#and people take some degree of risk when they got on the road

[yuri-is-online]

Keep thinking bout Yutu and his relationship to his dad. Like we know a little more about Ace, Floyd, Azul and Riddle (maybe I miss someone else?) but I was curious about other details or interactions with the other Overblot boys.

Like how does talking with someone who tries his best to not get involved in other people's business like Jamil work for making his parents fall in love (if that's even something Yutu can see happening with how distant he is)? How does Yutu go about trying to lay some clues for Vil without being found when Vil's doing his best (with Rook's help) to figure out what's going on?

Or what about the shenanigans Ortho would get to to ensure Idia and Yuu get together so they can try to stop the apocalypse and how would Yutu feel about having at least one person (his uncle at that!) who he can rely on? Or does Yutu ever find himself in a situation that makes him go "oh, I could've had this with dad if it weren't for the council" whenever Malleus says something deep without realizing?

Gaaaaahhhhh I just really like this au and I wanna ask you so many questions but I also don't wanna be annoying

ask is referencing the fyuuture kid au, information on which can be found here and here, or under the series section on my masterlist.

No one is annoying for asking questions! I have asks for Idia and Leona's Yutus, which I think makes every overblot boy except for Jamil and Vil due for a detailed post. Azul! Yutu is a bit of a grey area since I have talked about him a bunch but haven't done detailed hc for him. Yet anyway, Jade and Floyd got one so he needs one too otherwise it'll bug me.

Jamil! Yutu absolutely has a lot of guilt and self hatred around his entire existence. As I talked about in the post about the main cast, Jamil was executed in Yutu's future, and he feels personally responsible for that. If his dad had never fallen in love with Yuu then he would have had a chance at his freedom, that's how Yutu has come to see it anyway. He doesn't want Jamil to fall in love with Yuu, even if it means erasing his existence. Down that road lies only tragedy, but there is also something so beautiful about the way Jamil interacts with Yuu when he thinks no one is looking. There is a degree of mutual respect for how hard the other works and intense desire for approval and praise he can sympathize with. He just doesn't see a way for this to end well if it's allowed to continue, he's a very pessimistic kid Jamil! Yutu. But then again the others didn't have to see the rotted corpse of their father getting dragged around by a blot phantom and be told by a few angry relatives of Kalim that he is the one who put him there.

Vil! Yutu is a bit afraid of his dad. He knows from personal experience that the man is intense and does not take no for an answer but he's never been in the position to see 1) what a good thing that can be or 2) just how silly that can make him act. He's also NEVER had to contend with the real Rook before. The Rook he's familiar with is a mindless monster, dangerous sure, but with patterns you can memorize and protect yourself from. This guy is just wild, sure his dad says that he's only putting up for his behavior "for now" but someone tell him where the fucking line is??? The last thing he wants is to just say everything and risk ruining the timeline but Vil keeps demanding specifics. The main thing Yutu tries to do is get him cooperating with Idia in learning about blot phantoms, the way he sees it things will be much easier if his two most trusted adults are on the same page. It's not a difficult ask either post chapter six, I think Vil is someone who would want to understand what happened to him on a scientific level to some degree, but oh Yutu. Now you've just made him wonder how you know that little piece of information, not everyone knows about his overblot, but he didn't know that bit did he?

Ortho and Idia! Yutu wind up being very close. Having his uncle on his side puts Yutu in a much more stable place emotionally and mentally than other Yutus. They spend a lot of time analyzing old records about blot and phantoms, everyone else is convinced they're just hyping each other up for some weird PhD project inspired by the Ramshackle Prefect's time at NRC and hey. They aren't exactly wrong. As for how they go about trying to get Idia and Yuu together... it's a lot of anime recommendations and conveniently forgetting they had something else to do. Yutu has just as in depth knowledge of Idia's tastes as Ortho does, and the added bonus of knowing Yuu's, so they search through lists of things, pick out the shows they know will get the two of you talking and then sit back and let you interact. Yutu is genuinely confused about why or if this is working... but Ortho did send him a video of his dad hyping himself up to try and ask you out (he over heated and just hid inside his room instead but hey. It's the thought that counts.)

Malleus! Yutu just got his post here. And yes he does think regularly about what he could have had with his father if things had been different, but a lot of those thoughts come from his sillier moments. Hearing Malleus talk at length about ruins or seeing him confused about how to interact with technology make him seem more... human for lack of a better term to him. He's very familiar with the myth of Malleus Draconia, but he wasn't fathered by a myth. He was fathered by a man who fell in love with a human under very extraordinary circumstances and Yutu wants to know about why. What things did Malleus like most about Yuu? About Twisted Wonderland? If he had gotten a chance to be raised by him what things would Malleus have wanted to teach him? Would he be any different?

Azul! Yutu is also afraid of his dad, but not based on any personal experiences just his own insecurities. He's not a thin guy, he's not in Octavinelle, and he is extremely worried that his dad will see him as some sort of stupid muscle head and be disappointed in having him. He's also, understandably, extremely angry at him when he learns what he did in Book 3 to his parent. Fuck this guy, he'll just save Yuu himself and hopefully if they still get together he'll grow up to be a totally different person when he's born in this good timeline. But there's just something about Azul's approval that he can't help but want now that drives him crazy. Why can't he just be ok with being alone? He has been all this time anyway...

(Meanwhile Azul is deeply impressed with how well Yutu is at disguising himself as a dumb muscle head. Just look at the kid, he's got everyone thinking he just is controlling their shadows while he's actually using a really complicated bit of cosmic magic. Suckers all of them. Not him though. He's not being fooled by anything about Yutu, no sir.)

Leona, Leona, Leona. He's tricky for me to write. Scar apparently has children? In one the the Lion King sequels? Leona's dislike of kids seems to come from his complicated feelings around the throne and his want for people to be independent. I think he would be one of those gruff intense kind of dads who does the whole "we are never getting a pet" thing and then you see him asleep on the recliner with Princess Nooodles III chilling on his lap with him. Anyway back to Yutu-

Leona! Yutu's relationship with his dad is tempered by the fact Leona knows who and what he is from the start and demands to know why he has traveled back in time. He doesn't explicitly say he knows that he is his father or that Yuu is his other parent, just that he knows time travel is involved, so they have a fairly open amount of communication regarding the overblot "business" but not on much else. Yutu has a desire to understand his father and Leona has a desire to not disappoint him. Who would want their dad to be the second prince? He's destined for nothing but a miserable life anyway, all of the responsibility and none of the privilege (outside of the money but lets be real, Leona's ass does not understand that.) I don't think either Leona or Yutu fully understands that his existence is enough for the other to be happy. When they are forced to talk about it they both laugh it off and roll their eyes at how cheesy that sounds but deep down it means a lot to both of them.

Riddle! Yutu has gotten a lot of posts about him and his "hatred" of his dad but I thought I'd take this post to mention I like the idea of Yutu's favorite food being the chestnut tarts/mont blanc that aren't allowed at Unbirthday Parties but that Riddle still wanted to eat anyway. He's a lot like his father in his love of sweets and his determined denial of it, but he isn't the exact same. Also gives him one more thing to pick a fight with Riddle over (his dad doesn't get the big deal, they can just have a private tea party with Yuu and have all the different sweets they want... can't they?)

[moreespressoformydepresso]

Here’s a little something I kinda wanna write:

A TBOSAS High School AU but different, because it’s still in Panem. When they’re discussing what could be done to make the Games more interesting in class, Sejanus goes a little mad with rage when Clemensia suggests making these poor kids avoxes like being a slave without a tongue is a better fate than the arena and decides to bitterly make a suggestion he knows will never be picked anyway:

Why not prove how “inferior” those district kids are by having them go to the Capitol Academy from the reaping ceremony until the end of the year? That’ll get people invested in the games! Now they know these kids and they get to enjoy watching them die after being forced to be around them for so long! 🙄

Except Gaul actually thinks this is genius, what with her whole “all humans are vicious animals when cornered” philosophy, and what do you know? That year’s tributes have to spend several months in the lion’s den before they’re sent into the arena. They all take this news with varying degrees of disgust and resignation, especially because they still have to spend a few nights in the zoo while the Capitol decides on where to lock them up. In the end the tributes are thrown into a hotel, specifically the part that used to be a safe house during the Dark Days. It’s the lowest quality place to stay in the Capitol that is, actually, a place for humans to stay, but it’s more luxurious than anything the tributes have ever seen before.

Throughout their stay there, the tributes end up bonding with Capitol citizens with various levels of intent. For some, like Pup and Lamina or Persephone and Mizzen or Lysistrata and Jessup, it goes pretty naturally even without the mentorship because of various situations through which they end up coming into contact. For some, like Bobbin and Panlo and Brandy and Coral, it flat out doesn’t happen. For some like Sejanus and Marcus, it’s a rocky road to a happy ending.

For others like Treech and Vipsania, it’s absolutely hilarious. Not to them, but to the other tributes + Sejanus.

See, despite the Capitol’s disbelief, some tributes actually scored higher than their own age bracket in the school curriculum and got placed in higher classes under the assumption that it was a fluke and they’ll fail out eventually. A good example would be Teslee and Circ on everything tech and Otto and Ginnee on everything mechanical. Treech scored exceptionally high on both history and literature because A) he needed to know a lot of those stories for wood-carving and B) he’s a sneaky bitch who’s broken into the peacekeeper barracks and stole their books on too many occasions to count. He learned those stories to tell the younger kids when he ran out of folklore to entertain the exceptionally story-hungry ones with. Therefore, his 15-year-old self is stuck in the mentors’ class of 18-19yo people. Sadly for him, literature ends up having a big year-long duo project where you have to read and analyze several books together for practice and, at the end of the year, put together a presentation on anything literature analysis related together.

Treech gets stuck with Vipsania.

Everyone in that class feels terrible for her because they’re all convinced he can’t even read, partially because when people make ‘jokes’ about that he doesn’t bother correcting them. He just shares an exasperated look with Sejanus and moves on, because Sejanus knows Treech can read and write due to his wood carving job (he works two jobs bless his soul) and they can bitch about these people after class when Treech doesn’t risk these fragile ego having assholes to get him executed. The thing is though- Treech is actually amazing at writing stories, and that translates to him being very good at writing papers and analyzing stories for someone who’s never done so in an education setting. Vipsania won’t give him a chance though, and keeps belittling him and condescending to him until he snaps and suggests they make their papers separately so he won’t “drag her grade down” outside of the final presentation. She agrees.

At some point, Treech is called into Dean Highbottom’s office during a biology class (he’s with students his age and even made a friend!! Who’s currently helping him catch up on all the education he missed) for a bit and comes back into class looking both pissed off and pleased with himself. The next literature class the grades are announced and the professor looks pale as he announces the highest grade in the class belonging to Vipsania Sickle and Treech Meran, with their shared average of 9.2. People congratulate Vipsania, only for the professor to announce her grade to be an 8.6, the third highest grade in the class. The person with highest individual grade in the class is Treech, who’s leaning his head against his hand and staring out the window in boredom as the students stare at him in shock.

A 9.8, the highest grade in the entire year.

When people suggest there must be a mistake, the professor shakily admits they verified it’s his handwriting and he repeated enough points from the paper that they can only accept he wrote it until there’s tangible proof to claim the opposite, which there isn’t. After that, Vipsania takes some time to simmer in her anger at being outdone by some lesser creature, only to be forced to accept he beat her fair and square in a way where she couldn’t claim credit. So instead she decides she can suck it up and work with him for the project. Except now she’s genuinely interacting with him, and that leads to her to stop despising him. When he complains PE is boring and he misses some of the physical exercise he got back in 7 (especially with his theater troupe), Vipsania ends up convincing her aunt to let him into the gymnasium. Which ends with him joining the track team (because in his words: “gymnastics is for the theater, sprinting is for always”).

And somewhere down the line they go from begrudging project partners to sort of friends maybe, even though Treech still kinda hates her guts for being a prejudiced bitch to him.

