#I’m rotating so many thought in my brain

[voltronrenaissance]

I’m actually having such a fantastic time brainrotting abojt butchfemme klunkllura rn thank you to @treesbian and @alluraaaa for spreading the agenda

[timethehobo]

Sketchy sketch. Gonna see him soon.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[spidersinyourshoes]

Feitan and mischaracterization

warning: lots of yapping ahead. I’m not even sure if this makes sense I wrote this in one go lmaoo feel free to add on to this or ask for clarification on some points <3

As someone who has been rotating this man in my brain for like 5 years now, I have… thoughts about the way some people interpret his character.

Of course everyone is free to see and interpret a character in whatever way they wish, that’s one of the many joys of fiction after all, but i still feel the need to yap about this for a bit.

Feitan is such an amazing and complex character, and seeing him constantly getting reduced to the mean emo/edgy dude annoys me greatly.

Yes, he is pretty mean to outsiders (as are almost all troupe members) and yes, he is a cold blooded killer who is both ruthless and efficient in combat (as are most troupe members) but that is not the extent of his character like some people seem to believe.

He is just a silly dude fr. He’s a nerd. He teases his friends. He makes jokes. He is extremely loyal. I love him.

And yeah, he is not nice. He’s not a kind person, but I also think a big part of his reputation is due to his language barrier? Like, if he spoke like all the other characters i genuinely think a lot of people would suddenly realize there’s more to him as a character, even though what he’s saying wouldn’t change. Just how he says it. But honestly his speech just shouldn’t matter?? He gets his point across, and does so more effectively than most characters ever could. And as someone whose native language isn’t english, it’s also hella relatable. Learning a new language is hard, especially if it’s a language that greatly differs from your native one.

And people always say he’s quiet and barely speaks, but i don’t think that’s true at all? I mean, out of all the troupe members, hes literally one of the characters who has the most lines in the anime. Just because he doesn’t speak in a way that’s conventional to you, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t speak at all, or that his words aren’t worth listening to.

Like is this the mean edgelord who hates everyone and has no sense of humor? Is this him? You sure?

Feitan is a character who values efficiency and the troupe above all. In that sense, his philosophy is quite simple; if it benefits him or the troupe, it’s worth doing. And it’s of no benefit, it’s not worth doing. He’s blunt and doesn’t beat around the bush, but he’s also not the strict and uptight person people think he is.

I have more thoughts but they mostly manifest as screeching in my brain and i don’t have the proper words to share them and this post is getting long anyway. Long story short, Feitan is a silly little dude and I love him and I wish more people saw him for the complex character he is.

[mischiefmaker615]

Stress Management

Rating: PG13

Summary: Loki always notices when you're stressed, so what is he going to do about it? 

Requested By: @eleniblue

Your finger tips lightly press into your temple with a rotating motion to try to ease the headache that threatened to appear. Your eyes stayed glued to the computer screen and your body in a hunched position as your brain stayed focused on studying. What time was it? did you eat? Did you go to bed at all? Nothing seemed to come to mind in remembrance, the only thing you had your focus on, was work.

Honestly you did this to yourself, but you were a caver. Many asked a lot of you, how could you possibly let them down and say no? well now you practically shot yourself in the foot with the amount of work you thought you could handle.

A pair of smooth, long hands rested against your shoulders, causing you to jerk as you practically gasped at the sudden interruption. Your thoughts and awareness seemed to snap to attention as your focus switched at the intrusion. Before you could say anything in panic, a hand gently clamped over your mouth to silence you, along with a low shushing against your ear.

‘’relax darling, it’s only me’’

Your body instantly relaxed at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice and he immediately released your mouth, hands returning to your shoulders from behind you.

‘’you nearly scared me to death Loki’’ you scolded with a sigh, releasing your pent-up frustration as your eyes traveled back to your computer screen.

‘’what are you working on that brings yourself to neglect your personal needs darling?’’ he asked, his eyes moving to the screen before him in mild interest but traveled back down to you when the knowledge was foreign to him.

‘’just work.. lots of it..’’ you sighed and stretched, earning a satisfying pop from most of your joints before you felt his fingers and palms begin to knead the muscles between your shoulders and neck. Your eyes fluttered closed as you bit your lip at the pleasure.

‘’it is necessary than the amount required of you?’’ he asked, almost already knowing the answer as you hesitated.

‘’.. they asked me, and I accepted.’’

You could almost feel Loki shaking his head as he walked around you to pull up a chair, turning yours to the side so you were facing him, earning a small whine that he was taking you away from your work.

‘’what is that?’’

The sudden question as he gazed at your face made you raise a brow at exactly what he was talking about. ‘’what do you mean?’’

‘’your stress darling, I could see it all over your beautiful face’’ he sighed, almost a ‘poor thing’ attitude as he cupped your cheeks.

‘’I’m fine, just a few knots here and there in my shoulders but my face is-‘’

‘’you may not see it darling, but I do. When you are fully invested in something and in pure concentration, the world is blocked out and you scrunch your features. You may not know it, but you do.’’ He explained gently as his thumbs began stroking your cheeks.

You blinked at him as he spoke, feeling fine than what he was telling you but.. more than half the time, he was right. No one paid better attention to you than Loki, he saw every detail of what you do.. almost to much when sometimes you think he was staring right into your very soul. From biting your nails when you were nervous, to shaking when you were excited and glancing to the left whenever you tried to lie. He saw it all.

‘’I’ll be fine, I just need to finish and then I can relax..’’

‘’when will you finish?’’

The hesitation confirmed you didn’t even know, thus having a lot to try to accomplish. Loki was no buying it. slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering there before pulling away to move to a different spot above your brow.

The action made your thighs press together and a blush come to your cheeks as you closed your eyes, resting your hands on his knees as he used his hands at your cheeks to lean you more forward. ‘’L-Loki.. I need to get back to work..’’

‘’you need a healthy break, and what better break to fix this issue than with me helping you to relax..’’ it wasn’t a question as he dragged his lips to your temple, humming almost at the taste of you and the feeling of your smooth skin against his lips as he repeated the same action on the other side.

Your mind seemed to melt, your thoughts dissipating as he kissed at your cheeks, his hands running down to begin massaging your shoulders. all thoughts of work were gone, any thought really as your mind focusing on the feeling of pleasure he was giving you.

‘’relax darling, all will be well’’ he assured as his thumbs worked at a few knots at your neck while his lips finally pressed against your own, brushing them first in a small tease before deepening it with a slight lean forward.

Your hands traveled to rest against his shoulders, feeling how his lips caressed your own before his tongue ran slowly across your bottom lip. You immediately gave him access and he happily obliged as he massaged your tongue with his own, earning a moan from you. You felt him smile against your lips, giving you finally a moment to catch your breath before he kissed your forehead one more time before pulling back to gaze upon you.

‘’there you are darling, stress relieved and relaxed.’’ He praised and cupped your face again. ‘’please darling, don’t bite off more than you can chew.’’

You couldn’t help but get cheeky as you smiled ‘’well what if I wish for another session of stress management?’’

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle as he suddenly pulled you out of your chair with his hands at your thighs and switched you over onto his lap so you were swaddling him.

‘’then I suppose darling I’ve got some more work for you to do..’’

[ladyofthenoodle]

thanks to tumblr i have learned about the spotted lanternfly which is apparently an invasive species but it is also a KILLER inspiration for a ladybug + bee + butterfly fusion transformation

the bottom two are both the adult, when they’re at rest the red and the striped body are hidden, which is so fascinating to me when thinking about incorporating that into ladybeeterfly’s design. though the red peaks through a bit leaving it almost pink!

i feel like a marinette with that kinda design would have been through some shit to be hiding her ladybug and bee under the butterfly. like something about the ladybug being very essentially marinette and the bee being a close combat type power, for her to hide those under the butterfly which is more distant…. idk i’m just rotating this bug in my brain. the way her outside is still pink, the way she’s always pink as a civilian, too… i feel like this would be a perfect design for a marinette who’s gone through some trauma and either learned to hide herself or even for a marinette who’s become a villain, but still has that core goodness buried underneath

anyways i just think this has so much potential and i can’t believe i am having so many thoughts about an invasive species

[seastarblue]

Seven Sentence Wednesday + Writing Share Tag

thanks for the Proud Of Tags @sableglass and @bardic-tales !

and thanks to @mundanemoongirl , @the-golden-comet , and @fifis-corner for the seven sentence Sunday tag!

rules for the Proud Of Tag is simply to share something you’re proud of, and the rules for Seven Sentence Whateverday is to share seven sentences 😌 v straightforward.

Use this as a Proud of Tag, or a Seven Sentence Tag, or just a writing share! I’m not picky ✨

Noha has been rotating in my brain like a rotisserie chicken so you get more of them 🫶

———

Perhaps they were a mark the hitman had failed to eliminate correctly, and they’d come to finish Noha off. ‘I never checked if that guy from last week was dead dead…’ they thought, pulling the shadows closer to them, as they did so many times before.

The hinges were so rusty and the door itself was so worn down that it took some time for the intruder to open it. Sensing the opportunity, the half-elf crept closer. If they could land a solid hit, then it wouldn’t matter if they left their knives in the wrong spot, or if their fringe was in their eyes, or whether or not they had the right gear.

