#and half the time its just completely irrelevant anyway shut the fuck up if you wanna go be a ninja plumber go the fuck ahead

[faerociousbeast]

people who have zero sense of suspension of disbelief and try to find every single minor plot hole or inconsistency ever especially in fan projects are soooooooooo fucming annoying

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

[kurama-is-love]

An unusual proposal (Oneshot)

It's been a while since I wrote in english, so please bear with me if this is not perfect. English is not my first language ;-;

Oh and this time it's a female Half!Demon/Human Reader x Kurama. Just to let you know! Again as warning, much much fluff between you and Kurama.

The Dark Tournament was looking forward to its grand finale.

Team Toguro faced Team Urameshi, consisting of Yusuke, Kuwabara, Hiei and Kurama. Their fifth member, Mask, or rather Genkai, was 'killed' in battle by the younger Toguro brother the night before. Although you and your friends mourned about your deceased comrade, the others were not allowed to give in to their feelings now. One single mistake could result in the next death, everyone knew that.

You hadn't left your friend's side since the beginning of the Tournament and you were even allowed to stay at their side near the battle field. Though now you were concerned about the last battle.   You had asked to stand in for Mask as the fifth participant, but before you were able to speak to the competition officials, you were prevented from doing so by your friends, mostly Yusuke and especially Kurama. It was a lengthy and exhausting discussion that followed with the two of them. Yusuke was anything but calm and tried to dissuade you from your idea with irrelevant threats for "beating the shit out of you if you continue to try to participate". Of course he would never lay a finger on a friend, especially not if he were to draw the wrath of a certain fox on him ..

Speaking of the fox. It was Kurama's empathetic and factually convincing words that finally led you to abandon your idea and not take part in the fight. As much as you hated not being able to stand by your friends, it was clear to you aswell that you would not survive 2 minutes in the ring against a member of this diabolical team from Toguro .. It was just maddening ..

Before the fight started, you cleared your throat to attract the attention of your friends.

"Before you fight, I want to get rid of something .." you began and looked at the ground slightly.

"Spit it out, [Y/n]-chan." Kuwabara tried with a calm and understanding tone of voice to reassure you that none of them were mad at you for your earlier discussions. He thought that, because you were trembling all over and he could also tell that you were fighting back tears.

"I want you .. to be extra careful this time .. Your opponents are of a completely different caliber than all your opponents before .. And if ..Uh.. when you notice that you .. can't do it .. that you. . " you stopped, the thought of what should follow your sentence stung your heart. "... you will die if you keep going .. I beg you to give up .. just give up and end the fight .. Fuck this stupid tournament, your lives are way too precious ..!" you spoke a little louder and more determined as you looked at your four friends.

Hiei's expression was disinterested as always. Kuwabara looked away, slightly embarrassed, while Kurama had put on an illegible expression. Yusuke crossed his arms before briefly closing his eyes.

"Sorry, but we can't promise that." he said then.

"W-What ..?"

When you looked up, startled, you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Yusuke's.

"If we give up, everything was in vain. Our training, the preliminary fights. And ... also the death of that old witch ... The least we owe her is to try to defeat her killer." He continued serious, but his face showed no sign of annoyance or anger towards you. He showed you .. friendliness and a small smile. "Anyway, thank you for taking care of us all. With that knowledge, we can do our best," he added.

"B-But .." your quiet objections were stopped again when Kurama took Yusuke's place and put both hands on your shoulders. A slightly worried smile graced his pale lips.

"Yusuke is right. If we give up here, everything we have been through so far will be wasted. Besides .." he continued and his expression darkened slightly as he looked at his opponents, especially at Karasu. "..we can't allow these .. monsters to continue their mischief to continue their murders in the world of spirits, demons and humans. If we don't stop them, who should do it?" he asked you.

You didn't know the answer and looked to the side. Kurama smiled sadly and put his hand on your cheek to turn your face back to him.

"Just trust us, okay?" He said softly and lovingly before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Kurama .. I trust you. But I'm still scared okay ..?"

"That's perfectly okay." The redhead whispered and you sighed softly.

"I'm serious. I don't want to go through the same fear that I did during your fight against Bakken ..."

"Mhm .."

[Flashback]

The battle against the members of Team Masho had reached worrying proportions after Kurama lost consciousness while standing shortly after he was named as the victor in the battle against the ice demon Touya by Koto. The rules of this match were like an endless battle. As long as a member could fight, he fought against any opponent. This is exactly how he had defeated Gama at first and was able to win against Touya with the last of his strength. But now the luck of the kitsune seemed to have run out when he stood bleeding and unconscious on the battlefield and Koto checked whether he was still alive.

"That's enough now! I'll take over for Kurama!" Yusuke called to the judge when the third opponent, a tall, dark-skinned man with short black hair, stepped out.

"Not so fast. That guy is still there, so I'm his opponent now." The shinobi grinned maliciously and was already flexing his fists.

"You can't be serious! You can see that he is not able to fight!" You said and looked angry at Bakken.

"You stay out of it, you brat. I say: He can fight." With these words he turned to Koto, who looked back and forth between the two parties, perplexed.

"Well .. Well .. I also think that Kurama is incapacitated. We have to wait for the decision of the competition committee before an exchange takes place .." the cat demon spoke uncertainly.

All attention was then turned to the speakers when the committee announced its decision. They disagreed with the exchange and declared Kurama's ability to fight.

Yusuke and you had to watch in shock when Bakken started hit the unconscious Kurama again and again and injured him so badly that it was a miracle if he could survive this ordeal for long. When Bakken pulled Kurama up by his top and beat him again, the fabric on the top tore and Kurama fell to the ground. Blood ran down his forehead.

While you could only watch in shock, the stadium echoed under the calls of the demonic audience, who very unanimously demanded only one thing.

"Kill him!"

"Kill him, Bakken!"

"Yes, kill this traitor !!!"

You clenched your fists in anger before turning to the bleachers.

"SHUT UP YOUR DAMN MOUTHS ALREADY!" you shouted so loudly that the stadium fell silent and Yusuke and the others looked at you too. "I CAN'T STAND YOUR HATE TIRADS ANYMORE! The next one who says anything about 'kill this bastard' will get a free ticket to hell from me. WAS THAT CLEAR?"

Your friends had seldom seen you so loud and serious. The girls, Botan, Shizuru, Keiko and Yukino were very shocked by your exclamation.

Suddenly one of the demons jumped down from the stands and stood next to you.

"Pretty loose mouth for such a shitty, weak half-breed, darling."the green-colored beast grinned and licked its lips with its iguana-like tongue. "You are nothing but a shabby one demon, who has human blood in them. It doesn't surprise me that you are on the traitors side. But don't open your mouth like that if you know what's good for you. " He threatened you.

Your eyebrow twitched menacingly as the demon extended its claws and tried to slit your stomach. You reached for your weapons,  chakrams, and a reddish-orange aura flooded the metal, your Reiki, mixed with Yoki. The audience held their breath when they could only hear lightning-fast cuts and white clouds of energy sliced the demon that was attacking you until the attacker fell dead to the ground.

"Anyone else has something to say to a " failed half-breed "? you asked the ranks, but the audience fell silent before you could finally devote yourself to the fighting again.

"T-That's enough! Kurama is on the ground and can no longer fight! I think a countdown is also unnecessary .." Koto interrupted the scene now when she saw the battered Kurama.

Bakken seemed to disagree and lifted Kurama up in the air again by his top.

"Now he's standing again. That means the fight goes on."the black-haired man smirked and wanted to make the final punch that should blow out Kurama's life light forever.

"Stop. That's enough, Bakken." a masked figure behind Bakken, another member of Team Mascho, spoke up.

"Why are you stopping me, Risho? I was just about to finish it." Bakken grumbled while Risho pointed to the opposite side of the arena.

"If you had landed this punch, that would have been your death." Risho spoke only dryly, while Bakken blinked and looked in the direction in which Risho was pointing.

Yusuke and you stood there, both of you in your strongest attacking postures. Yusuke was ready to use his "Rei-Gun" while your chakrams had turned into icy-tessen (Metal fans), the tips of their spikes were reinforced with your Reiki and turned into razor-sharp blades that could be shot individually. You were both ready to kill Bakken if he made any move.

"Tch. Fine. Well, you can have him back." Bakken sighed and threw Kurama carelessly out of the ring. Yusuke and you immediately rushed to the passed out Kitsune and Yusuke carried him to the edge of the ring. You were right behind him. After Yusuke dropped him off, you kneeled down at Kurama's side and looked up your human best friend.

"Yusuke." You spoke in a serious tone. Yusuke turned to you. questioningly. "... Beat the shit out of him. Hit that asshole really hard with a greeting from me." You muttered with bared teeth. Yusuke grinned and gave you a thumbs-up.

"Rely on me, [Y/n]. I will make sure that he gets a proper rubdown. And greetings from you. Just take care of our Kurama." Yusuke answered with a wink.

You nodded gently and put your hands on Kurama's damaged chest to let your Reiki flow into his body. That should give him enough energy to activate his own self-healing powers. At least that was how it prevented him from having too little energy.

He almost died ..

When Kurama woke up a little later, he promised you to never again risk his life so lightly.

[End of flashback]

"Remember your promise." you said softly and took Kurama's hand in yours to give it an affectionate squeeze. The fox just looked at you apologetically, but he was weighing whether he could really tell you that he couldn't keep this promise.

"I'm sorry. This may be my first promise, which I can't keep, as much as I would like to. But ..." he began before you could sigh in frustration. Kurama smiled and put a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll give you a new promise for that." He said and made you blink in curiousity.

"One that you will keep?" you asked.

Kurama smiled and pulled you close for a moment.

"Yes. I promise you, if I survive my fight against Karasu .." he almost sounded as if he didn't believe in it himself, which only unsettled you even more. "... I will take you as my wife as soon as my human body is 18 years old."

Your eyes widened, speechless, at these words. Kurama, who had sworn off love and certainly did not want to settle down in the human world, had just given you the promise of marriage if he should emerge victorious from the battle ..

"K-Kurama .." you started, touched, when the Kitsune put his index and middle fingers on your lips and gently shook his head.

"I have to go into the ring now." He said, because the referee Juri had to call his name again.

Kurama broke away from you and went to the battlefield, where Karasu was already waiting for him. You held your breath as the fight began. It was going to be the hardest fight of all time for him, you were sure of it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The fight was clearly dominated by Karasu for a long time, who seemed to foresee every one of Kurama's steps. His rosewhip basically crumbled to dust before it could hit Karasu due to a miniature bomb that the black-haired man had already placed. Knowing that Kurama would resort to his signature attack.

Even the transformation into his Youko form only briefly gave Kurama the upper hand in this fight.

Karasu was strong, incredibly strong. Kurama was already bleeding profusely on his legs and arms from the bombs that hit his flesh. The transformation into his demon form had already reached its limits. Now everything seemed to be over for the redhead when he went down and his robe was already completely bathed in red blood.

It was a horrible sight, almost worse than Bakken's back then. Kurama stopped moving when Karasu tried to put an end to it.

With the very last of his strength, Kurama was able to mobilize his last reserves and thus also make his Reiki to zero when he conjured up a large, gray plant. Shortly afterwards he sagged dead and his friends, as well as you, cried out in agony.

"KURAMA!"

Karasu stopped. Not because he thought his opponent was dead, but because something had pierced his chest. Everyone stared in disbelief at the three vines of the plant that Kurama had conjured up with his last strength. They seemed to suck out Karasus blood.

"What is happening?" Kuwabara asked in disbelief.

"The plant sucks out its blood. Like a vampire." You explained and looked a little more composed again. Apparently you knew this technique. Since dated Kurama, the others weren't surprised.

Before the crowd could properly process what had happened, Karasu fell to the ground. His skin was pale from massive blood loss and his eyes were blank and torn. He was dead.

But what about Kurama?

Kurama opened his eyes. The bleeding wounds had closed again as if by a miracle and he straightened up slightly wobbly. Did the vampire plant fed him with the blood of his victim to save his life? It was the only logical explanation.

Tears now ran down your cheeks. No tears of sadness, tears of infinite joy. He was alive. Kurama had kept his promise and survived this fight.

Without hesitation for a second, after Juri made him the winner, you ran onto the battlefield and threw Kurama to the ground in a stormy embrace. The Redhead was unprepared for the impact and lost balance when you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot." You repeated several times, still sobbing slightly. This kitsune almost seemed to enjoy causing you so much grief by letting himself be beaten up in every fight.

Kurama smiled gently and caressed your back soothingly.

"Ssh. Everything is fine.", He whispered and heard only briefly loud sobs before you pulled away from him and stared at him.

"DO. THAT. NEVER. AGAIN." You warned and if Kurama wasn't grinning at you so sweetly, your anger would also come across convincingly. Instead, you just sighed softly and patted him gently on the shoulder. "But you also have to keep your promise," you added.

"Don't worry, I will." Kurama chuckled and turned to Yusuke with a hand sign. You blinked perplexed when Yusuke grinned and threw a small velvet box to him. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that it was a box with a beautifully decorated rose on the lid.

"Kurama .."

Kurama got on one knee and took your hand in his.

"I should do this formally and properly, don't you think?" He laughed and you suddenly realized something.

"... You already planned everything in advance, right ...?" You wanted to know.

Kurama gave a small laugh and kissed your palm lovingly before looking intensely into your eyes.

"Quite possible. No, but .. I've never met a woman like you in my life - and that applies to my human and demonic life - and I never expected to lose my heart to someone who makes me as happy as you. "

"Kurama .."

Kurama smirked when you didn't let him finish and cleared his throat to continue.

"Originally I wanted to stay in the human world because my mother and my friends were so close to my heart. But now there is another reason why I don't want to leave this world anymore. I want you by my side until the end of my days and ... start a family with you. In the human world. That is why I ask you, here and now, [First Name] [Last Name], do you want to be my wife and eternal mate? ", He asked and opened the box. Inside it was the most beautiful diamond ring you ever saw. Its sides were adorned with two beautiful jewels, a shiny [gem with your eye color] and a shimmering emerald. It was more than obvious that these jewels symbolized the eye colors of the both of you.

"Yes .. Yes, I want Kurama. Of course I want that!" You said overjoyed and let a smiling Kurama put the ring on your finger before he pulled you to him and kissed you passionately.

"U-Unbelievable! A marriage proposal during the final of the Dark Tournament! I've never seen anything like it!"Koto announced, she sat in the crowd as the second announcer and looked dreamily at the engaged couple.

You smiled and looked at the ring.

"So beautiful. But something's missing," you mumbled.

"Huh?", Kurama asked and you turned to him and grinned slightly.

"A topaz." You answered with a smile.

Now Kurama was the one whose eyes widened and he even blushed a little.

A topaz as golden as Youko Kurama's eyes. His demon form.

Now he was more certain than ever. He would never let you go again. He swore to himself.

[radramblog]

What happened to Dirk in Homestuck^2?

Why am I doing this to myself.

I memed a little yesterday when I was posting that article around social medias about Homestuck jokes, because once again we are in lockdown and I am therefore Stuck at Home. Canned laughter goes here. But there’s a topic related to the comic- or more specifically, its aborted sequel, Homestuck^2, that I’m interested in delving into a little bit. I’m going to avoid talking about spoilers as much as possible, but considering said comic takes place not only after the events of the massive sprawl that is Homestuck but also the more linear but still messy Epilogues, some amount of sus shit is inevitable.

Anyway. Much maligned is what the Epilogues and 2 did to everyone’s favourite decapitation target, Dirk Strider, and I have a theory as to why it happened this way.

To begin with, let’s summarise what and who Dirk is through the course of the comics. Fair warning from me, though, it’s been a while since I read through this.

Dirk Strider is a teenager who grew up in a post-apocalyptic future Earth, completely devoid of physical contact with other people and only really ever gets to talk to 3 other people, only one of whom is in anything remotely resembling a relatable situation. He struggles with self-identity, having created numerous robots including an artificial intelligence based on his own brain, aka Lil’ Hal. He’s somewhat of a control freak, and a bit of a cold aloof asshole, but means well, and is pretty gay. NBD. The kinda guy to set up a plan meticulously and thoroughly, not informing any of the moving parts even if said parts are his friends, and often involving some form of self-sacrifice.

Throughout the comic he further reckons with self-identity problems and his own self-loathing including entering a relationship with Jake which doesn’t go well and he eventually breaks off since he knows his overbearing and manipulative behaviour is Not Cool and Pretty Toxic but doesn’t know how to shut it off. Eventually he reaches the God Tier as a Prince of Heart, gaining the power to literally annihilate souls, which he never actually uses since he gets yeeted into deep (Paradox) space and then everything goes to shit. Except none of that happens because of the Retcon (aside from the God Tier bit) and we don’t actually see how that shit progressed in the canon timeline. I think. Dirk’s arc, as it were, doesn’t really come full circle- while he does assist in Dave’s character…growth? he really isn’t the focus of that conversation. This immediately precedes the action climax and there isn’t literally any dialogue after that so that’s what we’re left with.

I like Dirk in Homestuck a lot. It’s hard not to, considering the flashes heavily featuring him (Unite/Synchronise and Prince of Heart: Rise Up) are genuinely excellent, along with many of his music themes being absolute bangers. He gets to interact with Caliborn a lot, with a pretty great banter, there, and the whole splintered personality thing is a really interesting hook for a character. I think he’s my favourite of the Alpha kids, a controversial pick considering I know everyone loves Roxy so much. I think, I’m not as in tune with the fandom as that statement implies I am.

And then the Epilogues/Homestuck 2 came.

Now I read the Meat half of the epilogues first, but that’s more interesting, so we’ll tackle Candy first (this is going to get real confusing for those who haven’t read this comic, huh).

In Candy, Dirk almost immediately kills himself, citing the irrelevance of the timeline as cause, an act considered by whatever mechanism governs God Tier deaths to be Just because he hates himself (and also bc of things we’ll get into), so it actually sticks. This isn’t super relevant for the discussion, but that’s just kinda so unbelievably fucked up? Entirely? I’d imagine if you read Candy first you might get entirely turned off by this, which I’m sure a lot of people did.

Meat is where the, well, meat of post-canon Dirk is. You see, a concept very quickly introduced in the tail end of the original comic is the Ultimate Self, an idea where you somehow encompass every different timeline iteration or alternate version of yourself. This was pretty clearly tacked on to make it so characters whose arcs all happened in the retcon timeline could have their not getting an actual arc explained away, but it didn’t land then and it sure doesn’t land for me now. Anyway, in Meat, Dirk becomes his ultimate self, making him near-omniscient and able to control the fabric of the story himself- for much of this story, he is the narrator. And he uses this power to fuck with all his friends really distressingly without their knowledge (or consent), including breaking up a marriage, in order to further his own goals which largely appear to be just keep the story going so to not fade out of relevance. It’s a plot that makes no sense with his previous characterisation, but I guess now that he’s the Ultimate Self he’s a different person? But I liked old Dirk, and I don’t like New Dirk. He’s a villain now, but he made a much better anti-hero.

But this would be fine if he (or the epilogues, or Homestuck^2) were written well. But they aren’t. Dirk’s dialogue is long, painfully drawn out, with tangents that tend to amount to pure wank, misused literary references and pointless metaphors that go on and on, filling the screen with a bright orange screed that hurts to look at as much as it does to comprehend. It’s not fun. And we’ve seen Dirk communicate before, obviously, the story of Homestuck is built around chatlogs, but it wasn’t like this. He was sarcastic, dryly witty, blunt at times. Even when he was literally talking to a different version of himself it didn’t get that masturbatory.

I was so confused about what the hell happened to Dirk, because I had no idea what the hell someone writing this character was thinking when they turned him into this. And then, the 21st page of Homestuck^2 dropped.

And it all came together.

What Ultimate Dirk and Terezi are referring to is Pony Pals: Detective Pony, a children’s book about some girls who hang out with ponies and solve a mystery. It’s a real book, buy it for your 5-year-old.

Except they’re not referring to that, they’re referring to the Homestuck Canon version of Detective Pony- a birthday gift from Dirk to Jane, heavily edited and to be much more obscene and eventually developing into it’s own story, stated to be “tough, emotionally draining, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible”.

Except the quote “Remember Longcat, Jane?” and references to philosophy, dead languages, and ancient earth culture aren’t referring to the three pages of the Dirk-edited Detective Pony we see in the actual comic itself. That quote doesn’t appear there.

That image is from Detective Pony, by Sonnetstuck- the 40,000 word fanfiction from 2014 that serves as a completed version of Jane’s copy of the book. An expansion of what we see in canon. And it’s a tough, emotionally draining read, but cathartic in all the worst ways possible.

It’s a very good fanfiction.

In the later bits of Detective Pony, we can start to see the origins of what would become Ultimate Dirk’s signature style of writing. Long blocks of rambling text, orange dripping down the page, references to philosophy and history and language that go on and on. And it probably does look familiar to those who read the Epilogues and ^2. 

But there are a couple of key differences here. First of all, it’s just better written? The way these rambles circle back on themselves is so excellent, the absolute absurdity of this being written on top of a pony book for little girls, the humour (beyond some of the more immature stuff), it’s just a really well-written piece of fiction. Hell, you don’t even need to be familiar with the character of Dirk to enjoy it. It’s a harrowing piece, but it’s also self-aware- because it’s not supposed to be tough, draining, cathartic etc. just for Jane- it’s clearly that for Dirk himself.

The second part is, of course, that this is a fanfiction. It’s not canon, it’s not official, this is by someone who really likes Dirk for people who really like Dirk. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, so if you bounce off it (and I’m sure a lot did), then you don’t have to keep reading it, it’s fine, thanks for playing. As much as Homestuck^2 tried to doll itself up as “dubiously canon” it’s still the official continuation of the story, and that means if it’s as difficult to get into as Detective Pony, that’s going to be a problem for a lot of people.