The other tributes and Sejanus just adore seeing Capitol dicks be put in their place, and Treech gets to do it in literature, history, and track. Treech is a little less amused because his talking time with his bio buddy was cut short so the Academy could have him write random sentences on paper for 20 minutes until the lit professor was finally forced to accept he wrote that paper.

Either way, a lot of the tributes get Capitol friends who really don’t like the idea of watching them die actually, so of course having the entire youth and even some respected Capitol professors protesting the games puts enough pressure on the academy board to force even the anti-district assholes to agree to put the tributes under Academy protection. No games for Gaul!! No job for Gaul either, she gets fired for unspecified “misconduct”.

She tried to go after Treech and Lucy Gray for becoming so popular with the students, so Agrippina, the literature professor, history professor and art/music professor banded together to stop her because those two are their favorite students. They produce good, creative work that’s actually fun to grade and they need some good projects to stay sane.

[ano-po]

Are you afraid of deciding on your own because you might fail?

Well, there are several reasons where you got that mentality, but you know it usually comes from your family.

Especially when they're controlling and narcissistic.

They don't let you decide on your life without their permission, be it buying a car, a house, deciding on a degree, your partner, even your fashion. They think they own you, and they should be deciding for you. This makes you dependent on their decisions.

Some might like that, but you know, that's not a happy life to live. Just following the path set by someone else. You are promised safety, you are promised success, but you look around and see yourself actually stuck. Not even your brain is functioning properly anymore.

You try to get out of their road, you fight them, and they will end up saying, "Fine! Get out! You'll come back to us begging."

That's actually a prayer for your failure.

A normal loving parent would pray that you stay safe, and that you become successful.

They don't care what will happen to you. They only care about the notion of owning you.

Are you still afraid to decide? Are you afraid to take risks? Well that's understandable, as you are just going out and are basically still a baby.

To gain confidence in your venture forward,

(1) You first must accept that failure really happens, and we must learn from them. Give yourself space for failure. A lot of people fail several times before learning the tricks of life.

If you want to minimize your failures, do research, observe people going towards the same fields, and always have a backup plan.

(2) Don't tell them what you wanna do. You might be compelled to tell them your next steps because either you're used to that, or you just have a big mouth, or you wanna prove that you have a vision. No, don't do that. They will implant a seed that you cannot do it. It will come off as 'I did it this way and I'm successful', making you doubt your process.

You have to accept that people have their own process. What worked during their time might not work for you, heck maybe it didn't actually work and they're just lying, because if it worked and trusted their own process, they wouldn't be too controlling and emotionally immature.

(3) In your venture forward, think about establishing your own place. Quite materialistic, but having your own place is a mental assurance that you have your own place to stay, and that you will not come back begging (as you are very afraid of that). It will be hard at first, all these legalities, real estate prices, and decision makings are complicated. You might get scammed if you don't research enough. But stay strong and well-informed. Always ALWAYS research. Why am I emphasizing research here? Well, because they never taught you these life skills, so you are parenting yourself now. You can do it.

(4) Let's talk about energy. Children with controlling narcissistic parents are always surrounded by negative energies. Do you often have consecutive strings of bad luck? Like printer not working when you need it most - kinda thing? It's a long psychological explanation, but you must invest to get out of that envelope of energy (it's just perception on life, but you know). To gain confidence and trust in yourself, you must look at the things you always get lucky at. You also need to venture out and believe that you get lucky on important things. For example, whenever I book Airbnb, I always get the best cheap places. Before, I would be afraid to decide on a place. I was even scared of ordering on Jollibee counter. Now, it makes me think that I'm good at deciding about this, leading me to believe that I can choose the best real estate, I just have to believe in myself. I just have to pray.

Remember, they are praying for your failure, so your prayers for success must be stronger. It's also helpful to attract friends and partners who believe in you.

This is the year that you must notice where you're headed in life if you stay. You must notice the negative energies so you learn how to escape it. You must gain confidence to walk your own path.

Happy New Year.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

SO I WANT TO SAY THIS BEFORE I FORGET!!

I noticed how each chapter of Twisted Wonderland's manga series based off each game and their chapter with each Yuu/MC/the reader and viewer is different in a way of what would help contrast the focus of the story.

Examples being Enma Yuuken is strong and obvious extremally masculine there fore "strong" in looks than Riddle who's "strong" in the sense of brains and magic as he literally bulldoze across any set back to be the top of his school to a degree of being Housewarden a mere weeks since joining as a new student vs. this one guy who has no magic and only seemingly became a student regardless of background or magic history and is able to make plenty of friends when he can't think of anyone outside of Trey and Cater and Chenya to call his friend, maybe even doubt if they even see him as his friend.

Then we have Yuuka Hirasaka who is confident, kind, loyal, and brave as shit, proving her point by risking her safety for a animal in the road. Leona, try as he might, wouldn't even give a chance to prove he can do that because everyone already doesn't expect much from him, or at least that's what he said. He's confident for a different reason, also if you remember how things run back in the Sunset Savannah you'd argue Leona feels extra bitter and more in need to try and prove worth more cause he grew up not only looked down on by his magic and potion in the royal line but also is honestly scared of the women around him. He's more confused with Yuuka especially since she doesn't show much fear to him

Next we have Mito Yuuta who I love the most so far due to what may come. Azul is confident and arrant as a show off little shield cause of his own self insecurities especially his image, specially his body and it's weight. He was relentlessly picked on by everyone besides his mother mainly due to his weight which from that level of trauma he's willing to work hard to become the smartest, the strongest, the most respected, and hottest out of spite not cause he generally feels that he wants to, to him he needed to. And it's obviously still stuck on him enough to not take pictures regardless how much money he would make and even making Yuu(soon Mito) to break into something dangerous and steal the only picture of his childhood he was unable to hide in the mind set of destroying it, regardless if he thought it would work or not. Meanwhile Mito Yuuta is a big guy who's okay and proud of his shape and eating habits and kind of like the ones before he him he actually has people who want to his friend vs. the unknown certainty that Jade and Floyd aren't technically his friends, they openly claim him as entertainment and if he got boring they'd leave him.

In other words there may be a chance other chapters would have a similar method with not just the design choice but personality design of future Yuus to contrast against the "flaws" of the chapter's "bad guys or villains"

I want Chapter 4 to be a girl, maybe make her beautiful in some way or have the personality of Jasmine from Aladdin that way the weird vibes of Chapter 4 being super hella romantic and even more ship baiting in any and all forms feel right, not to mention that scene of Jamil hypnotizing us in the kitchen DISNEY GIVE ME THAT AMAZING ART WORK OF JAMIL JUST LOOKING AT THIS GIRL AND MAKE ME AS CONFUSED IN MY SEXUALITY AND FEELINGS AS YOU DID WITH JASMINE AND ALADDIN WHEN I WAS 10 YEARS OLD!!!

I also think having Chapter 5's Yuu whatever gender (maybe male or masculine based cause there's a pattern it seems) but either make them somehow cuter than the ones before even if it's one trait or maybe give them something like a birthmark or scar of sorts that would somehow deem them "ugly" the their world but Vil would be lowkey obsessive of slowly as that was his character is, he's so obsessed proving he's beautiful and good and smart and strong to the point he obsessed over others and their flaws

Though with Chapter 6 I'm stuck on just cuz I want a sassy Meg type Yuu but also want a tall handsome muscular man who's like Hercules and everything Idia most likely would wish to be including with open mention of having great relationship with their family or maybe even them being an orphan

What are your guys' thoughts and opinions?

[charlesandmartine]

Friday 25th October 2024

Now if we had checked into the Cooinda Lodge by phone or online, we would have missed that look, albeit for just a second or less on the face of the receptionist when she said, you are here a week? Slight inflection there on 'week'. The look said, a week here? I only stay here a week because they pay me? The last people who booked in for a week were eaten by dingos after three days. It was only a slight look, but we both saw it, and it was slightly unnerving.

Anyway we made it through the first night and took a walk through the lodge grounds to the billabong passing the disclaimer signs about crocodile encounters. Early riser kangaroos foraging and general waking up noises from other guests; a diminishing breed due to end of season.

We discovered that we had breakfast included. Joy. We attended as required around 8am just to be sure they didn't run out. We were expecting just a continental rush job, but no, it was the full works. Gorgeous poached eggs done just right, sausages, English style bacon (not the horrible little crispy bits you often get), hash browns, mushrooms, tomatoes and baked beans. One point lost for no black pudding! We were like ravenous hyenas that have been starved for 3 weeks. We cleared the lot and saved some cake type bits for lunch. I should also mention the smoked salmon I suppose. We were so full come luncheon we skipped it.

An hour by the pool and we set off for the site that we had viewed on YouTube. It is at Cahill's Crossing, a causeway that crosses East Alligator River which is the divide with a vast area called Arnhem Land. The causeway disappears at high tide allowing the Barramundi access to the upper stretch of the river presumably to spawn. This attracts the attention of several hundred interested crocodiles, which attracts the tourists. So we drove 90kms to take a look at this. The lodge told us 4.30pm would be high tide. Possibly what the failed to share was that today was to be an estimated 4.7m tide, and and to make the bookies happy it needed to be 5m. So we were on time, others joined us, but the causeway remained irritatingly visible and the carnage route firmly shut. The crocs turned up, the Barramundi showed but there was no actual breaching of the causeway, no crocs chasing fish. We saw crocs, we saw fish, so not entirely wasted 180kms round trip. There are warning signs saying you risk your life walking the causeway. Three people did whilst we waited and we just wondered, if they were to be chased by a crocodile what odds were there 80% would film it 19% would panic and 1% would try to help?

We drove back fearful it was approaching dusk and not the time of day to be driving in case a traffic naïve kangaroo steps out in front of your radiator. None thankfully did, but we did see a mother dingo and her two pups standing by the edge of the road.

Great day. Dinner and SB on the patio as the sun firmly set.

ps 42 degrees at one point today.

pps. Since this area was where Dundee was filmed, we passed by hills that looked very familiar to Dundee 2. Also our croc infested billabong looks just like the one the baddy got eaten.

[sharpsuite]

👗 How is the mun’s fashion sense? (for either)

🍓 What is something you and the mun disagree on? (for both)

↳ MUSES TALKING ABOUT THE MUN

👗 How is the mun’s fashion sense? (for either)

" In terms of actual fashion knowledge? Not great. Frankly, it's probably about the same as MINE. " He shrugs his shoulders. " She's not particularly interested in fashion trends either so her fashion sense probably isn't great on any type of scoring system. Most of the time she just goes for comfort and convenience. Especially in the summer when its hot and she just wants to be as comfortable as she can while suffering in the heat. " So NATURALLY the knowledge of how much the cosplays will make her suffer this weekend is amusing considering it's not like she was UNAWARE of this fact. " She does have SOME, especially when she puts more effort in and typically goes more alternative styled or dresses fancy for a rare event. But fashion sense is not her strong suit. " He blinks, slow and adds. " Although she does have sunglasses just like Ann's, the style looks best on her so she's got that right at least. " If the years of suffering wearing glasses taugh ter her ONE thing, it was at least that.

