#both seem like things doctors would be inclined to do

[monsterhugger]

it remains hilarious to me how many of the Oh So Horrible side effects of starting testosterone are just. things that are also true of being a cis man with normal testosterone levels

high blood pressure? cis men are already at higher risk for this

acne? sweating? sensitivity to heat? i mean, you've seen teenage boys right

hair loss? literally happens to the majority of cis men

difficulty getting pregnant? im pretty sure this is true of every cis man ever

weight gain? there's literally a different standard range of "healthy" weights for cis men and cis women

the fact doctors used all of these things to try to discourage me from starting T when i was younger is bananas. if you were really so concerned about testosterone causing this all of your cis male patients would be on hormone suppressants

[ababanerb]

The Sign

Part of the Stardew Valley Inktober for the Grapefruit Sky Discord Server. Cheers!

(also posted to AO3)

Sebastian doesn't believe in Yoba, but his mom does, and so do his friends. He doesn't have any faith in The Sign of The Vessel, and he only goes to Sunday Service when his mom drags him along. But that doesn't mean he doesn't recognize a sign when he sees one.

Or-

Sebastian finds religion, just not in Yoba.

Sebastian does not believe in Yoba. He never has, or he at least can't remember a time in his life if he did. His mom does, though. Robin wears The Sign of The Vessel on a gold chain around her neck, a gift from Demetrius, even though his stepfather doesn't believe in Yoba himself.

There was a period of time, when he was in middle school, and he wanted to impress Abby, where he had worn The Sign of The Vessel around his neck on a silver chain. Then an upside down Sign on his earring when he went through a phase of total hatred for Yoba in his early teens.

Now, though, he hardly ever wears any jewelry, not unless he's going into the city or if he's making a post on social media. And none of his jewelry holds any religious meaning, he doesn't want it to.

So, Sebastian is twenty-four, and his small cluster of friends in Pelican Town is limited to Sam and Abigail, both of whom believe in Yoba. To some degree. And Sebastian still doesn't.

After all, what kind of benevolent deity would put him through so much shit? Take away his father, and replace him with a man who hardly tries to fill the space left behind? What kind god would stick him with a dad who had been abusive and absent, but make the replacement so neglectful that it made him miss the abuse? 

No kind god would leave him stuck in a town he can't seem to get out of. 

It doesn't matter to Sebastian, if Yoba has a plan for him, or that he's exactly where he's meant to be. Doesn't matter that his mom is a great mom — and she is. And it doesn't matter if Demetrius sucks because Maru is nice even though he pushes her away half the time because he partially holds her to blame for the way he'd been treated after Robin got remarried. It doesn't matter.

None of it matters.

Because Sebastian knows that he's meant for more. Knows he's meant for something better than his basement room. Meant for more than being shoved downstairs to be forgotten, to be replaced. Knows he's smart, smart enough to get a good job in the city and get the hell out of Pelican Town. Knows he wants more than a quick fuck out of the girls he talks to.

And he knows, when his mom drags him down to the Temple of Yoba inside Abby's home to join the town on Winter Star, that Yoba hates him. He glares up at The Sign, and it almost feels like it taunts him as he glowers where he sits with his mom. The gold is brilliant, blinding with the sun beaming in, and he hates it.

But his mom doesn't. He can hear her murmuring a prayer beneath her breath, her hand pressed to the golden Sign that dangles from her neck. He can hear her asking Yoba for prosperity in the next year, for the whole family. 

But then, he hears, “And please, more than anyone, give Sebastian a sign. Show him you have a plan,” She asks, low beneath her breath as she asks Yoba for more. Which is odd, since the religion of Yoba has always been more of a silent thing. 

But his mom always asks. Always. And sometimes, she gets what she asks for.

He doesn't believe in Yoba, and he knows he's not the only one. Shane doesn't believe either, and for his yearly checkup with Harvey, the town’s doctor also doesn't seem too inclined to believe either. And for as much as he hates Alex, he can appreciate that the other guy also has a lack of faith.

But Robin believes in Yoba, and she reminds him, on the first day of Spring, that Yoba has a plan. And he's part of it.

Which is cryptic. 

Especially at ten in the morning when he's just woken up and pouring himself a lukewarm cup of coffee. 

“That's— Okay. Thanks, Mom,” He says, voice tired, and a little concerned for his mom’s mental stability as she walks out the door with her tool bag slung over her shoulder. Off to some job Lewis had commissioned her for. 