‘It’ll be okay,’ they repeated to themself, ears bending back in apprehension, heart beating so loudly the lovers next door might have heard. ‘It’ll be okay.’

———

they don’t like being caught off guard 🙂‍↕️ even worse if they’re not prepared. even worser (I am an English master) if they’ve already winded down 😔

tag game list! lemme know if you’d like on/off!

@sableglass @dioles-writes @ash-thedrawer @allaboutmagic @paeliae-occasionally

@astor-and-the-endless-ink @vsnotresponding @nightlylaments @glbettwrites

@thebookishkiwi @verdant-mainframe @threedaysgross @fifis-corner (you don’t have to redo it btw) @bamber344

and ofc an Open Tag ✨

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. Additionally, this chapter is the setup for the second half of the entire story! Stuff starts to go downhill again from this point onward. I know I've mentioned that in recent posts, but it's always nice to have a reminder.

Also, I've come down with a pretty bad cold and have pretty bad brain fog and I haven't been able to proof-read chapters 14 and 15 as well, so there might be a bit of a hiatus for a few days while I recover. I'm still online, but i'm operating at 50% brain capacity ;w; I'm also plucking away at a few pallette cleanser stories that are NOT angsty, so stay tuned for those as well!

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 13

[Prev] [Next]

You were seated on the closed toilet lid, your hands folded in your lap.  You were perspiring so rapidly you were starting to feel dehydrated.  Your heel bounced spastically against the linoleum floor, making your entire body tremble with the force of your anxiety.  Butterflies filled your chest, an impatient, fearful tingling sensation that spread out over your shoulders and into your head.  You were starting to feel dizzy.

Law was across from you, leaning against the wall with his lead lowered and his arms crossed over his chest.  His inked fingers were drumming against his arm, his own subtle way of channeling his nervous energy outward instead of bottling it in.  His breaths were shallow and uneven, as if he was trying to contain an outburst.

Like a sauna, the air in the room was stifling.  

A developing pregnancy test was sitting on the sink counter.

Here you were again.

“Five minutes,” Law muttered, a sound so faint and airy that you almost didn’t hear it.

You released an airy chuckle, your voice coming out in a wavering quiver.  “No matter how many times we do this, it never gets less stressful.”

Law smirked, letting go a huff of his own, his shoulders bouncing slightly with the motion.  “The passage of time keeps fucking me up, really.  How long has it been since your surgery?”

“A little over four  months now, I think,” you replied, counting in your head.  Four months since your surgery, and almost six months since your miscarriage.

“God,” your husband muttered, gently knocking his head against the tiled wall of your bathroom with a soft thud.  “And here we are once more.”

“Suffering,” you added.

Law barked out a sudden laugh.  “You’re not suffering on my watch, baby.”

You covered your face with your hands, hiding your embarrassed smile.  Law took the opportunity to snatch the pregnancy test off of the counter while you weren’t looking, inwardly fed up with the tension and apprehension.  When you gazed back up at him, your chest contorted at the sight of his face.  He was staring at the white stick, expression completely emotionless.  You absolutely could not tell if he was feeling elated or distressed.

“L-Law…?” you wearily called.

Silently, Law rotated his wrist to reveal the display of the test, his mouth morphing into a smile as he did so.

Two red lines.

Your heart was hammering wildly behind your sternum as you stood from the toilet seat, yanking the stick out of his hands and holding it close to your face, as if the results were false.  The positive line was quite vivid compared to your first positive test, or what you could remember of it.  Your hands were trembling, nervous shivers wracking your entire body as you absorbed the sight in front of you.  Your mind was whirling with incomprehensible thoughts, your neurons firing so rapidly you felt as though your entire psyche was filled with nonsensical radio static.  The corners of your vision grew blurry.

With a broad grin, you once again looked at your husband, who had a rare, toothy smile of his own.

“I’m almost scared to celebrate again,” you whispered.

Law stepped toward you and pulled you into one of his tight hugs you loved so much.  He squeezed you like a boa constrictor, like he was trying to funnel every ounce of affection he had in his weary heart into your soul.  You stifled a wheeze, squeezing him back as hard as you could.  His feet were planted to the ground, the only sound in the small room being your shared breaths of apprehension, nervousness, and excitement.  You could almost feel his own erratic heartbeat through your skin.  His hands were glued to your shoulders and waist as he wrapped you in his embrace, afraid that if he released you you’d disappear in front of him.

He inhaled an uneasy, shaky breath.  “We don’t have to tell anyone so soon this time, if you don’t want to,” he offered.

You inhaled the faint scent of laundry detergent mixed with that lingering hydrogen peroxide smell that always remained on his clothes.  “I think we should still tell Shachi and Penguin, after everything they’ve done to help us…”

Your husband simply hummed in response.  “What would you feel comfortable with?”

You shimmied in his arms, making him release you from his iron grip and step back slightly.  “Maybe we can wait a few weeks and then tell them.  Just to make sure everything is going okay.”

Law nodded, gracing you with that small, polite, slightly insecure smile that you loved so much.  “I like that plan.”

“And,” you continued, “I’ll call Robin tomorrow.”  You smiled to yourself, knowing that was going to be Law’s next question.

Indeed, he smiled.  “You know me too well.”

A faint boof bounced around the narrow halls of your apartment as Bepo demanded attention in the living room, making the two of you chuckle awkwardly after being forced back into reality, enclosed in your small bathroom.  Law began to step away from you, opening the door that was cracked open and stepping out into the rest of your home.  “I’ll take the fur baby outside.”

“Alright,” you replied, voice barely higher than a fleeting breath as you watched him round the corner and walk away, Bepo’s excited paw steps tapping across your floor.  You once again glanced at the test in your hands, a warm feeling swelling in your chest that also fought with an intense feeling of unease.

—

You stared at the pale yellow wall in front of you, your left arm outstretched and resting against a small tray as a tired-looking nurse wrapped a tourniquet around your bicep, pulling it uncomfortably tight and harshly squeezing the fat of your arm.  You watched her out of the corner of your eye as she disinfected the inside of your elbow with an alcohol swab, leaving a cold wet patch of your skin that made you suppress a shiver.  You were somehow wishing she could engage with you in even the most menial of small talk, anything to diminish the sheer awkwardness that permeated the small laboratory room around you.  You subtly winced as you felt the needle be inserted into your arm, followed by a swift cap and a tube to extract a precise vile of blood from your body.  You didn’t consider yourself squeamish by most means, but the sight of your dark red blood pooling rapidly into a plastic laboratory tube made your stomach twist, so you opted to continue looking away until the nurse expertly released the cap, extracted the needle, and covered the vile.  She labeled it with your name and patient number just as quickly as she ripped a portion of medical tape from its roll and used the sticky strip to adhere a piece of gauze to your skin.

“You’re all set, you’ll receive a call from your doctor when your results are in,” she said plainly.  Half of your mind felt a bit sorry for coming into the lab so early in the morning, the poor nurse was probably only halfway through her morning coffee.

You stood from the chair, grabbing your bag from the floor and flashing her an apologetic smile.  “Thank you.”

She simply nodded and placed your tube of blood into a small, white tray, carrying it out of the room and away from your sight.  Your stomach quickly filled the silence with an intense, hardy grumbling.  Shouldering your bag, you briskly exited the lab area, paced through the waiting room of the clinic, and back out through the entrance doors.  The early summer sun beat down on your skin as you walked through the parking lot to your car.  You tossed your bag into your passenger seat, immediately turning your key in the ignition to blast the air conditioning and diminish the stifling warmth that permeated the inside of your vehicle.  You blindly fumbled through your bag for your phone, tapping the screen to pull up your texts with your husband.

Hey babe, i just finished at the lab!  They only took one thing of blood from me, i thought thered be more but im also happy it was only the one  ;3; anyway, i’ll call you when i hear back from the doctor, she said hopefully it shouldnt be more than a day.  Good luck today, i love you!!!!!! ^3^ ^3^ ^3^

You were just about to put your phone back into your bag before the screen lit up once more with an incoming text from Law.  You grinned- he must be on break already.

Baby~~<3

Make sure you eat something filling at brunch, even if it was just one vile you should still replenish.  If you hear back and I don’t respond, I’m most likely in an operation.  I love you so much, baby, I’ll see you later tonight.

Leave it to your husband, always making sure you were on top of your medical needs even while on a shift where he was responsible for 30 other people.  You finally placed your phone back in your bag, putting your car in reverse and beginning your drive.

—

Ikkaku was already waiting for you with a table by the window of the cafe when you arrived.  She smiled, a grin so bright it could blind you, as she eagerly waved you over.  You gleefully followed her motions, plopping down across from her.  She barely gave you time to adjust your posture in your seat before she began excitedly speaking.

“So…?  You said yesterday you had something you wanted to tell me.”  Your curly-haired friend leaned forward with her elbows on the small table.

“Geeze, girl, let me breathe first!” you chuckled.  “I haven’t even registered where I am yet!”

Ikkaku jokingly snapped her fingers.  “Then hurry up!”

With a smile, you gazed downward at the paper menu that had been placed in front of your seat before you arrived.  A milkshake definitely sounded good right now…

“What are you thinking of ordering?” you asked, making Ikkaku huff impatiently, though she quickly gazed over her own menu.