🍓 What is something you and the mun disagree on? (for both)

" Ahh...Now that's a more difficult one. " Chishiya tilts his head backwards to consider it. " Some things depend on her mood as to how much she agrees or disagrees with me." Even he could understand that to some degree whether he AGREED or NOT. " I suppose though she has a much better opinion of people's inherent nature. At least outside of extreme situations like fighting in death games. " He pauses to mull over his choice in words. " As she says, people as a whole are not as selfish as I believe them to be. That doesn't mean she's easily TRUSTING of people, but she does believe people are more willing to help strangers or acquaintances even without personal gain. I disagree. " Almost as an afterthought he adds - " Unless you're stranded on the side of the road. Then good luck, she's not stopping to help either. She's listened to enough serial killer stories, she's not taking that risk to help OR be helped unless you're a friend or family who called her to come pick you up. "

" Her and I agree on a fair amount. But I suppose she disagreed with my grim acceptance of an inevitable fate based on my past. Sometimes I don't see the point of struggling in a hopeless situation. " Too many BODIES, too many cases, at some point Ann had LOST the point of everything. " In the end the Borderlands had changed that for me. But she was vehemently to the idea of fighting tooth and claw till your last breath no matter if you knew for certain you'd die, just like the girl in that case did. It's because of people like that who do everything that we're able to catch some people. All it takes is some blood or hair or skin cells. " She folds her arms, PONDERING over anything else. " She also wasn't keen on the idea of dissecting bodies to trying and check for anything unusual. Not because of the dissecting part, she's not squeamish and she's done several albeit not human dissections. She just didn't like the idea of it and disagrees that it had any particular value after a certain threshold. " Which she had crossed. But what ELSE was there to do to try to explain the world? / @cartelheir

[queenwendy]

Yeah, we definitely need more history of science type education.

I cannot speak for every stem degree, but I got my undergraduate degree in civil engineering. I don’t know what all the required classes would have looked like (I transferred in with an associates degree), but I did have to take a history class that everyone was required to take, an engineering ethics class that all engineers were required to take, and a science communication class that fulfilled some requirements but I know for a fact most engineering students didn’t take.

The history class was really valuable to me, even if nobody took it seriously. It had a big focus on colonialism and structural racism, and it was the first time someone explained to me how race was socially constructed in a way that finally made some complete sense (wow, professors can explain things better than people on the internet, who knew?). We also talked a lot about the legal codes that fucked people over—and we touched on eugenics. For the final project in the class, I chose eugenics in Canada, because I had already learned a lot about eugenics in the US and Germany (through previous courses or just… being an intellectually curious minority member online), but I hadn’t heard anything on Canada and I knew from a different class I took that Canada basically copied the US when it came to oppressing minorities, especially Native Americans/First Peoples.

Turns out, Canada had a fascinating and deeply horrifying eugenics program, the worst of which was in Alberta and lasted until the 1970s. This included the forced sterilization of the “feeble minded”, which was disproportionately poor, non-white, especially native, women. This movement was also partially propped up by the women’s movement, who saw themselves as the “mothers of the race”. I highly recommend the book Towards Our Own Master Race for more information.

The engineering ethics course mostly focused on bribery and corruption in civil engineering where people just, did bad work on a road or a bridge or a building to get more money, resulting in shoddy infrastructure and death. And that’s serviceable; it’s by far the biggest issue with civil engineering ethics. We discussed the ethics codes that professional organizations have as well. But we did have some meatier topics, including the final group presentation—a presentation my group gave, but due to sickness I had to present the entire 15 minute PowerPoint all on my own while I lost my voice. It was on environmental racism, a super important topic. Where is waste discarded? Where are factories built? What neighborhoods are destroyed for highways? The answer to almost all of those questions is “poor neighborhoods”, neighborhoods that due to redlining are historically black and also tend to have worse schools, urban heat island effects, and be food deserts as a result of poverty. It was a really meaningful presentation, and I wish we had covered an entire semester on those sorts of topics.

Finally, in my science communication course, we mostly talked about journalism and publishing papers but we also talked about how people lie about science at the danger of the public. Think big tobacco and climate change denialism. Those aren’t just failures of science communication, they are the result of bad actors explicitly lying to the public to cover up death and risk. That’s super important.

One last thing; as a civil engineering student with a focus on environmental engineering I did learn a lot more about risk factors and how to keep the public safe than like, a general civil or structural engineer might. And through that I learned a lot about the truly awful history of hazardous waste dumping in this country. We did learn a lot about ethics, “not killing the public” was a pretty basic thing we were taught, and eugenics doesn’t really apply much to civil engineering, but we SHOULD LEARN MORE. A history or science/engineering course wouldn’t just be interesting, it would be important. That ethics course was pretty light on the ground when it came to philosophy, and a few of my peers were legitimately interested in more. Cultivating responsible scientists and engineerings is super important, and it cannot simply be at the level of “don’t lie about research” and “don’t accept bribes”.

[little-fandom-gal]

While this is definitely part of the brilliance of how the books are written (and how decisions in the writing room almost always reflect exactly the things Collins warns us of) I think it’s also important to stress that there IS a moral difference to us as an audience interacting with this film vs the capital, and both ideas coexist!

Yes, the commentary Lucky made was extremely out of pocket, and in the theater I was appalled because it really showed how this guy was likely trained to treat it as nothing more than a sporting event. Not only did he get the crowd going and make them fall for this fake framework for the games, but he laid the foundation for the hunger the capital had for the games and bloodshed years down the road. Unlike Caesar, who is stated to do his best to show off tributes to give them a fighting chance with sponsors, he’s solely there for the show (and likely to not be killed because let’s face it no one is free in this world).

That said, when you leave the theater and process the horrors of the games and the message of the story, you can also find some humor in the odd remarks. My sister was a sickly kid, so she’s been coining herself “Ill Dill” since because the remark was so out of nowhere that it stuck. The way he was surprised with how good the “all colors fade to gray” line was genuinely funny. The way he literally spat something onto one of the mentors (forgot which one) and kept rushing them out of their seats because he genuinely didn’t care about ANY kids involved in this spectacle brought some much needed levity (and was likely a tiny dose of the huge helping of humbling those kids needed). Heck, I distinctly remember the “oh look, they’re holding hands…I want them dead” line from snow in Catching Fire circulating for years! He’s referring killing people who stood in unity against him, but it’s a genuinely well delivered, funny line people snagged and made a meme of.

Basically, every time a new movie comes out there’s always this guilt with interacting with the entertainment as entertainment because we think it makes us the capital. That isn’t the message though, and it really hasn’t been. The message isn’t “all the masses who sit back and do nothing are evil and if you find enjoyment in this fictional story you’re just as bad,” but rather “systems of power that are fueled by propaganda affect us in ways we often don’t realize, and if we do not try to use compassion to understand others we risk becoming the kind of people who crave violence in reality and look down on those beneath us as non-human.” Unless you walked away from the movie thinking Snow was 100% right or that there’s a market for actual killing games, you aren’t the capital. You’re a consumer who got hit with a dose of “here’s a mirror for society” and has a chance to further study how that makes you feel (who is also capable of laughing at the “those drones are not good” scene).

As OP said, we are consumers, and the book mirrors our consumption to an extreme degree, but please be kind to yourself and realize WHY it impacted you instead of just blaming yourself or others for reacting the exact way we’re wired to react to media. A huge part of the story is how propaganda works, but you can’t learn from the lessons about it if you’re too busy beating yourself up or trying to sound morally superior to others.

Also, wanted to end by saying this is in no way pointed at OP, just my general thoughts on the matter (and a rant from how exhausting the lukewarm “holier than thou” takes I’ve seen have been)

there was a moment when the people in the movie theatre and the capitol audience in the stands were laughing at the same things, having the same reactions to the games, to the deaths, to flickermans jokes, to the doctor's announcement...i wonder aren't we watching it for entertainment too

suzanne collins' books may exist in popular culture as "dystopian", but they have always been a meticulous and startlingly close social critique of our world. at what point does our own idolization of the movies and the books repeat that story? we watch just as the capitol audience does.

all dystopia eventually crosses a line from realistic futurism to current relevancy. how long will it take us to realize we've already crossed that line with these books? and the very people who need to realize this are the ones in that audience...real or fake, we're the same: consuming and consuming.

[chcrrysprite]

a note

hey all :) because of how inconsistent i’ve been with being active on here and that it’s been a good...seven months or so since i posted anything on ao3, i’m not really sure how many people are still reading these posts (and how many people might’ve started rolling their eyes at my URL because maybe i’ve gotten annoying), but i read a really good fic today that made me think about how much i miss writing and it made me want to post something explaining my absence a little. i’m leaving this as my pinned for the time being, but my chapter/fic posts can still be found under “#cherrysprite.”

since i’ve always been kind of transparent, i’m not gonna lie now - i haven’t been in the best place as of late. back in april two of my friends and i crashed a fucking golf cart on a public road and all three of us sustained varying degrees of injury, and i’ve been hesitant to say anything about it because it’s been such a ridiculous game of mental tug-of-war after the fact. on one hand, it was a golf cart, the least dignified way of injuring yourself i can think of, so it shouldn’t have screwed me up so bad. on the other hand, the further i got away from the day of the incident, the less funny the circumstances got and the more i realized any or all of us could’ve easily been killed. it’s something i’ve struggled with a lot.

besides the risk factor of being in the passenger seat of a flipped-over cart, i got the least of the injuries with just a badly sprained wrist and foot + all the random scrapes and bruises. i couldn’t type for a while because of the wrist, but what’s effected my writing the most has been the aftermath. i wouldn’t blame you if you think it sounds stupid, but i was eventually diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (yeah, sounds stupid typing it out, but anyway) and things honestly haven’t been the same since then. a lot of fallout happened with it including cutting some ties (none of which being the friends in the cart...kind of have to be 4lifers after that), being in a HORRIBLE mood all the time because of the depression side of it, and losing pretty much all motivation i had to do schoolwork or put in any kind of effort, which obviously didn’t translate well for writing. at the end of the school year, i was mostly just focused on passing my shit and not LOSING my shit, so it didn’t leave me a lot of time.

but to finally get to the point, my lack of activity recently is because i’ve kind of felt like a different person ever since then. i lost so much interest in a lot of things i loved, including both writing and keeping up with the tumblr community, and for the first time in a while, i’ve kind of just been...trying to build it back up. if i’m being honest, i haven’t had a whole lot of success. for the first time in years, i was finally able to take a step back from what i’ve been doing, and...i was okay with it. it felt fine. it was even kind of a relief. in my heart i know that i love writing and will always want to get back to it one day, but for now, i feel like my time with it has come to a natural plateau. 

one of the things i’ve grappled with the most since i stopped writing was how hard it would be to just give up entirely and let go of all of the different paths and lines i’ve created for my favorite characters, so this is not a goodbye post. if anything, this is a, “hello, i’m still here, even if it’s just in spirit” post. i am so incredibly grateful for all of the support i’ve been given in my years on ao3 and tumblr. i started posting my writing so young i’ll probably have gone through all of high school growing and improving with all of the kindness and support i’ve gotten even when my stories were bad. i’d be lying if i said it was all sunshine and rainbows with everybody in this community, but to the people who have been there for any length of time - i see you, i remember you, and i appreciate you. thank you so much for everything. and i hope to get back to you with something new soon.

- emma 

[eatyourchancletas]

SUMMARY |  y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

[chapter index] [playlist] [previous chapter]

AUTHOR’S NOTE | we’re back! sorry for the long break, hopefully we can get into the flow of things! monnie’s already started chapter 5 off amazingly too :p written by both of us this time (mainly edited by monnie)! please leave feedback, like, reblog, whatever you can to let us know whether you enjoyed it or not!  (re-edited because dongwoo and changsik were switched up)

WORD COUNT | 2.4k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe​  if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

y/n was usually called outstanding, hard-working, smart. but in reality, he was an idiot when he was outside the workforce. 

being a workaholic meant showing your skills, growing them, improving them, and practicing them constantly. sometimes it seemed to be all he knew— it’s what all the people around him saw. 

yet again, outside of it he’s quite a gullible man; which brings him to his current situation… 

“looking for something?” 

he looked away from the bandages he was previously examining to come face to face with a man that looked around his age. “not really, just restocking my clinic. or—trying to find things to restock it with.” the man nods, glancing around suspiciously, although y/n didn’t didn’t seem to take notice of this particular action. 

“this pharmacy is pretty small, but it has lots of good supplies… lots of hidden gems. want me to show you where i get my tools?”

