet-montague metaphor, i reckon. plus, (SPOILERS) his death at the end of crooked kingdom, IN NINAS ARMS MIGHT I MENTION, is very r&j, and very the start of &j, as nina does not also kill herself. both pairs follow a classic forbidden lovers arc, while not created, was popularised to some extent by r&j, so i feel like the doomed romance creates some glaring parallels.

NOW.

frankie as wylan. wylan, in both show and books, is mousy, a talented musician, lacking in confidence. remind you of anyone? he's also neurodivergent-coded, and so is frankie. they both share an overbearing father and an absent mother figure (please note: this is not me equating lance to van eck. lance misunderstands his son, van eck is straight up abusive.) wylan has a beautiful arc of sort of discovering part of himself, and a certain level of self-confidence, through his love for jesper and the support he receives in return, that i think lines up in a really neat way with frankie's overall arc in the show of finding himself, and finding confidence, due in part to finding may.

speaking of! may as jesper. physical characteristics aside, jesper is the fashionable smooth-talker of the crows, in a way that reminds me of the may we see before 'domino' and again before 'i kissed a girl'. jesper also faces similar challenges to may, but where may struggles with their gender identity, (SPOILERS) jesper represses his own grisha powers. and before you say "fen! that's not the same thing at all, you doof!" both aspects of the characters are painted as integral to each of them respectively. may has (presumably, as it's not outright stated, only inferred) dealt with years of misgendering and confusion, and hides that part of themself up until 'i'm not a girl', and jesper actively works to hide the powers that, as part of his culture (zemini), "should be celebrated" because of a bad experience in the past (not gonna spoil that one). also, jesper wears a skirt for like. several episodes of shadow and bone, and to me personally, it's giving genderfluid vibes, but that's neither here nor there.

overall, please watch this scene, look me in the eyes, and tell me it's not maycois.

PS. not sure who i would put as kaz and inej? maybe anne and william? however it works more in the sense of their strained relationship in &j than it does in terms of the actual characters. hmm.

[leerentouls]

the good life

A brief snapeshot of Angel's life on Sanctuary.

i just wanted to write something and i have ideas but ough... writing's hard 3 and also im sick rn. rip. also! shocker, but i'm writing during the day...??!?!?!?! usually it's at like. 3 in the morning LOL also shoutout to MoodiestMags love the Rise to Grace series o7 <3 cw for mention of suicide

there's some stuff i wanted to mention in this ficlet - like the difference/similarity between Lilith + Angel wrt eridium addiction, and Moxxi and/or Roland at all (or a bit more) - but alas :'3 maybe in another ficlet or so

"Hey Angel, pass me that wrench?"

"Sure."

Angel's half-there in the moment, delving deep into code for additional defences for Sanctuary, but she still grabs the tool Gaige asks for and waves it in the other girl's direction.

"Thanks."

"Yep."

Six months and still Angel doesn't feel totally comfortable here. Mostly, but then, occasionally, she'd catch a glimpse of someone looking at her. Hyperion's Siren, she'd heard from one of the residents, and she'd never wanted to rid herself of her own face as much as she did then. She understands it, and it was more out of surprise then condemnation, but...

Then there was Lilith. And Mordecai and Brick. And Tiny Tina. And- to be honest... everyone. Everyone. Every Vault Hunter, every resident, everyone who knew of Handsome Jack-

But it's not like they go out of their way to make her feel unwelcome. Anymore.

Angel backs out of the code, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. Progress has been made, she reminds herself; people don't quite regard her with such revulsion or contempt anymore (but they remember), and people talk to her, whether resident or Crimson Raider.

(She almost wishes Tim was here. She feels bad about that. She could fix it, if she just talks about it.)

DT beeps, and Angel hears Gaige shift out from where she was fixing up. She knows what's next; it's familiar now.

"You OK, Angel?"

"Yeah," she replies, rote. "Overthinking. You know."

She flinches when Gaige reaches out to rub her shoulder in comfort. A flinch, or trying to shrug her off, Angel could call it either-or, and for whatever reason: her father's ghost hangs over her shoulder like when he would try to calm or restrain her, and that's why she's flinching or rejecting this comfort, or perhaps because she doesn't deserve it, at least not yet. It's been a hard and steep hill to climb in such a short time.