“I was really eyeing up the veggie omelet,” she replied.  “I need something savory or I’ll die.”

You laughed.  “That does sound pretty damn good…” you trailed off, thinking deeply before asking, “Would you want to split an extra large milkshake?”

Ikkaku’s impatience with your dawdling finally dissipated as her large brown eyes lit up in excitement.  “Uhm, fuck yeah I do!”

Soon after, a waitress came by with a small notebook and placed down your orders.  A short stack of pancakes, a veggie omelet, and an extra large chocolate milkshake to share.  Once your table was left alone, you finally leaned forward and grabbed your friend’s attention for the information she was so desperate to hear.

“Okay, I need you to keep this a secret from everyone, and I need you to seriously promise me that,” you began, your voice indicating intense directness that immediately told Ikkaku that you weren’t messing around.

“Of course,” she responded.  “I know I tend to be a chatterbox, but I’ll hold your word.”  She lightly pounded her fist against her chest, a silent symbol of her promise.

You grinned faintly before taking a deep inhale through your mouth and whispering, “I got a positive pregnancy test a week ago.”

Ikkaku sucked in a shocked gasp, pulling her hands to her mouth in bewilderment.  “No way?!”

“Shhh, Ikka!” your hand shot across the small table to land on her mouth in a futile attempt to silence her before the entire cafe knew of your news.  “I’m really keeping it on the down-low for now, since… you know.”

Your friend’s eyes were shining with delight, almost tearing up in the corners as she gazed at you with love only a life-long friend could have.  “That’s incredible, oh my goodness, I’m so excited for you!”  She was finally keeping her voice down, but her wavering squeaks as she talked revealed the sheer amount of effort it was taking her to keep her composure.  “When did you find out?”

“About a week ago,” you replied.  Your lips finally broke into a wider smile as you took in her infectious excitement, though your chest was still fluttering with a fear that had yet to disappear.  “I’m only telling you because I want you to be there in case anything happens again.  I love our friends, but you know how gossipy they can be.  I think I can trust you better than anyone else.”

Ikkaku grabbed your hand that you had reached toward her, clenching it tightly in her own grasp as she followed your posture and leaned over the table.  “You have my word.  You know I’m always a phone call away, in and out of work.”

“Thank you, Ikka…” you responded to her promise with an airy sigh, feeling your own sinuses grow achy with the risk of impending tears.

Your overflowing emotions were quickly subdued when your waitress returned with an astronomically large glass filled to the brim with a rich chocolate milkshake, dolloped with a generous swirl of whipped cream and two maraschino cherries for each of you.  You briskly ripped open your straw and dove it into the sweet drink, taking a long sip to drown your tears.  You refused to cry over a nice brunch, and a little chocolate therapy was always the best medicine.  Ikkaku was giggling at your desperate actions as she inserted her own straw and took a savoring sip of her own.

“Have you told anyone else?” she asked, still keeping her voice fairly low.

Your lips finally released their death grip on the tip of your straw.  “Only Shachi and Penguin.  We wanted them to know first before anyone, because…” you awkwardly tilted your head, hoping you wouldn’t have to bring up the elephant in the room again.  “You know.”

Much to your relief, Ikkaku nodded, understanding your intentions immediately.  “Of course, of course.  I’m glad you have those two living in the same apartment building as you!”

You laughed, running the tip of your finger along the cold glass of the milkshake, collecting some of the condensation on your skin.  “Me too, they’ve basically been raising Bepo for us.  I feel a little bad for the poor thing, honestly… I know he’s probably confused with all the fussing going on in our home.”

Ikakku grinned.  “If you ever need some extra hands for that polar bear you know where to find me!”

Your waitress returned for a third time, this time bearing two plates of food, both dishes steaming and filling your nostrils with the addicting scent of a weekend brunch.  Your mouth was watering as your pancakes were placed in front of you, golden brown and perfectly cooked on either side, moist and subtly sweet, the succulent aroma of the small amount of cinnamon in the batter warming your soul.  You quickly got to work dolling up your plate with a small amount of butter and a bountiful drizzle of fresh maple syrup from your table.

“Ikka, how’s your–”  Your sentence was cut off when you finally glanced up at your best friend just as she shoved a heaping fork-full of crispy home fries into her mouth.  Her wide, brown eyes stared back at you like a deer caught in headlights.  You were laughing at her display, your shoulders bouncing as you reached for your own fork.  “Nevermind, I think you just answered my question.”

—

[CODE PINK]

Law’s heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he rounded the corner of the cardiac ICU into the room where the code was directed, already spotting his colleagues surrounding a bed with the crash cart.  A male nurse was positioned on his knees on the bed, frantically performing CPR on the small figure beneath the blankets.  As if his actions were second nature, he approached the crash cart and assumed an authoritative roll, preparing the on-board defibrillation machine for immediate use.

A blood-curdling scream reverberated around the small space, a nurse at Law’s side rushing over to the entrance of the room to usher a panic-stricken woman out of the area.  Her cries were deafening, making a younger nurse across the bed from the surgeon wince, her face flushing red with adrenaline-fueled horror.

“DEFIB is ready,” Law called, passing the machine off to a technician who expertly manned the paddles, timing his procedure with the nurse performing CPR.  A few more nurses, as well as Dr. Tony entered the room and began their assistant procedures for the code.

Law finally got a glimpse of the body under the sheets.  A young boy, no more than ten years old, was laying limp, eyes wide open and glued to the ceiling, yet reflecting no light.  The tiny child’s skin was paler than the white walls of the hospital room.  His form lurched with the force of the defibrillator, which only did so much to muffle the sounds of the screaming, crackling sobs from the hallway.  A heart monitor, connected to the child’s skin with sticky electrode pads, was showing zero signs of life.  A different nurse assumed his position on the bed to continue administering CPR, but as soon as he forced his gloved hands down onto the boy’s chest, a trickle of blood exited the corner of the child’s mouth.

“Stop,” Law immediately called.  He stepped forward, pressing two fingers against the neck of the boy, right under his jaw.  No pulse.  His skin was icy cold, sending a chill up Law’s spine.  A tiny stream of blood continued to trickle from the child’s mouth.  His ribs were surely broken after the force of the compressions on his fragile body.  The ECG monitor on the crash cart continued to display no signs of cardiac activity.  The mother of the boy continued wailing from the hallway, the sound now the only thing filling the ears of the workers in the solemn room.

The nurses surrounding the table tossed nervous, frustrated, and pained glances at each other while waiting for Law to respond.

The black-haired surgeon tossed a glance at the digital clock hanging on the far wall.  “Time of death is 11:47 AM.  Dr. Tony, can you please contact the coroner and have him report to room 204 immediately?”

The younger doctor vigorously nodded.  “Yes, sir.”  He departed the room in a hurry, headed to the nearest nurses’ station for a pager.

“The rest of you,” Law continued.  “Please secure the room.  I’m going to speak to the patient’s mother.”

The nurses and technicians silently cleaned the scene, wiping down the face of the boy and closing his lifeless, marbled eyes.  Law paced out of the room and into the hallway, where the mother, at least that’s what he assumed, was still draped over a nurse, wailing in sheer desperation and agony.  Law attempted to keep his shoulders poised, exuding an air of confidence and humility as he approached.  The nurse looked up as Law stepped closer, obviously doing her hardest to hold in her own heavy tears.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Law called, trying to keep his voice as level as possible.  “I’m sorry, but your son–”

He barely had time to think before a harsh slap was planted against his cheek.  A sharp, intense stinging sensation spread throughout his skin and his tongue got caught in between his molars, making him involuntarily clamp down on the muscle as his entire body was lurched to the side with the force of the blow.  The metallic taste of blood began to flood his mouth, making him cringe as he was forced to swallow it instead of spitting it out onto the hospital floor.  His sharp, golden eyes gazed at the woman who had landed the blow on his face.  She looked furious, almost feral, and her hand was contorted into a fist that she was clearly keen on using against him.

“FUCK YOU,” she screamed, her voice cracking in despair.  “YOU KILLED HIM.  YOU KILLED MY SON.”

More colleagues from the hallway who witnessed the scene approached, attempting to assist the weary nurse in restraining the frantic woman while a few others made desperate calls for the closest security officer.  Law simply stood across from her, stunned yet stoic, as he felt a trickle of blood flow down his cheek.  Her wedding ring must have scratched him.  

More curses were lobbed in his direction.  “How can you just stand there and look like that after you let my son die?!  How can you just go about your life as normal after letting him die?!”  The nurse originally holding the woman was releasing a quiet plea, her voice audibly trembling, begging her to take a step back and let her guide her to a quiet room where she could calm down and grieve, but the mother’s screams were too loud.

A security officer’s heavy footsteps bounded down the hallway, his gear jingling on his belt.  The officer placed his gloved hand on Law’s shoulder, forcing the doctor to take a step back.  “We’ll take care of her, go clean yourself up, doctor.”

Law gazed fiercely at the officer.  “You better show her some compassion.”  He turned tail and briskly paced back toward the doctor’s only area, entering the private restroom and flicking on the light.