“oh,” y/n blinked in surprise, “you’re in the medical field?”

the man made eye contact with him, managing a convincing smile. “yeah, there’s a clinic down the road from here, about fifteen minutes by foot, this is the nearest pharmacy, so we stock up from here most of the time. i work there as an assistant.”

y/n nodded, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “wow, then please! show me what you suggest.”

at the approval, the man nodded, “name’s changsik, by the way. what do you work as? i’m assuming you’re also in the medical field.”

they walked along the aisle of the cough syrups, ointments, and the few other medicines to turn and make their way to the exit door. y/n furrowed his brows, about to ask why they were exiting until changsik made another turn, walking towards the staff room. 

“your assumption is correct, i’m a surgeon…” he replied belatedly, trailing off as he stepped foot inside the room. his eyes trailed on the shelves full of unopened boxes, more prescription pills, and—bingo! the supplies he’d written down on his list. 

for a split second, the memory of san handing it to him flashes across his mind, blinking it away as he turned to changsik. “wait, how are you able to access this?”

“i’m a regular.” he glanced across at him, looking past the window. “and also the perks of having a pharmaceutical license,” a hefty laugh left his mouth, “took some convincing though.” 

“huh,” y/n squatted down, inspecting a box that was on the floor, “i guess that makes sense.”

“just put what you need in a box and take it out. i’ll just say you’re helping me take it back.” changsik smiled, watching y/n nod and do so.

after a few minutes, y/n finished and announced he was ready to check out. changsik’s eyes met one of the cctv cameras before settling on y/n. 

“alright, let’s go check out.” 

as they walked toward the front, they reached the hallway that led to the exit. just as y/n was going to walk past, toward the checkout counter, a hand forcefully grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. he looked behind him, in a startled manner, thinking changsik had just forgotten something. however, a deeper fear struck when changsik’s hand moved to clench at the back of his collar. 

“don’t make a sound.”

the second the cold blade touched the skin of y/n’s neck, the surgeon knew to stay quiet. there was a burning in his throat as he struggled to swallow, scared to trigger any abrupt movement. his frantic mind jumbled about, words of scolding placed toward himself and the situation while trying to get a grip. he thought of using the in-ear to alert jongho, but it would risk exposure of the communication device: in any case… he’d be dead by then.

“what is taking him so long?” jongho grunted, tapping his foot in impatience. it’d already been about 10 minutes since y/n entered the store—it shouldn’t take that long for a surgieron to find equipment that’s of medicinal standard!

tapping his in-ear and calling out the doctor’s name, he got no response. placing his face mask on, he rushed into the store, beckoning the cashier. “have you seen a man, about 6’3” with h/c hair?”

the cashier stared at him with a shocked look, “yes, but he went back toward the restrooms. is he dangerous?”

jongho shook his head before running toward the back of the store. he shoved against the restroom door, shouting out the older’s name as he threw open each stall door. finally admitting the fact that the older had disappeared, he tapped his in-ear once more, calling out for anyone.

“jongho, what’s going on?” hongjoong had intercepted the connection, hearing jongho’s worried voice.

the bodyguard had no time to register the primal fear that would settle itself in his bones once faced with the leader, “it’s y/n, hyung. he ran away.” 

jongho returned to the headquarters after scoping out the area once more and had just entered through the front door when he was met with the sight of the whole group. 

hongjoong was staring at him with his jaw clenched and an almost empty whiskey glass settled in his lax hand. jongho had never seen a look so severe in hongjoong’s eyes—he’d never messed up this bad. and apparently, the leader wasn’t the only one emotionally affected by his mistake, because before hongjoong could even physically express his own anger, san had snatched the glass from his hand and launched it at jongho, missing his head by less than an inch.

everyone was shocked at his silent outburst, san even going as far to ignore the immense pain in his abdomen and on his shoulder, but hongjoong simply sent the younger a look, causing him to cower back in the slightest. jongho, however, was enraged at what had just happened. what gave san, who had no superiority over him, the right to do that?

“what the fuck was that?” he had stormed over to the boy, grabbing his shirt with both fists. san didn’t back down, sticking his jaw out toward the youngest.

“how could you lose y/n?”

“i was told no matter what to avoid cameras, so i stayed outside! i didn’t exactly think the fucker would have the balls to run away!” 

everyone watched the two, eyeing when to step in and pull them apart. but hongjoong let them run their mouths. the longer someone talks, the more something is revealed. what he was looking to be revealed, he didn’t know; but something would come up.

san pushed back against jongho, “y/n hyung wouldn’t run away. he’d never do that!” 

‘oh,’ hongjoong perked in interest.

the younger scoffed, “what makes you so sure?”

san’s next words came as a bit of a shock, leaving the others with silent questions, “he promised he’d come back.”

bingo!

an awkward silence filled the room as they all stared, speechless at how hopelessly fond their brother had become for their hostage. as much as some of them hated to admit it, y/n was only a hostage to them at the end of the day. and for san to fall into a reversal stockholm syndrome of sorts was nothing short of  a disappointment. however, that couldn’t be the main focus, y/n was missing and they didn’t know how strong his resolve would be in the event of torturing.

“run us back on what happened, will you?” hongjoong told jongho, trying to get a clear picture on what went down because the first thing they needed to know was why y/n was taken, much less, who took him. was it by the same person who’d been running their mouths in the streets? 

and right in the middle of his explanation, an alarm went off on yeosang’s phone; it was a message. the others kept talking, figuring yeosang could handle whatever message he’d received. 

it was when he promptly stood up that all attention had been placed on him. 

“it’s him! it’s dongwoo!”

a soft whimper sounded as y/n was thrown to the ground, hands bound and eyes blinded by some piece of cloth.

“boss,” y/n’s kidnapper spoke in a submissive wave, causing y/n to assume the guy had straightened his spine and was saluting him in some way.

a moment later, a gruff voice broke through the eerie silence in the room, “and who is this?” his voice wasn’t angered or bewildered at all, and that’s what scared y/n. he sounded intrigued; like even he wasn’t expecting to be a part of this situation.

“someone with connections to ateez— saw that bodyguard walking around with him.” 

the other man hummed, “the bodyguard didn’t follow you, did he?”

“no, no. i found them by the pharmacy; i know the area pretty well because i do the runs for sowon— i knew the camera blindspots!” his abductor seemed to be a bit on the simpler side when it came to this “boss” of his, y/n concluded. this was a completely different personality than when he was being abducted at the scene…

“good job. and you know what, changsik-ah,” his voice seemed to be getting more intrigued, y/n’s heart beating even faster in response, “since you bought in such a valuable hostage, i’ll let you have the honors of obtaining information from him.”

y/n felt the air beside him shift, changsik bowing a full 90 degrees at his boss’s blessing, “thank you!”

a sickeningly hearty laugh resonated and the creaking of a chair sounded before the boss’s next words seemed to be the final straw for y/n’s pounding heart.

“i want him alive.” 

“he better be alive,” san growled at jongho.

“we might get to him alive if you two would quit bickering. we’re wasting time because of you two, so shut it and sit down!” hongjoong had had enough of the two. he knew it was a sensitive time for san and jongho, different reasons for both, of course, but they would only get nowhere if they weren’t level-headed.

the two boys bowed their heads at their leader, san still sending a side-eyed glare at the younger before sitting down in his chair. 

it’d been two days since y/n was kidnapped and they still hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to get y/n back. 

wooyoung tried to trace where the text message came from within the first minute it was received, but surprise, surprise! it was a burner phone— so back to square one; checking all of the cctv footage in the area and trying to spot a suspect that wasn’t even visible from the first frame. 

the cameras in the pharmacy showed only y/n, the pharmacist, clerk, and four other customers. of those four, only one person never entered through the front door. and within those 48 hours, he’d managed to single out a vehicle that had arrived in the frame of one of the street cams showing the alleyway behind the pharmacy, and left the same way not even 5 minutes later. it was a suspicious vehicle too; white van, no windows in the back, and paper license plates. the paper plates hinted that they were most likely changed recently or are changed frequently.

and so after hours of having to witness his best friend be so uncharacteristically frantic and down, wooyoung, unfortunately, decided to do what he thought was smartest—save y/n himself to make his best friend happy again.

his intentions may have been well, but in stories like these, doesn’t something always go wrong?

“help me set the table guys,” seonghwa cleared his throat, hand on his hip as he stirred the soup on the stove. the steam from the boiling liquid sent another cloud to his tired face, a sheen of sweat and condensation forming.

“i really don’t understand why we are acting like we have the time to set a table and eat home cooked meals when we don’t!” san exasperated, pacing around the dining room. 

mingi gave a sympathetic smile, patting him on the back before going to help seonghwa. 

while mingi was more on the understanding side of san’s worries, jongho disagreed, “how exactly do you expect us to find him if we don’t take care of ourselves?”

“all i’m saying is food and sleep shouldn’t be this consistently on your minds when we’re all in this situation!”

jongho scoffed, finding the utmost absurdities in san’s words, “why are you acting like he’s so important? he doesn’t know anything about us or our weaknesses— for fuck’s sake, it’s not like we can’t just get another doc—”

a fist had flown toward jongho’s cheek, cutting off his words, before san’s thrashing body was being pulled back by mingi and yeosang.

“go to hell choi jongho!” san screamed, trying to force his way through the barrier the two had made with their bodies. the boy could feel his stitches tearing as he fought, but he didn’t care. jongho had been a bitch since the very first moment y/n was around, and for what reason?

“cut it out, san!” yeosang hollered, voice brute as he pushed against the boy.

“no, let me at him. he wants to keep being a little shit, i’ll show him shitty!”

“stop it! you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

san didn’t stop trying to break the barrier, focusing on getting to jongho and the other’s words, “notice what?”

“wooyoung’s missing,” yeosang began, san whipping his head toward him and trying to disagree, but yeosang was having none of it, “and you haven’t done anything but antagonize everyone here for not doing their jobs at your pace!”

“oh, excuse me for trying to be as quick as possible in finding him!”

“yeah, and who ever said quick was the efficient route to go? we’re dealing with people we know nothing about, but they seem to know a little too much about us, no? so stop getting on everyone’s asses and—”

“shut the hell up! please!” seonghwa had slammed his hands down on the table, screaming at the top of his lungs. every person in the room had immediately gone silent, words left on the tips of their tongues in a desperate attempt to fly about.

“you’re all going to shut it, sit down, and eat this meal like the civilized people we are and come up with a plan to get y/n back as safely as possible,” he gave a quick glare at everyone, blowing a puff of air at the lock of hair that had settled over his eyelids.

“am i clear?”

"yes, sir."

[random1amfics]

Demon Tyrant of France (3)

Adrien didn’t like how Marinette was acting.

At first he thought that she might have just been lashing out because Lila’s lies hadn’t been exposed yet. She had been showing signs of being stressed and frustrated before she gave him her signature smile a week ago.

There was also one option he didn’t want to consider. That Marinette was an akuma. It makes sense with the new clothes, her chosen name and her new attitude. But Plagg said that she didn’t feel like an akuma.

Adrien tugged at his hair, pondering about her. He risked a look to the back of the class where Marinette sat.

She had resigned as class president effective immediately. When Mme Bustier took her outside for a talk, the teacher came back pale-faced and had agreed to accept her resignation. The class didn’t take it well. Mostly him, Lila and Alya were being very vocal about it. The rest just looked resigned and stayed silent.

So far, she hadn’t accused Lila of lying at all. Just outright ignoring the Italian unless Lila was claiming something about Marinette doing something to her to which Marinette shuts it down with her solid alibis which made Lila angry. That wasn’t good at all. Lila would get akumatized and it was his job as Chat Noir to prevent that from happening. Marinette and him had talked about taking the High Road and she promised before this bizarre change. He was going to talk to her about it later, maybe she just needs a reminder that she was their ‘Everyday Ladybug’. Even if she wasn’t acting like it at the moment. They would all talk about it over and the class would get back to normal.

The bell rang, signalling the start of lunch break and bringing back Adrien out of his thoughts. He brushed out Lila’s and his friend’s offers of having lunch together but he needed to solve the Marinette/Demon Tyrant Problem.