Work on the old farm, he recalls vaguely. She’d told him a week or so ago, when he’d been knee deep in code. 

That also doesn’t matter, he decides as he takes his steaming mug of coffee back downstairs with him. The farm on the West side of town had been empty for most of his life, and if he ever met the old farmer, he can’t remember. 

If anything, it probably got bought up by another old dude, He thinks as he settles into his desk chair, pulling up the project he’d had to pause last night when his vision had gotten so blurry he’d forced himself to bed. He goes back over the lines and lines of code he has written, finding more mistakes near his stopping point from the night before, fixing them and continuing with his project. The deadline is two weeks away, but he’s nothing if not determined to get the fuck out of Pelican Town and into Zuzu. 

Or at least out of the basement. Away from Demetrius.

Either one is good, as far as he’s concerned.

He codes well into the night again, and he gets his project done well ahead of schedule. Sending it off to his client and grabbing his pack of cigarettes, he heads out to the lake next to his house, and forgets all about his mom’s trip to the old farm earlier that day, and whatever she might have said about the new farmer. 

It doesn’t matter, after all.

But then it does. Because that Friday, when Sebastian meets up with Sam and Abby for a drink and a game of pool, they’re both talking about the farmer. About you. Like you’re Yoba, like you’re the Vessel for some benevolent power. 

He chalks it up to Small Town Reaction To New Neighbors™, and leaves it at that. He lets the two of them get their ranting out, and proceeds to kick Sam’s ass at billiards while Abby struggles through Journey of The Prairie King . 

He has to admit that he’s curious, mind wandering to the new farmer on his walk home. The night air is still chilly in the early Spring, biting at him even through his sweater. His cigarettes burning a little more on the way down in the cool air, and he relishes in it. 

When he was younger, still in high school and rebellious in the only ways he knew how, he’d chainsmoke until he made himself sick. Dubious therapy videos and time taught him that it was less rebellion and more a cry for help. And he’d wondered what kind of god would let a kid feel the way he had. 

He still wonders, sometimes, when he lets the thought creep in and he smokes too much weed too late at night. Wonders why Demetrius’s desire for a lab had trumped his need for a bedroom, why he’d been pushed down into the basement when Maru had gotten everything.

Silly, really, because he’d learned to love his basement bedroom in high school, when he’d realized what he could get up to with no one to hear him. 

Sometimes though, he’d find himself wishing he’d been caught. Like Sam or Abby, who’s parents cared, sometimes too much. 

Doesn’t matter, though. Not when he’s been building up his savings and he can almost afford the move even though he’s been able to almost afford the move for years now. 

He forgets about it over a bowl of weed.

He meets you by chance, a few weeks later, when the weather has gotten warmer and Spring has begun to give way to Summer. And he gets it, very suddenly, what Sam and Abby had been talking about. 

You’re– not quite real, it seems at first glance. But you notice him from across the lake as you emerge from the mines, bag slung over your shoulder. You’re glowing, and he blinks and chalks it up to it just being a trick of the light. You wave to him from across the lake and make your way around the lake towards him.

You close the distance shockingly fast, and as you approach the glow that surrounds you seems to grow stronger, and he wonders if it really is just a trick of the light.

“Hello, I’m (y/n),” You introduce, and you keep your hands firmly near your sides, “You must be Sebastian, right? Your mom, er, Robin told me about you when you moved in.”

“Oh.” He blinks at you, staring for a moment before he opens his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “You just moved in, right? Cool.”

You smile broadly at him, before twisting your bag on your shoulder, rummaging through it until you produce a stone. A perfect, tear shaped crystal rests in the flat of your palm as you offer your hand to him. When he takes it, it’s cool to the touch, and it doesn’t warm even when he sticks it in his pocket and says, “I really love this. How did you know?”

You merely smile at him, your hands back at your sides again, “Just a feeling,” You tell him, and his mother’s words from the first of Spring come rushing back to him.

“Huh,” He remarks, his own lips quirking up, “Must be a sign.”

“Must be.”

Sebastian doesn’t believe in Yoba, and he can’t call himself atheist, not anymore. Because even he recognizes a Sign when he sees one.