He cringed at the sight of himself in the mirror.  Sure enough, a long, yet somewhat shallow, slash was dug into the tan skin of his left cheek, dribbling slow-moving blood down his skin.  He winced when he trailed his fingertips over the wound, the heavy, dull ache clearly the sign of a hefty bruise developing on his cheek bone.  He opened his mouth, leaning closer to the mirror to get a glimpse at the inside of his mouth.  He had bit his tongue, leading to a painful gash in the muscle that continued to bleed sour, coppery blood into his mouth.  It coated his back molars with a morbid crimson.  He silently bent over the sink, turning on the tap and collecting water into his hands that he readily slurped up, swishing around his mouth and spitting back into the sink bowl.  The water was a vibrant pink, heavy with blood.  His tongue stung from the contact the foreign liquid made with the muscle.  He splashed some more water on his face, cleaning off the cut in his cheek that continued to ooze blood for a few more moments before finally slowing a beginning to clot.  He swished water in his mouth a few more times.

Law’s hands remained poised on the bowl of the sink, supporting his weight as he leaned over the tap, struggling to take in enough oxygen.  His arms were trembling as adrenaline continued to pump through his body.  He tossed himself a scalding glare in the mirror as he pushed himself away from the sink and left the bathroom.

—

You were still awake when Law sulked through the door.  His shoulders were slumped, his entire posture ragged and weary as he followed his usual routine of kicking off his shoes, shrugging off his jacket, and dropping his bag to the floor.  Your greeting was silenced by yourself as you took in his visibly distraught demeanor, a large, white bandage on his left cheek, a black and blue bruise flourishing underneath the wrapping.  Law’s eyes appeared sunken in and red, as if he hadn’t slept in a year.

“Honey…?” you called meekly, standing up from your spot on the couch and meeting him halfway in the living room.

Silently, Law took your hand, led you into your bedroom, and pulled you down onto the bed with him.  The way his hand was violently trembling in your grasp made your heart ache in your chest.  He wordlessly buried his head into your neck, wrapping his long legs around your own and holding you as close as he could with his arms around your body.

It didn’t take a genius to guess the kind of day he had.  You followed his silence, lacing one of your arms around his shoulder and weaving your other hand into his hair, running your fingers through the slightly greasy strands of raven-black in the way you knew he loved.  

A warm, wet sensation seeped through the collar of your cotton shirt.

[yours-etc]

wiggly worm wednesday 🪱

shout out to @someforeignband for encouraging this brain worm madness

(don’t know if i’ve posted anything from this yet so if i have pretend like it’s the first time you’re seeing it 🫶)

here’s a moment from my Twister / Storm Chaser AU

———————

Robin was full of questions when he got home. Steve debriefs the whole interview, conversation, whatever it was.

“Eddie sounds hot,” she says halfway through, “and that's coming from me, a capital L Lesbian, I don’t know how you survived.”

Neither does Steve, to be honest. He’s known he’s gay since Nancy broke up with his senior year. Being with girls in a more intimate way just seemed like a chore to him, Steve just thought that’s how everyone felt. That was until Nacy screamed in his face about how obvious it was he never enjoyed being with her like that, how he needed to get checked out medically because any guy would ruin his own pants just to feel her up behind the bleachers. And yeah, so maybe Steve never really understood why his friends were so obsessed with their girlfriends until he and Tommy drunkenly made out on graduation night and Steve saw stars when Tommy started making breathy sounds and grabbing Steve in ways that made him feel light as a feather and heavy as a brick at the same time. And, yeah, they never spoke about it again.

“Yeah well, I’m not trying to get into something right now Robs, especially not with my much older new boss.”

Robin lets out an exasperated sigh, “Steve you are no fun! Just because you don’t want to buy does not mean you cannot window shop. A daily dose of eye candy is good for the soul.”

So Steve has a small, tiny, minuscule crush that's not even a crush on Eddie. He’s attractive and he clearly knows it. Steve is sure everyone in this town has Eddie on their hall pass list.

What didn’t help this budding crush that's not a crush was Eddie showing up on his doorstep at one in the morning about a week later.

“Hiya Steve, time to go, A big storm forming a few hours away, If we speed we can make it in time before any rotation starts,” He says quickly, letting himself into the apartment.

He was in a cut-up Dio shirt that stopped just below his belly button and showed off his muscular arms. His worn jeans sat on his hips perfectly creating a perfect peek-a-boo for Eddie’s happy trail. And oh and Eddie now had thick and heavy rings on that made his hands look so much… more. Steve had to take a deep breath and force his eyes to stay up.

This is just embarrassing he thought to himself You’re not fucking thirteen Steve get it together.

Eddie’s eyes rake over him darkly. Steve looks down at himself suddenly very aware of only being in a pair of boxers and he turns around without a word and goes to his room to change. When he reappears he sees Eddie standing in the middle of the living room looking around like he’s afraid to break anything.

“So how’d you know which apartment was mine?” Steve asks.

The older man turns to look at Steve, now properly dressed “Steve, it’s not too many people moving in, just had to ask the night shift front desk what room ‘the new kids’ lived in,” he says with a sly smile, “and I happen to know Tracy personally so it wasn’t difficult to get her to give up the information that she definitely definitely should not just be handing out.”

———————

I want to see everyone’s worms!! YES EVEN YOURS! if you see this you’re tagged 🫵

[timethehobo]

He’s back! I’m so happy to see him again ahhh. 💙😭

[red-moon-at-night]

An Analysis of Haruka’s MVs: Distance and Disability

Hello! I’ve recently fallen down the rabbit hole that is Milgram and I have been itching to make some completely normal and sane analysis posts. My silly alternate title for this was gonna be “Things About Haruka’s MVs That Just Make Sense: A Hyperfixation-fuelled Analysis”, because honestly my autistic brain has been having a field day over here.

I am in awe with just about every single music video in this project; the animation is incredible and each one packs so much carefully laid out information. But I have been rotating Haruka’s in my head constantly since I first watched them, and I have a lot of Thoughts. Not about whether he’s guilty or innocent/forgiven or unforgiven. Not about whether or not I can justify his murders. Just some straight up imagery and symbolism analysis, through the lens of disability.

Haruka’s disability has not been specified, but I am confident we can at least say he is neurodivergent. I feel like the cultural differences in names for several things e.g. ‘learning disability’ vs ‘learning difficulty’ will just invite unnecessary drama, and is a little pedantic. What does matter here is that Haruka's experience as a disabled person is heavily intertwined within his story and his motives. 

So, without further ado... let’s get into this!

Trigger warnings/TW: I will be discussing ableism, eugenics and harm towards disabled people. Everything else will be related to the music videos ‘Weakness’ and ‘All Knowing and All Agony’, so any triggering content within them may also be mentioned. Read at your own discretion and stay safe!

Disability: some brief (important) historical context

It is only within the last few decades that those who are disabled have been ‘seen’ for the first time. A modern society is (ideally) expected to be built to include and accommodate for disability, and to acknowledge disabled people’s existence. But for many countries (even the ones making steps outlined above) this is still not the case. For a very, very long time, globally, that has not been the case.

For most disabled people, society makes it very clear that they are a burden to it and are better off not existing. 

I’m going to make this section as succinct as possible because...it’s heavy stuff. But it’s important, and I want you all to get the gist of what I’m saying. The weight of it.

Let’s highlight a piece of history regarding IQ and eugenics, surrounding the publication and subsequent worldwide reception of ‘The Kallikak Family: A Study in the Heredity of Feeble-mindedness’ by Henry Herbert Goddard in 1913:

“In 1927, it was used as evidence in the case of Buck v. Bell, which culminated in a Supreme Court ruling that the involuntary sterilization of ‘mentally defective’ persons was not unconstitutional in the United States. By 1938, thirty-three US states had passed laws allowing for the forced sterilization of women with learning disabilities and twenty-nine had made sterilization  compulsory for people who were thought to have genetic conditions. Many European countries followed suit: Denmark in 1929, then Norway in 1934, and after that Sweden, Finland, Estonia, Iceland, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Latvia, Hungary and Turkey.”

— Limburg, J. (2021) Letters To My Weird Sisters: On Autism and Feminism, p. 126

This history of a ‘sterilization law’ includes Japan, who between 1948 and 1996 enacted the Eugenics Protection Law which “authorised the sterilization of people with intellectual disabilities, mental illnesses or hereditary disorders.” According to the government, about 25,000 were sterilized.

SO. It’s important to bring this up. To establish how much disabled people are not wanted, just from their governments. Let alone society. To this day, disabled people are hidden away from the public by families that are ashamed of their existence.

Japanese culture values collectivism, and maintaining the harmony of a group...to the extent of excluding those that don’t fit into the mould. That are different.

The question is: where do they go? The ones that are publicly rejected?

Haruka and The Curious Case of Distant Waters

Okay that’s enough of the heavy real-world stuff! Time to delve into some...*checks notes*...heavy fictional stuff. Fun!

Haruka’s MVs prominently display themes of distance and separation through the motif of water, specifically being submerged underwater. 

The name Haruka reinforces this concept as the specific kanji used (遥) translates to ‘distant’, ‘remote’ or ‘far away’. As there are many, many kanji choices for the name (including but not limited to: ocean/sea, eternity/permeance, clear/distinct/obvious, and spring/growth/cherry blossom) it feels like a particularly cruel and intentional choice to go with that one.