“Hey, Marinette. I want to talk to you about-” Adrien said as he met her at the door.

“Lila. I know Agreste. I am surprised it took you this long before making your move.” Marinette replied in a cold tone, which was so unlike her that it made him a little uneasy.

“Look, I know Lila has been hard on you.”

The Tyrant snorted, it was an understatement. In the final days of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Lila had turned her ‘friends’ against her, painted her as a villain and tore apart her sketchbook. Thankfully, it wasn’t the one with her commissions which she had been smart enough to leave at home. The reason she still technically won the bet was because Chloe was there from the start, witnessing everything Marinette does in any situation, good or bad and making sure she followed the rules. (It also led to her inevitable reveal as Ladybug with Chloe’s nosy behaviour. That is a whole another story for later.)

Adrien continued with that stupid ‘everything is fine’ smile, “But you shouldn’t let her get to you like that.I mean this whole Demon Tyrant thing isn’t you. Resigning as class president. Not helping our classmates. You aren’t acting yourself. And if there is anything that I can do to help you-” He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder which she grabbed before he could.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Agreste. Don’t touch me unless you want a broken hand.”

Adrein frowned.

He pulled his hand back and gestured towards her, “See. This is what I am talking about. If you keep doing this, you are going to push all of our friends away, Marinette.”

“Agreste, you can’t address me by that name. You have lost that privilege when you stopped being my ‘friend’. I resigned and stopped helping because I can’t do things for a class that doesn’t appreciate my efforts. Furthermore, I am not pushing them away at all. They are all staying away because it took the Demon Tyrant to come back to get back to their senses and realize what they had done wrong the last few months. Well, most of them are. If they finally get the courage to apologize, I might forgive them but we won’t be friends. I am still fair in some cases.”

“Anyways, the main thing you should know is this,” she said as she gestured to herself, “has always been me. I don’t need ‘help’ to be the Marinette you have always known because News Flash, she was just a part I played to win a bet. An act. And before you pull any crap about faking to be your friend, you asked to be my friend and when you stop tending the flower, it will wilt. If you are worried about me exposing Lila, I always keep my word. I am not going to expose her. Now if you will excuse me.”

The Tyrant walked past him, not sparing him any further glances.

Adrien was left alone in the classroom.

Well, not quite alone.

“Plagg, what do I do?”

The kwami stayed silent. He had heard about the Demon Tyrant when a worried Tikki came to him one night. Marinette had told her about her past. She also told Tikki to take the earrings away and go find someone else better. Tikki came to him because she had little to no experiences with bad wielders, compared to Plagg.

Honestly, unless someone incurred her deserved wrath, she wasn’t so bad. Marinette or the Demon Tyrant was a great wielder for the Ladybug Miraculous and possibly, a better Black Cat than his current one.

×××××××××

Alya sat down in the cafeteria.

Lost for words at the new dynamics of the class, everything was different and nothing makes sense anymore. She can’t correlate between this bitchy Demon Tyrant and the sweet, kind and clumsy Marinette who was her best friend. Although, she hasn’t been acting herself the past week, accusing poor Lila of being a liar and bullying and threatening the new girl every chance she got.

On second thought, yes, she can.

It explains a lot about Marinette’s one-eighty degree change in attitude now.

And Alya had fallen for the act, hook, line and sinker that very first day. She wondered why Marinette did it. Did she get some sick thrill of luring people in with a nice facade with the smell of pastries, telling them that they were friends and when the time comes, dump like discarded toys?

Some journalist she was, she should have dug deeper, not just trust what was on the surface. Journalists were supposed to expose the corruption and she never saw it hiding itself right in front of her.

She was so deep in her rage of being deceived that she didn’t notice her classmates telling her to calm down or scrambling away from the black butterfly that was headed towards her.

“Hello, Shepherdess. I am Hawkmoth. You can’t trust wolves in sheep's clothing and there were wolves hidden in your flock. I will give you the power to expose the wolves before they hurt the sheep. In exchange, you will get me Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s miraculouses.”

“Yes, Hawkmoth.”

Dark energy covered the reporter, transforming her into an akuma.

(Because I suck at describing clothing, Alya’s akuma looks the same as Bo Peep in Toy story 4. But with a darker colour scheme. She has a shepherd's staff. Her power is to expose people’s true self by changing who stays true to themselves as sheep and those who do not as wolves. The sheep are made into her minions and the wolves are…..slaughtered.)

×××××××××

Tag: @buginetye, @fidget-eep, @hunnibear-x

[antagonizedjordan]

I don’t really know what to say here, but I feel I need to say something.

My family was among the first to lose power in Austin, Texas, during the so-called “rolling blackouts” that turned out to be a controlled, intentional shut-off for select citizens for an undetermined amount of time.  A lie that resulted in massive suffering, a lack of preparedness, death of pets and plants, and yes, death to families across Texas, including children. Devastating property damage is still bursting through the state, apartments and homes flooding out, freezing, and catching fire.  Whatever the media is telling you about what’s going on in Texas, it’s worse.  And those pictures with the completely lit skylines and the blacked-out neighborhoods you’ve seen? They aren’t exaggerating.  I could see the empty high rises from our home, stuck in total darkness, with hotels keeping on their landscaping lights, and empty office buildings lit all the way up.  When I tell you the racial and class divide of who had power (electricity) and who didn’t was real, I mean it was REAL.  East of I-35 was left to suffer.  

After 2 days of our home’s interior at 30 degrees, and with no water or fireplace to help, we made the decision to evacuate.  I.e., decided it was more worth it to risk the roads (which were some of the most hazardous driving conditions I’ve ever experienced, and I grew up on the East Coast), than freeze.  Our neighborhood was without heat for more than 50 hours straight in single digit weather, in homes NOT designed for cold temperatures.  Some people are STILL without power, and it is day 6 (this is now due to storm damage, not controlled outages).    

And we had to make this decision with little to no information, due to both a horrific lack of communication from all city entities, and completely shit phone service (on a phone with 5% battery).  

At one point, we lost control on a downhill over a bridge, and I seriously thought we were going to die. I just reached over and held my wife’s hand and told her I loved her over and over as she held our cats in the passenger seat.  It may sound silly, melodramatic, or what have you, but it was a devastatingly calm moment of acceptance and I’m still shook.  The drive to our safe home was harrowing – cars abandoned along the entire way, all in varying states.  Some destroyed, some just left there, lodged in snow.  

Ambulances were all over the place and I know I saw at least one dead body on that drive.  Our homeless population was so, so vulnerable, and resources weren’t set up in time.    

We were one of the lucky ones who had a family willing to take us in – an immunocompromised family who took in FOUR families, despite the risks of the pandemic.  They housed us, shared their food, and kept their home warm despite the price gouging of electricity.  For those who got into a hotel in time, they are also suffering from gross price gouging, if they could afford it in the first place.  

Now, a week later, most of the city still doesn’t have water, and those who do have little to no pressure and are on a boil notice.  Grocery stores are emptied out with delays on deliveries.  Yes, FEMA is here, but it’s slower than you’d think, and the warming centers were set up after the driving conditions became insanely dangerous.  It is still a disaster down here – a humanitarian crisis.  

We arrived home yesterday, and I don’t know what witchcraft kept our home safe, but our pipes did not burst. Our neighbors cannot say the same, and the damage is unnerving.  We came home to shelter, but we also came home to destroyed gardens, birds frozen in our driveway, and trauma.  

Texas’s abandonment of her people has been traumatic, and people will be recovering from this physically, emotionally, and financially for years.  Ted Cruz leaving for Cancun through it all?  Hysterically hypocritical and gold for memes, but a final punch to the gut on how abandoned Texans really were.  

If you know someone in Texas, send them your love.  It’s been a dark, dark week.

I’m thankful for HEB, our local grocery store who let customers walk out the door without paying when they lost their power, and Beto, the man who SHOULD be in charge, organizing aid for senior citizens in need.  I’m thankful for all the families who opened up their homes, and I’m thankful for the technicians who worked through horrific weather to restore power.  I’m thankful for the ambulance who drove on iced over back roads to rescue my wife’s father from his rural home, bringing him into the hospital after 3 days bedridden with a temperature of 92 degrees.  He’s alive and recovering from hypothermia.

To my art community who reached out and offered my family aid, you sent us a warmth you cannot fathom – your kindness has kept us afloat.  I tried to draw something today for the first time, but stared at a blank canvas for an hour before I finally made this.  Fanart, to make me smile, referenced from my own house, and the experience of coming home and taking a deep breath because, somehow, our home was still there.  

Love to you all,

A xo

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

Not The Forgiving Type

[Name] was a kind kid. He was poised to be number one until shit hit the fan. But he wasn't gonna let his dream die no matter who got in the way.

Or

The one where All Might neglects his son a little. The son eventually goes apeshit and hurts the people that wronged him on his journey to becoming the Number One Hero

Warnings: Major Character Death, Vengeance, Murder, Blood Mentions, Religious Themes/Imagery, Christianity is not portrayed in a good light, All Might is compared to God, There is no good guy, sad ending.

The thing that [Name] hates most is his smile.

Christians believe that every human was born with sin. As such, you spend every day of your life abstaining from further sins as you try to erase the red from your ledger. You’re encouraged to do acts of service, not to win the favor of God but from the kindness of your heart. Because you care about people. Yet not doing those acts of service puts you years behind if you aim to present God with a clean ledger.

[Name] was kind. It wasn’t something that came natural to him nor was it particularly easy all of the time but he made the effort. Be kind to others, the family motto. His father was like God to the people he saved. Keeping a smile on his face as if at the shine of his teeth all life’s problems would flash away. And he’d give grand speeches for no other reason than he could.

“Power” his father would say grandstanding “is for the strong to be able to protect the week” [Name]’s father had the kind of power that made the weak feel untouchable. All might would save them. They were sure of it. [Name] was sure of it too.

‘Daddy’s so strong’ [Name] thought ‘I’m gonna be strong too.’ It was a shared thought between the two actually. He was the son of the number one. The son of God. Destined to bear the weight of everyones sins. The reincarnation, who stretches himself thin for the sake of saving others. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Strong should his resolve be, lest that head roll off of his shoulders.

[Name] was four when he got his quirk. Yagi was ecstatic. There was a slim chance that the boy would be born quirkless like Yagi himself and [Name]’s mother wasn’t in the picture. A one night stand who was paid off after she showed up on his doorstep with a baby. There was no way to be completely certain what would happen, but he believed. Hoping for all hope his little boy would be strong. At the proud look on his dad’s face, [Name] smiled. He would continue to make his father proud.

At the age of nine [Name] had all but mastered said quirk. He was a prodigy who’d trained with heroes like Nighteye, and Eraserhead practicing both combat and battles of quirk. Within the next year All Might finally thought [Name] was ready. And sometime after [Name]’s 10th birthday Yagi sat him down to talk about the possibility of him being the next person to wield One For All. [Name] was more than shocked to hear that his dad had been quirkless and possessed a rare, powerful quirk. In his nervousness all he could manage was a smile, a wide confident smile that masked all his hesitation and surprise.

“I’ll be the next number one hero dad” [Name] said “And i’ll make you proud”

Yagi gave his son a matching smile “You already have. And I can’t wait to see what you will do in the future my boy”

At age 13 [Name] took down his first villain. It was illegal of course, but things are easily swept under the rug when you’re the child of God. But why should he have been punished? He was doing good for the sake of good. Saving others with a smile on his face. That was the family motto. It mattered not that the streets were stained with the villain’s blood. No, he was a hero. Heroes saved the day by defeating the villain and giving hope to the people. His actions should please God.

“He’s not ready”

“He’s my son”

“And that’s why you can’t be impartial. Take a break, spend some time with [name] and teach him how to be a hero”

[Name] creeped closer to his bedroom door at the sound of the furious whispers trying to figure out who was talking about him and why. He leaned his head against the door not risking the chance that if he opened it to take a peak he could be seen or heard.