The other part of it is that Detective Pony’s exploration of Dirk’s character is, well, in character. When the man himself steps in as a character in his own book, the explorations of what he is as an author, who he is as a person, make perfect sense for what we see of him at the start of the comic. He is that manipulative, blunt person, and he is aware of his faults. He’s the kind of person to hide a lamentation on his own failings inside an impenetrable maze of a story layered on top of a book about fucking ponies. Ultimate Dirk does not act like Dirk, outside of the “manipulator” angle, something that Dirk was aware of and trying to improve in the comic. But I guess people don’t have arcs, right?

It’s so interesting to see the seeds of Homestuck^2 laden within Detective Pony- because the meta angle that and the epilogues take is also represented in said fanfiction. While the nature of canon is a facet of the work, the idea of authors and narrators fighting for control of a story, different ideas in mind for the characters, one being more personally connected to them than the other, it’s all there. When I wrote about Fallout 4 in the past, I mentioned being worried that Bethesda took the wrong lessons from Skyrim- seeing something successful and trying to recapture that lightning in a bottle. I think Homestuck^2 is an extreme example of this- the writers of the comic saw Sonnetstuck’s masterwork and thought, yeah that’s great, we can do that. But they just can’t. And with the comic crashed and burning, the probably won’t ever get a chance to. Dirk is forever stuck as this amalgamation of himself that looks nothing like any individual version of him ever did.

At least we will still have Detective Pony, and many other excellent fanworks, for actually good Dirk content. I admittedly haven’t looked into much fanfic written during/post-epilogues, and I’m kind of afraid of what I’ll see- I can only hope the fanbase didn’t take the same wrong lessons as the official team did.

[beetleboo]

long post. one i’ve been trying to make for a while now. hell, i wrote this like... third week of may. didn’t post it until now because i didn’t know if I wanted to.

but something i want to lay out, been wanting to lay out for months. dont want to talk to anyone about it, just want to put the info out there for it to be seen.

if you re/blog this i will block you. i may put this on the relevant sideblog at some point.

because 2020 was the worst year on record for me for a number of reasons, and it’s torn me down to the lowest point i’ve been in a long time, and this is just. everything that’s gone down. not a callout post, no one gets named, but these are all the events

partially in relation to my fandom sideblog, because that’s where i had community, and where it’s all just. gone. doesnt exist anymore.

i started up a server, ages ago now. somewhere i curated to be a positive and safe space for things, and for a while, it was that.

around the end of 2019, spilling over to the start of 2020 when it picked up, i found, both on my blog and in discord spaces, in particular the server i ran, that people no longer talked to me. no one would hold a conversation with me past a few basic responses, no one replied to anything i shared, no one engaged when i tried to start discussions. so i pulled back from the main server - S1. thought it was just a lull in activity. stayed that way for weeks, months, and I just muted the server. no one ever cared about anything i had to say. was lucky if anything i posted got even a token emoji react

was in another, smaller server - S2. people i talked to damn near every day, even in voice. played games together - that became... no fun simply because everyone else was so much better/further ahead in the game. i was completely useless, so didn’t server a function in game and never really felt like anyone actively wanted me around, but i still participated in chat.

but again, no one ever responded to anything I posted beyond maybe a token react

couple people discussing something one day. I contributed with Theory A, and quite immediately got that shut down. few minutes later, they rephrased exactly what I said and happily nattered away. so whatever I said wasn’t worth it when it came out of my mouth but if they talked about it, it was all well and valid. so again, between that specific experience and no one interacting with me, nor anything I post. server muted. treatment taught me no one cared about my presence there.

gave admin rights to S1, my server, to someone I trusted. two requests only: dont delete channels and let me know if you want to invite anyone (since I kept it private)

RYE (i’m just assigning random three letter names to people to keep this straight) posted public invites several times. never asked me. one of the two things i asked. brought it up with them that it bothered me, just got vague noncomittal responses. more public invites. eventually, after having the server muted for months, i handed over full control and left. that was almost a full year ago. none of the people have talked to me in that entire year, through discord or here or anything.

except RYE who sent me a message after a couple months like ‘wow i havent heard from you in a while hope you’re doing ok’. i wasn’t. after a bit but still the same day, i said as much. that i wasn’t doing well. they never responded. and i don’t mean like, they didn’t respond that day. i mean i literally never heard from them until months later when they sent me a meme and also didn’t respond to me commenting on that meme.

and this is one side of things. all of the above was the first half of the year. this next bit happened about. march2020? I was in another server - S3. another place that was a good space at the time. was in voice chat with two other people. started talking about one thing. MIN very suddenly said something along the lines of ‘i don’t care about this i’ll come back when you’re done’

this is one of the very few things that can trigger me - i’ve had a lot of people talk down to me if I dare look excited about anything. when they came back, i asked if they could try to just. depart conversations more softly. MIN always said ‘if i do anything hurtful to you just tell me! i dont want to do that kind of thing!’

this was clearly a lie as they exploded on me, telling me they always have to walk on eggshells around me, that I ask so many things from them. before what I asked them that day, I can only recall one other thing i asked (which was not to talk about a person who was abusive towards me, and they were like ‘yea sure np’ about that, over a year prior’)

the whole thing turned into basically me having to shut down the fact that i was hurt by what they did, had to ignore that now and i had to fawn and placate them and the only thing i got out of that was that my feelings were irrelevant, only theirs.

(incidentally, I have had two other people turn on me in similar ways, accusing me of doing shifty/bad/terrible things, and not being willing to tell me what they are when I ask, only saying that ‘i should know what i did’ so that’s also now a Fun New Bit Of Trauma.)

and that entire weeklong event lead me straight to a breakdown. literal genuine breakdown i cannot convey how devastating that entire scenario was without going into far too many details.

so between all of these things happening in less than six months, with three different community spaces folding and collapsing and fading away from me, with many of the friends i thought i had just. moving on to other things and dropping me. people i talked to every day just not bothering with me anymore. they all have gone on to other stuff and no one ever went ‘hey beets wanna see what i’m up to’ or ‘wanna do this thing with me’

a handful of instances of me saying ‘yeah i’m dealing with these fears that have been reinforced lately that people aren’t safe to deal with, even thought part of me knows they’re probably irrational it feels like i have evidence to back it up’ and people immediately take it personally like i’m saying they’re not safe. despite. me outright saying. i know logically it should be irrational. but their reactions just reinforce it so it’s just a loop and tells me, again, never to bring up any of my problems with anyone.

so this all just reinforces that there’s something wrong with me. couple years back i spoke to a friend and how i was frustrated that I seemed to end up in bad spaces and they said ‘well you’re the one thing in common so its probably your fault’ and obviously they’re not my friend anymore but that has affected me so deeply. i can’t do anything without overthinking, whenever anything goes wrong i tear apart everything i’ve done and everything i’ve said or thought and i don’t know why things keep going bad. i try so hard but i’m just. not right.

so it all teaches me that there’s no point in reaching out in trying to talk to people because if i say ‘hey this hurt me’ i get ignored at best or torn down, yelled at, scolded. no point in trying to talk to new people because everyone just walks away at some point. not even a natural drift apart, i can handle that. but just very suddenly, they’re gone, off with better people doing better things.

roundabout, ties back to ‘consumption versus community’ - this is why i’ve been struggling so hard with lack of engagement on my sideblog. lucky to get a dozen notes on anything i make, unless it’s something other people can use (like mods) and even THEN it’s rare to see much activity. and that was FINE because i had people to talk to elsewhere, who would ask questions and we could back and forth and i shared my stuff and they shared those and it didnt matter if my posts only got a dozen notes because i had friends to talk to.

now i get (example) seven notes, six of which are likes and one is a reblog with no commentary. when i have something with a ton of notes, still, minimal commentary, no one talks to me. even on a mod with five hundred notes it just feels like i went ‘hey i made something :)’ and everyone picked it up and walked away with it, no one went ‘hey this is cool i want to talk to the person who made it.’

and it just feels like 95% of the time, i’m just overlooked. 

and it’s worse than it’s ever been in my entire life, and I wonder, what’s the point of any of this anymore.

why bother to make the posts to share when it all just gets passed by. what’s the point in trying to reach out to new people and make friends when i get lashed out at or left behind? the social is gone out of my social media. i had community, and now it’s gone.

so this has all been going on for months and months and months and hey! suffering. and i dont expect it to get any better, don’t expect this post to fix these issues, but i’ve been trying to say something about all of this for fucking months and i think just, laying it all out is all I can do about it. i’m sure i’ve forgotten some things to touch on but as it is, all these events, all of it happening all together. new traumas, old traumas reawoken, reinforced, i’ve been torn to pieces i don’t know how to function, i can’t remember the last time i felt like even half a real person. taught that the safe, positive spaces that meant so much to me don’t actually exist and they’ll all turn on me and be torn away. nowhere is safe anymore, and trying to make it safe is just going to ruin me again.

people aren’t safe, places aren’t safe, been proven to me time and time again so i just. stay away.

no matter how much i try to fight that, it just doesnt work.

anyway tl;dr beets needs therapy probably

[marcykinsmaki]

Since you write for all games can you write a s/o who at first couldn’t stand byakuya, mondo, kazuichi, and fuyuhiko but they comfort the s/o after a trial and they go from rivals to friends to lovers <3? Up to you if the guys disliked the s/o at the beginning too! If that’s too many characters the ones that really matter to me are byakuya and kazuichi! Thank you!!

HEYYYYY IT’S FINALLY DONE AAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAANDAMDALKMDWAD cough cough cough. anyway. i only wrote byakuya because this piece is almost 5k words i hope you like it please love it anyway here it is.

Byakuya Togami x Reader.

Words: 4,365 (long)

CW: Mentions of suicide, heavy angst in the beginning, some suggestive moments.

Rating: Mature

--

You have to be kidding. This can’t be real. I thought he was bad before, but this? This is an entirely new low. He’s a jerk, a complete asshole who does nothing but make everything harder for everyone and laugh in our faces about it. Saying shit to hold us back, to make us confused and scratch our heads while he holds something we don’t. But messing with a body. A dead person’s corpse, for the sake of what?

“The motive of my actions is irrelevant.” I stared at him with a gaping jaw. “The thing we should be doing is figuring out the true killer. We know it isn’t Genocide Jack and now we know that it isn’t me.” Like that makes me feel better. He looks over to me, the sting of tears growing behind my sinuses. “Please, Y/N, keep yourself together. You’re going to catch flies if you keep that mouth open so wide.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and my hands grip themselves into tight fists, my body shaking with rage.

“Y/N, it isn't worth getting angry at.” Kyoko interrupts me before I could do something. “I think we’re all upset at this reveal, but we have to continue. It was an intrusion that no longer stands in our way. Let’s continue.” She replied before continuing on.

Eventually, Mondo slipped. Makoto caught his lie and called him out. The rest of the trial was a haze. We all watched Mondo get strapped to the motorcycle, ride into the cage and eventually come out as… that. Some sick fucking joke that is. We all stood after, looking at each other as we tried to hold ourselves together.

“Chihiro was a good person.” I finally broke the silence. They all looked to me. My eyes were locked onto the floor. I couldn’t stand to face anyone. “He didn’t deserve someone like you to be touching him and moving around his body so we could all get slaughtered for your stupid half second decision. And for what?” I muster up the courage to face him. “What was running through your head that this was a good idea? You know that you would’ve died, too. You’re all for other people speaking on your behalf or whatever stupid thing you have going on,” I began to step forward towards him. “, whatever God complex you fucking deal with. You are so far up your own fucking ass that you were willing to drag us all down for your dedicated fanboy shit? You hate when people mess around like low lives yet you built your own coffin, dug your own grave, locked yourself in your stupid little box, and buried yourself.” I eventually was face to face with him. The room was still silent. Even Monokuma didn’t say anything. Byakuya stared at me with the same unnerving judgemental gaze he held for everyone. “Stop circle jerking with yourself and get with the fucking program. People’s lives are at stake here, Byakuya. Take a drill and screw that into your head. I’ll even do it for you if you need help, because obviously you can’t see that we’re all hurting. I know you don’t give a rat’s ass, but you are a fucking asshole. And I hope one day that big ass ego dildo falls out of your gaping rectum.” I spat at him, turning and exiting the trial room. He looked disgusted by the time I turned to walk away, the silence failing to fall again as I walked out, tears streaming down my face and the pain in my chest and throat from the stress of this all finally settling in. I began to sob as I walked out and straight to my dorm. Chihiro was a good friend. He didn’t deserve this bullshit. I felt bad that Mondo died and his trauma or whatever, but Chihiro was just an innocent boy in a killing game that he didn’t deserve to be in. None of us deserved this. I found myself in my room eventually, the hallway down to my room seeming smaller than normal. I swing my door open, slamming it shut behind me and locking it. I quickly approach my bed, my body breaking down as I fall onto the mattress. My chest hurts from the sobbing, tired and exhausted from the excuses. My hearing diminishes and I relax, falling into a deep sleep.

“Y/N? … Y/N.” I hear a soft voice calling out to me. I slowly come-to and my eyes flutter open. A soft hand is on my back. My eyes fix to the figure standing in front of me. Hina. “Hey, you’re awake! Thank goodness, I’ve been standing here for like 10 minutes trying to wake you up.”

“Oh.. hey, Hina. Sorry, I guess I was just really tired.” I slowly sit up, looking up to her. She shrugs with a big smile on her face.

“No biggy. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. New floor opened up and we were all waiting for you, but no one wanted to check… just, you know.” She shrugs.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Sorry, again. I’ve just been stressed lately.” Pain settles in my throat, a hand raising to rub my neck.

“Will you plebians please hurry up?” A familiar voice sounds from behind Hina. I notice my door is open now, my eyes shooting up and Hina turning to see… Byakuya. We stand in tense silence for a few moments. “Don’t stare at me like dead fish, hurry the Hell up so we can get this done and stop being lazy.” He calls out to us again from my door, staring me down with an intense gaze before turning to leave us alone again. Hina turns back to me.

“Jeeze, I hate him so much.. Why is he always like this? Can’t he just be a team player for once?” She huffs. “Anyway, let’s hurry up so you can eat something. Not good to explore on an empty stomach!” She holds a hand towards me with a smile. I nod, reaching up to her and helping myself up, still in my clothes from yesterday and not bothering to change. Doesn’t seem to bother either of us.

--

After getting something to eat, I walk up to the next floor, reassuring Hina that I’ll be fine on my own after several minutes, watching her leave with Sakura. I began to walk out on my own, looking around and passing a random hallway I’ve yet to explore as I feel someone grab my arm and pull me aside, putting a hand over my mouth and nose, holding me close to them in silence. I struggle, and feel a hand grab onto my hips. My cheeks heat up.

“Quit struggling. It’s only me.” A calm, yet annoyingly familiar voice sounds out again. Byakuya. I quickly stop, my heart still racing. He can’t kill me now.. Way too early. He peels off his hands from my body. I quickly turn around with rage.

“What the Hell was that for, asshole?!” I retaliate. He chuckles a bit, only making me angrier.

“Keep that vulgar language out of your mouth. It doesn’t suit you, ruins your face.” He teases. I’m so confused, why is he acting like this? “My motivations for doing that isn’t important. What we should be doing is exploring the rest of the floor.” He nods, walking away as if nothing happened. I shake my head, trying to make some sort of excuse, turning the corner to give him a piece of my mind. But before that happens, he’s already too far gone for the effort to be worth it. I sigh to myself, just continuing forward and searching. I mean, what… what? Why? Suddenly he’s being all handsy with me, giving me no reason? Wonder what happened the last time he said that. Whatever.

--

Another body. Another trial. Jesus. My heart drops to my stomach. I was never really close with the two of them, but you can’t help but feel bad that after all that chasing and that fiasco that this is the outcome. A frown finds its way to my face. I feel someone tap on my shoulder. 

“Y/N. You will be accompanying me on my investigation.” Byakuya spoke behind me. I could feel his presence suddenly get closer to me, instinctively turning and backing away. He has a smirk on his face. “I’m not taking no for an answer, so wipe that petty look off of your face, Y/N. Please.” I immediately shake my head a little in disbelief.

“What?”

“What do you mean what? You’re going to be conducting the investigation with me. Now.” He refused to explain further, as always. I’ve gotten used to this, but him saying the word please. I never knew it was part of his vocabulary voluntarily. I follow behind towards the first body, my heart beating in a way I never knew it could before. At least, not for someone like this. I must be going crazy. I must be hearing things. Someone pinch me. “Hello? Must you be incompetent right now? We have a case on our hands and we need to finish it, L/N.” He almost snarls at me. I roll my eyes and join him, a smirk taking over his face for a split second only he and I could see. I feel the same invasive heat flooding my cheeks, unable to stop the red blush filling my face afterward. I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay? You look really…. Red.” I hear Aoi speak behind me. “Are you hot-”

“No, Asahina, they’re coming with me. Thank you very much, I can assure you that they are fine.” Byakuya interrupts her. She huffs towards him, puffing her chest out with dominance.

“Whatever. Please stay safe around him, Y/N. He can be… dangerous. I don’t trust him that much.” Hina looks to me with a concerned expression.

“I can handle myself, don’t worry. I won’t let him do anything.” I reassure her. She smiles and nods, as I return to Byakuya’s side. I feel like a damn puppy, walking by his side and coming to his beck and call.

“Well? Get to work. I don’t want to be here long.” He speaks softly to me. My body stiffens, nodding as I go down and begin my investigation. The rest of this goes on in silence, his eyes burning holes into the back of my head. It sent chills down my spine when I would look up to him from the ground, which he actually made me do, but was completely unnecessary. He just looked me up and down, and shrugged, every single time I asked if I was done. He physically would not let me leave. I never understood why he did that, and I don’t think I ever will, but eventually, we had succeeded, a wide smile on my face from finishing.

“Finally! God, I thought I’d be on the floor all day.” I sighed, joining Aoi and Sakura’s side, which I had made good friends with by now, being a kind of trio at this point since the first trial. But before I could join them, to our collective dismay, Byakuya cleared his throat.

“I didn’t say you could leave.” He kept his eyes off of us, refusing to look at me, having this long look of betrayal on his face. I sighed.

“Sorry, Hina; Sorry, Sakura, he’s been like this since the investigation.” I apologized profusely, the two looking at Byakuya intensely as I joined his side. He looks over at me one last time before we all went onto the elevator, going down to the trial room.

--

The trial was long, and the execution was brutal. Kinda funny, but brutal. I quickly join Aoi and Sakura after, Byakuya giving me a dirty look. I shrug it off, joining the girls for some quick after-execution down time, Aoi quickly suggesting donuts and tea,  Sakura making sure she doesn’t go overboard, knowing how she can get with this stuff. We laugh at each other, and I swear I see someone out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head, and in a split second they’re gone. But I’m used to seeing things after stuff like this, just my brain messing with me.

... Right?

Later that night, I returned to my room after about an hour of talking out our feelings with the other two. I’m just hanging out, resting my eyes until I drifted off, only to be interrupted by my doorbell ringing. I sat up, stretching a little, scratching my head and approaching the door. I open the door, and it’s suddenly flung open, which makes me step back in defense.

“Don’t fret, it’s only me. You should really be more careful of who you open the door for, I could have been a wild maniac coming to rip your throat open.” He makes his way into my room, without even asking. Which for him is in character, of course. I groan, rolling my eyes all the way back into my head, hoping they’d stay there. “Oh come now, don’t act like you aren’t surprised.”

“Trust me, Byakuya, I’m not, now what do you want?” I close the door behind him, staring at him with intense fury. 

“I’m here to propose something.” He turns to me, arms crossed against his broad chest. I sigh, shifting my weight to one leg, my eyes now being washed over with exhaustion.

“What.” The words fell out of my mouth carelessly.

“I wish to form an alliance with you.” My eyes widen. The same smirk returns from before. He knows how to get under my skin. He began to approach me, slowly. I back up at the same pace.

“An alliance?” I tilt my head a little. He nods.

“You help me in my every day life, like an assistant, and you help me during investigations,” He continues towards me, me not paying attention as I suddenly feel the heel of my foot against the door. We were already at a distance, him continuing his approach silently, and soon getting close enough to where he places a hand next to my head. “, and then I’ll gift you with certain information and grace you with my presence and willing conversation.” He speaks in a lower tone now, a rasp in his voice and rumble in his chest I’ve never heard before brushes against my ears. The unwelcome yet obscenely familiar warmth comes to my cheeks. He chuckles, bringing a hand and brushing some hair that’s sitting in front of my face. “Do you think you can do that for me, Y/N?” I squint up at him, trying to think of a way to escape. He looks at me with some tone under his eyes that I can’t read. After a few passing moments, I finally answer.

“Fine. Yes, whatever, can you leave me and take your weird antics with you?” I spat. He squints.

“Be ready to get up earlier. When you serve me, you must address me as Mr. Togami. Otherwise, you can just call me Byakuya. Please present yourself nicely, you are beginning to represent me, now, so your expectations are even higher coming from me.” He assures me, finally letting me go, backing up so I can step away from the door. I quickly grab the handle, opening the door oh-so-graciously for him. “Be up by 7, at least. And be in the cafeteria by 8 to 8:30. Sharp. I don’t tolerate tardiness.” He nods, exiting finally. I slam the door behind him, grunting loudly to myself. Thank whatever God is watching over me that these walls are soundproof.

--

8 a.m. came faster than I wanted it to. I was up by 7, out of the shower by 7:15, ready by 7:45. I arrived earlier than expected, Byakuya looking up to me in the cafeteria from the open book in his hands, us being the only ones in the room. I approach nervously, hoping this is up to his expectations. Why is my heart beating so fast for a man that doesn’t give half a damn?

“Good morning.” I fill the open air. He looks back down to his book. I squint at him. “Good morning.” I repeat. I’m confused. I stand staring down at him, and after a good while I finally realize what I’m missing. “Good morning, Mr. Togami.” I force, rolling my eyes. He frowns into a disappointed look.

“Finally. Good morning to you, too. Watch your tone next time.” He snaps back at me. “Do you know how to make coffee?”

“Kinda.” I shrug. He sighs.