Gaige isn't to be deterred, so wraps an arm around Angel's shoulders fully, pulling her into an awkward side hug. Angel acquiesces.

(She thinks of Tim's face in the shuttle.)

"You wanna come with me next time?"

"Vault Hunting?"

"Yeah! Or just hunting."

"Oh! Yeah, actually, I'd like to get out for a bit, whenever you go next."

(Her voice, cool: He's on his way to kidnap your Siren, sir.)

"Cool," Gaige says, grinning and playfully punching Angel's shoulder. The Siren fakes a pained groan. They both re-settle into the groove: code and machinery, side-by-side. Angel keeps a half a mind fantasizing about Vault Hunting for the pure joy of treasure-hunting, rather than as a means of exerting control over a planet's people. They're not even here of their own will, usually: prisoners or children of them, or deserted here. It's not their fault. Ah, c'mon now, back to the joy of hunting for fun.

(At the precise point where Handsome Jack could only deal with so many interferences at once, so he had Tim posted on the Jackpot. He'd live - for a time, at least.)

It'd be cool to see everyone in action while also being on the same playing field, instead of watching from "above". There again, Angel would be too busy keeping up to actually watch them. But it'd be cool all the same - being part of the team (so long as she doesn't fuck anything up, or not too badly), and proving her worth.

... Or just proving her potential as a Vault Hunter. Angel nods to herself; yes, potential. Maya said that her worth is more than what she can do for other people, that she is inherently worth being respected as another person. That was nice.

(He'd even outlive Handsome Jack.)

... Maybe... maybe after this next outing, whenever that is, she might mention Tim and the Jackpot. Moxxi'd be interested, she thinks.

(But not her.)

It's not a bad life here. She hopes to make it up to Tim.

[heartbrake-hotel]

Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."

[lord-shitbox]

ok kicks clutter out of the way and sits down with a notebook. i gotta figure out more bite's vampire dad semantics. mutuals very welcome to chime in

vampirism lore notes:

i could see turning someone into a vampire as something you do to a trusted friend or partner.. aw fuck ive gotta outline if people are born as vampires or not. the worldbuilding catches me again. shelving that for later

i do want there to be uneven power dynamics in siring for Bite's case specifically because yada yada young adult vs parent angst we've all been there. maybe something about the origin of vampirism lends it to uneven power dynamics but in modern society its typically looked down on to lord that power over others without good reason? specific laws about it so courts can rule that it's unjust for someone to be doing that if they're abusing the power, like domestic violence cases..

in that case I think a vampire parent would have legal precedent for maintaining sire power over their child but is generally obligated to "free" their dependent by relinquishing the power they hold over them and giving them control over themselves when they're 18 or so.

Bite lore notes:

Bite's birth parents are not part of the relevant picture at all and he's not too torn up about it. he would've been turned & taken in by his vampire father as a child...he's basically his adoptive father but with an extra tangible power difference because of the vampire siring part.

New angle of discussion.

Sire power: Bite's father can control how quickly he ages, because vampires can just do that for themselves if they have enough blood to feed on (a Lot of it) & could definitely force him to freeze on the spot n shit like that without touching him. Bite hates that shit. he can't control or have a say about what happens to his own body so of course hes balls to the walls touchy about his personal space. like a cornered animal

Bite's vdad wants him to stay small forever & refuses to let him grow old -> bite never gets old enough to legally obtain his own autonomy -> cornered desperate animal mentality

of course. given enough time and legal documentation he could definitely make a legal case that his vfather has been forcing him to stay a child for well over the time hes supposed to have been an adult by now & have his autonomy handed to him by legal means. but that takes Time and Legal Documentation. and if his vdad destroys his birth certificate and all other records of his birth who's going to believe him?

somebody will, Given Enough Time, but trans allegory "holy fuck i dont want to wait several years until i can choose what to do to my own body" hes going fucking crazy.

SO: he kills his dad

except he can't, because of the stupid vampire siring thing. he can't kill his vampire sire. he can get reaaaallllll fucking close but no matter what he does he's going to HAVE to get someone else to finish the job for him.

if he destroys his dad's body thoroughly enough his dad loses his control over him tho! yay! he gets to physically be as old as he should be as long as he remembers to destroy his dad's living corpse every time it starts forming enough to start exerting control over him again

He does this for a good couple years at least & he's better but he's also incredibly Stuck now. if he lets his dad reform he's going to be back to square one and who knows what his dad will do to him in return? he's kept him on the absolute brink of death for several years theres no fucking way he's gonna be happy with him about that. He needs to find someone who's willing to kill his dad & not tell the cops about what he's done because there's no way hes not going to jail or worse.