“He’s a great kid, with a powerful quirk. He cares about stopping injustice, and he gives people hope. Like I did. He’s primed to be my successor”

“All might you know I think of you as a great hero. But he’s too much like you”

‘Nighteye’ [Name] realized

“I think he spends too much time trying to be like you that he doesn’t know the true meaning of heroics. You’re right he’s a great kid but I don’t think he’s ready for the kind of responsibility that comes with One For All.”

“Who else if not him?”

Nighteye paused, and answered cautiously “I met a kid. Resembles you in looks, a little more than [Name] does. He has a strong work ethic and made his debut into class 1B at UA. His quirk isn’t exactly strong but he’s made it so. Give him a chance”

Toshinori gave a hesitant “maybe” and the conversation ended there.

Betrayal felt like a sharp stabbing sensation. Nighteye, his precious mentor doesn’t think he’s ready enough. Doesn’t want him to succeed. Wants his father to mentor another kid because he doesn’t believe in [Name]. Ouch.

The next morning, [name] is quieter. More unsure of himself as he asks his dad to stop training with Nighteye. The relationship between All Might and Nighteye is frayed and [Name] knows that. He’s the glue keeping them together so to get back at Nighteye, [Name] will sever the connection between idol and fan. He doesn’t need Nighteye, he just needs to please his dad. He’ll train on his own and become number one. Praise be to God.

Hands gliding through the air, [Name] played with a bright red colored mist that flowed through his fingers and gathered in the palms of his hands. He would flex them, some fingers pointing down, others curled inward as if he were grabbing something with that finger only. Depending on the weight of the object he moved, his arms would flex too.

In a fight his stance became wider, more sturdy almost as if actually shouldering the weight of the object. His knees bent when he planted himself into the ground, resisting the push and pull of gravity as he lifted things with a thought and a flick of his hands. He was powerful. The kind of powerful that makes you smirk at your opponent, not because you underestimate them but just because you know you’ll win. It’s a long hard road to becoming that powerful and [Name] was damned if he wasn’t going to show it. The perfect venue was coming up too. The UA Entrance Exams.

[Name] unconsciously used his quirk to stop something from landing in the koi pond he’d been walking past. “Poor fishies” [Name] thought as he grabbed the floating book. It read ‘Hero Analysis For the Future’  He casually flipped through it, silently asking for forgiveness. He’s not a snooper; he just needed a little guidance if he was going to be the best. It was a little burnt but thorough. He heard the noise of a bunch of boys walking by and he looked up. At the sight of Bakugou [Name]’s eyes flashed red. Bakugou looked away and scowled knowing he couldn’t beat the son of the Number One hero. Not yet.

“Oh [Name]-senpai you found my book”

“Izuku-kun. I came to you for advice. But also just because I wanted to see you.”

“Of course! We’re friends you can ask me anything”

“I’ve been training a lot on my own recently because I wanted to surprise my dad with my progress but pretty soon I think I’m gonna ask him to personally train me. The UA entrance exams are pretty soon. And I want to make him proud”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine! You’re a great hero already with an amazing quirk. I think he’ll be proud of you no matter what you do”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive”

“Thanks. I’ve gotta go train, my exams are way sooner than yours. You’ve still got about 10 months right?”

“You honestly think I can make it senpai?”

“I don’t know. But I like you and you’ve got the right attitude so I want to support you. Who knows maybe you’ll make history as a quirkless hero.”

[Name] smiled and bid Izuku farewell as he headed off in the opposite direction intending to train even harder to become the number one. Everything in his life was primed so he would be the best. He was Icarus chasing after the sun on his man-made wings. But he was determined not to fall, not to drown and he refused to fail even if the sun burned him up upon first contact.

[Name] passed his entrance exams and was ranked number one in the incoming first year class. His first number one. The sports festival being his next goal, and once he finally had One For All, there’d be no one to stop him. He was sure of it. And that’s what he wanted to tell his father the day Yagi came home and excitedly told him he’d met and befriended a young boy from Mustafu called Izuku Midoriya. [Name] smiled brightly happy that the two of them had met and instead promised himself to bring the topic up the next morning.

The opportunity never came considering All Might had gone missing from the house every morning before [Name] woke up and he’d come home deflated and exhausted. [Name] would just smile at the exhausted Yagi and make the two of them dinner or tuck Yagi into the bed when he’d fall asleep on the couch. It was pretty easy for a telekinetic to tuck their dad into bed without waking him. Sometimes [Name]’s eyes and hands would glow and he’d flutter his fingers near Yagi’s temple sending him sweet dreams. After about two months of this [Name] decided to confront Yagi, and he camped out on the couch that faced the front door. When Yagi tried to sneak out [Name] spoke up

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got some work to do early this morning”

“Everyday for two months?”

Yagi’s eyes widened, not knowing [Name] noticed his habits. And that was a part of the problem. [Name] paid attention to everything, he was a strategist who had a degree in All Might. It was how he and Midoriya became friends in the first place and why they continued to get along so well

“I’ve been training”

“For what” [Name] asked and at the slight downturn of his father’s smile he realized he’d been asking the wrong questions. “Where?” He received silence

“Who are you training dad? And don’t lie to a mind reader”

“I’ve been training Young Midoriya”

“For his entrance exams? Why not invite me? The two of us are friends and I can teach him how to spar”

“It’s just between the two of us, no need to wear yourself thin. Focus on training for the sports festival”

“I’ve been trying to ask you to train me. This is the perfect opportunity”

“Perhaps later my boy”

The disappointment barely got a chance to sit on [Name]’s face before he smiled “Have fun dad. Tell him good luck for me, yeah?” Yagi nodded and headed out the door, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. [Name] was a good kid.

[Name] returned to training alone, and cleaning up after his dad, and going to school, and listening to his dad lie, and smiling. But the feeling that he was missing something took over him and set him on edge. So he went for a walk. And who better to find than Izuku Midoriya and his dad training on a beach. [Name] reached up a hand to wave at them before realizing this is what was setting him on edge. His dad was paying more attention to his quirkless kohai than his own son. He felt another stabbing sensation similar to when Nighteye had betrayed him but this time the pain was in his chest and didn’t go away. It was accompanied by the desire to cry. And so [Name] stood there hysterical with a smile on his face and tears streaming down his cheeks. The taste of snot reaching his tongue through his teeth.

[Name] waited for them to finish training before he followed Izuku pretending to just casually bump into the boy. “Oh wow Izuku you’re shaping up. My dad says you’ve been training lately” [Name] knew the boy was horrible at lying and would probably nervously blurt out the truth between the two, and if he didn’t there was always the option of reading his mind.

“Hehe, yeah” Izuku chuckled nervously

“So what’re you training for exactly? I know you’re aiming for UA but what’s your strategy for passing the exams? Just regular old strength training?”

“Actually All Might’s been training me for something else entirely. I’ve got to go but I’ll talk about it more with you later okay?” Midoriya screamed behind him as he put some distance between the two. He was smart, smart enough not to look in [Name]’s direction anytime he lied, a strategy that kept him safe for months. All good things must come to an end.

[Name] showed up on the beach one afternoon and demanded to know what was happening. His expression was serious and his eyes glowed the moment they tried to placate him.

“I’ve been training Young Midoriya to be a hero” All Might started

“Yes I know that”  

“More accurately his successor” Midoriya finished

“Wait what” [Name] frowned

“I knew you approved of Young Midoriya becoming a hero and when I saw him save Young Bakugou from the attack I saw myself in him”

“I’M supposed to be your successor. You don’t see yourself in me? Your son?”

“Bubs-”

“Don’t Bubs me. And You!” [Name] whipped around furious, hurt in his eyes as he faced Midoriya “I told you all I ever wanted was to be like my father and make him proud. I befriended you and protected you when I could. On the day of the attack I told you I wanted to train with him and you stole him. You took him right from under me.”

“I’m sorry” Midoriya stuttered out “But you have a quirk. You don’t know what it’s like being powerless and picked on. He gave me a way out”

[Name] looked at Midoriya sympathetically, simultaneously wanting to reach out and hug the boy but also wanting to make him suffer. At [Name]’s conflicted silence Midoriya continued “Senpai, please. Can’t you just be happy for me? I’m finally getting to live my dream”

[Name] looked at him apathetically “Why would I be happy you sacrificed my dream for yours?”

“Please” they begged and oddly enough, they begged in harmony “Don’t go. Forgive us, we didn’t mean to hurt you” Their eyes were pleading almost as if they knew the second he turned his back on them, it would be the end of their relationship. [Name] got a high off of their suffering. It was the first time in months he’d truly felt happy. They got a taste of what he’d been feeling.

‘This is karma’ [Name] thought ‘God’s in his heaven and all's right with the world’ He looked at the two of them and smiled. A reassuring smile. They let out breaths they didn’t know they were holding in as he laid a hand on the side of each of their heads. “I’m sorry” he said sickeningly sweet “I’m not the forgiving type”

Neither All Might nor Midoriya had time to react before [Name]’s eyes glowed and he sent them into a nightmare where they were abandoned and lonely calling out for help only to be betrayed. [Name] walked home with his head feeling more clear than it had in weeks. He’d always thought of his father as God. And if he were God that would make [Name] Jesus.

God made Judas, and All Might made a hero out of Midoriya.

Things were awkward in [Name]’s house after that. Yagi and Izuku were still training, and so Yagi would come home to a dark house and no son to greet him. If [Name] was around when Yagi got home, he’d pretend not to notice or leave the room immediately and have his things float up to his room. Yagi knocked on his son’s door one day and though he got no response he knew [Name] was listening.

“You can still be a great hero my boy. I know you’ll do great things”

“There’s no room for me to be Number One while One For All exists”

Yagi was disheartened and walked away leaving it at that. The day of the entrance exams was coming up and Izuku would finally receive One For All. He hoped they could take it one day at a time from there, considering they’d all be attending the same school for the next few years. Midoriya went on to pass the entrance exams and earned a spot in class 1A. Yagi was ecstatic and Midoriya got a taste of what it felt like to be a hero.

The UA Sports Festival made for a grand spectacle where Izuku Midoriya had called out to the world and said “I Am Here”. He showcased an amazing power but also his poor control over said power. About a week after the festival, Izuku was attacked by villains who believed the key to his strength was in his DNA. They knew he wouldn’t sit still and let them pluck hairs, so the easiest way was to make him bleed. They ambushed him, subdued him and took him to a second location where he was bled and beaten to death. His body was found a week after his disappearance. Broken arms, legs and lacerations all over his body. The police suspected most of his injuries came from him trying to escape.

The villains couldn’t remember why they took him. The harder they tried to remember the worse their heads hurt and their eyes would glow red. Even Naomasa with his lie detector couldn’t pick up the truth. All the villains knew was that his blood was supposed to give them a boost, like some of the other illegal quirk boosters on the market. The suspects were released on bail and disappeared several hours later.

All might of course felt responsible and was weighed down with guilt. He had killed Young Midoriya through his own negligence. Heavy is the head that wore the crown. Yagi was strong enough to keep his head on his shoulders but he could not move from the position he was in.

He recalled a conversation between himself and [Name] a day or two after Midoriya’s disappearance. The boy who hadn’t smiled once since their fight on the beach gave a twisted smile as he asked “How’s your successor doing? Have they found his body yet?

Yes, All Might had done this to Young Midoriya himself. He played the part of instigator and now he was the secret keeper. He was to bear the sins of his son and himself as he prayed that unlike [Name], Young Midoriya up in heaven was of the forgiving type.