Through the exploration of this motif, we can see the extent in which Otherness/the state of being ‘Other’ drives Haruka to great lengths to close the distance and escape it.

What I noticed throughout both MVs (particularly AK&AA but note the beginning scene of Weakness), is that whenever Haruka looks at himself in a reflective surface (e.g. the vanity mirror, the fish tank), water either begins to rise and overwhelms him, or is already there and he appears submerged:

I think this is the “All-Knowing” part of AK&AA. He knows he’s different, and he knows there’s a huge ocean between him and his peers, his family, everyone. A disconnect when trying to listen and understand, but also when trying to be understood by others and listened to himself.

You know when you submerge your head in water, and your hearing gets all muffled and incomprehensible? And have you ever tried speaking underwater? You can’t, because if you open your mouth you’ll drown. It’ll just come out as bubbles rising to the surface.

I also think the bubbles symbolise rising tension, between what he wants and what he currently has. Bubbles are everywhere in these MVs, even in places where they shouldn’t logically be? Such as this scene, following the line “don’t wipe me out, don’t wipe me out”:

Immediately pans up to Haruka gasping for breath, droplets of water rising from...somewhere. For about a split second, and they’re gone. 

This boy is really going through it. I’m getting an ‘emerging from the ocean before I drown’ vibe from this one folks. When the line that follows this scene is “I can’t stop, I can’t stop”, what I’m REALLY hearing is “I can’t stop (killing) or I’ll drown”. This is his lifeboat, pulling him out from the depths of being neglected and hidden away, into the spotlight.

Some interesting images from Weakness in relation to that (of spotlights):

Anyways, onto the next point:

Blue to Orange: Water to...Nectar?

So, the orange liquid. It’s clearly representing blood, but I don’t think this is just a “danganronpa pink blood” situation of censoring/getting this video onto youtube without restrictions.

I think it’s most likely honey, specifically nectar.

The etymology of the word nectar shows its compounds translate to “death” and “overcoming”. Nectar is also called the drink of the gods, so it would make sense for it to be a ‘death-defeating’, immortalizing liquid.

For Haruka’s victims to contain nectar is very interesting. It reinforces that necessity to kill, to take the life of another, to sustain himself. To overcome the ‘living death’ he is experiencing by being hidden away from society. 

This is his means of escape from drowning.

However, as we all know, things don’t turn out great for him. By the end of AK&AA Haruka is rejected once again by his mother, after which the door is shut (the light with it is gone too) and we’re met with this imagery:

The nectar floods the room, engulfing him much like the water from earlier. 

There are many things we could take from this. One being that the nectar-gathering/killing-spree has clouded his vision; it’s so sweet, so sickly sweet and he’s addicted to the taste of attention, even if it’s very bad attention. 

Who else has honey imagery in their MV again?

Oh, right. 

Anyway, the nectar/honey situation could also be representing submerging into an even further level of distance. All that murder is gonna push people away, despite his motive being to close the gap between him and normal people. The 'ocean’ has lost clarity and become a maddening, delusional substance. After all, there is a type of honey literally called ‘mad honey’ known for its medicinal and hallucinogenic properties.

That’s enough about honey, though. Let’s move onto less unfortunate... oh, sorry, what was that? *checks notes*...Ah, yes. I meant to say, let’s move onto even more unfortunate symbolism:

The Necklace

So, this necklace. Haruka steals it from his mother’s belongings, and is his only material, physical connection to her. It is taken on the declaration of “making (her) love me again” and getting her attention once more, now he is no longer a child but a teenager closer to adulthood (at least, that’s what I consider the ‘shirt with a vest sweater and tie’ to represent. child him = the blue polo, teenager him = this one, adult him = an amalgamation of his teenager clothes).

I wasn’t sure if this was an opal or pearl/mother of pearl, but I’m leaning towards opal from the other depiction of it in Weakness:

Opals are fun because they can symbolise both good luck and bad luck, usually to do with whether it’s your birthstone. There’s something to be said of Haruka’s belief in his ‘misfortune’ and the superstition surrounding these gemstones.

But they are even more interesting for the powers they supposedly have; in medieval times the opal was considered the ‘patron of thieves’ for their ability to grant the wearer invisibility.

There is a deliciously sad irony to Haruka’s theft with that titbit of information.

Now, if this isn’t an opal, and it’s a pearl/mother of pearl there’s still some fun interpretation to be had! A little less sad, even. Pearls invoke strong imagery of the sea, of purity, and of a connection to the maternal. If this is the last thing he has relating to his mother, I can see this necklace representing a lifeline when he’s deep in the ocean. A reminder of why he’s doing all of this killing, and who it’s for.

His mother’s attention (or the idea of having a mother at all, any mother) is his driving force in life.

Speaking of that...

So We Really Need To Talk About That Fish Tank: AKA, Why Haruka’s Mom Wins ‘The Worst Parent of The Year’ Award

This fucking fish tank.

Okay, I’m gonna start by saying: I don’t think this is reading too far into things. When it takes an animation team months, sometimes years to create a 3-5 minute music video, and one as detailed as this...you don’t just wing it. There are storyboards, there are key frames and there are choices made down to the smallest of details.

From the sheer volume of animal/insect/fish décor that resides in the Sakurai household, you bet I’m gonna pay attention to what type of fish are in that fish tank.

For one thing, they live in saltwater. This is a marine tank, aka the harder choice of aquarium to have. I mean, way, WAY harder. For the experienced only.

These fish right here? One is a clownfish, and the other is a yellow boxfish.

Boxfish are a nightmare to keep alive. This article goes into more detail than I will, but all you need to know is: if there was ever a fish out of all the fish you could possibly want in your tank, this is the one to avoid like the plague.

They release deadly toxins when stressed, as a survival instinct. Boom. All your fish are dead. They need to eat a shit ton of food, but are notoriously clumsy swimmers and slow eaters. Boom. Starving, stressed out boxfish. Boxfish either dies from starvation or dies from stress and toxins.

For Haruka’s mom to have not just one of these fuckers, but a tank consisting ONLY OF MULTIPLE BOXFISH AND CLOWNFISH...

This is a high-maintenance tank. And it shows how much time and effort, how much care she puts into the things she loves.

How neglectful she is as a parent of a disabled child in contrast.

There’s something about the last scene between Haruka and his mother that reinforces this for me:

Haruka’s relationship with animals and himself: AKA, “why don’t I just become the damn fish tank?”

Let me backpedal a little bit. This subheading will make sense in a minute.

So, like I said earlier we have a lot of décor in this house relating to insects and fish. We also have a lot of pets. Both living and dead, taxidermized creatures in one household, proudly on display.

I think this may have created some confusion for Haruka regarding the value of animals being alive or dead, as in his perspective his mother values both equally. The fish in a tank may be full of alive creatures, but they’re still on display as if it’s artwork. Isn’t breaking the glass of a framed picture of a fish equal to breaking the glass of a tank with a ‘picture of living fish’?

(This isn’t to say Haruka is clueless to the impact of his actions, nor to justify any harm to animals. I just find the train of thought to be intriguing.)

So when considering these ‘objects’ are proud trophies of his work:

This is a carefully arranged display, which by the way, doesn’t contain a single fish. In fact the only piece of that moment visible here is the...large piece of driftwood? Okay. Keep that in mind.

We proceed into Haruka’s mother opening the door and seeing her son, for the first time in any of the MVs. Note the way they composed this shot:

I’m obsessed with this scene. The blue eye framing Haruka, with a literal fishbowl effect on him...

He is the goddamn fish in the aquarium now. His mother’s full attention is on him and him alone, with only the dead animals, the books, the lamp and the driftwood as window dressing to this wonderful display.

Doesn’t it just scream “Look at me! Look at what I did, mom!” to you?

That blue spotlight is on him once more. He is not just drifting deeper into an endless ocean, but contained in a vessel to be stared at.

One Last Observation

I didn’t know where to fit this in but I think the end feels appropriate.

His clothing here:

Is a frankenstein-esque mash up of clothes from his younger years. He wears this throughout AK&AA, and as I mentioned before it signifies him as an adult. However, I should clarify what I mean here as Haruka says “he thinks he’s 17″ and “doesn’t care about his age”. So... not an adult, but on the cusp of adulthood.

But I think he actually does care about his age, and quite a lot too.

This outfit feels symbolic of refusing to let go of the past, and of himself as a child. He’s literally grown out of his clothing, but he still clings onto it. He’s attached to the past because it not only contains his happiest moments, but the change from being loved to becoming neglected.

As a disabled person, you’re often treated with a lot more forgiveness when you’re younger. That is to say, some people don’t realise that children with disabilities grow up into adults with disabilities. There is a point where even support from medical and social services drops off like a cliff edge once you turn 18.

The ill-fitting clothing in this context becomes more than a reflection on Haruka’s feelings, and extends to reflecting society’s feelings on disabled adults ‘refusing to grow up’.

I don’t blame Haruka for holding onto his childhood like this. He’ll be even less publicly visible and seen once he is no longer a pitiful child, but a ‘weird’ adult in ill-fitting, children’s clothes.