These are the circumstances he's under when he comes across Bark & this is why he keeps asking Bark if he'd kill someone for him (like would you love me if i was a worm except worse because hes worse). also this is where IM stuck cos i cant decide how to end it

Either Bite's vdad relinquishes control to him or Bite's vdad is killed. there has to be some end to the cycle he's stuck in

His dad relinquishing control feels..incredibly anticlimactic but is also realistic to my experience. could not stand my dad but he gave up on micromanaging me and now we're chilling. i think theres definitely something about parent/child relationships that are extremely combative in teen years but then end up reconciling later when the kid has grown up some more & the parent has realized they're their own person and not some toy

Bark could kill Bite's dad. this is a good quandary for him because he does not want to hurt anyone but also comes to understand Bite's situation and realizes the reason Bite is such an awful individual to deal with is because he's got this shitshow of a cloud hanging over his head all the time. Plus Bark's also like. definitely hurting people because he's refusing to deal with his own shit. even though he doesnt mean to. atp what's one more

third secret option Bite manages to kill his dad himself. this would go extremely awfully for him im sure it would damage him extensively and also would not help his isolationist "im the only one that can save myself" problems in the slightest. but he would have a GREAT cry in Bark's arms about it. i could make him do that anytime though now that i think about it. hehehe (the haver of thoughts)

SO. thats all that. Maybe if I squint at Bark's set of problems and figure out how he gets fixed by the end this half will just knit itself together nicely when im not looking. such is the life. anyone who read and processed all 900 of those words is entitled to compensation ill doodle you something tbh. what do yuou guys think

[chimericchaos]

Ok this tea may be too fucking hot but like

Maybe the VAST majority of human experience that people define as "normal" is very much a tiny restrictive framework of what humans actually are and can actually be

I think the reason why theres no concrete answer of what separates "man from beast" is because there is actually no fucking line you dingus theyre the same thing. A bagel and a fucking donut. You may be able to ascribe differences in appearance and behaviour, but in reality they really are basically the same thing, and trying to sort things into hyperspecific boxes does more harm than good. Humans fundamentally are the same, and all human experiences so far are human experiences.

I often find myself wishing for something of a post-LGBT era, some utopia where people are just people and what they identify as does not matter as much as the ability to BE. Yes, gay and trans rights do matter very much, but those are no longer "gay and trans rights" but instead basic human rights. I get that people assign labels to themselves in order to feel part of a larger community and to somewhat accurately describe their experience, but there are many times where individuals in communities that seem to share this common thing are really that thing in a totally different way. There is no correct way to be gay or correct way to be trans. There is no correct way to be plural. Everyones experiences will be different. And this is the point I'm getting at: everyone is so fundamentally different that the concept of putting people into boxes makes no fucking sense to me.

And yes this goes for every single person out there trying to dictate how other people live their lives. Identity is not sacred. No one has to conform to any definition of "normal" and they often dont simply by existing. The desire to control the way someone else is and lives, i equate to a kind of citizen-policing, a symptom and product of a system that places value on power and normalcy. Its insane that i seem to live in a world (my own fucking brain) where yes obviously power isnt actually a thing, its just exerting violence under restricing circumstances, and normalcy isnt a thing, its just a framework for the population to create people who add to the current idea of "person" (and not, you know, just do their own thing), and yes of course value isnt actually a thing but is instead a mentally-assigned trait we have given to stuff to aid structures of power and view some things as greater than other things. I dont know why the hell people think they need to work at a job they hate to afford food when you can just? Have a community support network that distributes resources to the people based purely on necessity and relation of community?

I know im talking about a literal fairytale utopia apparently, and we are in a societal transitional period where we only figured out being gay was ok actually like fucking a decade ago, and this period is likely to go on for another 50 or so years before we get our shit together enough to "normalize" the very many experiences of what being gay means, yet this stuff makes a bunch more sense to do than whatever the hell mashup-system we currently have. The only fucking people who seem to share these views are anarchists and even then theres disagreements. Because "anarchist" does not define every persons individual mental manifesto that may differentiate wildly from another person's, or even from the core fucking ideas of the group you are a part of.