[lupically]

#3B797A | XIAO.

genre | angst

word count | 1707

warning | mention of death, mention of blood, faint mention of injury

note | this was originally posted on my other writing blog, i am moving it here because... well, i have a genshin writing blog now. and, once again, this is not very good. let’s hope i get better at this!

if karmic debt is a real thing, this must be xiao’s worst one yet.

he swore he would keep an eye on you after the first time you died on him.

he has never felt anguish like it.

of all the invisible chains tied around his struggling limbs and his fragile neck, of all the pain and misery he has been put through over the years of his catastrophic life, of all the repressed memories and emotions he kept fighting back to keep his sanity at bay, he has never felt anguish and manic like he did when he saw your lifeless body on the ground with an arrow stuck to your back.

it was the worst one yet, especially when he was the reason why you ended up with a bed of bloody roses underneath you.

he swore he would keep an eye on you after that.

and then came the second time you died. that was also because of him.

the blood that trickled down your lips as you smiled at him was vivid in his memories. he was supposed to be fond of the way you felt relieved to see him there, after he had carried you behind a fallen wall so you didn’t have to see him deal with the treasure hoarders who put you in such a bad state for trying to take a pair of emerald earrings back.

he was, to a certain degree, when you choked out his name in that god-awfully brilliant voice of yours. it was faint, but he could hear the genuine happiness in you when you called his name.

you were always so excited to see him. ever since you dropped atop of him from the sky, apparently coming from nowhere, you have been happy to see him. he was undeserving of that; the chances you have given him at experiencing how soft this world can be was undeserved, but nonetheless, xiao was fond of the way you make him feel, more than he would like to admit, more than anything he has ever seen or heard or felt in this world.

you were the fondest he has ever felt. it was all you.

but the fondness goes like dust and ashes when you reached up with the pair of emerald earrings you bought him, which he dumped in the middle of the ruins because he was being petty about something insignificant he could no longer remember.

the sight of them gave him a moment of realization—you were here because of him.

and then you took your last breath—you died because of him, again.

he didn’t know how to feel when you didn’t respond to your own name. he kept calling for you—[name], wake up, he said. [name], stop playing around, you know you’re not funny, he said. [name], [name], [name]. but your eyes remained closed, so he held you close for the first time, and he exchanged the tears with apologies.

he promised he would keep an eye out for his actions after that.

yet here he was.

don’t die. please don’t die.

he dropped his spear and crouched down frantically next to you. he was still panting from the fight with the three ruin guards patrolling around fallen pillars and buildings, but what made him stress, even more, was less because of his sore body and more because of your bleeding head.

“[name]? [name], open your eyes, right now!” he said—scolded, in the voice he always talked to you with, the fondly defeated tone that showed he has surrendered his annoyance for your happiness, but with more urgency this time.

you coughed, feeling more lifeless than ever. there was a rush of deja vu back then, just a few moments ago when xiao gently laid you against the wall and left after telling you to stay still and keep your eyes open for him. it was like you have lived through this moment before, but you were hurting too much from your head wound to think into it.

xiao breathed out a sigh of relief.

thank the archons.

“hey, xiao…” you greeted with a faint smile, then you reached your hand up to give him the quingxin you picked. “flowers… got you flowers… for crowns… ”

he pursed his lips. you silly! you bone-head! why did you not just buy them from the flower shop? was what he wanted to say. even though knowing you, you would probably spill some weird argument like how flowers picked by other people wouldn’t have the same freshness and love in them, and he would say nothing because there was no winning for him when it comes to you.

he never has anything to say. nothing to go against your favors, and certainly nothing that makes you worry ever again. nothing that will get you running into forests alone to pick him flowers and risk the chance of you stumbling into ruin guards, or hilichurls, or treasure hoarders, or abyss mages.

(maybe the one you should avoid is him.)

“come on, let’s get you to the doctor, okay?” he said as he discarded the flowers at a frantic pace.

he looped your arms around his neck and hoisted you on his back. his spear sparkled next to the white flowers on the ground, reflecting a halo glow upward as if telling on him to the sky about what he did to you again. he took off running back to the city, praying to the archons that he could end your pain quicker, that he could find someone to stop the hurting faster.

but it seemed destiny had other plans.

he paused for a second to catch his breath. he did not notice the way your arms had long gone slack around his shoulders, and how you kept slipping off his back as if you could no longer support yourself. he was deliberately ignoring the details that signified your death, his delusional consciousness wishfully thinking that he would make it to the doctors in time.

“we’re getting there, [name],” he said as if he could still feel your short breath against his neck.

“you’re going to be fine, i will make sure,” he said as he began walking as if he could still feel your chest heave against his back.

“i will keep you safe next time, i promise,” he said as he leaned forward a little because your lifeless body was starting to slip off his back again.

“and then we can go pick flowers together, and you can make me flower crowns,” he croaked with guilted tears running down his cheeks, a smile on his face as if he wasn’t just given hope that he could save you this time, only to have you die on his back.

all because he said he would never put on a flower crown, and you insisted that he has to try.

(maybe the one you should avoid is him.)

the evil archon was silent when xiao appeared before it with your dead body. this was the third time. it was starting to see a pattern, and all it felt was glee that the pattern it has carefully cultivated was working in its favor.

because what better to keep the adepti under control than to make him feel indebted to itself? what better to keep the adepti under control than to keep reviving his dead lover and make him think they have a surviving chance this time around? what better to keep the adepti under control than to kill his lover and use his guilt against him every single time?

“dead again? what have you done?”

“please… help me…” xiao laid your body before the archon, which was just a statue without a face.

“reviving a human that was consumed by death takes a great deal of power, alatus.”

xiao gritted his teeth, but he said nothing when he could feel your skin under his gripping fingers. he lowered his head, pushing down the horrendous amount of anger and humiliation to the back of his mind, and he begged.

he begged for another chance to see your beautiful eyes smile under the moon again, he begged for another chance to hear you talk on and on about the wondrous world you two live in together, he begged for another chance to feel your radiant soul live near him and to let you show him around the city as if he could not already navigate through it with his eyes closed.

(he could not. he knew the concrete roads and the old stone walls, but he could never know about the smooth flower petals dancing with the wind and the tender glow of the sky everyone shared without you taking his hand and dragging him across all parts of the world.)

(just like cotton candy, you told xiao. his frown melts like cotton candy, whatever cotton candy was.)

“i’ll do anything,” he said.

“for the mortal. really.”

“i will do anything,” xiao declared again.

the golden flair in his eyes almost made the evil archon shiver.

it was radiating off of him—the heat of anguish and terror that he had once killed you, the heat of unfairness and humiliation that he has to stoop so low as to meddle with life and death, the heat of extreme affection for a lover he now has nowhere to cast upon because the sole receiver has long died in his arms.

all for a mortal. a special mortal. a mortal who has made someone who hates, love. a mortal who has made him, him who hates and scorns, love. not just themself, but everything else around him—music, flowers, lights, cities. a mortal who made sure he will always love, still, even after the sole reason for his affection is gone and he no longer has a reason to be gentle.

the archon wanted to laugh.

truly. the only thing more maleficent than love itself is the act of using it against someone.

looking at xiao right now—inadequate, fragile, chained, and so miserable.

oh, how it worked in its favor.

it has done so many things to the poor boy, but this one, oh, this would be the worst one yet.

[cerastes]

Among many things in Darknight’s Memoir, I love how the themes, and their effect on the cast, get touched upon in a manner that isn’t entirely explicit but isn’t as crystal clear as you’d expect.

For example, at one point, W was entirely willing to blow herself up to take out the enemy. She didn’t particularly want to, but she was going to do it if it came to it and if she had no other way out. When Ines understandably asks her “are you serious?”, W simply answers “well, if there’s no other way out of this, a kill is a kill, right?”. Contrast this with her attitude later, where her demeanor is as playful and caustic as we’ve come to expect from her, but her decisions, however, her courses of action, change entirely. No more thrill-seeking by riding the Catastrophe’s wind, no more gambles, no more unnecessary risks, she’s come to put a value on her own life beyond being a mercenary in the endless war game of the Kazdel barrenlands, she’s got a mission, something she less needs to accomplish and more that she wants to accomplish.

And that’s an important narrative thread in Darknight’s Memoir: To want. Sarkaz mercenaries, by and large, fight for the next paycheck more than anything, to get by, a client that pays is a good enough client. W herself initially came to Hoederer with the intent on killing him and claiming the bounty on his head. Seeing her prey firsthand and noticing she can’t kill him, she joins him instead. And that’s just natural: Why take on a foe that will likely injure you irreparably or even kill you? Better join up, and go for bigger fish. There’s literally no stakes in that fight. There’s nothing beyond the paycheck, but that also means there’s nothing except the paycheck: You can take it, but you can also leave it. The longer lived Sarkaz know when to take and when to live.

W, at this point, Wanted Nothing. Just being able to go through the motions, through whatever fights came next, was good enough. One of the first scenes we are treated to involves W throwing a team of her own mercenary corps under the bus to make it out alive. As a reader, our first reaction most likely is “wow, what a bastard”, but then you see Hoederer and Ines’ reaction, and it’s simply “oh, yeah, that happens”. It’s completely normal. That just happens in Kazdel and among Sarkaz, it’s the norm. That’s not to say it isn’t appalling, but in the context of Kazdel, that’s just another day in the job.

There’s no Want. Or technically speaking, there’s a very superficial, utilitarian, soulless Want: The next day, the next paycheck, the next meal, the next fight. Who cares about whatever the trillion of ‘noble’ Sarkaz clans are fighting for or peddle? They have their flags and their sigils and their plastic speeches, but they are all the same: The same warriors, the same traitors, the same devils. Whichever pays you, it’s all the same.

That changes when W meets Theresa. The full breadth of their dynamic is not explored in Darknights’ Memoir, but it’s made very clear that seeing the King of Kazdel, the sovereign of all Sarkaz, the noblest of nobles herself, Theresa, hunched over clumsily trying to fix a janky door, had an effect on W. Well, that, and their subsequent dialogue. Theresa was likely the first Sarkaz W met that wasn’t at least romancing a few ways to kill her, that simply wanted to know her name, and a little more about her. To us, Theresa showed the barest of cordialities with a kind demeanor, but to W, it was likely something that sent her brain into a blue screen of death state. She took an interest in Theresa, unlike she ever did with any other Sarkaz, or noble, or even any other person, and she observed her and served her.

And that there is when a pivotal change occurs: Want.

There is now Want. W No Longer Wants Nothing. She wants to see Theresa interact with others, she wants to see her alone, she wants to see how she does this and that, she wants to see her ideals through, she wants to actually believe in what she has to offer, because for the first time, it’s not a paycheck on the other side of the table that’s motivating her, it’s being able to see someone sincerely working towards a noble goal without ulterior motives and without betrayal, someone who actually believes what she preaches. Not long before this particular cutscene, Hoerderer mentions having killed someone that was trying to assassinate him, a guy he knew and that called him his friend, that even said he’d love for him to marry his daughter. This is the Sarkaz Normal. Literally everything is meaningless to the Sarkaz, even camaradeire. Not on Babel, not on that landship. W might as well have seen paradise in Babel, and in Theresa, a Messiah.

And, see, this is what I love about Darknights’ Memoirs: W doesn’t suddenly turn soft. W doesn’t do a 180. W supports the lofty goals of Theresa in the ways she knows, no doubt dyed by Theresa’s colors, but nonetheless using the skills and temperament that comes natural to her. W was born and nurtured by the battlefield, it’d make no sense for her to suddenly discard all of it, but the colors of Theresa are evident from this point on, even after Theresa’s passing.

W never becomes any less ruthless to her enemies, but there’s clearly a change to the melody of her percussive explosives. It’s no longer about the next battlefield, it’s no longer about the next paycheck, no, every move, from there on, has one clear objective: Kill Theresis, for having Theresa killed.