[sewersewersewercouch]

A macro post for a Micro-phone!

To those of you I’ve been threatening with this post for god knows how long–yes, I’m finally doing it. I’m writing the goddamn Microphone meta, because I have SO MANY THOUGHTS on this silly little sentient microphone. (She’s not even my favorite character, she’s my second favorite. My favorite is Cabby, but Cabby makes me go into such a feral state that I can barely form words about her other than writing copious amounts of fanfiction. I digress.) Before I get into it, though, I have some general “please be normal on my post” housekeeping I want to start with.

Firstly, this post is about Microphone. Specifically, about Microphone and the themes of choice and morality as they appear in her arc. This post is NOT meant to comment on the morality or choices of any other character. Specifically, by the nature of Mic’s story in the majority of the show, Taco will probably come up a lot because she’s there for a lot of it, but in a weird way, a lot of this post is kind of about how Mic’s arc doesn’t revolve around Taco as much as it’s often believed to? I don’t know, hopefully it’ll make more sense when you read it, but whatever, this post is not about my views on Taco.

To add on–THIS POST IS NOT ABOUT SHIPPING. I don’t want to hear about how much you like or dislike XYZ ship in the comments or reblogs of this post. Make your own damn post. If you want to know how I feel about a certain ship, you can always feel free to ask, just…like, not here. 

Also, I will admit, part of the reason I started making this post is because there were certain interpretations of Microphone in this fandom that bothered me, but I don’t want that to be the vibe of this post as a whole. I do the “I’m always right about this character and nobody else gets them” bit as much as the next guy, but when it extends beyond being a bit, that’s when you start to be kind of an asshole who refuses to so much as listen to views different from their own. I don’t want to be that. I know I’m not incapable of being wrong, and I also know there’s a lot of this that’s subjective, because it’s a fictional story written by people whose minds I cannot read. I don’t want to make this post to hate on others’ opinions, I want to make this post to love Mic! We are all love Mic!

Lastly, I started drafting (read: rotating in my brain and vaguely mentioning it to friends) this post pre-II16, and as I’m writing this now I’m just after act 1. So this may have spoilers for act 1, but also some of this I came up with before that even existed and had to kind of adjust in order to account for that. Obviously Mic wasn’t in there much, but there are a few small adjustments so I will say here there be spoilers. I also have so much ADHD (so does Mic, but that’s a different meta that I mayhaps will write if this goes over well) and I am allergic to being concise or staying on topic. The title does not fuck around, it really is quite a macro post. Sorry in advance.

That said, it’s Microphone time!

Ok so there are a couple quotes from a Brian livestream that I really appreciated because they kinda summed up the general thesis statement of this post, if you will? So I’m gonna put those here and then refer back to them as needed:

“What I find most interesting is how you would think when [Taco] comes back in season 2, and she’s like, ‘oh, I’m gonna make a deal with Microphone’, that she is going to manipulate Microphone, she is going to be the one in control, the one in power, the one, you know, leading the more ignorant and innocent Microphone, but Microphone at a point is like, ‘I’m done,’ and cuts Taco off.”

“I think Microphone was completely justified to leave [Taco] in Hatching the Plan. Perhaps would have even been justified to do so sooner than that. But, you know, it’s really up to what she wants and what she’s comfortable with, and she set a boundary, and we stan.”

“I really enjoyed the subversion of expectation with [Microphone], that she was not a victim, played an active role, and when a line was crossed, she was like, ‘I’m done, I’m out.’ And you really gotta respect the integrity of that, I certainly do.”

Okay, remember those? Good. We’re going to get back to them in a while, because we’re going through this shit episode by episode.

So, for the first…quite a while, actually, Mic doesn’t really do a whole lot. Like, we see that she’s generally pretty friendly but with a rather short temper, and her main schtick is that 1) she’s loud, 2) this causes her to screw challenges up, and 3) this in term makes most of her team not like her and behave quite rudely towards her. That’s kinda all we got. 

Oh, and she seems to be being stalked by some kind of mysterious entity, but whatever, that’s a later problem.

One of the earlier on scenes I’d like to draw your attention to is in Theft and Battery, where Cheesy walks up to Mic and, apropos of nothing, says, “Mic! I've just experienced the most horrible thing! It was a monstrosity! Your personality! Get it? Because everyone thinks you're annoying!” Which, like, I know I said I wasn’t commenting on the morality of other characters, but I will take this moment to say, fucking asshole. I don’t usually dislike Cheesy but I would have decked him for this one. Mic went so easy on him.

But I digress (I do that a lot! You’re going to find that out over the course of this post!) We see Mic blow up like she usually does at comments like this, but before that, we see inside her head for a second—she imagines being surrounded by Cheesys, all laughing at her expense.

This is the first time we truly see how much all those remarks from her teammates actually affect her. It’s not just a split-second flash of anger—all those things are really, truly, hurting her.

In the next episode, Rain On Your Charade, we see the first time she has an actually good interaction with another Grand Slam, this being Soap. Mic and Soap seem to bounce off each other pretty well—Mic’s impulsivity is a good counter for Soap’s much more rigid way of thinking. They give each other advice on their respective problems and comfort one another. For once in her life (literally in her life thus far, given you-know-what!) we can see Mic having a healthy interaction where she is clearly valued and supportive. Someone who encourages her to listen to her heart—as we see, this is gonna be a theme.

So, of course, it’s just Mic’s luck that Soap gets immediately eliminated.

And now Mic is stuck alone on a team that hates her—that makes disparaging remarks about her every move, and that is doing an absolute number on her mental health. She refers to herself, in her own diary, as annoying, harmful, random, useless, insignificant, a loser. And now she has absolutely nobody in her corner.

Enter Taco, with a cup of tea and a deal to make. 

Okay, the first thing I want to address is the way that Microphone reacts to seeing Taco. Well, I mean, first, she reacts with, “AAAAAA,” as I’m sure many of us would if a British woman jumped out of a bush at us. But after she’s done doing that, she says, “What are you doing here, Taco?” And it makes me sound really silly to say “how’d she know her name?” because, uh, duh, genius, it’s an object show, she’s a taco, but like…you get what I mean, right? She addresses Taco like she knows who she is. Which makes me wonder, did she see season 1? (Did she even exist when season 1 would have been airing?) But she can’t have done, or she would have heard about all the Pickle stuff. The most likely option in my opinion would be that she heard the season 1 contestants talking about it, I guess? But either way, she seems to know that Taco has done bad things in the past, and instinctively doesn’t trust her. (I mean, also she has been actively stalking her, which maybe doesn’t help. Whatever.)

I don’t have too much to say about the rest of this interaction—Taco offers to guide Microphone through the game in exchange for a fifty percent cut of her winnings, Microphone declines, Taco tells her to think about it.

Next episode—Mazed and Confused! As usual, the Grand Slams immediately ditch Mic, and she winds up getting kinda pulled into the Bright Lights group. And there’s some interesting Mic dialogue—featuring the II-typical move of characters not discussing their issues outright but rather showing them via thinly veiled projection. And I will fully admit that I love this. Every time I see it I go nuts for it. Firstly, Marshmallow is talking about Apple using her, to which Mic says, “Maybe it's not so bad if someone uses you, if- if it benefits you as well, right?” Then she has this interaction with Fan:

Fan: B-but in that song, the vocalist lovingly chronicles how they couldn't deal with themselves until they gain the companion they need! It's pure poetry!

Microphone: So, everything he does is decided by someone else? Nice message…

Fan: Well, Microphone, what gives you the right to have an "interpretation"? When's the last time you gained something of value from true art such as this?

Microphone: Ugh... certain people always tell me I have so much to gain.

So, obviously, “certain people” is Taco, and we can see how conflicted Microphone is about the whole situation. On the one hand, she doesn’t like the idea of blindly following someone else’s directions without making any of her own decisions, but also, even if she’s concerned that she’s being used, she does see how it could benefit her. (Also, this is far from the last time we’re going to see Microphone flimsily attempting to justify something going on with her.)

Well, apparently she comes to a decision, because she runs off to get help from Taco. With Taco’s guidance, Mic makes it through the maze, and Baseball even compliments her. We see a clear example of how she could potentially benefit from this partnership. (Well, until she accidentally gives away the position of the exit to Test Tube, but I digress.)

As we get into “Kick the Bucket,” it seems like Mic’s pretty all-in on working with Taco. However, right off the bat, we see a moment where Mic outright gives Taco a hard no on one of her directions, that being, using her temporary paralyzer. (Side note: it absolutely cracks me up how she goes “you don’t do that!” like she’s telling off a small child for stealing candy or something. Never change, Mic.)

We see a couple of things here—one, that Microphone has no reservations of telling Taco she won’t do something where she crosses a certain line. And secondly, with some other evidence, we can figure out where that line is. She refuses to use the temporary paralyzer, she freaks out about Lightbulb and Test Tube being sent back in time, she stops Taco from letting Knife’s minecart go over a drop, she makes her promise “no violence” before they go on the Shimmers’ ship. 