Im not going to bother outlining my entire thesis and putting something like post-post-post-post-modernism-anarchism on it. Im not going to define myself as a pansexual nonbinary somewhat median system. The point of it is that those terms dont belong to just me, but also a million people who are very much NOT me. I cant even go onto r/hypersexual and find a single person on there with the same opinions i have (hypersexuality isnt a bad thing actually and the sooner you stop hating yourself for being "too sexual" because thats "weird" and "difficult to make friends", the better because you are actually valid As You Are and while you will not find many people willing to befriend you and understand you and all the stuff that inherently comes with being a friend of you, that is actually an example of a society that is incompatible with the people in it and that needs to fucking change.) In some weird way i end up feeling more isolated in the communities i am supposed to be like, because of that "supposed to be". In reality, you are fundamentally the same and yet fundamentally different from everyone else and it would not be a fair comparison to compare you with Anyone else in Any Way.

I understand that Identity is a construct we as walking bags of slowly rotting meat use to bring us together and understand experiences others have so that we can see ourselves in that position, but like, maybe we need a better construct to form a betrer system where we can understand experiences that are not at all like us actually, and we can have empathy (or something that we ascribe to whatever this "empathy" is) for people who are fundamentally different to us, because in some capacity everyone is fundamentally different to us. We need to create communities of fundamentally different people because thats what we are. While some words can work as quick short explanations of parts of who we are, they cannot replace knowing someone and the intricacies of who they are that you have gained over years of knowing them.

[allyriadayne]

do u think aegon is a fujoshi? he was really into the harwin/criston scene and the sight of 3 grown men tackling harwin. ok i'm asking half joking but he no doubt got some sick pleasure out of that! which also kinda ties back to the fighting pits*--it's just so "oh. the inherent eroticism permeating the normalized violence of our society. hot. say no more, will fetishize and sexualize."

*there's more to The Pits than just PleasureTM, which veers more onto self-harm/trauma recreation, but imma leave that can of worms sealed for now.

also who do u think he would love to see top aemond the most? both out of a sicko desire to see his brother forced into rectum-/penetration-related (and simplified!) sexual submission**, but also because he wants to see his stuck-up brother experience the highs and lows of prostate stimulation--because "actually. it's ok to submit bro its ok to cum from getting railed bro. it's just bodily pleasure, no deeper meaning. free yourself from the societal shameTM pervading the act of taking dick. but also. submit. to the Shaft. (but. also to me, most of all.)" because aegon's such a nice good big brother :_) touching praxis-fujoshism healing broken brotherly bond... wow. idk who this is for lmao.

**but most of all he's submitting to aegon in that scenario! where aegon is the Orchestrator--the orchestrator of the pranks targeting aemond, the orchestrator of aemond's sexual initiation, and henceforth desire (or, non-desire; or, short, TraumaTM), and the orchestrator of who knows what else! and it's a kind of gnostic paranoia pervading aemond's thought where aegon is just around the corner, ready to eat his face, and who has put arsenic in the wine and the pasta while no one was looking, and won't grandsire pleaseeee chain him to the bed again. after all, what is a big brother but a god with restricted (and thus heightened) authority and access to violence. and what do u do when that god is a drunken playful hurt and hurting freakazoid... oh aemond ur really in The Pits aren't you... and i wanna watch!

(and i think aegon has similar dynamic with jace and, by way of extrapolation on my part, daeron. (and to and extend helaena/girls-women in general, but control over boys and men is more intoxicating/gratifying in the sense where they (boys/men) are contrasted against the girline/female ontologically fixed state of hysteria/vulnerability, which retroactively creates "the boy/the man" as something intellectual, unpliable, untouchable. which makes aegon wanna chew on it even more. at least when he can muster up enough strength and interest.) this mode of control/abuse also extends to erryk, criston, gwayne, otto etc, and the other men of his later court.)