“Thank God they are competent enough to give us the proper technology for it to be easy. Go and figure it out. Keep it plain black. No creamer, no sugar.” He doesn’t look back at me. I make myself keep up the tolerating demeanor. I approach the kitchen and finally manage to make something. I bring it back and hand it to him. I see him mumble something before he takes a sip. I cross my fingers, not wanting to deal with his whining.

“Not bad. Go fix something, the others will be here in about an hour and I don’t want to be here for it. We’ll be off after we eat.”

I make myself some breakfast and finally get to sit and eat, finishing before the others get here as to not piss Byakuya off more than he already is this morning. I put our dishes away and return to him, as we retreat to the library.

“Mr. Togami?” I decided to comply to his commands for now, it’s easier for him to respond to me. Ego.

“Yes?” I hear a pleased twang in his voice. It strikes me surprised.

“Why am I doing this again?”

“Doing what?” He doesn’t look back at me as I walk behind him.

“This whole thing. Getting up at 7 in the morning, dressing up all nice, addressing you as Mr. Togami, being your servant? Is this really all necessary for an alliance if all you’re going to do is sit there.”

“I know things you do not, being the head of the Togami Corporation. You will sit there and be pretty for me and do as I say,” The pretty part made my heart skip a beat. God, we’re barely two hours into this and I’m already catching feelings for a spoiled brat. “, and I will assist you during investigations and let you in on bits of information.” He nods, swinging the library door open, failing to hold it open for me as I catch the door before it closes on me. I quickly follow behind, as he reaches down for a book sitting neatly next to a chair already pulled out by a random desk. “Glad we’re on the same page now. You’re free to do as you wish in here.” He looks up to me for a split second as he sits in the chair, crossing his leg and the air around us is still with silence much more. I sigh quietly, rolling my eyes internally as we spend a majority of our day in the library.

--

The next days are mostly the same. I started to read new books and would run small errands for him. I would try to make small conversation, but not a lot worked. He’d smirk at some of my jokes (that he tried to mask), and reply sometimes, but he wasn’t a very social person anyway. Another body discovery passed, and it was heart wrenching. This investigation was more painful than the others, seeing one of my close friends pass away right under my nose. And for Aoi for be lying for her? Behind my back? I get she’s as upset as me, and we don’t have to experience another execution, but it… gets under my skin more than I expected. Aoi looks to me with sorrow after the trial, but I just shake my head as I exit the room with teary eyes. I’m backstabbed… again? Twice, in the same day? They explicitly kept it a secret from me. Why? I shut out Aoi’s voice behind me. I stormed to my room, slamming and locking the door behind me as I enter. It’s been a long day. Byakuya’s been giving me shit all day for not being fast enough. Sorry I didn’t know Sakura killed herself, asshole. I flopped onto my bed. The only thing that kept me safe during these times. I had a moment or two to relax and let myself cry before I heard my doorbell ring.

“What.” I call out carelessly.

“Do you think you should be talking to me like that?” Byakuya speaks from behind my door. I know that tone, so I push myself up and open the door for him and let him into my room, but he stands there. “Well?”

“Do you think you should be talking to me like that?” Byakuya speaks from behind my door. I know that tone, so I push myself up and open the door for him and let him into my room, but he stands there. “Well?”

“No. Sorry, Mr. Togami.” I mock. He shrugs and enters.

“Good enough. Sit.” He pulls up a chair and places it next to my bed. He sits on the chair, waiting for me. I sit on my bed, looking up to him with puffy and teary eyes.

“Why are you here.” I stress.

“Because Aoi is whining to me about how bad she feels for lying to you. She begged me to come in here and convince you since I’m the only person I’ve let you see. She said I’m your friend for whatever reason.” He shakes his head. I keep my eyes on him as he speaks. “Anyways, can you please take care of her? She’s pacing all throughout the hallway for no reason. I’ll be waiting in here.” He leans back, waiting for my departure. I stare at the door, slowly pressing myself towards it and opening it, looking past it to find Aoi. She turns to me with a broken smile, tears falling down her tan cheeks. She sniffles.

“Hey.” She speaks to me silently. Almost in a whisper.

“Hey.” I return it.

“I’m really sorry, but I couldn’t tell you. I promised her. And I know it would have gotten us killed and you all would have suffered, but she was hurting being here. I hope you can forgive me.” She looks at me with glassy eyes, puffy from crying. I stand there for a moment.

“Yeah, sure. I’m sorry for flipping out on you instead of listening to you.”

“Hug?” Aoi began to open her arms for a hug. I nod, walking to her and hugging her tight. She whispered into my ear lowly. “You know, I think Byakuya has a crush on you or something. Or maybe he’s obsessed.” She giggles. The same nervous feeling returned to my heart. I shake my head.

“Absolutely not. What makes you even think-”

“Maybe the fact that he treats you nicer than the rest of us. Has more patience with you. Speaks to you in a less serious tone. Actually talks to you for more than 5 words without insulting you. Wants to spend time with you a lot. I don’t know, I’m just saying, maybe you should think about it being a possibility.” She shrugs, pulling back to look at me with a glint of hope in her eyes.

“Hmmm, let me think about it; a big ego-centric dude with daddy’s money and balls big enough to lie to his classmates whos lives are in danger. No thank you.” I pull away completely now, smiling. She smiles back.

“Oh come on. I don’t like the dude that much, sure, but it’s super obvious. The way he looks at you, it’s insane. Now go on, your prince charming is waiting, Y/N~” Hina winks, turning and walking back off to her room. I shake my head, returning to Byakuya in my room. He’s sitting in the same position as last time.

“Welcome back. I’m assuming it went well.” He stood, approaching me. Maybe too close. Hina can’t be serious..

“Yeah. We made up and stuff.” I nodded, crossing my arms.

“I’m sure you did. Same time tomorrow, Y/N. And please, call me Byakuya now. You’ve graduated from Mr. Togami.” He walks by me to the door. My jaw drops, turning to watch him.

“Oh wow, thank you so much, Mr. Togami, how can I ever repay you for such a lovely promotion. I have been training so hard for this my entire life. I am eternally grateful.” I stare into the back of his head. I swear I hear a chuckle before he walks out of the door, softly closing it behind him… that’s new. I shake off the thought by moving before it could even come to me. Exhaustion catches up to me, and I yawn as I sleep to the next day.

--

A.N.// I got really lazy. I’ve been writing this for weeks and I’m exhausted. So sorry I didn’t write more friendship content but I wanna keep this moving so here we go.

--

The biggest trial of our lives come. Junko Enoshima herself has revealed herself to us. She’s even more egotistical than Byakuya, and that’s saying something. She parades herself around like her shit doesn’t stink and basically blames this killing game on us. Which is entirely untrue, no matter how she words it. But after a good while of debating, looking between all of my friends, and determination to survive, we persevere through her antics and take her down, leaving us only to leave to the outside world that awaits us, no matter how fucked it may be.

“Finally, I never thought we’d make it this far..” Aoi sighs, the final seven of us approaching the gate.

“Seriously, I thought we were toast back there…” Yasuhiro’s still a little shaky from it all.

“Well, we’re here now and we’re finally escaping, so let’s focus on that first. Y/N, come, please.” Byakuya adds, only to look at me. Toko is giving me the death glare. If looks could kill. I turn to Byakuya and approach him. He’s looking back at me to someone. I try to look back, but before I can he grabs my chin and guides my face to his, pressing a kiss to my lips. A deep, unexpecting one, in fact. I can feel the smile on my lips, the same mischievous smile he’s always held. I slowly return it, and Toko’s now screaming up a storm as Aoi holds her back.

“Don’t worry! Totally not saving your guts right now! Just forget about me!” She sighed frustratedly, Toko crying her head off. We finally part, my chest pounding away like a heavy drum as he stares into my eyes.

Byakuya Togami, an ego-centric asshole who kisses people to overwhelm them when he has feelings for them he won’t admit to himself. What an enigma of a man.

//

OKAAAAYY OH MY GOD IT’S FINALLY DONE. thank you so much for your request!

[chironshorseass]

29 and 30 fluff for perachel or percabeth? Hehe I like both ships don’t @ me. Love your writing btw!

I kinda managed to do both...kinda lol. This was fun to do :) Sorry in advance for the bad puns.

writing prompts

“Detention? Again?”

“Look, I can explain.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and sat back on her bed, too tired to stand up and listen to what Percy had to say, most likely.

“Sure you can.”

They’d been Iris Messaging for a few minutes now. Percy, exhausted from a day of school and homework, had taken the first chance off to fish out a drachma from his drawer and call one of the people he’d missed most since the summer.

It had slipped his mind that New York and San Francisco had different time zones. But luckily, Annabeth was still awake. He’d found her in her bedroom, curls pulled into a messy bun and eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as she read some textbook, still studying for the exam she’d talked about a week ago.

Despite her initial complaints about Percy interrupting her, he knew that she didn’t mind.

“So?” she asked, bringing him back to the present.

She pulled her legs under her and stared at him expectantly.

He blinked. “Huh?”

She raised an eyebrow, and Percy thought—in the back of his mind—that she looked unfairly pretty. At night, with the fairy lights illuminating her hair and her face, like an angel.

“Why’d you get detention?”

“Oh. That.”

“Yes, Seaweed Brain. That.”

“Uhm…” Percy scratched the back of his neck. “It’s kind of a funny story, I um…”

“Spit it out.”

Now that he thought about it, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Maybe he should’ve thought this through, to avoid any arguments. Or confrontations. Or another cold shoulder. They weren’t as awkward now that the school year had started, but the mention of her always put Annabeth on edge, anyway.

“You see, I was with, uh...Rachel.”

He paused, noticing the way she gripped her textbook tighter, slightly wrinkling the pages.

Why did I think this was a good idea? Stupid.

“I was with Rachel, and she sort of, um...” he laughed nervously, already cringing. “Made a bet?”

Technically, he’d made the bet. But that wasn’t important for Annabeth to know.

/

Chemistry, in Percy’s opinion, was the most boring class Goode had to offer. Useless. Irrelevant.

Confusing, most of all.

At least he was partners with Rachel. It was one of the few classes they had together. They sat at the very back, so they were rarely noticed anyway, mostly spending the forty five minutes of lectures about chemical equations doing little drawing games on their notebooks and playing hangman. Percy lost most of the time.

The teacher wasn’t that great, either. Most of the school knew her as Mrs. Jones. She was a short lady in her late sixties with thin, badly dyed hair who had a concerning addiction to gum—so to Percy and Rachel���she was known as Mrs. Gum-Gum. She turned to the board for some explanation that Percy had completely lost interest on since the first five minutes of class. Rachel let out a low moan, hands on her forehead.

“Kill me now,” she muttered.

“Sorry, I can’t. My sword doesn’t work on you.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, leaning backwards and tilting his chair. “I know.”

She hit him in the shin. “You’re going to fall one of these days, and the class will never let you forget it.”

“Eh,” Percy shrugged. “At least they’d get a laugh and you wouldn’t be so bored.”

Her green eyes twinkled with humor like she’d just remembered something. She snorted. “Okay. So this one time, a girl was doing the same thing as you, leaning back and all—and she like, fell. It was hilarious, because she just lay there, with her feet in the air.”

“Rachel Dare,” Gum-Gum called, narrowed eyes cast on them. She kind of sounded like a wounded hyena, in his humble opinion. “I sure hope you and Mr. Jackson are discussing the worksheet that I gave out.”

Rachel nodded and threw her a thumbs up, while Percy held a fist to his mouth to stop the smile forming on his face. Gum-Gum left her alone and went back to her lecture.

The class kept its monotone routine of worksheets and notes, so as a distraction, Rachel grabbed his arm and popped the lids off her sharpies, drawing little figurines. She was on his second tattoo when an idea came to him.

“Hey, Rach?” he whispered, making sure the teacher was facing the board.

“Hmm.”

“We should play truth or dare.”

She grabbed the green marker and spread the ink from side to side across his skin. “Mmm...No.”

“Come on,” he whined. “I’m bored.”

“Yeah, but we’ve done truth or dare so many times now. It’s gotten old. Besides, you’re such a pussy.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are. Remember that time I dared you to eat the gum from under the seat?”

Percy made a face. “That was so fucking gross. Nobody in their right mind would’ve done that. Maybe Mrs. Gum-Gum, but I am not on her level.”

“I figured, after you blatantly refused. And then there’s the time when I dared you to kiss Mary Andrews. On the cheek. And you couldn’t do it.”

“Oh my gods, I can’t just kiss girls. That’s leading them on.”

She exhaled, long and deep and stared at him as if he were a lost cause. “Okay. Whatever.”

She went back to drawing on his arm.

“If anyone’s the pussy right now,” he whispered. “It’s you.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. You just wish you were as marginally cool as me.”

“Um...Then why won’t you play truth or dare?”

“Like I said: bo-ring.” She leaned closer to his arm, creating tiny details with the thinner side of the sharpie. “And don’t tell me I don’t do the dares, ‘cause I do. My last name’s Dare, after all. It would be a complete dishonor.”

“How long have you waited to say that?”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know. Now hold still. You’d look good with tattoos, by the way.”

He sighed. Okay, fine. She had a point, he wasn’t that great at doing “cool” stuff, likely because he was traumatized by the getting-kicked-out-of-schools thing he had going for him. You know, maybe it was that.

As Percy watched her work with her sharpies, he realized: maybe there was a way to prove to her that he could do daring stuff. A once in a lifetime thing. And in the process, he could make her smile.

“Fine,” he said. “If you don’t wanna do something, then let’s make a bet.”

“Depends on what you want to bet on, but go on.”

“How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

The read-head stopped creating the swirly lines of the little wave she’d been working on, making his skin tingle from the loss of the pointy marker. She lifted her freckled face, watching him with raised eyebrows.

“Nah, you don’t have the guts.”

“Psh. ‘Course I do. I’m Percy Jackson.”

“Ohhh! Percy Jackson. I’m Rachel Dare, nice to meet you.” She lifted her hand like she wanted Percy to shake it.

He slapped it away. “Shut up. I can totally do it.”

“Do you not care about getting in trouble with dear ol’ Gum-Gum?”

“I’ll make it seem like an accident.”

“Nothing you do seems like an accident to teachers.”

“Good point. Still be worth it, though.” He lowered his voice even further. “Besides, I gotta prove to you that I can do cool stuff.”

Rachel snorted. “Now I could literally ask you to do drugs and you’d do it, apparently. Peer pressure is a dangerous thing, my dude.”

He grinned. “And I want your money. You’re like, rich, Dare.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Jackson.”

“No problem.”

Gum-Gum shot them an admonishing look, and they pretended to do their work.

“So,” she said after a few seconds passed. “How much money?”

“I knew you could work with me.”

“Ugh, I’m getting second thoughts from your dramatism.”

“You love it.”

They held gazes, green on green. Rachel narrowed hers and sighed. 

“Again, how much money?”

Percy shrugged. “You decide.”

“Fine.” She flipped some of her fiery curls over her shoulder. “I’m betting on a hundred bucks.”

He whistled under his breath. “Damn. You want me to do it that badly?”

“I do want to see everyone’s reaction to Percy Jackson losing his shit.” He shoved her, but she continued. “Especially Gum-Gum’s. But I know we’re getting in trouble, so we might as well go all out. What? It’s true! But at least you’d get your money.”

Percy shook his head. He’d probably regret this later.

Then he thought, what would Annabeth think?

But he couldn't dwell too much on that. At least it would be funny.

“We need to clear the desk, though.”

“Duh.”

So they worked, as quietly and discreetly as they could. When they’d finished, Percy turned to Rachel and nodded. She put a hand against her mouth to muffle her laughter.

On the third count, he flipped the desk. The table crashed with a resonating bang.

Rachel leaned backwards and let out a sound of surprise, probably because she’d half speculated that he wouldn’t pull through with it in the first place.

Immediately, everyone craned their heads to the back of the room. Some jumped at the sound. Others gasped or snickered, especially at the sight of Mrs. Gum-Gum. She yelped and dropped her marker, slapping a hand to her chest and retreating a few steps as if she were about to go into cardiac arrest.

“Percy Jackson!”

He winced a bit, but all in all, he thought he was keeping a straight face. But then he caught onto Rachel’s expression, arms crossed. He doubted they’d get off freely, just as she’d said.

/

As they shouldered their backpacks, heading for room 1345—detention—Rachel slipped her hand in the pocket of her paint-splattered uniform skirt.

“I didn’t know I had the money with me, but it seems as though he fates are in your favor, Jackson,” she said, taking the dollar bills from her pocket and handing them to him. They both knew all too well that she didn’t care for it. Daddy issues, he recalled.

Percy raised his eyebrow. “Thanks, Rach. Now, I can finally buy a new skateboard.”

“Nice to know that this was worth it.”

“Especially since now you have to do something...daring.”

She tapped her index finger to her temple mockingly. “Oh, I see. That’s why you wanted to do that bet. So then we could be on even ground.”

“Do you agree, Dare?”

“My gods, you’re so corny. But sure. Though let's not get ourselves a detention pass the next time, hmm? I feel bad for you. How many have you gotten this semester?” She clicked her tongue. “What will your mom say?”

1343, 1344 ... 1345. This was the place. Through the window, he could see many of the students already settling in, giving the teacher the strip of paper that he and Rachel had in their pockets.

He exhaled. “I don’t want to think about Mom just yet. But honestly, I don’t mind detention. And I don’t think she would, either. Better than getting kicked out.”

“Mmhmm. And I don’t really mind spending some more quality time with you. Even if we get in trouble, I kinda think you’re nice to be around, Jackson.” She smiled and held her arm out for him to pass. For some reason, that comment made his chest feel warm and fuzzy. “Gentlemen first.”

“Isn’t it ladies first?”

“Chivalry is dead. Now go on.” She nodded towards the door. “I like being fashionably late.”

“And you say I’m the dramatic one,” he grumbled.

[legendaryorangeloot]

Collarbone

The moon is just cresting the horizon when I reach South City. Its cool light pulls on the roots of my hair, makes my teeth itch. I spent all day today goofing off at work, pacing like a bored zoo animal. These feast days are so rare, and my excitement hangs in the air like charged particles before a lightning strike.

And now it's time.

The moon fills my heart with a ferocious lust, buoying me up as I let my long, loping stride eat up the Gravois pavement. I can hear the music at Greatness already. I go there "straight" a few nights a week, let myself be seen. I'm a regular. I even dated the previous bartender, learned the cameras, the exit routes, the watching spots, the nearby alleys. Greatness is my garden, and I tend it carefully.

I like it because it attracts normal boys. They're sweet in a way you don't have to take seriously, smart in a way that never threatens you. They tend to have carefully-groomed hair, endearing sincerity, and well-marbled flesh.

Not all the produce is sweet, though. When I transform, I'm little—more coyote than wolf, more coydog than coyote. All-black, bristle-brush fur; pricked ears that make me look smart and alert. A dog you'd take home with you if it followed you down the street. I grew to trust the bartender, the first relationship I'd had. Born of necessity or not, I thought it would be forever. He was wild, too, in his own all-human way, and loved my secret. But it was because he had his own. One night, without warning or consent, he leaned over me, whispered in my alert black ear as he sank into my body, "I wanted you the second I saw you like this. You're the sexiest dog I ever fucked."

I like to think that he saw the sorrow in my eyes as I turned my head and clamped his trachea shut with my strong, strong jaws. It was intimate, almost erotic. For minutes he fought, thrashing, sweaty, nude, his erection waning, waxing, finally waning forever once I began to eat his throat, and all his blood left his body and soaked into his bed. His teeth felt like tiny hard candies to my canine senses. When I ripped out his tongue at the root and savored it bite by bite, I imagined I could taste everything he'd ever tasted, somehow stored within the muscle he'd used to gain my trust.

But that time is not this time. That time was just the first, and now the kills are deliciously unadulterated by love or regret.

As I near the bar door, I put on the right personality – wild, but not vicious. Available, but not easy. Challenging, but harmless. I check my reflection in an antique-shop window to make sure all this personality-shifting hasn't affected my shape.

Without careful control, sometimes you'll think "act harmless" and the power inside you makes it mean "look smaller, look younger". I have nothing but careful control. There are a few other people with the power to change into a wolf, a specific wolf that looks rather like their human form, but I have finesse that they can only dream of. I can play this body like one of those expensive synthesizers with all the sliders and knobs, as long as the form is human, canine, or both. And I work at my craft, mostly preferring the wholly-unnatural, anthropomorphic, six-foot-tall "wolfman" shape, complete with the goofy clawed hands and feet. What can I say? They're useful, if hideous, constructions. Second choice: a real wolf, a timber wolf, huge. The kind you see in nature documentaries, every hair in place, unmistakably lupine.

I am so proud of all the carefully-sculpted forms that I feel vaguely ashamed of my natural one. Not the average-build, solidly-muscled human one, with the deeply tanned olive skin and the untameable black curls, but the real one, the one that looks half-coyote, half-Schipperke. It was the thing I was most embarrassed to show the bartender, the boyfriend, even after he'd seen me as a slavering movie-monster nonsense beast a dozen times. He saw my true form and thought me weak, small, fuckable. A dog.

But now his opinion is gone, digested, and irrelevant, because I am alone, and I am hungry.

I won't lie and say I notice you across a crowded room. That when I walk in, all the other people fade away. That it is lust at first sight. No, you escape first notice in an inoffensive way, a practiced way. You're a listener, I can tell. You move your eyebrows involuntarily when you're eavesdropping. Wolf-creature that I am, I can't tolerate eye contact, but I do watch those charming brows from the corner of my eye.

I sit at the bar and chat amiably with a girl I kind-of know, at a volume I know is audible to you. I surreptitiously look at you while you're not looking. You're lovely. You're rakish, scruffy, endearingly asymmetrical around the eyes. Your gestures all speak volumes. You even smoke adorably, like you learned it much too early.

My story for tonight, my bait, cast out into the noise of the bar: recent breakup, broken heart, need distraction. It's a hard one to turn down, I've found. Your brows go up minutely on "distraction". I know you think you know what I mean, and it will make the eventual reveal that much more satisfying.