[dippable]

autism and media. spoilers for criminal minds, my hero academia, and dungeon meshi.

okay so, i'm an autistic person, and i've seen portrayals of autism (both implied and explicit) and they've had.. a range of quality overall.

in explicit examples, i've seen only a few. spencer reid comes to mind first- the autistic savant with an eidetic memory and a penchant for seeming robotic. i, personally, was heavily influenced by this guy- i did (and kind of still do) enjoy criminal minds after all. however, spencer's existence as one of the first explicitly autistic characters that was seen by a wider audience. the show was insanely popular, but in the later seasons (mainly after he was sent to prison) many of his autistic traits seem to fade away. of course, he is a traumatized man who was on high alert for a WHILE, but one would expect he wouldn't lose many of his core personality traits. personally, i think these were written out since his traits weren't seen as "popular", since autistic people can offend those they love or say the wrong thing on accident and it seemed too weird.

second, my hero academia. i don't think any of these characters are explicitly autistic, but i haven't watched in a while. mainly, i see deku and tamaki as autistic (although bakugo, aizawa, and shigaraki are.... suspicious) and i believe my views on these two are mainly influenced by the rest of the fandom, so here goes. overall, i think the characterization of these two lends itself directly to their emotional or anxious nature. most media i see with one or both of them severely dumbs them down to these traits, with tamaki getting the brunt of this treatment. most don't seem to remember that both of them are strong for their age, smart, and have faith in their quirks. even if tamaki might seem pessimistic about fights, he's just that- pessimistic. he's much more inclined to believe he'll lose because if he does, he's prepared to do what he can to help whoever comes after. deku is emotional, yes, but who wouldn't be? he's a teenager who's been told over and over again that he's a failure and he'll never achieve his dream, and suddenly, he's being helped by the #1 hero to become the person that he thought was unattainable. i think horikoshi's representation of them is alright, it's just mainly the fandom that compresses them into "uwu anxious cinnamon rolls too sweet for this earth" instead of remembering they're multifaceted characters, and damaging their own interpretations of real people in the process.

in dungeon meshi, i don't know if they're explicitly autistic (however laios and falin are HEAVILY HINTED AT so.) but the representation of autism here is incredible. in the series, we see laios fuck up with shuro (and, notably, we see the fandom sweep it under the rug because laios is white) while he has real, genuinely close relationships with others (marcille is like a sister to him, and chilchuck's his best friend) so we know he is a multifaceted character. he's also tied to the tendency of autistic people to be interested in fringe interests, or alterhuman circles. he thinks (like many others) that he's weird enough to people, so he throws all caution to the wind and goes all-in on being weird. i know that when i realized i was "too weird" for others, i just stopped caring, and that's how i got into many of my favorite things- like OFF, house of leaves, etc etc. if they thought i was weird then, i don't really want to know what they think i am now, especially since i'm out here playing obscure meta rpgs or reading books that require me to flip them around.

overall, i think the representations of autistic people in media have a long way to go. there is still a critical shortage of autistic poc in media, and many representations of autism are still influenced by the savant stereotype we see with spencer reid (see: the good doctor) and there's still a variety of symptoms that haven't been shown accurately yet. i'm very proud of where we've come, though- now, i can see an incredibly accurate portrayal of myself in laios, but there's still many autistic people who haven't seen someone they can relate to on the silver screen.

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs was sooo good!!! Do you think they’d let Penelope plan a baby shower with the entire team? Maybe even a sex reveal and Penelope truly trying her best to not reveal it early, the others on Garcia duty to make sure she doesn’t let anything slip LOL

WAIT HOLD ON THAT IS SUCH A CUTE CONCEPT???

and I hope you don't mind me putting my own twist to this, but you literally just reminded me of this insta reel I saw a while back of a couple who was doing a sex reveal privately on the beach with a cake, and then the wife, very innocently pulled out the candle so that the husband could cut it, not realizing the cream sticking on the candle would prematurely reveal the sex to them 😭 now I just can't stop imagining Penelope accidentally doing the same thing KAJJSJEJ IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS

btw thank you so much for reading love bugs, I'm soooo happy you liked it <3333

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You couldn't have been less inclined towards the idea the first time Penelope had brought it to your attention.

The next time she did, Penelope knew better than to come empty-handed. Thankfully for her, JJ and Emily both seemed to be partial towards Penelope's brilliant suggestion.

"I think it'll be great, (Y/N)," JJ had said. "I never did one for Henry, but I helped a girlfriend host hers once. It was fun."