And yet, look at the scene after this, with Balloon. She purposely tries to get in his head to make him feel anxious and afraid that he’s at risk of being eliminated, and then later makes fun of him to her other teammates in order to cast doubt on him. And she came up with this plan against Taco’s advice—although it does end up impressing Taco, that’s not why she does this, it’s pure Microphone. So it isn’t hurting others that she draws the line—one could clearly argue that her messing with Balloon like that is pretty hurtful. It’s specifically physical violence that bothers her, which is kind of an interesting place to draw the line in a world where dead contestants can be revived, but emotions are forever.

Hell, Mic says it outright in the next episode, Alternate Reality Show–”You say that like we didn’t do our share of permanent damage.” She’s aware what she did was “permanent damage,” and Taco didn’t even tell her to do it, and yet, she did. This is where we first start to see the cognitive dissonance that Mic is dealing with here—she has a strong sense of morals, seeing as she’s giving back the temporary paralyzer explicitly against Taco’s wishes, because “it’s the right thing to do.” And yet, she’s actively making choices that go against that sense, and she doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Next up, we’re looking at Mine Your Own Business, AKA one of Mic’s best episodes. Her and Taco’s plan in this episode is to try to get Knife on their side because he’s seen that they’re working together. This goes…not as planned, starting from the moment they blow their cover by getting into an argument about whether you should say “excuse me” when you sneeze, while invisible behind him. (We didn’t get enough of them as a comedic duo, by the way. They crack me up so bad in this episode.) Anyways, Mic tries valiantly to bring Knife in with a very convincing, “Join us…yeah!” When Taco and Knife inevitably begin arguing, however, Mic says “We just wanna help!” Which…do you? Yeah, okay girl, keep telling yourself that.

There’s also the little scene where Mic is trying to get Taco to open up about why she was reaching for the portal. This is one of the first interactions we see them have that isn’t about the game. Microphone just…genuinely wants to know what was distressing Taco so much. You know, like you might with a friend. And that’s one thing that interests me about this—Microphone thinking of Taco like a friend isn’t something that Taco did on purpose to gain her trust, and in fact, she seems rather resistant to it. It’s entirely Microphone initiating these friendly interactions. (Even though soon after she does imply she doesn’t feel she really knows the real Taco.)

Then we see the bit where Knife is about to go off a cliff, Taco gives a thumbs up, but Mic doesn’t approve and manages to get Knife into their minecart. I touched on this above, but this is another example of Mic’s resistance to physically harming others.

The next time we see this terrific trio, Taco apologizes to Mic for not being open with her, and I kid you not, Mic responds with, “aww, Taco!” (I reiterate: Never change, Mic.) And, even when Knife explains what happened with Pickle, Mic still comes to Taco’s defense. Some of this is because of the fact that Mic is beginning to truly see Taco as a friend, yes, but I think another part of it is that previously mentioned cognitive dissonance. She wants to believe she’s doing the right thing, and not just aiding and abetting someone who hurts others, so of course she’s going to want to defend Taco–because if Taco is a bad person, and she’s purposefully helping her achieve her ends just for the sake of winning a game show, what does that make her?

On to Hatching the Plan! (We’re in the home stretch, I promise!) We see Mic joking about the idea of what happened to Pickle happening to her—”At least, until you inevitably ‘drop me too,’ or whatever.” Clearly, she didn’t take too much stock in Knife’s words, and she’s pretty convinced she’s safe from a similar fate. (Which she is! Because Pickle was being unknowingly strung along, and Mic is willingly helping Taco reach her goal. But that’s a later problem.)

Now we see Knife confronting Microphone and trying to convince her to, “stop, idiot, have some dignity?” To which Mic tells him that she “has a voice” (as Taco, in the background, turns off MePad’s volume), “no one’s shutting [her] down” (as Taco powers MePad off) and she’s “not just being dragged along” (as Taco literally drags MePad along.) And the thing is, obviously there’s the ironic juxtaposition of what Mic is saying and what Taco is doing, but Mic also…isn’t entirely wrong?

Remember those Brian quotes from earlier? Here’s where we start using them!

Because here’s the thing—like he said, you would totally expect Taco to be playing Microphone the entire time, to be the one in power and manipulating her, because that’s what happened to Pickle. But that’s…not what’s happening. Rather, Taco has been pretty upfront about what she expects of Mic and what both of them have to…well, for a lack of a better word, gain. And it’s not like Mic has no choice in this matter! She has repeatedly shown that she is willing to say no to Taco when she crosses a line, and as Brian said, she would be totally justified to have noped out way earlier than she ends up doing. But…she doesn’t. She’s making her choices, and then bending over to justify them, because as I said, Mic has a strong sense of morals and knows there’s something that’s off, but she doesn’t want to admit she knows that and has continued to do what she’s doing.

So anywho. Taco and Mic use MePad’s teleportation to go after Fan and Test Tube on the ship, but not before Mic tries to make Taco promise no violence. Taco does not promise this, and of course, immediately kills Fan and Test Tube upon arriving.

This is where Mic’s cognitive dissonance runneth over, and she makes the executive decision to ditch Taco’s ass and leave the game.

I’m going to put Mic’s whole little speech here, because I really like it and it’s kind of the culmination of all the points I’m making: “I haven't been... listening to my heart. Instead, I've been listening to... this... well... It was a voice in my head! And it would tell me how to... go further. Further than I was willing to go. I heard it so often that I never... I never heard myself. So... what's the point?” And also, “I didn't make the best choices. So now... I'm making my first good one. This is what I want.”

Because that’s kind of the thing, right? Deep down, Microphone always knew cheating and messing with people was wrong. But she was, by choice, not listening to that instinct, because what Taco was promising seemed so attractive. Getting the prize, yes, but she also just fucking wants friends. And when she does well in the game, her teammates want to be friendlier to her. And also, as I said she came to see Taco as a friend, and she didn’t want to lose that either.

But…okay, here’s where I complain about a take I don’t like, and I’m sorry about that. I find it to be an oversimplification that Mic left Taco because “Taco hurt her.” Because, honestly, she didn’t really directly? What drove Mic to leave was seeing Taco hurt other people, and that by proxy, Microphone was…not even a bystander to these things, but kind of an active participant. Morally speaking, she couldn’t sit with that. So she decided that the prize and the recognition weren’t worth it, and boom, she was done.

I don’t really have much to say on the following episodes that are already out, because Mic has  barely in here. But I do have a hot take on what might potentially come next for Mic I’d like to share.

I don’t really…care whether Mic and Taco end up on good terms.

Okay, maybe that’s not the best way to say it—rather, I think there are ways to do either way well, and ways to do either way wrong, and what I care more is about whether Mic’s story is well-written than which direction it actually goes.

Quick disclaimer that I drafted this section pre-II16, and at the point we’re at now, I’m operating under the assumption that the deleted contestants aren’t actually going to be dead forever and we will have Pickle again. (If this turns out not to be the case please don’t make fun of me.)

I’ve seen a lot of discourse around the fandom about whether Microphone and Pickle will forgive Taco, and the first problem comes right there with aggregating them into one MicrophoneandPickle entity. Microphone and Pickle are two different people who had very different relationships with Taco. As I’ve said earlier, the Pickle that Taco knew was entirely a facade, whereas with Mic…well I don’t want to say she was entirely honest about who she was, because I don’t think she’s entirely honest about who she is with herself, so let’s just say as honest as she’s capable of being. Pre-II16, my suspicion was that they were going to split the difference and have one end up on good terms with Taco and the other not. Like, I think in terms of the message that the show is trying to give, this would be a good one—if someone has wronged you and tries to make amends, you can choose to accept that or you can choose to walk away, and neither is a morally wrong choice. Post-The Reality of the Situation, I’m going to say that if this does happen, it’s going to be Mic the former and Pickle the latter, just having seen how Taco’s apology went over with Pickle. And that’s the thing—Pickle had no choice in what happened to him. Mic had agency over her situation, and went along with it in full knowledge of what that entailed. The Taco that Pickle had a relationship doesn’t exist, but in Mic’s case, she does. And most importantly—Pickle’s qualm with Taco is that she hurt him, but Mic’s was her actions towards other people, not Mic herself. If it’s proven that Taco has changed and doesn’t want to hurt others anymore…I think it’s not impossible that Mic could be lenient.

But either way—whether Mic ends on good or bad terms with Taco—what would make it satisfying to me is if it’s not framed about whether Taco “deserves” or “doesn’t deserve” her forgiveness, but rather whether Mic chooses to forgive her. Like Brian said—it’s up to what she wants and what she’s comfortable with. Choice has been such a major theme for Mic, and I think she deserves to have her agency at the forefront.

Anyways, it is literally after two in the morning and I wrote this entire thing in a fit of hyperfocus, god help me. Again, if this does well and anyone wants to see a “why Microphone II has ADHD real and canon” post I will absolutely do that.