Now, revenge is nice and cold, but there’s a difference in how she’s going about this: As Hoederer mentions he wants out of this sordid lifestyle, W’s first reaction is to lament the loss of a capable hand, but to otherwise tell him that, if he’s getting out, he might as well Take This Specific Route She Knows Is Safest. It’s not the first farewell she’s given her blessing to: In this very conversation, Hoederer muses that W’s turned soft for letting Flamebringer leave without repercussions. While W’s Sarkaz ended up directly killing Scout’s team, Ines herself outright says to Scout that W didn’t have the heart to kill her old Babel ally (and this is an important distinction: Remember that W is loyal to Babel, not Rhodes Island), with W likely half counting on The Ghost of Babel to be able to make it out with his considerable skills (although if we recall what Scout had to say in Operational Intelligence, he seems to have been pretty aware he was going to die one way or another, and accepted this; his lack of regrets make more sense when you consider he IS the reason why RI was able to rescue Doctor at all, thanks to his deal with W so she’d let Rhodes Island pass). W, at this point of Want, is at that point where she’s not losing any sleep if she has to off someone so her cover in Reunion is believable and isn’t blown, but if she can avoid killing RI Operators, she’ll try and take that road (such as her not killing Adnachiel). Obviously, it’s not exactly the most altruistic or heroic of attitudes, but it’s about as good as it gets for, again, someone who used to believe that using her own teammates as cannon fodder to cover her retreat was perfectly normal and expected, even.

Recall the talk Ines and Hoerderer had about flags. Hoerderer says he’d rather forget about their flag, because it’s an empty symbol, and there’s no real flag for him to believe for... Instead, he believes in the flagpole: You could take that to be a very pure representation of Kazdel as a concept, as this eternal, meaningless warzone, where meaningless people wage meaningless conflict for meaningless rewards, create meaningless bonds and ultimately die a meaningless death: The very same man that throws his arm around you, calls you his friend, and tells you to marry his daughter will take a contract on your head the next day. It’s just the flagpole. It’s meaningless. It holds nothing but useless air. A flagpole with no flag is representative of something that has no meaning and no essence, a lone flagpole is exactly that: An ode to being devoid of, bereft of what should be there, but isn’t.

In many ways, as you may have noticed, Hoederer is meant to be a foil to W, and this is no exception: W has a flag, and again, it’s extremely telling that W’s affiliation as an Operator is not Rhodes Island or Kazdel, it’s Babel.

If we can consider Kazdel to mean more than just a physical location, if we can consider Kazdel to represent that meaningless, cruel, harsh style of life and way of death, then so we can consider Babel to be more than simply “Rhodes Island before Rhodes Island”, we can consider Babel to mean the ideology of Theresa, that style of life and way of death, full of meaning, with a clear objective, with a rocky path well worth the bloody trek.

If whenever Hoederer talks about about wanting to “leave Kazdel” as wanting to leave this sordid lifestyle behind once and for all, then thus, W being a part of Babel, despite her contact with Rhodes Island’s Kal’tsit, despite her undercover status as Theresis’ representative of the Sarkaz in Reunion, despite all affiliations, then that means something. And it’s changed her to some degree, sure, but the important change here is not W as a person, but rather, what W chooses to do with what she is and what she can do, successfully breaking out of the endless cycle of meaningless, vapid warfare, participating in it only in order to eventually crush it. Whereas W initially joined Hoederer because she saw herself outgunned, W is actively going against Theresis, even if she is more outgunned than ever, because now she has something she Wants. She could very easily submit to Theresis, but that’s what the past, Want-less W would do, not the current W, driven by Babel.

Because maybe, that’s all that the Sarkaz needed: Not something to believe, because words are cheap and nobles have those a dime a dozen, but someone to believe in. And not just anybody, but someone that can actually promise you more than a meaningless battle the next three weeks, and then deliver with their actions.

Maybe all they need is to Want.

Because sometimes, many times, Wanting is what breaks the stagnant cycle, but do not underestimate how easy it is to forget to Want... Or to never have learned to Want, in the case of the Sarkaz.

[l-wannabe-l]

Short Circuit

Chapter 5: New Avenues

Austin gets some distressing news, and a new enemy enters the ring.

Mostly a chapter of these two growing closer. Plus some plot I guess.

The roads thinned out the longer I drove. The Connor’s remained quiet for the most part, Sarah Connor the only one to speak giving me directions to avoid crowded roads. I didn’t need them, and the urge to take actions against her for daring to order me about is strong, but my mission and side objective are too important to risk aggravating the matriarch. She finally stops after one final order to pull into an abandoned garage next to a gas station. The T-800 leaves to open the garage door, the simple lock it has breaks under the sheer strength of the T-800 model. As soon as the car is parked the others climb out. Sarah quickly herds her children as far away from me as the small space will allow. I grant them their ill perceived safety as I walk along the wall on the opposite side. I stop near a door as I receive a message. A message sent by Skynet and received across time and space.

“Mission Failure”

My sudden inaction goes unnoticed by the eldest and youngest Connor but not by Aria.

“Austin, what’s wrong?” A certain lilt to her voice indicative of concern, similar to when she spoke to John and her mother. A concern more likely directed towards them, given the glimmer of fear still present in her eyes when she looks at me.

“Skynet has deemed me defective, my mission has been labeled a failure.” I respond, my voice ringing hollow even to me.

“You said you abandoned your mission. Why are you surprised?” She asks but her calm demeanor indicates she isn’t as surprised as her words make her out to be.

“I lied.” A strange feeling changes my tone without my say. A grave itching sensation as if something is trying to claw its way out from inside me. My teeth grind against themselves.

"So you were still planning to kill me." This time Johns is the one to speak.

"Of course I was!" I don’t have the patience to pretend anymore. Processing the news, and this new feeling takes precedence over keeping up the facade. I turn and walk out the door. Silence will be more beneficial to me than answering any banal questions they might have. The sound of the door opening again alerts me to Aria's presence, I see her just out of my periphery. The light from the gas station showing off the shine in her dark brown hair. She pulls her cardigan closed across her bare midriff. The night had dropped several degrees, she must be feeling the chill that resulted from it.

“You ok?” She asks. I understand this question to be a very common nicety among humans. Oftentimes an honest answer is not at all what the asker desires.

“I’m still in functioning form.”

“That’s… good but not what I meant,” She says, coming to sit next to me on the bench pulling up her legs to hold them close to her, “I mean what are you going to do now that you don’t have a mission anymore?”

“I still have one objective.”

“You do?!”

“I still haven’t been loved by you.” I tell her. She flinches back when I turn to look at her head.

“You were serious about the whole love thing?!”

“I was, still am.” Now without Skynet, the only purpose left to me is the one I assigned myself, “I don’t have any purpose otherwise. I was never meant to return to my time, Skynet would have no need for me anyway.” I tell her bluntly, that fact seems to change that clawing to a weighty bulk. My form sinking under it involuntarily. Aria lets go of herself, letting her feet hit the ground. She leans forward to meet my eyes, a smile just barely on her lips.

“Join the club. Looking for purpose is something every human struggles with.” She says as she stretches her arms upward. Her cardigan falls open to reveal a glimpse of a leather harness carrying a small sidearm. So that's where she got that gun.

“But I am not human.”

“No, but it looks like you’re going to have to learn.” She says as she stands. Most likely intent on rejoining her family but stops as she looks back at me. She lifts her hand, reaching out before pausing.

“Can I?” she asks. I nod. After all, there’s nothing she can do to harm me so what... oh. 

Oh

Slim fingers card through my hair, or what substituted for it. I register the warmth of her palm and the texture of her hand as she musses up the styling before working to smooth it back.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh right, sorry,” She removes her hand removing the warmth but leaving behind another new “feeling” to deal with, “Your second lesson, some people show affection through physical contact. The why and how depends on the situation and the type of relationship. I was... trying to comfort you.”

“Is it always like this, these signs of physical affection?”

“Not exactly, It’s usually only done when people are close to each other.” I stand to be more eye level with her, despite the obvious height difference. As I do I take note of the slim distance between us and her reaction, the dilated pupils that show off more of the forest hue of her eyes, and a slight hitch in her breathing.

“I want to be closer to you.” Her eyes widen at my words, a rosy dusting settles across her cheeks, curious, “How close are you to John?” Aria lets out a breath, body seemingly deflating at my question.

“Oh right, you want to be closer to me like John, my brother.” She remarks seemingly talking more to herself than to me. “I don’t know if there is a clear answer to that other than the fact that he’s my brother. Let’s just head back inside. We can figure the rest out later, Ok?” She looks at me one more time before turning away. I realize that her eyes didn’t show any fear or trepidation when she did. I follow after her back into the garage. When I enter I see the T-800 sitting in front of a mirror fixing up what looks to be a gash wound on his head. Carefully arranging his hair and tissue to conceal it. Sarah Connor stands between him and John who’s busy fiddling with a radio that was obviously taken from the police car.

“What did we miss?” Aria asked after taking in the sight.

“Mom and I cracked open his head,” John answered distractedly. Pointing vaguely in the T-800’s direction, “We reprogrammed him so now he can learn to be less weird.” They must have switched him from ‘Read Only’ to ‘Write’. Aria looks like she’s going to speak but is cut off by her mother who pulls her away to speak privately. It won’t do any good considering my sensors work at a higher capacity than a human’s so I take a seat on a nearby metal chair to listen in.

“Aria, I know I went along with this back at the hospital but if I understand correctly that thing was using a false truce to try and kill John later on?”

“That’s about it. He apparently played his part so well Skynet basically abandoned him because of it.”

“...It just admitted to planning to kill us.”

“Yes but he isn’t gonna now though, and isn’t that good news,” She said, but a tremble in her voice makes the statement sound more like a question. By the silence that follows Sarah Connor obviously doesn’t believe it. Aria lets out a tired sigh, “Mom, you didn’t see him out there, he just looked so... lost,” The admission has me looking over at them just in time to lock eyes with Aria before she quickly turns back to Sarah who isn’t convinced.

“That is still a Terminator.”

“All the more reason to have him here where we can keep tabs on him rather than out there doing who knows what.”

“Having both of those things around is just putting John in danger!”

“He’ll be in danger anyway. Skynet will try again and Austin has the most up to date information. If we turn him away we'll be exposing ourselves to dangerous surprises.” Sarah seems to concede, walking away to retake her place next to John. Who managed to get the radio working. The blank static from the police radio gives way to voices talking quickly about vandalism, murder, theft, more murder, and the missing status of a young girl. Kathrine Brewster.

Across town in the shopping district. A boutique window begins to light up, not by the electrical lights installed but by the streaks of lighting emanating from a silver sphere growing and heating up before bursting and disappearing in a blinding flash. A slim feminine figure is left behind crouching amongst the mannequins. The woman takes a moment to scan her new surroundings before looking at them. She doesn’t find what she’s looking for, the clothing they wear burned beyond repair and recognition. No way to make accurate replications. So she takes to the streets walking along the sidewalk, her long blond hair the only modicum of decency but she continues unbothered. A beep catches her attention; the sound comes from a car being unlocked. The woman who owns it walks quickly unaware of the newcomer or their intentions until she spots them after getting into her car. The woman’s nudity caught her by surprise. 

“Omg,” She whispers to herself in disbelief before the concern sets in, “Are you ok!?” She calls out in an attempt to help but receives no response from the approaching naked woman who is currently scanning her vehicle. While outdated to the mechanical being, it is rather high-end for the time. A good choice of transportation.

“Do you want me to call 911?” The woman tries again, thinking the poor girl in a state of shock or something of the like. The blonde finally faces her, giving a soft smile that doesn't reach her eyes and reaches forward to touch the clothing near her neckline. Fingers splayed and placed methodically to sample each type of fabric.

“I like this car.”

“What?” The woman asks, confused. Her last words before the Terminator quickly swipes her hand away, efficiently slicing her neck. She easily lifts the woman out of the car and drops her onto the pavement. Leaving her there to bleed out. Clothing reminiscent of the dying woman's begin to take shape on her naked form. Detailed down to the hair bun. She lets herself into the car before starting it up and driving off. She helps herself to the woman’s purse pulling out a cell phone, a quick disassembly gives access to the inner workings and the service it’s connected to. Liquid metal seeps into the SD card allowing her to search the database for names, faces and addresses. A list quickly forms of future enemies of Skynet, of people she is tasked to terminate. She charts a course for the nearest address. The Brewster residence.