I contain my eyeteeth before they can visibly lengthen, because that's a rookie mistake, but, oh, how I want them to be longer. I want them that much closer to your skin. I can imagine how it will taste, all sweat and smoke, the fine hairs crumpling under my rough tongue, the restraint I'll have to exert when I use just the sharp, sharp points to tease the first bite.

I let my kind-of friend talk at me about her kids, her day, her husband. But what I'm thinking about is where I'll start on you. Your loose plaid shirt reveals the edge of your clavicle, and the sight of it has my mouth watering in an instant. It's been so long. I'm torn between speeding things up by making the first move, and resisting the temptation to rush through this sensual experience you and I are going to share.

I never could resist temptation.

You're writing in a notepad, so this is an easy introduction: "Whatcha' writing?" I try for "chipper, good-natured interest", but lust makes it come out more "sultry purr". I don't think you mind. You're falling all over yourself to answer, the love of your work and your obvious interest in me giving you a puppylike eagerness that I instantly adore, and preemptively mourn.

I listen, mostly. You're a writer; you write. In conversation, you do the same kind of IQ-gauging I did in my human dating life, throwing out a breadcrumb trail of wordplay that gets progressively more challenging. I do understand, and I laugh at the right times, I let our eyes meet for spare milliseconds so you know I understand. I parry back, I surprise a few laughs out of you. I play off of your self-deprecating humor, testing your boundaries for submission, loving what I find.

But my brain really isn't in peak wordplay condition. I just want you now. I want the moment when I gently bite the skin above your collarbone. I want to hear you gasp and moan, hear that unnameable noise-with-an-edge when you feel my real teeth, hear your hazy excitement bloom into bright fear as you realize what will happen next. I want that first bite, the crunch of that beautiful, delicate bird bone against my incisors, and the next bite, and the next. When we're done, I want the walls to double as a red Rorshach test. I want to make the crime scene techs vomit.

You compliment my loud sudden bark of a laugh, and for once, maybe for the first time ever, I am genuinely flattered. I feel like I probably shouldn't give you the compliment I thought of in return, which is: "That made me like you so much that I want to find out what you taste like." But then I say it anyway, and you blush, and I imagine licking your cheek hard enough to burst some superficial capillaries, imagine tasting everything about you, even your embarrassment.

Even though I've laid out a welcome mat for you between my thighs, you still just talk to me, still treat me like a person. It throws me a bit at first, but I figure we have all night. There are drinks and jokes. We tell stories that quickly get more and more personal. I find out about your parents, your brother, your wonderfully strange upbringing. I tell you some carefully-censored tales of living in rural Texas. I tell you a completely-false story of how I got my completely-true nickname, "The Terror of Bulverde". To make up for the lies, I tell you the real true truth of how much I love my family.

The conversation is weirdly nourishing on its own, and the bottles of Shiner are cold and remind me of home. You talk with your hands more and more as you get drunker, and my accent gets stronger and stronger as I exercise my rarely-used human voice. We laugh at ourselves, how ridiculous it all is, can you believe we've never met before, it feels like I've known you forever.

Next thing I know, we're being shooed out of the bar at closing time, and you're suddenly serious when you ask me if I'm sober. I say "As a goddamn judge," solemnly, but my accent is all the way up to 11, and we grin at each other stupidly. You invite me over, and I had almost forgotten that this was the whole point, that this was the endgame. I'll get to still those talking hands, eat them from fingers to palm, bathe my muzzle in your well-educated brain, see if I gain your powers when I consume your heart. I've already made up my mind not to waste one single bit of your beautiful body. I'm going to den up in your house for days, gorging myself until you're gone.

I don't care that everyone saw us leave together. I am Icarus, my wolf-wings melting in proximity to your purely-human kindness. This kind of sentimentality is what gets creatures like me killed, I remind myself. But then you take my hand, gently, and I feel like I should go confess my crimes and be skinned for a coat. Or, given my absolute size, some kind of shawl. Your gentleness is both warming me and burning me alive. I wonder to myself if this is what hard drugs feel like. Drugs don't really work on werewolves. The drug that you are is working on this werewolf, though.

We stop several times on the walk to your apartment to shove each other into little alleys, indented doorways, and once, accidentally, a shrub, and we make out like it's the last thing we'll ever do, which seems appropriate to the occasion. You kiss like you talk: not a monologue, but a friendly give-and-take, with your hands frequently involved. We crack jokes continuously, and interrupt each other, and play-fight, and the feel of your wiry muscles and their light shield of fat under my play-punches makes my stomach rumble. The moon is full, and fully out, and I know I've let my hair lengthen, and that my eyes are probably less human-looking than I'd like, by now.

On your doorstep, fiddling with the key and lock, you tell me that I don't have to sleep with you, that if I'm too drunk, that if I have reconsidered, you won't be upset. I ignore you and step over the threshold and start undressing before you've even closed the door behind us. For a second, you look as though perhaps you aren't sure if you're awake or asleep.

We race to the bed, shedding clothing, and you practically pounce on me, not predatory, but playful, and we forgot to turn on any lights, and it's so exciting and I'm so hungry I think I might die. Your hands are everywhere on my body, always followed closely by your mouth, and that, and everything I can touch on your body, and every glimpse of you I catch, lit by the wan streetlight, is making me want you more than I thought was possible.

And I am somehow in your lap, and you're a much larger person than I thought you were, or maybe I've gotten smaller, and the next thing I know I'm me, the real me, the little black wolf, just muscle and fur and teeth, and I'm sinking those white, white teeth deep into the soft, beautiful junction of your neck and chest. And I didn't even give myself time to appreciate it, but here we are, and here's that bone I wanted, crunched to pieces, half-eaten already. And your look of shock and betrayal and realization makes your bone and flesh curdle in my jaws, but it's too late to put it back.

We freeze this way. It's a Moment, one that feels like we exist outside of time, yet we don't; the seconds are marked by the rapid pulsing of your blood onto the sheets, onto the floor, your delightful soft-pink skin paling before my eyes.

And you say, plaintively, "I thought you liked me." I am consumed by regret, it's a pyre, I'm being burned at the stake by a single sentence, and the pain makes me desperate for a solution, until I realize I may have one. Just one. My shape shifts without conscious thought to some kind of confused dog-with-hands, but I use them to shove whatever fabric I have near me against the wound at your throat, and press down hard. I bite the inside of my cheek and hot blood wells there instantly, mixing with the remnants of yours in my mouth. You're so, so smart that even near-exsanguination can't keep you from figuring out what I'm doing. You look by turns terrified, hopeful, disgusted.

I bring my lips to yours and try to will whatever particle transmits lycanthropy into my mouth's blood, hoping this is really how the process works. You look ill. You look bloodless. You pass out, and I'm left holding my discarded shirt against your fatal wound, and remembering how to pray: god if you just let him heal just let him live he will figure this out I will make it up to him I will make it up to you I will go and sin no more oh please, oh please, oh please

Epilogue

The bizarre, crushed-looking scar atop your torso always elicits questions you can't answer truthfully when you're naked with other people. The bone never grows back, and your new physiology prevents an implant or a surgical fix. You'll never need to see a doctor again. You might live to be hundreds of years old. No one knows our potential lifespan. No one knows anything about us.

You seem to take it all in stride, telling one woman it's where you were hit with a warhammer, telling another man it's from a skydiving accident. It makes you very mysterious and intriguing, and the gossip about you is always entertaining, if painful, to overhear.

You say you forgive me, and maybe, since you've now experienced numerous full moons yourself, felt what I felt that night, you mean it. But you've never hurt a soul. I selfishly infected you with a kind of insanity, and you infected me with your gentleness, your curse of caring about others. So I skulk around the edges of your life, and I bring you raw red beef and whole chickens and half the rabbits I catch each month. We never speak, or kiss, and I never, ever look you in the eye.

[vnderoos]

because ❁ peter parker

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language, burns/injuries, an argument. word count / 4.5k

masterlist in bio. ↴

⠀⠀⠀⠀Y/N DRUMMED THE bright blue eraser cap on the end of her pencil against her bottom lip as her eyes scanned lazily over the words of her history textbook. Her free hand was tucked beneath her elbow, supporting her weight as she laid stomach-down on the bottom of Peter's bunk bed. She kicked her feet behind her absentmindedly, her sock-clad feet brushing against each other from time to time, and she reread the same page in her textbook for what felt like the millionth time that night. She was bored out of her mind—which just so happened to be wide awake, buzzing with irrelevant details about Peter's room or thinking about what she wanted for breakfast the next morning.

Usually, Peter held the responsible role in their friendship, which shouldn't come as a surprise to anybody. He always found a way to keep her on topic and keep her interested when they had their little study sessions together. At the moment, Y/N and Peter were supposed to be filling out a chart on the effect that reservations and relocation had on Native Americans in the nineteenth century, but duty had called.

And Peter had answered that call by jumping out of the window in a blue and red suit.

Y/N looked up from the textbook and sighed, rubbing her eyes, which were stinging with exhaustion, tiredly with her index fingers. She took a glance at the half-finished diagram, skimming over the messy scrawls of information and the mediocre drawings of main ideas, and rolled her eyes to herself.

She was getting tired and frankly quite bored without Peter there to keep her company.

Sitting alone and working nonstop for the worst class of all time sucked—big time—and at this point, she really didn't want to keep working on that stupid chart, but with Peter running around as Spider-Man and delivering swift kicks in the ass to whatever bad guy he'd heard about on his police scanner, she felt like doing this one assignment without him was necessary. She felt like she owed him as much.

She let her forehead fall against the sleek pages of the book with a thud and she sighed dramatically, but before she could even think about sitting back up and continuing to work, the fire escape rattled from outside of Peter's window.

Her head shot up in an instant and she rolled off of her stomach and into a sitting position, training her eyes on the glass. She was confused, at first, but it faded when Peter—well, Spider-Man—came into her view, tapping his red, gloved fingers against the glass so she'd unlock the window and let him inside.

She furrowed her eyebrows at him and slid off of the end of his bunk bed, standing in the space between his bed and the wall. She flipped the latches on the window and helped him slide it open. "Hey, Y/N, look— oh, fuck," he cursed, something that wasn't as rare as people liked to think, as he tripped over the windowsill on his way inside, stumbling forward in a motion that was almost cartoony.

He would've smacked into Y/N if she didn't step out of the way and let him bonk against his metal bed frame instead. "Easy, tiger," she teased and laughed softly to herself, knowing he was unfazed by the little collision. Her eyes mulled over his head and she half-expected a pulsing lump to sprout beneath his mask and poke out from his forehead, but it didn't.

Peter shook his head, shaking off her comment and any other trace of his fumble. "Y/N/N, I feel horrible," he told her, his chest brushing against hers in a fleeting motion as he slid past her. He now stood in the center of his bedroom, his body turned towards her, where he dug the palms of his hands into his eyes through the material of his mask. She didn't need to see his face to know that his eyes were screwed shut and his nose was scrunched up beyond belief. He tended to do that whenever he felt guilty about something. "I know what you're thinking, right now, and I'm so sorry. I know told you I'd be back sooner, believe me, but there was this guy, right? I thought it was gonna be just another mugging or robbery or something, but this dude was literally on fire and I just— God, I'm so sorry, Y/N. Just let me do the rest of it, okay?" He rambled, pulling on the hem of his mask uncomfortably.

For the first time since he'd crawled through his window, Peter turned his back to Y/N. His arms were raised and his fingers fumbled with the edge of his mask, leaving his sides completely exposed, and Y/N gasped.

The fabric of the Spidey suit had been seared away from the subcostal area of the left side of his body up to the center of his shoulder blades and patches of raw, bloody, knotted skin were on display in its place. There was a long cut near the small of his back, slanting downwards and even ripping a centimeter or so into the waistband of Peter's boxer shorts. "Oh, my God," she mumbled, her eyes flitting over his form as she tried to gauge how bad the damage was.

"What?" Peter hummed in a way-too-cheery tone, playing clueless. She noticed the difficulty in his movements as he finally decided to pull his mask off, a mess of sweaty, chocolatey curls spilling out over the top of his head. She would've swooned if he hadn't been absolutely mangled, but he was, so she watched as he tossed the mask onto the top of his dresser instead.

Peter peeked back at her over his shoulder.

Y/N knew that the look was meant to be comforting and nonchalant, to show her that he was completely fine, and maybe it would've worked if it weren't for the cloud of blue-blacks and deep purples swirling on his cheekbones or the swollen split on the right side of his bottom lip. "Oh, my God, Peter," she repeated, her voice rising in surprise, and her heart clenched up inside of her chest. "What the hell happened?" She asked, her heart suddenly whirring in her chest as she studied him.

The sheepish quirk of his lips as he turned away nearly went unnoticed as he turned his head away from her once more. He stepped towards his dresser, fishing around for a pair of clean clothes. She could tell that Peter was nervous because instead of tossing an outfit out, his fingers thumbed over the knobs and he opened and closed his drawers repeatedly. "He just caught me off guard," he mumbled, finally reaching in and grabbing a pair of black joggers and a gray t-shirt.

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, fighting every urge inside of her that told her to run to Peter and wrap her arms around him. "He caught you off guard? Peter, he really hurt you," she countered, her chest tightening as the burn on his back stretched as he moved to put his clothes down and stand.

"It looks worse than it is," Peter said casually, brushing off the subject. "It's late, though, so I think you should— um, I think you need to go home. I'm gonna rest tonight, but I'll finish the assignment tomorrow, okay?" He told her, his hands coming to curl around her biceps. He turned her around in his hands and he began to lead her towards his bedroom door, but she resisted, shaking her head profusely.

Of course, this would be the moment he tried to shoo her away. Every time he got hurt like this and she was around and she got worried, he seemed to just freak. He'd flip some invisible switch and suddenly, he wouldn't want her there anymore.

But she wasn't leaving.

Not this time.

Y/N shimmied out of his grasp and spun around to look at him, disbelief splattering across her features. "Are you kidding me? No, Pete," she protested, holding her arms up to keep him from trying to kick her out again. "I don't care about the stupid assignment, but I am not leaving you right now." She pressed a hand to his chest, extremely gently, so she wouldn't hurt him if he was bruised in places she couldn't see, and she guided him back over to his dresser. "Let me help," she said in a voice barely louder than a whisper and she looked up into his warm eyes.

"Y/N—" Peter started to argue, rolling his eyes at her stubbornness, but she cut him off.

"You don't have to do this alone, just let me help you," she pleaded and she could see the crumbling of his resolve in his facial features.

Finally, he nodded and his shoulders sank like the tension in them seemed to just dissolve into thin air. "I'll heal soon, anyways, so it's pointless, but fine," he muttered.

"It's not pointless. You're hurt now, so you should be taken care of now," she argued. Her eyes fluttered from his eyes to his chest, skimming over the black emblem in the center. Her eyes traced the legs of the spider logo before her gaze slowly crawled back up to his. "What kind of underwear are you wearing?" She asked randomly, her voice a bit quiet as the question was a little odd.

She couldn't fight the small smile that slipped onto her lips as Peter's cheeks flushed an instant red. "I..." He trailed off when he noticed that his voice was abnormally high and he played it off with a nervous laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. He took a step away from her and averted his gaze, focusing it on his lamp. "I'm not telling you that." There was still an uncomfortable curve to the smile that graced his pink lips and his voice decently quieter than it should've been.

Y/N rolled her eyes and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Just answer the question, Parker," she urged, cocking her head to the side as she waited for his answer.

Peter made a fist with one of his hands, bringing it up to his mouth. He coughed into it and cleared his throat, glancing down at her with his honeyed gaze, and she lifted an eyebrow at him. "Boxers, but I—"

Without another word, she moved to stand directly in front of him, so close that his breath fanned over the hair on the top of her head, and she pressed her fingers against the spider in the center of his chest, effectively cutting him off. "That's good, Pete. I was just wanted to be prepared in case I had to look at your ass when I took your suit off," she explained, teasing him slightly.

Though his cheeks were still as red as a tomato, he feigned a look of hurt and she could see the twinges of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "I'm kind of offended," he mock-admitted and her cool fingertips brushed against the skin of his collarbone as she began to gently strip his suit off of his shoulders. He tried to hide the way his breath caught in his throat by turning his head away from her. "I'd like to think my ass is pretty nice, actually," he joked.

Y/N touched her hands to his hips and he jumped slightly at the feeling, earning a small laugh from her before she coaxed him to turn his back to her. "Oh, nice is such an understatement," she retaliated, continuing to carry on with the half-serious banter as she slowly pulled his suit down his back. The fabric around his burns seemed melted to his skin, so she was trying to be extra gentle around that area. "It could win awards, honestly, but I don't need any distractions," she hummed playfully and Peter inhaled sharply when she attempted to peel away a strip of blue that seemed like it'd seared itself to his skin. "I'm sorry," she whispered quickly and she pulled her hand away, looking up at the back of his head. Her heart sank with guilt that she'd put him in more pain, even though she hadn't intended to.

"Don't be, just... keep me distracted, please?" He asked her, peeking at her over his shoulder and she nodded.

"Yeah, of course," she agreed quietly and she went back to slowly separating his suit from his blood-coated skin. She tried to do it with as much care as she could find inside of herself, but Peter still squirmed slightly beneath her touch. "It's, uh, it's so weird that you're Spider-Man."

Usually, Y/N had no problem thinking of topics to talk about with Peter, but now, instead of having the conversation flow naturally, she struggled to think of something that would distract him.

Hence the subject of his alternate identity.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, it's totally cool, it's just," she paused, shrugging her shoulders, "weird, I guess."

"How so?" Peter asked before Y/N wedged her finger beneath a flap of fabric and tugged it from his skin in one quick motion. She could almost feel his discomfort as his body jerked forward, his shoulders pushing back and his head tilting upwards as he hissed through the pain. "Jesus," he spat through gritted teeth and he balled his hands up into fists.

Y/N muttered a quiet apology, before getting back to work. To keep him distracted, she shrugged her shoulders at his question. "I don't know. It just seems so unlikely, but it makes a lot of sense at the same time. I mean, there's a part of you that's so shy around new people and you fumble a lot—which I think is adorable, don't get me wrong," she said, glancing up at the back of his head for a split second. "But there's another part of you that has this kind of fire, this passion, about helping people that makes it so much more believable," she elaborated slightly. "Honestly, I get blown away when I think of you as Spider-Man, though. It's strange to think of my sweet, science-loving best friend swinging around the city and beating up bad guys in his spare time."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Peter said, staying as still as he could while she pried his suit off of his back. "I never thought that I'd go from working on models of the solar system to fighting crime, but now that I have these powers and now that I'm helping people," he stopped, fixing his gaze on his feet, "I never want to go back to knowing what it's like to not be saving people."

She cracked a tiny smile at his answer because she hadn't expected any less from him. It was cute how heroic he was. "No surprise there," she told him, peeling off the last strip of his suit and helping him slide it down his arms. "What about when stuff like this happens, though?" She asked, referring to his injuries. "Don't you start to feel like the cons are greater than the pros?"

Peter shook his head. "No, never. This is what I'm here for," he confessed. "I don't just have powers just to have them. They were given to me for a reason and this is it," he answered. "This is that reason," he emphasized.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows slightly and took a step away from him, giving him the room he needed to hop out of his suit and slide on a pair of joggers. "You were given your powers because you thought it would be fun to play with a radioactive spider on a field trip," she told him sternly, unable to mask the sudden annoyance that prickled underneath her skin. Maybe she was being overprotective or maybe she was right to get upset about his blatant disregard for his own safety, but she didn't dwell on justifying her concern as she moved to grab the first aid kit that he kept underneath his bed.

He looked over his shoulder, a playful smile on his lips like he didn't quite grasp the fact that the mood in the atmosphere had shifted. Y/N sat down on top of his mattress with the green supply box settled on her lap. "I didn't know it was radioactive at the time," he protested gently and he sat down beside her.

"Either way, you weren't gifted these powers, Peter," she responded harsher than she meant to and she could see the lighthearted expression in his face falter. "You tripped into this responsibility on accident and now, you're stuck risking your life every time there's a threat in the city." Y/N jerked open the first aid kit with more force than she anticipated and the top flew open with a noisy click, tossing a few bandaids out onto her lap.

"Like I said earlier, that's what—" He started, but Y/N cut him off. She grabbed the bandaids angrily and slammed them back into the box.

"That's not what you're here for, Peter," She blurted, her voice rising slightly. "You're here to live your life, not get yourself killed because you can't stay out of everyone else's business," she argued, meeting his gaze for a solid few seconds in order to get her point across. When Peter shook his head softly, when his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and when he finally seemed to get that she was upset, that was when she decided to thumb through the medical supplies for some hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls.

"So, what? Are you trying to say that you wish I wasn't Spider-Man?" Peter asked, his easy tone of voice growing prickly and defensive.

"No, I'm trying to say that you could've died tonight. I'm saying be careful. Learn when to walk away," she chastised, pulling a dark bottle and a few cotton wads out of the bin and moving to sit behind him. There was a brief lull of silence as she opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and started to dab it on his wounds.

Y/N had made it perfectly clear that she'd been growing more and more irritated with him as they spoke, but she wasn't going to let her negativity get in the way of her taking care of her best friend.

She swallowed thickly and dropped her hand for a moment. "I mean, Peter, you fought someone who was on fire, for crying out loud. What made you think that was even a remotely good idea?"

At that Peter stood up off of his bed and stepped forward, out of the reach of her helping hands, and he turned to face her. "I don't know, alright? In the moment I wasn't thinking. All I wanted to do was to save somebody. All I ever want to do is save people, Y/N/N, and if that means risking it all, if that means that I have to—"

It was like a switch flipped somewhere inside of her.

"Shut up," she snapped at him with a harshness she'd never shown him before—that she'd rarely shown anyone before—and it stopped him cold in his sentence.