(love ur gifs btw!)

hiiiiii

to answer your very serious question, do i think aegon is a fujoshi? no, i don't think he seriously is. i think he likes these obvious displays of power, the same way the abuse of the maids ties back to him exerting the only kind of control he has over people. and obviously there IS a sexual element in the satisfaction of making people submit to him so maybe we can say he enjoys men submitting to him. does that count? idk ponder that. with the pits i mostly agree with you + the pits, the drink, the whoring all as a way of going away and forgetting he lives such a shitty caged life in the worst possible way.

i don't think aegon particularly cares who tops aemond as long as aemond is getting railed and therefore become less annoying (to aegon about his own vices). if aegon can knock aemond off that pedestal everyone puts him on, then he's content. this is why i'm going to enjoy very much when aemond comes home after storm's end and aegon throws him a party. aren't you enjoying this? aren't you enjoying the fact that for once you are worse than me? that i did good and you didn't? that mother is unhappy with you so this is my chance to finally be her favorite son? anyway

"but most of all he's submitting to aegon in that scenario! where aegon is the Orchestrator--the orchestrator of the pranks targeting aemond, the orchestrator of aemond's sexual initiation, and henceforth desire (or, non-desire; or, short, TraumaTM)" yes yes for sure, in aemond's psyche aegon is the be all and end all; he's the one who (indirectly) took his virginity, made him claim vhagar and in consequence lose the eye and develop his mommy issues, singlehandedly created aemond's other myriad of issues, and worst of all, he's going to be king. even if aegon is the worst human being he knows, he is aemond's final ambition, to be king, the first born son, to have the kind of power and authority aegon only appears to use for something other than sex when he is given the throne, to be able to feel as 'free' as he thinks aegon is (conversely, aegon thinks aemond is freer than him). but for me, aemond is nothing without aegon, without as you, say "aegon [...] around the corner, ready to eat his face" while aegon could do more or less the same without his resentful little brother under his foot, he's just too selfish and self centered!

tbh aegon's control of his little posse back in ep 6 is more of head bully and his minions kind of thing, but as he grows up i don't think he has friends/acquaintances to exert his control over so he turns to the easiest targets (aemond is boring now and thinks he's aegon's father and pretends to care too much about duty), maids and women and probably to the poor people of KL. but yes YESS when he becomes king and has the entire court and kingdom at his beck and call........i WILL enjoy it thoroughly

[tteokdoroki]

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s):  hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars,  inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning  forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing,  just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

Ok, so this theory is near and dear to me about Kevin. I am not going to ever say that he's actually not brainwashed, or anything like that. He clearly is. We saw that in Triptych. But then it's curious to see the little bits of apparent rebellion he tries anyway. What he went through left a very complex network of associations and emotions (or lack of) in his mind. We see that he sometimes is a bit snippy towards Lauren and actively seeks to destroy his Strexpet by doing things to it which seem playful and like he just doesn't understand how bad that is but are also actively malicious towards it. I think Kevin's inner world is in turmoil. A deep part of him knows what happened to him, to Desert Bluffs and is happening in their quest to take Night Vale is terrible. That part of him, the genuine Kevin, hates Strex because of that and hates everything associated with Strex. The active and most in control part of his mind is the brainwashed and changed side, however. It's Kevin but it's not Kevin at the same time. This side can only see the good in Strex and it's actions and agrees with the line of thinking he's been told is correct. He has been taught to ignore pain and anguish, even his own (especially his own) and to blindly follow anything and everything that exerts it's will on him (religious or mundane). So then we have Lauren, a figurative representation of Strex as a whole (especially with her lofty position) and she is always breathing down his neck. He likes her, but he can't Like her because of that inner self. So, he makes nice, he doesn't want to be taken away from his job or life and a part of him does think she's alright but at his weakest moments he will say things to her, little acts of rebellion, not being all the way mean and nasty but expressing his dislike. With the Strexpet he can do this more openly. This is a representation of Strex too, a murderous little surveillance machine pretending to be a cute animal of some kind. He can't just destroy it (too suspicious) and maybe feels guilty for wanting to do so, but can do things which break it anyway. Kevin is just a crisis of identity wrapped in flesh which can barely keep it together. He does believe in the goodness of Strex and a Smiling God because that's the nature of having your mind altered to believe in what others want you to when you enter or are forced into a cult like he was. At the same time, there is a small part of him doing this silly, almost childish, acts of rebellion. In a just world, we'd see an arc where he becomes more and more like himself again and unlearns all the things he was taught. But alas, the world is cruel and Kevin doesn't seem to be on the way to any kind of happy ending (again, as seen in Triptych, which broke my heart).