[phecdasolar]

Ok since TMNTblr was incredibly helpful last time I had a fic request (I’m still digging through the fic recs guys I’m not even halfway done shdhdjdj) I figured I’d get y’all’s help again <3

I am in need of some 2012 TMNT fics, specifically I require the best Leo angst you have, I wanna see this guy get put through the wringer. Maybe some bad dad Splinter (I love him but the AU’s where he’s a horrible parent are just. So angsty. There’s so much potential for protective brothers-) and/or his brothers being jerks, and Leo’s just going through it and eventually snaps and his bros realize he is Not Okay™️ and that maybe being Splinter’s “favorite” isn’t a good thing-

Also I saw in a fic where the infamous sacrifice line was mentioned and realized that I may. Have interpreted it wrong this whole time? “The most important thing is that you complete your mission no matter what or who you must sacrifice” or something along the lines of that. Now see, this entire time I thought Splinter was telling Leo it’s fine if he sacrifices himself for the sake of completing the mission and/or saving everyone, but apparently most people took that to mean “hey yeah sacrifice your brothers if need be” which. MMMMM THE ANGST OK, but also WOW that is a take /pos how have I never thought of it like that omg

I’m just rotating this in my brain,,,, I need,,,, bad dad Splinter, and Leo doing his best to meet his impossible expectations and trying to protect his brothers from ending up like him, and RAPH — I NEED SOME GOOD BROTHER RAPH OKAY HE GETS A BAD REP BUT HE’S A GOOD BROTHER ALRIGHT — gimme some protective Raph, who’s a jerk at first and then maybe sees something he wasn’t supposed to and now he knows how bad it is for Leo and he’s about ready to throw hands with Splinter-

The 2012 Leo & Raph dynamic is something that is soooooo special to me- twins fr your honor

My favorite concept as well, and I just saw this in another fic last night it made me so giddy and reminded me of my Wildcard AU — Leo reminds Splinter more of Shredder than Raph does, but he’ll never tell them that, or maybe they find out by accident idk.

He’s always pitting the two of them against each other and I’m just. What if it’s not for the reasons we think. Leo isn’t the next Splinter and Raph isn’t the next Shredder, but Splinter sees so much of his brother in Leo and it terrifies him so since day one he’s made it his mission to train every ounce of Saki out of him but unknowingly might just be making it worse…

I have many thoughts about these two and none of them are coherent or organized in the slightest so sorry about that my bad

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

Okay I was thinking about Bucky with a breeding/pregnancy kink (and Gale loves it too) but it’s in a normal universe where Mpreg isn’t and thing and what if Gale starts to get depressed that he can’t actually get pregnant and have John’s babies?

Like it first starts off with John saying stuff like “Gonna fill you up, get you pregnant, put my baby inside you” while he’s fucking Gale and they’re both super into it but pretty soon the dirty talk starts to get more specific like about how round and full Gale’s belly is going to be and how John will take such good care of him and how he’s gonna give him so many babies and keep him barefoot and pregnant and how beautiful their babies are gonna be looking just like their mama and Gale starts to get sad that it can’t actually happen, isn’t going to happen. And then one time while John is fucking him, he’s rambling about how he’s gotta put Gale in the right position that makes it more likely for him to get pregnant and that he’s gonna come deep inside him and keep it inside so it holds and then after he does he doesn’t let Gale’s legs down from where he’s holding them up behind his shoulders and when Gale tries to put them down he says “gotta let it hold for a bit so it takes” like he’s so serious about it and Gale breaks down sobbing and John starts freaking out “wait did I hurt you baby?” And Gale just shakes his head and manages to get out “I can’t get pregnant, John” and then John has a horrifying thought like what if Gale has hated this the whole time and doesn’t like being feminized or fetishized and feels insulted and belittled by it- and John starts apologizing “I’m so sorry doll I thought you liked it I never wanted to offend or insult you or make you uncomfortable” and then Gale gets a little short with him and snaps “NO I WANT it all to be real, to be possible. I want that for us so badly” and then that just breaks John’s heart all over again 💔

Do you live in my brain??? 👀

I’ve definitely explored some of this in the KMITD series, but without the angst of Gale being cut up about not being able to get pregnant, I’m sold!

I’m picturing him with his sad, wet cat eyes looking at himself in the mirror, pushing out his belly and holding it and getting all teary. Wandering in the baby section of stores, but specifically the areas dedicated to pregnancy products or maternity clothes and aching with longing.

They go to a couple of baby showers for friends and he cries in the car afterwards and John feels useless because he doesn’t know how to help. Like, if Buck wants a kid, they can definitely make that happen but he starts getting into his feelings about not being able to get Gale pregnant. Lots of feelings of inadequacy for both of them.

The breeding/pregnancy kink used to be the quickest most mind blowing way to get them both off but now they have to avoid it and then the sex in general dies down until they’re rarely having sex, if it all. Many deep conversations have to be had and idk how exactly they would process/cope with it, but they would definitely get through it together. Maybe they get Gale a moon bump and get serious about adopting or surrogacy and secretly act like Buck is pregnant at home???

This is gonna rotate in my head like a rotisserie chicken for a while 🙌

[weirdmageddon]

i hope this isn’t weird but, i just wanted to say i really really love this post you made, it’s so perfect for my very weird interest in historical homestuck… i wish there was a post like this for basically every homestuck update T^T or at least the big ones

its so tragic that a lot of the True Experience of homestuck (the fandom conversation with the comic) is basically lost media now… i wish i could have experienced it so bad. i’m so very tuned in if you ever have more stories to tell

of course! that makes me so happy to hear! not a definite solution but i will tell you that many blogs used the #upd8 tag so if you find an old blog that posted about homestuck before it ended you could try searching that tag. or, since tumblr's search is broken, just adding /tagged/upd8 to the url. or /tagged/upd8/chrono to go from from oldest to newest.

it really is such a shame. i can only hope i'm doing my part getting the conversation juices flowing again in this space by just sharing whatever's occupying my mind homestuck meta related..which i think passively deepens people's knowledge about the comic, the characters in the comic, the interactions between the comic and the fandom. though but i'm never confident of how much of an impact it's making. even when people tell me my influence is felt everywhere i feel like i dont hang around long enough to really feel it. i just dump the ideas ive thought on for a while (things that people need time to think about and consider themselves but i already went through all the motions of that by the time i share it) and move onto the next topic to rotate in my brain for as long as it takes, repeat ad infinitum. but asks like these make it all worth it i think. if people get genuinely moved or excited or interested in what i talk about as i am that's literally all i need to know to make it feel worth it

[sighs-deeply-and-dreadfully]

,,, so, I’m being self indulgent,,,,,,,,,, haha!!

This isn’t a request! Just me being silly! :]

Love Languages

Wally Darling Love Language Headcanons, no assigned reader!

Headcanons format, not super specified romantic or platonic, so envision it as you please!

Honestly, I truly dearly envision Wally to have quality time, gift giving, and physical touch as love languages. Like, so dearly truly so, haha!!

I feel he’s the type to simply just.. hand a gift to someone. Randomly.

“What’s this?” “A gift!” “Is.. is this a bent paperclip?-“ “No, it’s a gift!”

I feel he tries to get personalized gifts, but— ah, he’s a bit silly, haha!! I feel sometimes it’d backfire, and his train of thought as to why this was the absolute most perfectest gift tends to twirl too much in his little apple shaped brain— to where it kind of just.. doesn’t make sense.

But a gift is a gift!!!! It’s the thought that counts!

As for physical touch, I believe he’s still learning it, haha! If I recall correctly, Clown mentioned he just goes limp upon being hugged— but I could be remembering wrong!

Either way, he can be instructed! He will figure it out! Even if sometimes it backfires, like his constant blowing of kisses (also mentioned by Clown!) !!

He strikes me as the type to just.. want to use someone as a pillow.

They’re just, sitting, minding their business, and suddenly he’s just.. at their side. Pillow……..

I think he’d like to hold hands. I think he’d just like hands in general. Maybe this is a smidge of self projection, but I’m an artist that loves hands. dearly so. I find their structure really interesting!! I feel he’s similar.

I think he’d just like to hold someone’s hand and look at it and how it moves. That’s real intimacy right there, folks!!! /lhj

If someone were to try and interlock their fingers with his, whether platonically or romantically, I think he’d just stare. Processing… until he gets it!

Don’t expect to be getting that hand back anytime soon, friend! That isn’t your hand, anymore! It’s our hand.

Overall, I feel he wouldn’t express physical affection in any normal way. I feel cuddling and the hand stuff is the closest exception, but other than that?

I think he’d just lay on someone. Like, you have yours legs sprawled out? Ahh, what a lovely hammock!

Are you laying on your stomach? Ahh, what a lovely pillow!

He just kind of.. compresses on impact. Pillow.

Gift that man a weighted blanket and I think he’d know peace. True peace.

I think just laying on him would content him, too, HAHA

He strikes me as the ‘likes physical pressure as affection’ kind

Also plays into quality time!!!

But, for the most part, quality time can just be spent in many ways.

Hanging out and chatting, doing your own individual activities in the same room, sleeping around each other,,, squeeshy

He just takes being in the presence of someone for a while as quality time, and he feels very grateful for his friends when he does <33

Just a silly little guy:)

Might be projection again, but I feel he struggles to express his affection in an easily digestible way— so just? Understanding his love languages and what counts as affection on his end? Is so delightful and appreciated

ESPECIALLY if it’s reciprocated

I feel how he feels loved, in return, are the same ones!!! Along with words of affirmation!! Squenshy

Bon appetite (???) HAHAH

I’m somewhat half awake, this has just been rotating in my brain like a microwave plate, so don’t mind any grammatical errors! I’ll fix them laterrrrrrrr