His eyebrows perked up in surprise and his lips parted slightly. "What?" He nearly-whispered, a mixture of hurt and confusion seeping onto his facial features.

Y/N moved the first aid kit to the side and stood up slowly. "Shut up, Parker," she said and, this time, the volume of her voice had dropped. Her voice was so quiet that it barely beat a whisper, but somehow the emotions behind her words still dug into his skin like talons. "I know what you're gonna say and I don't even want to hear the words come out of your mouth." She could feel her body temperature rising, the heat bubbling up in her blood. She clenched her fists at her sides so hard that they began to tremble. "If you end up dead, we don't know what this city will come to, so you don't get to be stupid, Peter. You can't just go after the damn Fire-Boy, okay? Not when shooting webs is your power," she told him, her voice gradually rising as she spoke to him. "You could've died, Pete, do you even understand that?" She was practically shouting at this point. "He could've killed you!"

Peter shook his head and tugged a hand through his mess of sweaty curls. "I know, okay?" Peter said abruptly, straightening himself up and throwing his head back for a moment. "I get it. I screwed up, alright? Can we just stop talking about this, Y/N?" He continued in an attempt to end the argument, obviously not interested in fighting with her.

"No, Peter," Y/N answered, shooting him an incredulous look as she tried her hardest to understand why he didn't seem to care about what could happen to him. "If we don't talk about this now, then you're just gonna go and hurt yourself again. What if you don't make it through the next fight, Pete? What if you don't make it home?" She asked him, her eyes searing into his own, and she took a small step forward.

Peter scoffed. "So what if I don't make it home, Y/N/N?" He retaliated bitterly. "Why do you even care, anyways?" He shouted, throwing one of his arms out for emphasis.

That pushed Y/N over the edge.

"Why do I— Peter, are you fucking stupid?" She yelled, knowing she was crossing so many lines, but at this rate, the lines were so far behind her that it didn't even matter anymore. "We've been friends since we were toddlers. I've known you my entire goddamn life. I literally can't imagine a time where I didn't have you. I've always had you, Peter," Y/N cried out. "We've always had each other."

"Why does that matter?" He called, completely disregarding the fact that he knew it would hurt her. And it did. It was like taking a baseball bat to a windshield; she shattered into a thousand different pieces. "If I died, it would be to save people and I think that's worth it. That's why I'm doing this in the first place!"

Y/N clenched and unclenched her fists, a tight knot forming in the back of her throat. "Well, I don't think it's worth it!" She shouted, pointing one of her fingers at her chest. "If you died, my life would fall apart. I can't—" she stopped talking, her voice cracking over a wave of tears, and she shook her head. "I can't lose you, Peter," she confessed, her voice practically a whimper.

He shifted his weight and an uncomfortable expression flashed across his face, but it was gone as soon as she blinked. "And why not, Y/N?" He mumbled, his eyes flickering over her own and his words quiet.

She shook her head softly, droplets of salty tears trickling down her cheeks. "Because you're my best friend. Because I care about you," she paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Because I love you, okay?" She blurted and Peter's eyebrows lifted as soon as the words left her lips. He opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it just as quickly.

Y/N's eyes went wide with the realization at what she'd just said and she brought her hands to cover her mouth. Oh, God. She'd fucked everything up, hadn't she? "Shit," she whispered, her palms sliding up to hide her burning cheeks, and she shook her head to herself. "I didn't mean to say that, it just kind of slipped out, I swear," she protested, drover hands falling back down to her sides and her thumbs starting to play with the back pockets of her jeans.

Peter staggered back towards his dresser slowly, bracing himself against the edge, and he looked at her, absolutely dumbfounded. He shook his head softly, still opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find something to say, but nothing came out. He wasn't saying anything and Y/N wanted nothing more than to not be there. The shocked expression on his face, the deep confusion, and the terrifying silence gave her the overwhelming urge to grab her things and take off running right then and there.

But she didn't.

She couldn't leave now that she'd said that. Not until she knew how he felt, too.

"Say something," she whispered. "Please," she begged, wanting to take a step closer to him but deciding against it. She opted for giving him a pleading look. She could see the movement of his throat as he swallowed thickly, before dragging his gloved hands over his face and through his hair. "Peter, this is killing me," she managed.

Peter shook his head and he pushed himself off of his dresser. He took the few steps until he was standing in front of her, his eyes meeting hers, and he brought his hands to cup her cheeks. "I love you, too, Y/N/N," he whispered, sending ripples of relief through her body, and before she had the chance to say anything else, he dipped his head down and gently fitted his lips to hers.

Y/N went rigid at first, too shocked to move, but as his soft lips sent rays of warmth through her body, she melted into the kiss, into him. Her eyelids fluttered shut and her hands moved to cup his jawline gently, her fingers brushing softly at the roots of the hair on the nape of his neck.

After a while, Peter pulled away from her, his thumbs sliding back and forth over her cheekbones affectionately and his cheeks burning a soft pink. She smiled nervously up at him, her lips puffy and red, and he wiped away what remained of the few tears she'd shed. "I'm sorry," he whispered quietly.

"For what?" She asked, letting her hands fall from his jaw and press cautiously against his chest instead.

He shrugged, his muscles moving beneath her fingertips. "For scaring you, for hurting you," he paused. "For everything, I guess," he confessed and he pushed a sigh through his lips.

"It's okay," she assured him, sliding her arms around his torso and pulling him into a hug. "Just be careful next time."

Peter nodded, accepting her into his arms and holding her against his chest. She placed her chin on top of his shoulder, leaning her head into the crook of his neck, and he squished his cheek against her hair. "I will," he agreed. "I promise," he added, before pecking the side of her head.

↴

author's note / i seriously had some issues writing this but i'm proud that i pulled through and finished it. i think it's decent, so i hope you enjoy it!

tag list / @umchrisevans @theofriendly

[pass-the-bechdel]

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, once.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Seven (30.43% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Sixteen.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

Significantly flawed, and well-known in fandom for it. Unpopular opinion? I still think it’s better than the first Avengers film.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Natasha and Laura pass in a single-line trade. It’s sooo close to not counting.

Female characters:

Natasha Romanoff.

Wanda Maximoff.

Maria Hill.

Helen Cho.

Peggy Carter.

Laura Barton.

FRIDAY.

Male characters:

Tony Stark.

Steve Rogers.

JARVIS.

Thor.

Clint Barton.

Strucker.

Pietro Maximoff.

Bruce Banner.

Ultron.

Sam Wilson.

James Rhodes.

Ulysses Klaue.

Heimdall.

Nick Fury.

Erik Selvig.

Vision.

OTHER NOTES:

Everyone talking about Strucker like we already know who he is...

The “Shit!”/”Language!” gag was funnier before they hung a lantern on it. Not least because it takes almost a full minute before Tony harks back to it (fifty seconds, actually. I checked). If you’re gonna make a Thing out of it, you gotta follow up immediately, not after fifty seconds of cutting around to different character intros and action shots and a whole lot of other dialogue. 

Urrgghh, ok, I’m going to break my standing rule about not discussing source material, because we gotta acknowledge the colossal wrongness of re-writing the Maximoff twins - canonically Jewish Romani - as willing volunteers in a Nazi science experiment. It gets worse the more you think about it. There are a few things about this movie which generated significant negative outcry, and this incredibly offensive decision is one of them.

Tony and Thor fighting over who has a better girlfriend does have a certain charm to it. If you’re gonna have a testosterone-off, it might as well be about how great your partner is.

I got a zero out of ten on this out-of-nowhere forced romance crap with Natasha and Bruce. We’ll come back to this later.

“I will be reinstituting Prima Nocta,” Tony declares, as he prepares to lift Thor’s hammer and thereby theoretically take charge of the Nine Realms. Primae noctis (believed to in fact be a myth) refers to a supposed Dark-Ages law that granted lords the ‘right’ to take the virginity of any newlywed peasant woman who lived on their land. So, this is a wonderful little rape joke from Tony (or, y’know, not so little, since primae noctis in reality would make Tony a serial rapist). Ha ha ha ha. Hilarious. Good one.

I’m really mad about the parts here that are total garbage, because mostly, the revels sequence has a nice low-key quality to it, good solid team dynamics. 

I can’t fucking believe that they played the ‘and then Bruce falls with his face in Natasha’s cleavage!’ gag. I cannot believe it. Is this a disgusting frat-boy comedy from the nineties?

Honestly, Tony, just shut up and admit that you KNEW from the get-go that it was wrong to try and make Ultron happen (that is why you kept it secret from everyone else to begin with); don’t try to defend the decision now that you’ve got a ‘murderbot’ on your hands. Take responsibility for a bad choice instead of talking shit about how you had to and everyone else is just too short-sighted, damn it! 

Andy Serkis is delightful.

The Iron Man/Hulk fight absolutely KILLS the momentum of this film. It goes for way the fuck too long (eight minutes) and has no narrative significance at all. Pro tip for action scenes: they should always be driving the story somewhere. You can pull off eighty minutes of action so long as your plot is advancing alongside/within it.

Also, Iron Man causes a huge amount of additional damage during this fight, in the service of the aforementioned pointless action. His efforts to minimise Hulk’s effects are extremely poor, and calling in his relief organisation to clean up after the fact does not negate that. 

Gotta love that throwing a wife and kids at Hawkeye at the same time as we suddenly start pushing this Natasha/Bruce thing. That’s not transparent at all. I also understand this to be a major deviation from Clint’s identity in the comics, and very unpopular with fans for that reason, but regardless; reinventing him as a family man to reset the romantic blather after baiting fans with the possibility of Clint/Natasha in the first Avengers movie is such a shitty move. I was not invested in the ship myself and would have loved to have them reinforce the just-friends relationship between Hawkeye and Black Widow, because there are not enough platonic friendships between compatible men and women in fiction, but 'they’re not interested in each other because they’re busy with someone else!’ is a weak reinforcement indeed. Less forced romances, and definitely less token wifey who exists for no other Goddamn reason at all. This comes out of nowhere, and not in a clever-surprise kind of way.

“You still think you’re the only monster on the team?” Natasha says, after telling Bruce about her sterilisation. This earned a HUGE backlash, and for good reason - despite all arguments about how what Natasha meant was that her being raised to be an assassin makes her a monster, the direct implication of her words as they are phrased and as the discussion is structured is that her inability to have children makes her monstrous, and that’s deeply offensive. It’s also completely in keeping with a narrative which is often played out against women, in which their value as people is attributed directly to their ability to produce offspring, so it’s not even like this outrageous implication of monstrosity - the corruption of what it means to be female! - is that unusual. It’s awful, but not unusual. Add on the fact that 1) Natasha’s nightmare-flashes specifically foregrounded her sterilisation over all other details of her training, supporting the idea that she believes that it’s what makes her irredeemable (instead of, y’know, all the murdering and stuff), and 2) this is Joss Whedon’s work and he is OBSESSED with highlighting the womanhood of his female characters and treating it like their defining trait while also variously punishing them for it, and you’ve got every reason to interpret this terrible fucking line as exactly the heinous thing it (presumably, unwittingly) seems to be. 

Steve ripping a log in half with his bare hands is the funniest thing in this whole movie.

Thor’s brief side-adventure with Erik Selvig is pretty out-of-place. He just...goes for a swim in a convenient magic pond that Selvig chances to know about. Seems normal.

Ultron is full of such boring, empty rhetoric. Reminds me of Loki in The Avengers, with all that sound-and-fury. 

I love Paul Bettany.

Man, they sure do find Natasha instantly. It’s almost like making a damsel-in-distress of her who needs to be rescued by the team was completely meaningless...

Breaking my no-BTS rule (since I already have done for this movie at this point) because it’s well-known how Joss Whedon ordered Elizabeth Olsen not to show exertion or ‘ugly emotion’ on her face in this film, because God forbid she compromise her attractiveness by being human. Joss Whedon is not human; he’s fucking trash. 

The final fight sure does just, y’know, get to a point where it ends. They really did not ratchet up the tension over the course of the Sokovia conflict, it just goes along until it stops (also, they say Sokovia is a country, but then they never call the city anything else, it’s just Sokovia. Is the city conveniently named after the country (very confusing), or is it a city-country, like The Vatican? I kinda assume it’s option three, which is that no one bothered to care because it’s just some fake European placeholder anyway and we’re not supposed to notice such a dumb oversight).

“I was born yesterday.” This is the best quip in this whole thinks-it-is-way-wittier-than-it-is movie.

Helen Cho deserved better than to be a prop rapidly dismissed and then just trotted past at the end for an ‘oh, she survived, btw’. 

Back when I reviewed the first Avengers movie, I said that I considered that film to be heavily overrated, so maybe it’s not such a surprise that I actually like this one better. The two primary problems I had with that first film were the overly simplistic plot, and the fact that most of the characters were OOC compared to previous films, and this movie does do better on both scores, so I feel more engaged by it, and less annoyed. That said...this movie has still got a lot of problems, and those include iffy characterisation and a plot with various holes, nonsensical complications, and conveniently ignored or smoothed-down dynamics. When I say I like this movie better than the first one, I mean just that: I like this better. That does not mean I am here to sing its praises. 

The tacked-on romance is part of the problem - for Clint as well as Natasha (but especially for Natasha). After Hawkeye was so heavily under-used in the first film (and his slightly-ambiguous relationship with Black Widow was the only human element that made him a character instead of a prop), Age of Ultron attempts to compensate by giving Clint a personal life, in the form of a magically-appearing heavily-pregnant wife and a pair of nameless children. The function of this family appears to be 1) to give Clint a reason to not be interested in Natasha, and 2) to ‘humanise’ him by giving him something to fight for and get home to, because we all know nothing legitimises a character quite like some otherwise-irrelevant dependents. Want a man to seem lovable and important? Give him a pregnant wife. That’s what women are for, anyway, right? To enhance a man’s story? In this case, to provide a man whose purpose in the story has been contested with insta-personality, because ‘he’s secretly a family man, ooh, twist!’ is way better than having to spend time on giving him something to do in the plot that is actually meaningful in some way. Great logic. Makes Hawkeye super dynamic, right? 

Natasha, unsurprisingly, is hit much, much harder. As the only female avenger and one of only two prominent female characters in a cast which has seven-to-nine male characters of equal or greater importance/screen time (YMMV on whether or not you think Fury and Vision count for that list), the pressure is already on for Natasha to be served up a quality narrative, because if she doesn’t get one, well...she doesn’t have six-to-eight alternative characters to pull the weight for her gender. The best solve for this problem would be to avoid the ‘Token Woman’ cliche in the first place, but since we missed that boat...not having the personal story of your only primary female character revolve completely around her womanhood and her catering to heteronormative expectations of a love interest would have been a good choice. This weird, forced, chemistry-free thing with Bruce Banner? Was the worst thing they could have used to define Natasha’s presence in the film. It sticks out like a sore thumb every time they have an awkward interaction, and it leads in to that atrocious ‘monstrous infertility’ element (though that particular egregious mistake could have been included with or without a romantic blunder, it...probably wouldn’t be, and we’d all be the better off). Even the Hulk-whisperer part of the relationship - while not awful on its own with all the unnecessary romance and Unresolved Sexual Not-Tension removed - serves to highlight Natasha’s female-ness by making her the soft maternal figure for the team, because God forbid one of the other male members of the team be asked to ASMR-speak to the Hulk while delicately caressing his hand. If Natasha’s presence in the first Avengers film leaned too heavily on her gender identity as a defining trait (and it did), this movie doesn’t fix that problem at all: it doubles down on it. 

The good news for most of the excess of male characters is, they by-and-large don’t feel as OOC as they did in the first film. The boorish romantic entanglement aside, Bruce Banner is still a naturalistic character highlight (all credit to Mark Ruffalo, who probably doesn’t know how to turn in a bad performance in the first place), and Thor’s dialogue is way less ridiculous this time ‘round, so he lands a lot closer to his personality from previous films simply by virtue of sounding like the same guy (unfortunately, the plot does not have the faintest idea what it wants to do with him as a character). Steve Rogers is still being written as if being Captain America is his character, which is a fundamental misunderstanding of his identity, albeit one which conveniently allows him to behave in a stereotypical self-righteously bland manner, thus avoiding the need for any nuance in his perspective or actions. This borderline fanfic-flamer ‘Captain America is my least favourite character so I’m going to write him as a boring stick-in-the-mud and then hopefully no one else will like him either!’ approach doesn’t grate quite as badly as it did in the first Avengers, and it can’t cancel out the innate level-headed charm of Chris Evans, so as disappointing as the bias is, it’s still a better balance here than it was last time. The one character who is not so flatteringly handled, however? Also happens to be the one who was arguably handled best last time, and unfortunately, he’s the one who is essentially treated as the ‘lead’. 

The big problem for Tony Stark is that this movie is not interested in digging in to the pathos of any character, it’s all-flash-no-substance on that front, and Tony really, really needed a less heavy-handed slathering of ‘afraid of what might come (feat. messiah complex)’ to motivate his actions and reactions in this film, because without any exploration he’s basically just a billionaire kid playing with matches. If this were an Iron Man film (either the first or third one, anyway), we’d get into some tasty deconstruction of Tony’s mental state and confront his hubris, etc, and - crucially, most crucial of all, it’s a mainstay of all his past stories in the MCU - Tony would own up to his mistakes, listen to the advice of those around him, and take contrite steps toward fixing the problem not just in the direct sense of ‘beating the bad guy’, but also in the personal and emotional sense of working on his own flaws and making amends with the people he hurt along the way. This movie offers none of that. To begin with, Tony’s ‘I know best and I will not be taking any questions’ approach to creating Ultron feels like a significant step backwards in his character development so far (Iron Man 3 was specifically about addressing his PTSD and associated tumultuous emotions surrounding the fear of imminent alien invasion, so his reactionary and secretive behaviour in this film feels particularly out-of-touch with a mental reality Tony has been explicitly working on for the past couple of years); Tony is actively aware that it’s a bad call and thus hides it from the other Avengers until it’s too late, and then he’s bizarrely unrepentant about his mistake. Worst of all, he actually attempts to repeat that mistake, only worse, late in the film (the fact that his idiotic ‘mad scientist’ pep talk actually convinces Bruce to help him again is the weakest character moment for Bruce outside of the aforementioned romance crap). The plot rewards Tony’s second, far worse mistake, in the creation of Vision, who turns out to be ‘worthy of wielding Thor’s Hammer’ and whatnot and conveniently provides every necessary skill to defeat Ultron in a deus ex machina so overt you could use it as a textbook example, so even though Tony had absolutely no way of knowing that he’d get a good result this time and almost every reason to believe he’d just compound the existing problem, his reckless disregard for the literal safety of the planet is treated like a good thing because it happens to work out this time, and they just kinda sweep under the rug the fact that Tony is playing God (and being uncharacteristically stupid and selfish about it - in other films, Tony is normally only reckless with his own safety, and it’s when his actions spill out into unintended consequences for others that he realises the error of his ways and cues up a positive learning curve; it’s what makes him palatable). At the end of the film, once Ultron is gone and Tony has thrown some dispassionate wads of cash into ‘relief efforts’, he strolls and quips and eventually drives off into the sunset in his expensive car, with nary a mention of, I dunno, maybe a little guilty conscience? Maybe a hint of having learned a valuable lesson? The closest he gets is just suggesting that it might be time he retires from Avenging, but neither he nor anyone else lets on that there’s a need for serious self-reflection. The Tony Stark in this movie is the nightmarish male-fantasy version of the character, the playboy with the cool tech and no limits who does whatever he wants and then...literally rides off into the sunset in the end, no muss, no fuss. He’s kinda like a complete reversion to his original self, pre-Iron Man, frittering money around and designing weapons of mass destruction while convincing himself he’s bringing peace to the world one explosion at a time, but that Tony has no business here, seven years of character development down the track.

While we’re talking iffy characterisation, we should also segue into plot, and that’s something we can do easily enough by looking at our villain, Ultron. Calling Ultron an actual character feels...ambitious. He’s a CGI robot full of empty rhetoric and, you guessed it, more of those quips that this movie has in place of any meaningful dialogue. I’d call him self-fellating, but he ain’t got nothing to fellate, so instead he just blathers a lot in a manner that sounds vaguely poetically intelligent but is, upon a moment’s consideration, just vapid nonsense (much like Loki in the first Avengers, as noted above, but at least Loki had the benefit of a flesh-and-blood actor delivering his lines with conviction; James Spader does solid work as the voice of Ultron, but trying to make a CGI robot who spouts a school-kid’s attempt at edgy philosophy sound like a genuine menace is an uphill battle). Speaking of genuine menace, I assume the reason the film is called Age of Ultron is because A Couple of Days of Ultron Causing Disturbances in a Handful of Specific Locations was too much. For all the big talk (and there is..so much), Ultron doesn’t get up to all that much trouble, most notably in the sense that he apparently has his code all over the internet and yet he doesn’t bother stirring up a single ounce of chaos with that ungodly power. Why bother including this as an element of the character if it achieves zero story? Is it purely to make Ultron seem ~unstoppable~ because he keeps downloading into new robots? Because it didn’t really land, y’all. They try to play it like a big victory for the good guys when Vision burns Ultron out of the ‘net, but in context it’s meaningless because he didn’t do anything while he was there. Pretty much everything about Ultron was all talk, little to no action - even a whole bunch of the trouble he did cause happened off-screen, with Maria Hill just popping in to let us know that ‘there are reports of metal men stealing shit’. Cheers, cool. And you know, Ultron makes a song and dance about how he’s going to save the world by ‘ending the Avengers’, but then he...does not pursue that at all. He tries to make himself a pretty body, the Avengers thwart him, and then he enacts a doomsday machine to destroy all life on Earth. Like every other aspect of the character, the whole ‘end the Avengers’ schtick is just white noise, there’s no meaning in it. Ultron is just a same-old-same ‘What if Artificial Intelligence wants to WIPE US OUT?!’ cliche, and maybe that’s what he was in the comics too, I don’t know, but it’s the job of the film to tell that story in a dynamic way, and they had two and a half hours to do it. And yet.

There should be more to this than a nondescript placeholder villain concept and a series of action set pieces that just kinda happen until they stop. At least the first Avengers had some variety in each of its action sequences, using the location and the different skills and weapons of its antagonists, whereas this one is just ‘there are robots and the good guys punched and shot them until they were all broken, the end’. Even making the city fly in the end doesn’t actually make it interesting, not least because the characters spend most of their time running around the (weirdly, perfectly stable) streets not having to deal with any consequences of being up in the air anyway, and the doomsday device is too nebulous to ratchet up any real tension about figuring out how to deal with it. The conflicts with the Maximoff twins have at least some spark of life in them, but the characters themselves are treated to an over-simplified and very contrived narrative arc that uses what they do and what they know more as plot devices than as details of actual people’s lives, leading to a cheap death for Pietro so that Wanda will be distracted enough to abandon the big ol’ doomsday button, and it’s just all so convenient. There’s no heart in any of it, and it makes the moments that try to have heart all the more embarrassing and out-of-place (don’t even get me started on what a prescribed attempt at tugging the heart-strings it is to have Hawkeye name his magnificently well-timed newborn after Pietro, because DAMN). When I said I liked this movie better than the first Avengers, I meant just that: I like this better. That’s not to suggest that it is significantly better in any sense, because it isn’t, and I can’t even argue that this one has a better story, because honestly, it doesn’t. The first film made more sense, it was just less interesting to watch, and the things about it that were contrived were contrived in different ways. The first film was weaker and more irritating on character, and character is always the most important part of a story for me, so as annoyed as I am by the major character blunders in Age of Ultron, I’m still not as annoyed as I was after The Avengers. That is damning with the faintest of praise; this is just not a particularly good movie, it makes a poor use of its cast at the best of times, delivers a sub-par action extravaganza, and the script is not half as witty as it gleefully convinces itself that it is. It comes as no surprise, I’m sure, that I am very glad a certain writer/director departed the franchise after disappointing everyone with this outing. I say I like this better than the first Avengers, but gee, it’s a close call.

[xithisreconlion]

Prompt:  I love Cougar/Jensen.  Maybe a fic where Jensen can’t talk for a while for some reason?  Head injury and garbled speech maybe?  And he’s really frustrated and wound up because he can’t express himself like usual but cougar manages to get through to him and ends up speaking for him?

The Losers

Warnings: discussion of injury, not graphic

Pairing: Cougar/Jensen (more pre-slash than anything)

A friend of mine on discord asked me for this, and it got a little longer than I had intended, but I am happy with it. 

The first thing he was aware of was the blood in his mouth. However, given the general course of his life, this was not something that was too alarming. The ringing in his ears came next, annoying high pitched whine that spoke of being deaf for a few days. Deaf he could deal with. His team maybe not so much, but his team couldn’t really deal with the way he ran his mouth normally. Imagine him without the ability to tell how loud he was talking. Clay was going to shoot him. His mouth quirked up at the thought, and then the pain slammed into him like a truck.

Jensen blinked open blue eyes and was greeted with the wonderful sight of black, roiling smoke in the air above him. That wasn’t good. It was never a good. One hand jerked up to check his glasses, which weren’t where they were supposed to be, you know, on his face. Where they helped him see. Not he needed his glasses at the moment, since it looked like all of his equipment was a shattered, burning mess.

The front of his shirt was charred, like he’d been on fire, and his ear might as well been on fire. He clawed at the earpiece, getting it out. It was sparking, and Jensen did not want to think about what the side of his face looked like right about then.

There were hands on him, dragging him back, and he would have fought back, valiantly, but he saw Cougar’s hat, and that meant it was fine. He was safe. Perfect time for a nap.

~~~~~

This time, the first thing he was aware of was people talking. Loud, annoying people whom he loved dearly because Clay wouldn’t be talking shit with Roque if Jensen was on his deathbed. Jake forced his eyes open. The Colonel didn’t look much worse than he normally did after an op. Roque was leaning in the doorway. Pooch could be seen through the window, on the phone. This was normal too. Cougar was sitting in a corner, pretty far from the bed, just being… Cougar with his smoldering looks under the brim of that hat, always watching.

Jensen’s lips cracked a bit as he smiled. Well, at least they had him on the good drugs. Cougar was the first to notice he was awake, simply because he was the first to notice everything. He sat up a little straighter in the uncomfortable chair he was sitting in.

“Hey, welcome back to the land of the living.” That was Clay, who had moved very suddenly and was right next to the hospital bed.

Jensen opened his mouth to say something, but the Colonel’s hand came down hard on his shoulder, jarring him enough that his mouth snapped shut, on his tongue even. He would have something to say about that, but Clay was talking again before he swept out of the room, Roque on his heels. Jensen wasn’t even sure what the Colonel had said, but that was okay. Cougar listened when he didn’t.

Pooch waved at him through the window, a bright smile on his face, but he didn’t stop his conversation on the phone, turning away. Basically leaving him alone with Cougar. He spared a thought to where Aisha had disappeared too, but only spared that one thought before he opened his mouth to say something horribly embarrassing to Cougar and pain shot through him like fire. Jensen jerked in the bed, making choking sounds as he reached up to grasp at his neck, at the fire tearing at him every time his throat moved.

There were hands on him. People shouting. He fought them, blunt nails digging into his neck, because there was something in there, something hot and burning and he needed to get it out. He kept trying to tell them that, but he could only hear whines, like a wounded dog would make. No words. No words.

“Jake.”

Jensen stopped, because no one called him Jake, not here, anyway. It distracted him long enough for a darker hand to pull his own away from his throat, the sniper holding his arm down. Jensen wondered where Cougar’s hat had at gone, and then a nurse was shoving a needle in his arm and--

~~~~~

Thinking back on it, the first thing that somebody should have said was “Don’t talk”. No one said that, however, and when the inside of your throat was so much burnt hamburger, talking was a bad idea. A very bad idea. The doctors had explained, and Jensen had ignored them after hearing “you’ll recover fully if you let yourself heal and don’t strain your throat at all.” Knowing exactly what they thought had happened was mostly irrelevant. He had been a reverse dragon for a moment, inhaling at exactly the wrong time when his station had been exploding.

Drinking hurt. Breathing hurt. Existing hurt. And not being able to speak. Well, that didn’t hurt, but wormed its way under his skin until he was all but bouncing in place, no matter where they were. He had half thought out plans for much more effective text-to-speech programs, but they never made it past the ‘they are too damned slow’ thought. So, Jensen was sitting, sipping on a very watered down smoothie, while his team was out there. Without him. He was watching, of course. Even if he couldn’t speak for however long, he was still their tech guy. Running comms was impossible, and it was like an itch under his skin to see someone else out there, doing his job. The doctors hadn’t given him a good timetable for how long it would take for his throat to heal. And Jensen was beginning to think he might go crazy in the quiet long before he could speak again.

~~~~~

Another mission, another night of the team sitting around drinking. Well, everyone but Jensen. You would not find him anywhere near a bottle of alcohol. He shuttered just thinking about it.

And it was quiet. Jensen’s knee bounced at an alarming pace, fingers tapping away on his computer. He wouldn’t look at the new guy, who seemed genuinely interested in all of them, didn’t want to even remember his name. He wasn’t above being a little petty about this.

“Are you always this keyed up? Chill out, man.” The person-with-no-name spoke, a bit hesitant, a bit bold. One hundred percent annoying. Roque scoffed into his glass, but no one else said anything. They all knew he was high energy. Everyone knew he was high energy. It was practically tattooed on his forehead at this point. So, Jensen responded in the only way he could, by reaching forward to ‘grab’ his drink, and making sure to knock everything holding liquid over while he did. It was such a good thing that the temp had wanted to sit so close to him.

He skittered back from the table with a few choice curses while Jensen carefully rescued his equipment and stepped just out of range if the other comms op decided to do something stupid like take a swing.

“That fuck is wrong with you, man?” The fill-in took a step forward, probably more drunk than he realized when Cougar shoved a mop into his hands and tossed some towels on the table. The fake-Jensen just blinked at his hands, which were now wrapped around the mop, clearly confused. It was all the real-Jensen could do to keep himself from howling with laughter.

~~~~~

Well, the doctor said he was healing. Said he was making great progress. Not enough that he could actually do anything like, you know, talk, or eat solid food, or talk. They had no sympathy for him. They were probably happy that they didn’t have to hear him ramble on.

Slamming the door to the house that they had temporarily taken possession off while the Losers were on ‘leave’ was satisfying, but energy still hummed under his skin. Jensen clenched his fists and made himself relax, then did it again. It wasn’t helping.

“Take it the doc visit didn’t go well?” Pooch was sitting at the island in the kitchen, halfway through a sandwich which, to be frank, looked amazing. Jensen’s stomach rumbled, and he threw up his hands. Once he moved, it was like he couldn’t stop. It wasn’t like he could vent his frustration any other way, so he gestured, putting his whole body into it.

Pooch sort of just stared, bemused, while Jensen tired himself out.

“He’s healing, just not fast enough.” Cougar’s voice drifted out from an open doorway. Jensen hadn’t even seen the sniper. Which was, well, what Cougar was good at. “And he really wants your sandwich.”

Jensen flopped back on a couch with a sigh and ran his hands over his face.

“That’s what you got out of… all of that?” Pooch asked, taking another healthy bite of his sandwich. “Really?”

~~~~~

Who would have thought being able to eat crackers would be such a novel experience. Jensen was cleared for softer foods, like pudding and soup and other things just one step above a liquid diet. But at least it was one step in the right direction.

To say he was moping in the kitchen would be true. To say that he was being slightly petty by laying on the countertop as he nibbled on his crackers so that no one else could make anything in the kitchen, unless they used the tiny island, would also be true. It was quiet, too. Jensen hated being able to hear the clicking of the cheap plastic clock on the wall. It made him want to crawl out of his skin. The others were getting restless too, making small talk of getting a new mission. At least Pooch tried to change the topic of conversation whenever Jensen wandered listlessly into whatever room they had taken over.

He knew it was only a matter of time before the Losers were off again, doing the things other people couldn’t. He was just hoping that he would be cleared for duty before that --

What looked like a teething ring, complete with bulky keys in bright childish colors landed squarely on the center of his chest. Jensen half inhaled his cracker and sat up, catching the thing before it fell into his lap. Coughing slightly, he held it up, eyeing Cougar who was now standing in the doorway, silent as he always was.

Jensen waved it around a bit, asking ‘what the fuck’ without asking. Cougar just smirked, slinking into the kitchen. He came up beside the counter and gently took the toy from Jensen. Right before not so gently shoving it in his mouth and pushing the comms op onto his back. Cougar tapped him in the shoulder once and moved back, laughing quietly.

Smiling around the ring, Jensen huffed, reaching up to rub over the scar tissue from that bullet wound. He remembered laying on a much less comfortable counter as someone stitched him up and he sank his teeth into some kids toy to keep quiet. He pulled it out of his mouth and threw it at Cougar, who caught it so easily Jensen grinned at him.

~~~~~

It burned all the way down. It was probably going to burn worse on the way back up, if he managed to drink that much, but sitting there, watching his team, his family, pack up for a new mission without him hurt more than the burn from the whiskey.

Jensen was sitting on the couch closest to the door, letting the news drone on about some unimportant matter, and nursing a bottle of Jack. Pooch had tried to convince him to put the bottle down earlier. Aisha had rolled her eyes at him. No one else seemed to care, and they weren’t going to be there anyway, so it didn’t matter.

They’d be ready to leave soon, and Jensen wasn’t going with them, and every time he didn’t go with them, he was terrified they would never come back. Because they were good at what they did. They were the best. But they were a team and he was part of that. The Losers could do anything, when they were together. They’d survived a lot. Together.

And now he was being left behind, again, because he couldn’t fucking talk.

Jensen leaned his head back against the cushion. And as soon as he did, something dropped down onto his face. It smelled like gunpowder and Cougar, and Jensen reached up, fingers gliding over the smooth leather. He pulled it off his face enough to looked up at Cougar, who had dropped his bag and was pulling his hair back into a ponytail.

“We’ll come back, Jensen.” He said softly, reaching over to mash the hat back down.

“That’s never a promise we can make.” Clay’s voice rumbled from somewhere further in the house. There was a beat of silence before Cougar pulled back the hat enough to whisper into Jensen’s ear. “Jake. I promise.”

[scaryscarecrows]

Roots and Leaves

Eh, I liked this arc. Or. The pain this arc inflicted on people. :) ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN TO TRAGEDY TOWN, SUCKERS!

There’s rain above him, turning the dirt to slick mud that just keeps slipping through his fingers.

God no please not like this not like this-

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe and he knows that not a foot away is air-salvation-life, but he can’t breathe now and-and-

Please not like this-

And his fingers finally breach the topsoil, scrambling in the mud, blood drying in the wind.

* * *

A week earlier…

Jason suspects this wasn’t his brightest idea. Though, really, when your criteria for ‘should I?’ is ‘is it as bad as chasing after the Joker by myself?’…well…you get a lotta leeway, okay? Not many things are that bad.

Besides, it wasn’t for himself.

Okay, so it was a little bit, but not a lot, and…yeah, it was seventy-five percent case and twenty-five percent ‘has Bruce revoked my access yet?’

Answers: he found his perp in Bruce’s database, and he still has access to the Batcomputer’s (why is everything you own Bat-something, B, huh? How old are you, four?) files. Huh, look at that, B’s a sentimental bastard after all. Or he just spaced. That’s more likely. New Robin to train and all that.

Whatever.

He got a bit distracted, testing how far his access went, and ended up in his own files, because he’s a little morbidly curious as to what it says about…about. Y’know.

It was all so clinical, to the surprise of none. Bruce had apparently gone over that tape with a fine-toothed comb like the obsessive bastard he’s always been, and the only things missing were internal injuries and a few of the more subtle-yet-permanent damages like his shoulders. Things that aren’t obvious when you’re sitting quietly in a chair.

Fucker. Jason’s still wondering if Bruce spent more time cataloging the damn tape than he spent looking for him.

He’d been about to click out (he doesn’t want to drive all the way to Wayne Manor to punch Bruce in the face, he doesn’t, he swears on his own unused grave) when he’d spotted the ‘leads’ tab.

Eh. He probably put it there in case Alfred was looking over his shoulder or somethin’. Like bringing up a Wikipedia article when you were about to get busted playing Solitaire instead of working on your essay.

But Jason’d clicked on it, and, well…

Well.

It’s more extensive than he’d thought. He’s not sure how to feel about that. Bruce had been close, a couple’a times-questioned the right guards, even, if he’d just questioned ‘em again a month or two later, after the Joker bought ‘em off…

He hopes that fact keeps him up at night.

He continues to scroll. Lotta dead ends, lotta close calls, lotta where the hell did you get THAT idea? And he’s just about to sign out when his eyes flash across, of all places, the school Bruce’d left him at for all of three days after he caught him with that tire iron in hand.

Wasn’t that place closed?

Apparently not. Wow. Only in Gotham, man, only in Gotham-what’s that?

It’s a link to the ‘genetics’ page Bruce made him fill out at the very beginning. He’s still torn between finding a little creepy and admitting that it’s kinda practical. What’s interesting about it now, though, is that there’s been some editing done.

What the hell? Did some long-lost relative crop up? An amnesiac or something?

Sheila Haywood, the name reads. And next to it, relation-mother.

What? He feels his lips hitch up in that stupid rabbit-expression (he can’t help it, SHUT UP) he gets when he’s really confused. Mom (?) used to laugh and call him Bugs.

This makes no sense at all. Bruce must’a had a period of insanity or somethin’. He has exactly two parents (well, three and a half-Alfred counts as something and Bruce…once upon a time, maybe…), and this Sheila Haywood is not one of them. He even looks a bit like Catherine-same hair, same eyes.

But.

But Willis had those features too, didn’t he.

Jason shoves the laptop away from him and takes a few deep breaths. This is ridiculous. Bruce makes mistakes. Obviously-look at him, huh? This is one he hasn’t caught, that’s all. Hasn’t looked further because there’s no reason to look further. Sheila probably just…maybe she came forward looking for money or something, that’s a thing. Happens all the time.

He pulls the laptop back, after a few minutes, and opens the file. It’s not a big one-name, birthday, picture (he doesn’t look like her, she’s blonde and bright-eyed and pretty) and…associates.

Joker. Ah. That relationship is over, according to Bruce-there had been blackmail involved. Well, there’s that lead explained. Dead end, too. She’d been free of the clown for over a year, before Jason ever…

Bruce is mistaken. That’s all. Willis knew a lotta people, for fuck’s sake, he’d never been…Mom had always been upset. Y’know.

His hands are shaking and he doesn’t know why. This isn’t anything. This is a mistake, Bruce makes them all the time. Look at him. God, look at…look at Babs, if Bruce hadn’t made the mistake of givin’ Joker a thousand and one chances, she wouldn’t be…

Sheila Haywood smiles awkwardly at him from her driver’s license picture. The last time Bruce updated this file was…maybe six months after he disappeared. At the time, she’d been living in a middle-income apartment close to Gotham General-her place of work, apparently.

What does it matter anyway, huh? Catherine was his mom, even at the end when she barely recognized him anymore. And she hadn’t done somethin’ stupid enough to get Joker-blackmail, either. So there.

He mashes the little red ‘X’ in the corner and flings himself backwards to reach his bottle of Fanta (Fanta, don’t ya want-a?). Fucking Bruce. Why does he have to leave that kinda stuff lyin’ around, huh? It’s over. It’s done. Archive it or whatever and find somethin’ new to brood over. Like Dick’s poor fashion choices. (His hair’s growing dangerously near mullet territory again…if he steps one spandex-clad toe into Crime Alley, Jason’s tackling him and taking an electric razor to that before it can evolve into its final form. Never again. Gotham doesn’t deserve that.) Priorities, old man. Priorities.

His Fanta’s half-flat and he scowls, blames Bruce for distracting him and making him forget to drink it while it was still bubbly, and takes a sad swig anyway.

As it turns out, the Fanta isn’t all that flat and with his head hanging partly off the couch, it, uh, gets near his nose. The fizzy feeling makes him gag and jam his tongue against the roof of his mouth to try and stop it.

He should’ve just had tea. Soda’s too much risk.

He sets the bottle aside, glares at it so it knows its blame, and stretches. There’s a neat pop-pop-pop along his spine, followed by a nasty knock in his right hip that forces a startled gasp out of him, and then blessed silence.

Well. For Gotham. Somebody’s screaming at somebody in traffic below.

Never change…

Mom used to shut the window, even if that made it stifling inside. Said she didn’t want Jason picking up any of those words. Joke was on her, a little bit-the ancient Russian lady that used to watch him now and then taught him everything he ever needed to know. Bruce…had not been enthused when Jason’s ‘I know Russian!’ turned out to mean ‘I know how to tell you, your dog, and your mother-in-law to fuck a rotten egg in Russian!’

What? He hadn’t specified.

His computer glows at him, the background of Jane Austen’s signature looking starker than ever, and he lets his head fall completely off the couch, feels the blood start rushing to it.

Sheila Haywood is, uh, Joker-free now, right? Not working with Harley Quinn or whatever? Harley can be scary as fuck when she wants to be.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it is completely irrelevant to him. Bruce made a mistake. It happens. Or the Replacement had that idea. Or Dick. Yes. That’s all.

But he’s still going to check, because he always checks on past Joker associates, in case they’re sleepers or anything. Look at that one infected guy…Henry or whatever.

S’a matter of public safety. That’s all.

[ghoultyrant]

FoZ Notes 7

Aaand we’re back.

--------------------

Louise says a bunch of stuff about glorious honorable deaths. Saito thinks she doesn't mean it. She claims that no, she doesn't really mean it, but "it has to be this way" because they're at war and anyway she's more bothered by Saito being depressed. So she's still more comfortable with death than a lot of people. The narrator goes on to confirm that okay yes she feels bad for the dead but not THAT bad because yes they did at least die with honor.

"Hugging a familiar isn't done due to status difference". Horseshit.

Oh wait those guys aren't dead. Pretty blatant that Cromwell revived them. Magic checks are done just in case Albion is laying a trap, but apparently Void Andvari zombies don't register to such checks? [Future note: We never ever get a proper explanation of what happened here. I think the intent is that Tiffania found them, nursed them back to health somehow, and then neuralized them, which makes no sense as Tiffania could not possibly have addressed the injuries these jackasses suffered, but FoZ is not exactly the height of consistency or logic so I suspect this nonsensical explanation really is the intent]

Oh my god the zombies think Saito is strange for mourning them I love these guys.

Aaaaand now we're contradicting the idea that dragon riders are people with dragon familiars. And asserting that they're all Wind affinity and flying familiars are normal for that.

Introduced to Julio Cesar, a Romalian priest with eyes of two colors who makes moves on Louise. Unprecedentedly good dragon rider, supposedly no magic. [Future note: My vibe from the word go was “way too Mary Sue”. Initially I thought he would be a temporary character and thus was tolerant of his presence. Nope. And he gets far, far worse]

Tristain intends to give Germania some of Albion's territory once they win, and intends to find someone of royal blood to reinstate the Albionese monarchy. The former seems... impractical. [Future note: Once this war is over, Albion’s situation drops off the face of the planet. The fact that Albion ought to resent being split down the middle like this, the tendency for real countries to resent leadership installed by outsiders, and all the other problems with this situation? Irrelevant! Ugh]

Romalia is helping against Albion because Reconquistador's agenda basically threatens the legitimacy of the Pope's authority.

The illusion spell can be used for scouting utility. [Reader note: In the sense that Louise can reconstruct what she remembers looking at to provide a high level of detailed information to people more quickly than words would provide]

Albion is defending at least Saxe-Gothe with orcs, trolls, "demi-humans". One line in Baka-Tsuki's translation calls orcs demons, so possibly the demons to the east are just monsters. [Future note: No]

Cromwell is perfectly happy to take food from Saxe-Gotha's citizens to deny the invaders food, on the expectation they will end up feeding the citizens instead. He intends to blame the non-human forces, is fine with losing the city to revolt, and also intends to poison the water supply with Void magic somehow.

Cromwell can mass-revive the dead with his ring. He stole the ring from the Water Spirits with the help of Sheffield and Gallian "mage knights". Also, Cromwell has no magic himself. [See?]

We get introduced to Wind Stones properly, at last. [Reader note: We heard about them in regard to airships before, but “they exist” and “they are relevant to flight” was the extent of our information] The Ring of Andvari is a Water magic artifact, not a Void magic one. Something about concentrated magic like this being Void's enemy. [Future note: Wait, what? Ugh, another thing that never gets properly explained or brought up again] Ominous foreshadowing that the Ring of Andvari does more than just raise the dead. Also, it's used up a little bit with each casting.

Still not clear what non-Wind dragons have over Wind Dragons. I thought it was fire breath, but nope. [Reader note: That is, Wind Dragons can breathe fire, too]

Implication that Gandalfr power comes from feelings aimed at the master.

"Medal of White Hair Soul". What the fuck? [Reader note: A medal being awarded to people for valor in combat et al. I really hope Baka-Tsuki is badly botching the translation here]

Louise being jealous of Guiche because he's getting praised for his accomplishments by family.

Detailed images of Brimir are considered disrespectful... oh, and nobody really knows what he looked like anyway.

Founder's Festival AKA Not Christmas, in which even war gets put on hold. It's a new year festival. 10 days long. [Future note: We never hear about this ever again, even though it’s a major event and the story goes on for years]

No wine in Albion. Just beer and tea. Where do they get the tea from?...

Siesta is related to Scarron. Goddammit. Jessica -Scarron's daughter- is also of Japanese descent, apparently from her mother. (So a daughter of Siesta's grandfather)Straight black hair is rare in Halkeginia.

Claim from Louise, backed by the narrator, that Henrietta's goal is revenge for Wales' death.

Louise being about Honor And Duty again. Don't insult honor around her. "No honor->not a noble->not me" Says she would gladly die for her country if it was called for.

The rings are clear for Wind, blue for Water, brown for Earth. Supposedly made from Brimir's blood. All called rubies. Gallia has Earth. Supposedly Romalia had Fire, but they lost it, purportedly because of Tristain. [Future note: We eventually discover Colbert has the Fire one. We also eventually discover that Romalia has another one because, yes, there’s actually 4]

Julio Cesar isn't jerkface's real name. He calls himself it after a great Romalian leader, Totally Not Julius Caesar. [Future note: The author seems to forget this, as we never find out what his real name is or anything] Julio is an orphan.

Gallia has the highest population in Halkeginia. Capitol is named Lutece. Palace is called Versailles. Has a big garden. Royal family's blue hair is super-unusual, making everyone at the Academy a Moron. [Reader note: Well, actually, it makes the author a moron, but in-universe you have to assume the Academy students are all idiots, as they genuinely had no idea, even while guessing she must be a bastard because she wouldn’t talk about her history!] Current Gallian king is shit at magic, named Joseph. [Future note: This is a semi-decent foreshadowing that he’s a Void user] Chess lover. Lover of miniatures in general. Is either out of touch with reality or pretending very effectively. [Future note: This out-of-touch aspect of his character goes away fairly soon, replaced by Some Men Just Want To See The World Burn. No, it’s not character development, nor is he throwing off pretensions of craziness. He just changes for no reason]

ANOTHER goddamn Ring of Andvari in the mountains of Saxe-Gotha. [Reader note: No explanation of how Sheffield knew it was there. No, we never get one. No, it doesn’t make sense in context of later information. This is literally the plot happening because fuck you the author said so] And hints Sheffield is a Void user. [Future note: Close, past me! She’s a familiar to a Void user] She does some kind of mass mind control by melting this Ring into the water supply. [Future note: This is never properly explained, on any level]

An idiot covering his retreat by sacrificing Louise. Ugh. The retreat is caused by the bullshit mass mind control.

Julio knows Saito is Gandalfr somehow. [Future note: This actually does make sense, kind of, eventually]

Gandalfr is a load of anime horseshit. [Reader note: In the ‘I swing so fast nobody saw the sword move’ and ‘I can jump superhigh and run superfast and so on’ school of anime horseshit. Saito is operating well beyond plausible peak human potential]

Derflinger has some vague upper limit on his ability to absorb magic. With absorbed magical power he can take control of his master because shut up. [Future note: Say it with me, children. This never crops up again]

Haha Gallia fucks over Albion instead, unceremoniously killing Cromwell.

Infodump:

"The left hand of God is Gandálfr, the ferocious shield of the lord. His left hand wields a large sword and his right hand wields a long spear, protecting me with endless vigilance. The right hand of God is Vindalfr, the kind-hearted flute of the lord. He dominates all beasts of life, leading me through earth, sky, and water. The mind of God is Myoznitnirn, the book that carries the crystallization of thought. It carries all knowledge and provides advice whenever I am in need. There is one more person, but remembering its name gives me trouble… Taking the four disciples, I came to this land"

[Reader note: The above is something Tiffania sings. It’s foreshadowing, I guess. I quoted it mostly because it gives of three out of four familiar personal names. And now that I think about it -writing this having completed volume 18- the story still hasn’t gotten to that fourth one]

Tiffania is introduced. Some kind of half-elf who takes care of orphans and Deus Ex Machinas Saito because shut up. [Reader note: Again, she has no extranormal capacity for medical care. Saito is good as new in fairly short order in the following volume, having gotten pretty badly injured here. The author just employs The Power Of Ambiguity And Off-Screen Happenings to let you think this makes sense even though it most certainly does not]

End volume 7.

---------- 

In which the author seems to grow bored of this Albion plotline and summarily end it. Oh and Saito ends up separated from Louise, with her led to believe he’s dead.

[Future note: This is not the first time Saito and Louise end up separated. It keeps happening, artificially and nonsensically, and is very much repeating a plot of having Saito and/or Louise conclude that, for some reason, they should be separated, and then concluding that no! They will be together Forever because Love! You know, until the next time the author wants to have relationship drama between the two of them, because quite clearly he has no idea how actual relationships actually work

I’m not exaggerating for comedic effect here. The author does not understand human relationships. This would be a niggling annoyance if the story remained focused on its ‘epic’ plotline, but increasingly Saito and Louise’s relationship is made central to the plot, among other relationships increasingly brought to the fore, so this utter failure is something you can’t just ignore while you enjoy the meat of the story. It’s already been causing problems, and it’s going to get truly awful from hereon]

[phandotcom-blog]

#287: Under Inspection

Chapter 1

Summary: The year is 2245, Humanity is at it’s last leg, being propped up by the use of Androids. Dan Howell is fast becoming one of the leading lab technicians in The Republic. But what happens when his solid future is threatened by an Android who acts more human than Humanity?

Genre: Sci-Fi, Dystopian, Romance.

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2625

A/N: Aish, hi guys! This is my very first phanfic, so I hope you enjoy! Feel to send me prompts on anything else you might want me to write!

“Mr. Howell, you are requested to appear before Director Nakamura in exactly five minutes.” The melodic but yet empty voice filters into Dan’s ears, forcing him to look up from the lab report he so desperately wanted to finish. The android stared at him endlessly, waiting for some affirmation or approval of the task it had completed.

It had always shocked Dan, even now as a well-adjusted and experienced lab technician, how human they looked. Their heads held the intelligence, their bodies carried the muscle, but their eyes lacked the humanity. Something which always made Dan feel horrendously uncomfortable.

It isn’t until his computer beeps with another irrelevant pop-up warning did he realise that he was daydreaming again. Dan’s eyes lock onto the bridge of the android’s nose, “Thank you #345, you are excused.” The humanoid seems to spark to life, and it takes off contentedly down the hallway.

Dan shifts uncomfortably in his chair; a meeting with the director was never a good sign. The last time he was called up to the Director’s office was because he installed the wrong bio-technic software into one of the androids, and it wouldn’t stop speaking backwards and punching people when they got too close. Of course, that was a good few years ago now, back when Dan was still a trainee at the company fresh out of The University.

Ah, those were the days, Nakamura Robotics was still a relatively new company but it was growing at an expediential rate. After The Black War, humanity was at its lowest point in centuries. Half the population was killed, most of it stemming from the after effects of The War; disease, famine, radiation, lack of resources, crime, etc. Dan had heard stories of people being killed for their vital organs, people found a market for that type of thing and used the money to get clothes or food. The sheer destitution of people meant that cannibalism and torture were common place; humanity had lost it meant to be human. Humanity eventually conjugated into what is now called The Republic of The United Nations, situated in what apparently used to be South East Asia. People were getting stronger, living longer, and society was finally taking shape; this was known as “The Restart”. But the after effects of The War meant things like Global Warming were no longer just distant worries, but was now a legitimate threat to humanity.

That was when Nakamura Akihiko came forward with his ingenious plan. Society was functioning but not at the pace that the Government would like, and the solution? Artificial Intelligence. If humanity could master Artificial Intelligence then we could begin to grow at a much larger rate, our natural and technological resources would be paramount, the androids would work for free and would not need to have the same treatments as other human beings because they wouldn’t feel anything anyway – well, that’s what Nakamura promised anyway.

But they had a problem; since The Restart education has been at the most basic level it had been in centuries, what with the lack of resources, so how were they meant to make A.I. if they didn’t have anyone alive who was smart enough to make it? Thus The University was born. Founded by Nakamura himself, The University’s sole purpose is to train people in the skills of programming androids, assimilating them into society, making sure they are efficient and safe all the while.

That was 15 years ago now, and mankind has never been stronger. The androids lived up to everything Nakamura promised and more, technology is more advanced than it has ever been, air pollution and radiation is at an all-time low and society is thriving. Ever since he listened to that story as a boy, Dan new he wanted to be part of it. He dreamed of being part of something bigger than himself, something that would be imprinted on mankind’s history. The heroism of Nakamura prompted Dan seek guidance under The University, he quickly became a very well-acclaimed student, gaining top in his class in all fields apart from one: Termination.

As a student, you are trained in all aspects of producing an android. The Assembling, The Programming, The Training, and if need be The Termination. For reasons he could himself unfathom, Dan could not terminate an android. Perhaps it was the humanoid exterior, or their well-mannered nature, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to pull the plug. Needless to say, he failed that part of the course, but when you come top in the rest of your classes, it really only is a slight blip in the road.

Dan now works as the lab assistant to one of the top A.I. researchers on the planet Dr. Jane Prowett, in the department of Assimilation and Development. And generally Dan enjoys his job, sure it can get slightly lonely but what can you expect from a career focusing on dead-inside manifestations of human-kind.

Ah shit. I’m ten minutes late! Fuck! Why do I always fucking do this?! Dan springs out of his chair, and bolts down the hallway. The glass walls reflect his dishevelled reflection as he rushes towards the elevator at the end of it. Why do you do this to yourself? You fucking idiot! You good for nothing, piece of shi-

“Ow! Shit!” Dan clutches his finger to his chest as it throbs maniacally at the abusive push he just gave the UP button. The lights at the top of the doors blink numbers indicating the level the elevator is currently passing. It’s never this slow is it? It had a whole plethora of days where it can choose to move at a snails pace, but it just happens to choose right now. Bloody fucking death-trap.

When the doors finally open, Dan shoves himself inside and screams “DIRECTORS OFFICE!” into the intercom. The doors immediately shut, and the contraption shoots upwards. Dan breathes a sigh of relief that he’s at least in the elevator now, knowing he can’t possibly be more late.

When the doors open again, Dan faces a sterile white corridor with large double doors at the end of it. Before he reaches the door, he takes a second to attempt to straighten in curled, disorganised hair and wrinkled lab coat. Placing his thumb onto the fingerprint scanner provided, the doors open, revealing Director Nakamura’s office.

Windows stretch from floor to ceiling, straight across the room, giving Dan a beautiful view of The City skyline. A large circular desk sits at the other end of the room, mirrored whilst it’s offline but comes alive with holographic projections when in use. Behind said desk is the man himself, the man who some say holds more power than the President herself, Nakamura Akihiko. He sits there idly, head facing downwards as he observes what appears to be a small clock attached to a chain. Dan’s face contorts in confusion as he takes in the weird invention.

“Mister Howell, I do believe I requested your presence in my office a solid 21 minutes and fifteen seconds ago. I did not get to where I am today by waiting for others, you understand?” His eyes are now on Dan’s, staring agitatedly at him, his right eyebrow rising in irritation. Dan’s sarcastic retort begins to bloom in his chest, but he keeps his mouth shut; his cheek still hurts from the last time he spoke out of turn. Nakamura smirks knowingly and urges Dan over to his desk.

Once he is comfortably sat across of Nakamura, he begins. “Do you know what this is?” Nakamura reaches over and taps something on the screen, and instantaneously a blue holographic 3D image emerges, floating at the centre of the desk. It’s a male android. Inky black hair swept to the side and porcelain white skin, his eyes are closed but Dan suspects they’re bright. Tall in height, slim but toned – for android, he’s rather beautiful.

“That’s an android, sir.” Does Nakamura take him for an idiot? Has he set his standards so low that now he begins to question the basic observation skills of his staff in his own robotics company? Dan feels the need to bite his nails in irritation, a habit he picked up as a child, but supresses it; he won’t Nakamura the satisfaction.

“I’m very much aware of that, Mister Howell,” patronising bastard, “to be specific, this is #287. He was created on the 30th January 2245, and has not moved passed the Development Stage.” What? Dan’s face twists with confusion; an android spending more than a month in the Development Stage was practically unheard of, but three months? That was just plain impossible. Nakamura must have caught Dan’s confusion, because he smirked and continued, “I know. We have tried every method we know how; reprogramming, reassembling, even directly cloning bio-technic software from another android, but nothing seems to work. #287 has gone Independent.”

Now, if spending more than a month in the Development Stage was unheard of, an android becoming Independent? That was hypothetical. That was worse-case scenario. That was a legend between students at school. Dan feels like all the blood in his body has been drained from him, his ears begin to ring and hands start to sweat. Is this the beginning of the end? A new generation of Independent androids? It’ll end mankind as it stands. Does the President know? Does anyone know? What if they can’t stop it? What if it infects the rest of the programming? Nakamura’s voice droned on, “Now, I’m sure you are aware what this means, but just in case you don’t; this means that #287 has gained a sense of free-will. It does not respond to human command, and insists that it has emotions. It claims it is sentient, so to speak. It even asks to call it a name, says that ‘#287’ is too inhumane. Anyway, the android says it has gained enough understanding of our programme to assimilate this sense of free-will into other androids and is threatening to do so unless we co-operate. This is where you come in,” Dan doesn’t miss the gleeful little smile upon Nakamura’s face as he continues, “I’ve read your trainee reports, Mister Howell. Very impressive.”

At this, images of hand-written documents start levitating around #287’s body, “But it has been said, that you have expressed a certain amount of empathy towards our creations, making it difficult for you complete the Termination part of your course.” Where in the fuck could he possibly be going with this? Dan can start to feel the ambiguity of the situation start to irritate him, but the embarrassment of his failings as a student hides it.

“I believe this exhibition of empathy could be finally used in our favour., I am assigning #287 under your care. I am giving you six months to befriend him, to gain his trust, to win him over to our side of things. After all the android could be an extremely valuable asset. However, if you fail your task then the android will be terminated by your own hand, in addition, you will be assigned Assembly Floor duty for two months. Any questions?”

Any questions? Dan’s mind was swimming with questions. His felt filled to the brim of information that he’s surprised to not find it leaking out his ears.

“How come you’ve waited to terminate him? Why not just do it when he first started showing signs of being an Independent?” Dan’s mouth makes the question, before his brain allowed him to say it. But nevertheless, the question still burned on his tongue.

“Because as I’ve said before, he could be a valuable asset and so I want to exhaust all options. Plus, they’re not cheap to make, that would be a large investment to throw down the drain. Anything else?”

“You mentioned there was a name he liked to be called, what is it?” If his goal was to ensure the trust of the android, he best avoid irking him as soon as he opens his mouth.

“Oh, something out of a book or something,” Nakamura makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, “Fredrick Derr, no, Frank Gerr, no,”

“Phillippe Kerr? The crime novelist?” Kerr’s works were on the database to make sure that all androids had maximum intellect on a wide range of subjects, including 20th Century literature, but androids all look at the literature objectively, they don’t start naming themselves after the bloody authors!

Nakamura’s eyes flash with recognition, “yes, that’s it! Philippe. It said something like the author’s genre intrigued him or some of other nonsense.”

Nonsense. Of course it was nonsense. Androids don’t get intrigued, they don’t get curious, they listen to their instructions and carry them out, even if means self-destruction. Yes, it was complete nonsense. Humans are the only beings with the emotional range and compassionate depth to truly understand literature and all its hidden meanings. Androids would never put themselves in danger in order to save another of its kind, androids would never listen to a grieving mother and feel the overwhelming sadness and anger at the mere thought of the pain she is subjected to, androids would never look at a painting and be able to hear it whisper 1000 different words into the viewer’s ear. Complete, utter nonsense. So, why did that comment make Dan feel even more uncomfortable than he already was?

“I’ll send you #287’s records, including any software or programming changes. You will meet the android four days a week for a two hour session at a disclosed location within the building. Gain his trust, appeal to his ‘humanity’,” he laughs readily at his own joke, “just don’t forget where you stand and where the android does. It is nothing more than metal, wires, and coding. It is not human, and it never will be. Now go back to your duties, Mr Howell. I would hate for you to keep Ms. Prowett waiting, I dare say she’s more impatient than I am,” says Nakamura smirking.

Dan wobbles to his feet, feeling the burden of his task weighing down upon him already. He tries to act functionally as he makes his way out of the office, but his thoughts are going so quickly, that thinking straight would be an impossible feat. He’s always dreamt of being part of something bigger, doing a service to mankind, being remembered after he was gone. But for some reason, this doesn’t feel like the opportunity of a life time. The scientist within him is itching to meet this creation, to study his behaviour and correlate it to human behaviour. But his gut keeps telling him that Nakamura is riding on the fact that he will fail this task. That this beautiful anomaly will have to be terminated, and the blame will be put on him.

At this thought, Dan holds his head a little higher and stands a little straighter. I’ll bloody show him. I’ve never pulled the plug on an android before and I’m not gonna bloody start now. So as the elevator doors shut again, Dan welcomes the burden he feels on his shoulders. He lets it sink deep through his muscle, letting it course throughout his veins; he lets his heart beat a bit harder to work off the extra weight. He will need to get used to this heavy feeling, his muscle will have to get used to carrying him through the day, because he will not try to shift it. It is a reminder of the importance of his task, of the responsibility placed upon him. And he will not let Nakamura get the last word.

Even if it threatens everything he has ever known.

[survivormarmoreal]

Episode #1: “"So it's time for me to channel my inner-straight guy!" - Brian

is it time to die already? a fake tribe was taunted, the tribe is split half US half europe so that is going to be a pain, its 1:40am as i write this and in all honestly i just want to sleep and coast till merge. bet that won't be happening tho RIP me and dig me in a grave huh. Oh and I thought I knew the keaton but I didn't lol. I am MESS

It’s really good to be playing a game again. My goal for now is to try and bond with my tribe and hopefully make alliances to keep me in the game. Right now talking to Dennis. He seems really cool, wouldnt mind working with him.

So just from the start i can already tell these players I'm with are easy going for the most part... I over all really like the tribe and can see a very solid chance that I can work with a lot of them if not all! But for the sake of this confessional having value... I'd also like to add that I'm worried that due to the laid back tribe (atm) that I might have a hard time building the connections to get in an alliance without making it due to the fact making an alliance is a very bad idea early on!

Okay so let's just get some thoughts out of the way My tribe is...interesting. I LOVE BRIAN. Well actually I love his boyfriend but still a great foundation from my side to work with him because I know he is a super sweet guy. Dennis is weird. I want to work with Nicole just because I like to work with womana because it brings me closer to God. Everyone else is irrelevant. Absolem is okay. Nathan is hilarious. He better not flop because I want to be best friends. Annabelle is the love of my life. But we did just play an ORG together that got a little messy...so idk how willing to work with me she is. Jayden said things about sports so there is no chance of us being friends. And...everyone else is irrelevant. Madigan: I stan Matt. He had the best intro out of all of us. He's a nut and I love that. I thought I knew who he was...but it turns out he's a different Keaton...and now I'm confused by the popularity of that name...Anyways, BC be still my fucking heart in an ANGEL and I want to be friends. Marie is a star in my ORG community and I always stan her. So I lowkey love this tribe and I wish i was on it. Overall...I'm ready to get this game going.

Okay so i'm normally super good at Selfie Scavenger Hunts...but this one is tough. There are a lot of hard items on here. And because it's Day 1 I don't know if I can rely on anybody on my tribe to pull their weight...guess we'll find out.

Okay I jumped the gun on Dennis. He's not weird. And he seems like he'll be a good tribe member. Not too interested in working with him, but hopefully we win a bunch and that won't matter.

so the cast is cool so far from what i saw a mix of a few faces i recognize and a few i don't which is cool because i play best when i don't know anyone i think so we'll see how this goes hopefully we win immunity and there's nothing to worry about!!

Okay so I really might have judged my tribe too soon. Charlie is a drunken riot. And Maynor seems really chill too. We have a good group. Now let's just hope we're good in challenges.

First impressions: jayden: bad music taste but likes tea kind of hard to talk to but i will get the best of him annabelle: league player?? we stan!! nathan: played once before him dont remember if we were allied but um likes drag race wooh ignored me to go watch it https://66.media.tumblr.com/0640fc1858852ee803cc45252f782259/tumblr_pk6xsgLbtq1szcwcho1_1280.png cole: said "omg ur the cole from skype love ur lipsyncs" they said yes. turns out thats not them. why lie??? nick: seems fun idk

I think my tribe is very cute ! I can already see that a couple of them are big suck ups but I hope I can use that to my advantage. I low key want to go to tribal council but I think the safest thing to do is try our best as a tribe for this first challenge and not seem weak! So I will try my best

So yay Selfie Scavenger Hunt. My favorite... I should be fine if I play a solid social game and dont score too low (right?) Also me and Nick same tribe we runnin this shit.

I like my tribe so far it's the most active tribe I have had by far.  The challenge is pretty good though and I hope we can win it and be safe.

So day 1.  This is... ahh... I'm so nervous for this game!  I have been looking so forward to playing this, but I just feel like it's going to be a rocky upward battle to make it deep... I'm trying to relate and talk to these people, and I feel like I can maybe do it with some of them... but I also know I'm like "WIGGG" and "TEAAA" and "SHJDGJHDGJ" all the time, and I just don't know if this is the tribe to act like that around... I also don't really have anyone to fully confide and trust in.  I do have people like Marie on the other tribe, but I just... ahh....

Ladies and gents, I want you to know that I refuse to go home pre-merge, and I will fight tooth and nail to make it to merge and then day 39... even if it requires me to grow up and act like a real human... I will do my best... I don't wanna let y'all down, but I also don't wanna let myself down.

So like after my antics last night, I feel like I am in a good shape. My intro amused many on my tribe which is good, and they all like me, which is EXTRA good! I feel like im on the cusp of something atm, but i am still wary of course. BC and James are my faves atm, with Marie and keaton also. But Marie, Keaton and john aren't really giving me anything but i am still gonna try. Im here to F****** win (or at least make jury but we shall see about that LOL)

this tribe in a nutshell me: "alright guys! super excited to play some Survivor with you all!! woohoooooo lets do this yeah!!!!!!" BC: "yeah!! I also like to do the surviving!!!" matt: "yeah LMAO" keaton: "..." marie: "..." john: "...okay but have you considered: Skyrim"

idk what's up with this tribe. am I setting my expectations too high? did I do something to piss everyone off?? I just want to play survivor but no one seems to want to engage with me.

BC's the only reason I'm sane atm. he's a sweetheart, we've had a few fun chats already and he seems like good company. we've gotten on the same page and realized that we're probably the two chattiest players on the tribe and should stick together. Matt isn't awful. he's funny, and I can just meme at him most of the time and he seems fine with that. wish I could get a little more out of him though. I'll give Marie a pass because she's been legit busy and hasn't had much of a chance to respond to stuff. from what little I've heard from her she seems nice. apparently she's new to discord survivor just like me, so I might be a little biased in wanting her around. I wanted Keaton to be great - he's a Kirby, I'm a Kirby, so we already had something working for us. but he's not giving me anything to work with. I'll bring something up to talk about and he'll shut it down almost immediately, in a way that makes me worried I'm getting on his nerves or something. idk, maybe our personalities just clash? but atm with Keaton my mood is zzzzzz and then there's John. I get the impression that John just doesn't give a shit. he spent all of the first night playing skyrim and ignoring me, and he hasn't said much of anything to me today. his intro and his rant show that he knows how survivor works, so why isn't he putting any effort into talking? idgi. :/

soooooo yeah that's this tribe. BC and I have teamed up, we've talked about roping in Matt as a third sometime soon. I wanna give Marie a chance as well, even talking to her tonight she's not that bad. but I'd probably be fine with voting out Keaton whenever, and I want John to go asap.

I was called Keaton from Facebook and mistaken for Maria on my tribe. This game is going great for me so far.

So far making bonds with Brian, Charlie, Dennis, and Sharky (Matt). I genuinely like them. No game talk just yet. But i wouldnt mind alligning with them. Havent talk to Nicole yet. So i need to start. Hopefully we are good and win this first immunity.

Okay top of Day 2. We're plunking away at this challenge. It's weird because since we all have our own lists we aren't talking very much... Charlie, Nicole, and Maynor are still yet to upload anything so I hope they get it together soon.

I feel like my tribe is being lazy rn like I did three tasks and I gave up because i only saw one other person doing shit!  and they can GOOO if they are going to be like that! OVER IT

no one pm's me first and when i pm them i have to keep the conversation going and it stops after like 5/10 minutes so um thats fun. really hoping we win immunities until a swap or sth. or maybe we intentionally matsing and then i just get rid of all the ppl who GHOST me. the only person who had a real conversation with me today was jayden and even that was super short and ended with him leaving me on read so um.. i guess im just super popular obviously. reading this back its gonna look so cringe NNN but this is how i FEEL

Ok so another update! So today I approached Bryce who seems like a amazing guy and I asked if we could work together and he said yes! So I hope this is a relationship that can last

I still feel kinda... like an outsider looking in.  It's only day 2, but I just feel like I have so much I need to change about my social game already.  I'm normally a crackhead when talking to people and can find those one or two people to be crackheads with, but I think I literally have to go through a complete change in order to succeed.  I need to be more ... adult?  If that makes sense...

So it's time for me to channel my inner-straight guy!  I need to just be cool and casual and normal and not be the uber obsessive Ariana stan I normally am or... "wig" this... I know I touched on this in my first confessional, but it's even more true now... I'm finding talking to some of these people a lot more challenging because I have to kinda flick on the normie switch.

Ahhh... this is going to be one hell of a ride…

Honestly I am REALLY happy where i sit in this game. I have a solid alliance of 3 with BC and James which is already good. I have a feeling we will end up at tribal, however I am not too worried because i feel like there will be some clear targets like Keaton or John. Marie is kind of laying in the middle but I know what a good player she can be so im keeping my eye on her.

Honestly I am REALLY happy where i sit in this game. I have a solid alliance of 3 with BC and James which is already good. I have a feeling we will end up at tribal, however I am not too worried because i feel like there will be some clear targets like Keaton or John. Marie is kind of laying in the middle but I know what a good player she can be so im keeping my eye on her.

Ooo girl. Do I have tea for you? LMFAO. I would make a video, but I have a lot to talk about, so you'll have to read for now.

where to even start? like LOL I guess I'll start with... this tribe fucking sucks. Literally can't stand it. And b4 someone says... "ew bboy it's b/c you don't have anybody you know huh??? you relying on meta!!!" no it's not because of that. well, sort of...

i play these games to meet new people so being on a tribe of new people doesn't phase me too much. it's that i don't like it when the tribe is inactive. like half of the people don't talk to me so it's kinda hard to do a cast analysis but I'll do one then get to the tea.

keaton: nothing really to say about him cuz I don't know him. I literally messaged him and it was SOOOOO hard to hold a conversation with him. then, I confused him with marie cuz he was kinda forgettable. thank you, next john: girl bye. idk if there's something wrong, but like john literally does not message me. and like i'm fine it's ok whatever, like i'm fine i'm fine I'll be fine, but still girl... seriously??? I would say "hey john! how are you doing?" and he'd be like "good." HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO WORK WITH THAT? LAGHALHG marie: I actually like her a lot. we get along prob cuz we're both similar - she's quirky, I'm quirky. quite the combo. we don't have any set alliance or anything, but I definitely don't want her to leave before dem inactives -.- matt: I like him... enough. he's cool and we chatted for a bit yesterday and the first day. there really isn't anything else to say but he's kinda fun??? i guess idk laghlahg but yeah there's that james: i'm prob the closest to him on the tribe. we just vibe so well together and I really do like him a lot. he's funny and chill and he was the one who initiated the alliance, to which I was like "yess girl add me in!!!" idk what else to say, because although matt/james have been more active, I jjust haven't had many convos with them individually yknow

but the little alliance we have going on is cute. <3 the name = Transcontinental Trio. It prob won't last (just being honest) but if it can get me past these few couple of rounds before the swap, I'll take it. my goal right now is to win these next few challenges and hope we don't have to go to tribal before the swap. if we do, I'd rather see john leave before keaton, because I think there's a relationship to work with keaton whereas I don't see one with john unfortunately

the tea that I have to spill is really just bitching about my tribemates I mean come the FUCK on y'all!!! wtf is the point of joining an ORG and then not talking to anybody. like does that make any fucking sense??? literally like... nnnn what is the matter with you? John infuriates me b/c like bitch if you don't have time sweetie, stick to playing Skyrim or w/e the fuck you play. my mood was when he sent us a pic of something happening in the game (idk what it was it looked dumb af) and literally NO ONE replying. like yes stick to his boring ASS!!

on top of all of that, no one (excluding my alliance) talks about anything of substance. like sure it's only been 3 days but y'all can at least find SOMETHING to talk about. i'm just so goddamn frustrated

that's it. I'm tired of bitching. i'll confessional again after results. hopefully we win or imma have to pop a bitch.

Okay we're closing in on the challenge deadline! I've gotten a ton of points. Dennis/Brian/Maynor all also posted a bunch so I'm hoping this is enough to keep us safe. Idk what Nicole is doing? But she better post something. ANYTHING really.

Where is Nicole? Like...girl, are you good? Wtf

omg so. based on nathans and nick's talking in the tribe chat they seem to know each other/mutual ppl. i will break their bond and make sure they want to work with me instead of each other. even if nathan hates pm'ing me and nick was fine to talk for a bit yesterday but today seems to hate me!

The scores are locked in. Hopefully we had enough points to keep us safe but Nicole didnt turn anything in. Hopefully nothing too bad happened. But i think if we do lose, maybe Nicole being first boot isnt too bad. Hopefully everyone thinks the same.

Okay so we demolished. Lucky for Nicole because she didn't contribute at all. And she didn't tell us she was abstaining. I'm sorry...you didn't have time to take a selfie with your cat? Bye.

MY MIND IS SO BIG AT 1:20AM. Right ok so to catch the confs up, James BC and myself have made an alliance called the transcontinental trio (An iconic name ik) so like im really happy that exists. THEN we somehow win immunity, even though Marie and John both had single digit scores LOL. like wow didn't know we could do that. then anna announces the idol system, and i fully expect too like not get far so i do it anyway. 4 mins later and i HAVE A FUCKING IMMUNITY IDOL???? LIKE BITCH WTF. I AM SO FUCKING SHOOK ITS UNREAL. I have been playing orgs for 1 1/2 years now and like I have never been able to find one! and now i do???? Jesus Christ maybe this IS my Game!

not to overreact but i want my entire tribe to go home. i had to PLUCK egg shells out of my VERY CURLY hair like i was some monkey picking ticks. i took an egg, a poor chicken would be, and used it not for nutrition. but for "fun". and its all for NOTHING. but thats ok. everyone keeps saying bc i carried i should be safe and like yes. but the REAL reason i should be safe is that its like im the only person on this tribe who wants to socialize at all!! also this idol system is so fun love choose ur own adventure type stuff. sad how i flopped first try tho.. but in 24 hours catch me with the idol! or catch me as first boot. someone just catch me im falling FAST.

This immunity is great because it gives me time to build better friendships without pressure of a vote. Charlie seems to like me, he wants to share idol guesses which is cool with me. That probably also means he'll tell me if he gets an idol which is powerful info to know. Also I won some cookies on my search. I hope they're oreos. But I'm curious as to what they'll be good for.

So....Charlie found the idol...and he told me. So guess I'm working with Charlie now. Because I want to keep tabs on this idol.

https://imgur.com/ZrG7wNV clearly doesnt realize ive never met a girl i didnt want to ally.

So we lost the challenge! Are we surprised? NOOOO AHHAHA! *sighs* anyways I think i have the numbers to get anabelle out, sorry not sorry

First tribal then Walrus is a bitch. I hate this game

i want to vote jayden out but annabelle and cole did worse in the comp so it might be hard so awk.. like nick wants annabelle out and he told cole that so its kind of over for her huh this is so sad i refuse to be on a tribe full of MEN

So far so good I really hope we can continue this momentum and I hope I can last 6 more days until the 20th of January and then I get to be two ages in one org which I have never done yet.

BC has brought me and Matt into an alliance (Transcontinental Trio!). BC is like the obvious alpha on the tribe and I’m kinda fine with that? At least I hope BC looks like a bigger threat than me, I don’t want that label lol. Matt is super charismatic, we’re finally talking regularly/about the game. He’s probably the scariest person on the tribe just because he’s so damn likable.

Keaton’s opened up a little. We bonded over thinking that we were the only ones hearing nothing from John lmao. Our first vote will probably wind up being Marie or John. I don’t want to push buttons too early, but if I get a chance at a clean shot at John I’m taking it.

So we lost the challenge which is terrible but I got the legacy advantage which is great! I’m worried ppl r voting me but that’s could be just my paranoia so ima stick to my plan of waiting for a name to be said

We won immunity and it feels great. Hopefully we could just go on an immunity run and stay safe till swap happens. I need to start making my talks with people go to game talk but maybe not as fast skmce we are safe.

edit: I really need to start watching the movies. Choose your own adventure like Idol systems always require background knowledge.

We won the first challenge and I'm so happy because I could've been voted out if we lost! This is my first Tumblr org so I'm completely lost and I accidentally told Matt that I knew Bryce from the other tribe so yay... that put a target on my back I think so hopefully we just keep on winning!

I don't have too much to update on, but I'm so glad that we aren't going to tribal because highkey I'd be in so much trouble... I've been in an emotional rut so the communication has been rough.. but we won so I have time to enjoy my tribemates in some conversations and make them love me…

Cole like what are you doing bro. Also I assume Keaton and Dennis are running shit on the other tribes.

Wow so I gotta say I am seriously impressed by this cast. I don't really know anyone and there are only 2 other people from EM... is this for real lol?? Seriously though I'm so happy to finally be playing an org with so many new people!!

Ok so first impressions of my tribe. I've already embarrassed myself by sending drunk videos to every single member of my tribe bar Nicole who wasn't online at the time.

Dennis- Easily my fav so far. I feel like we click so well and I've already talked to him way more than anyone else. Really hope I can go far with him.

Brian- Ok so I've seen this guy around on facebook and he seems funny and really nice! Our convos have been fun so hopefully we can develop a good relationship from here!

Maynor- He likes Charlie the unicorn. Therefore I like him.

Sharky- Haven't talked to him so much yet, but he seems cool and I know he was an early boot in KC.

Nicole- Haven't talked to her yet at all.

Ok so my tribe mates are KILLING this challenge! It's been difficult for me to take part cos of being up in London, but I need to add more stuff to the list lol. Otherwise we could lose, and I'll probably get blamed... eeeek.

WE WON!!! I can't believe it!! I'm so FUCKING HAPPY right now. One of our tribe mates abstained and we still won by over 200 points.. crazy shit

https://youtu.be/_LqWkiWMQw8

so we are about to go to tribal in about an hour and I think we have a plan sorted, I know nathan is saying my name and I will get votes BUT what the plan is that myself,bryce and annabelle vote jayden, jayden votes nathan and the other two will prob vote myself so we will get a 3-2-1 and jayden will go! lets hope

ok so i was out all day. and barely on. but i tried forcing jayden out bc he ignores me and i hate him. but NO. cole is cracked and when itell him to talk to nathan to secure his vote. he instead wants to vote him, then leads to jayden telling nathan that cole wants him out. so now he has no shot. bye bye cole this is sad but u so overplayed NNN glad queen annabelle is safe tho!

Cole is voted out 5-1.

[thesinglesjukebox]

EMINEM FT. JOYNER LUCAS - LUCKY YOU

[3.70]

The king of rude, ludicrous, lucrative lyrics...

Will Rivitz: You ever hear a radio ad's narrator motor through the fine print of whatever buying a used car from Randall's Chevy Emporium entails and think, "This bangs, but what it could really use is some complaints about the Kids These Days and their face tattoos"? Yeah, me neither. Anyway, Joyner Lucas is the best part of this song, and if there's a more damning sentence in hip-hop I haven't heard it. [1]

Taylor Alatorre: In a perfect world this would have been a two-minute Joyner Lucas track, like how "Buried Alive Interlude" was billed as Drake ft. Kendrick Lamar but only featured the latter. That would have required Eminem to be more magnanimous than he's been in his entire career, and Kamikaze is the opposite of magnanimity. Still, his verse here, in all its fidgety, crotchety paranoia, makes a better case for Eminem's continued relevance than any Trump or MGK diss ever could. A baldfaced admission of his last album's failure is followed immediately by the expected complaints about lean and face tats, all as a wiry Boi-1da trap beat rumbles below, letting us know this is taking place on away turf. A whirling mess of contradictions like that is just too interesting to discard. [6]

Thomas Inskeep: First off: Joyner Lucas, who I've not heard before, fuck you for following in Em's footsteps and dropping the word "maricón" in your verse. Beyond that, Lucas has a flow, I'll give him that. And I appreciate that Eminem gives him the entire first half of the song. Em's verse, meanwhile, is a reminder of what made (past tense, intentional) him great in the first place: few rappers have ever had tongues as nimble as his, especially when he starts spitting double-time. In the early 2000s, listening to Marshall Mathers was a guaranteed rush, and "Lucky You," by and large, provides that. And yeah, I'm in my 40s, and I appreciate and largely agree with his thoughts about today's "face tat" rappers; I miss the sound of old school as much as he does. The beat here is old school (spare, with a booming bass), as is his delivery. It's easy for me to hate Eminem in 2018, but I can't hate "Lucky You," because frankly, it's kinda fire. [7]

Nortey Dowuona: Dribbling marimbas slide through while Hans Zimmer strings lie flat above, then get stepped on by Joyner as he repeatedly tries to outrun the thudding papier mâché and limestone drums, then Em jumps on his back and tries to ride him off into the sunset before the drums drop and trap them both behind gaping fangs. [4]

Maxwell Cavaseno: For the past few years, the internet has worked aggressively hard at the act of retconning themselves to be absolved of Eminem. That's right, in the recorded history of music, nobody ever enjoyed "My Name Is" or "Without Me"; this was an Illuminati psy-op performed by Jimmy Iovine, Dr. Dre, XXL magazine, Mountain Dew, the United States Army, Activision, and numerous other organizations seeking to hoodwink us all, as conspired by another misogynistic rap prodigy obsessed with hating his parents, abusing drugs and internal rhyme schemes, making unlistenable albums with terrible self-made beats, and screaming about his insecure masculinity named Earl Sweatshirt (a former fan). Unfortunately, one of the biggest victims of this dynamic is Eminem, a man who is constantly obsessed with fighting his perceptions and aggressively veering from album to album with new self-images that his audience do not recognize such as: rap virtuoso, political anti-hero and now scorned genius fighting against the unjust nature of critics/fans/time. "Lucky You" has Em and one of the most Em-like modern rappers in Joyner Lucas attacking the world around them, sounding deft and very showmanlike but mutually aggrandizing to unflattering degrees. A song like "Lucky You" isn't bad because Eminem is inherently lame, but a reminder that ever since Relapse started the beginning of his "comeback" narratives, Eminem is incapable of doing anything but thrashing in a quicksand-like belief that he opted out of King of Rap status by retiring. To think that in his post-retirement he's actually released two widely-panned albums within a year of each other and shows no signs of stopping, in spite of any last bits of well-regard his audience could find in an absence they sorely need. [2]

Jonathan Bradley: "Lucky You" gears up from a guest rapper who isn't Eminem, to Eminem doing ad-libs and triplets that sound like the rappers Eminem does not want to sound like, to Eminem sounding exactly like what Eminem wants to sound like. It sketches with remarkable precision exactly how, in 2018, the more Eminem a song gets, the worse it becomes. [3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Two tedious motherfuckers join together to show that no matter your age you can still rap fast and say nothing. [2]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Little is as emblematic of Eminem's juvenile rancor as the cover art for Kamikaze. It pays homage to Licensed to Ill but features a speeding jet emblazoned with the phrases "FU-2" and "Suck It." It's a reminder that he's a living legend, but it's also a warning to everyone that he's about to respond to 1) a new generation of rappers, and 2) others' criticisms of his recent work. Unsurprising -- yet still completely embarrassing -- is how the album opens up: "I feel like I wanna punch the world in the fucking face right now." Anyone hoping that Eminem would pepper his acerbic language with the humor and capable storytelling of his earliest albums is quickly shot down. "Lucky You" is one of the better tracks on Kamikaze because it finds Eminem taking aim at these people while coming from a place of vulnerability. He concedes that he "took an L" with his last album, "sold his soul" to win Grammys, and wonders where the old Eminem is -- the one that would "take that feedback and aim back." He interpolates Kendrick when he says he has "spite inside [his] DNA," and ends the couplet with an "ayy." Eminem spends part of Kamikaze adopting newer rap trends whilst decrying them, ostensibly suggesting that he's ready to embrace them: "I don't hate trap," he admits here. More realistically, he's showing everyone else that he can do all this better than them. Those moments, however, mostly point to how he's unable to adapt, and they pale in comparison to what Joyner Lucas offers here. (It should be noted that Lucas's contemporary-sounding delivery is done through a very Eminem-specific lens; Eminem devotees would never complain about Lucas's presence here) Eminem's performance on "Lucky You" is more of the same shtick, and the moments that are technically impressive sound as tired as ever. More interesting is how it actually sounds sad in light of the lyrics. Eminem fans would laugh at such an accusation, but the double-time rapping he employs here really sounds like a crutch: a shield to hide behind as he becomes increasingly anxious about his irrelevancy. Seeing him dab in the music video and calling artists like Hopsin the "culture" on "Fall" is a reminder that this 45-year-old is just another man going through a midlife crisis. For a brief moment, the Rap God seems human, in a good way. [2]

Juan F. Carruyo: Eminem's got some things to get off from his chest: one, he's still hurt about losing to Steely Dan. Two, he very much hates trap and mumble rap despite claiming in song he doesn't, and third, the ghost of his past addictions still carries a lot of emotional weight for him. So while it might seem he's entering his crotchety-old-man phase -- and he might be! -- he actually talks a lot of sense and his performance, along with Joyner Lucas, is MVP caliber. [7]

Alfred Soto: (1) Shut up, both of you, about the Grammys. (2) Eminem should not say "Lick my prick," no matter the context. (3) Motormouthing in 2018 is the hip-hop equivalent of hair metal solos. (4) Watch them sweat the technique. [3]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]