"And I, personally, am always down for a party." Emily grinned.

"But a gender reveal party, guys? Seriously?"

"It'll be great, Beets. Trust me," Penelope swore. "Plus, you don't need to worry your pretty little head with anything. You just sit back, relax, and let us three do the heavy liftings."

Eventually, with the right doses of persuasion and incessant pleading, you agreed to let them throw a sex reveal party for the baby; with one condition: you wanted to keep the whole thing small and simple.

But small and simple weren't exactly Penelope's forte.

JJ and Emily tried their best to keep the tech analyst in check during the entire planning process. It was bad enough that the two of them had to take turns monitoring Penelope to make sure she wasn't stepping out of any line, but when they finally received the envelope from your doctor containing the sex of the baby, Penelope grew even worse.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Penelope yelped when Emily's voice suddenly appeared beside her. The blonde scrambled to click a few buttons on her computer screen to close the page she was looking at before Emily could see what she was doing, but it was too late.

"Wasn't that the archive of the hospital (Y/N) goes to?"

"What? No. Of course not. Why? Did you think I hacked it? That's ridiculous, why would I ever hack--"

"Garcia," Emily's stern voice cut her off. "Did you seriously just hack a hospital's records to find out the sex of (Y/N)'s baby?"

Penelope's silence was all the confirmation that Emily needed.

"It won't happen again," the tech analyst murmured shamefully.

But it did, in fact, happen again.

"Pen?" JJ's eyebrows creased when, just a few days later, she spotted Penelope sitting behind the desk in her office.

"Yes? Oh, hi! Hey, how are ya? Nothing to see here!"

Penelope offered JJ a sheepish smile, one that was intended to conceal trouble but instead spoke of one. JJ's eyes squinted.

"What's that in your hand?"

"Oh, this?" Penelope raised her right hand, showing JJ the figurine of a duck dressed as Superman that she, for some reason, was holding. "It's my new buddy. I got him at a flea market last week. Isn't he cute?"

"I meant your other hand, Pen."

JJ raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Soon enough, Penelope surrendered to JJ's stare of death--the one that she had perfected since becoming a mother--and handed the envelop into JJ's awaiting palm.

"I'm sorry," Penelope said meekly, like a child being scolded after being caught with her hand in the candy jar.

A week before the party was supposed to be held, JJ had safely dropped the cake order at the bakery, along with the sacred envelope that you had entrusted in her care. In hindsight, it looked as though everything was finally going according to plan.

Until the D-day rolled around.

As Emily held down the fort back at Derek's and your shared place, JJ and Penelope resorted to cake duty. JJ let Penelope go into the bakery to grab the cake while she stayed in the car for a quick phone call. When Penelope didn't yet reappear after five minutes, JJ decided to follow her inside to see what was holding her up.

"Hey, Pen?" JJ called to Penelope, who was standing like a deer caught in headlights in the middle of the room. In front of her, the baker was holding the box of cake with visible confusion on his face. "What's wrong?"

"She's just been standing there like that. Frozen. Like she saw a ghost," the baker informed.

"Pen?"

"The apron," Penelope whispered.

"What?"

"The apron."

"What ap--oh no."

JJ's eyes widened almost comically when she finally registered what had Penelope looking so stunned.

"Sir," JJ began, "you didn't happen to be working on this cake before we came in, did you?"

"Yeah, I did. I was just finishing it up. Filling in the buttercream and adding some final touches."

JJ sighed. "So, you're saying that the buttercream on your apron is the buttercream you used to fill in the cake?"

JJ's question prompted the baker to look down at the apron he was wearing.

More specifically, at the colored buttercream that spoiled the sex of your baby.

"We've got a situation," JJ said to Emily as soon as she and Penelope found her in your kitchen half an hour later.

"What is it?"

"Me and Pen accidentally found out about the sex."

"You what?!"

"I found out about the sex. I know the sex," Penelope murmured from where she was standing behind JJ. "I know what it is. I know what--hey, you two!"

The three women swiveled their heads towards the doorway, seeing you standing there with Derek practically gluing himself to your back.

"Hi, girls. Everything alright in here?"

"Everything is fine! Why wouldn't it be?" Penelope chuckled nervously.

A frown appeared between Derek's eyebrows. "Babygirl, you okay?"

Penelope waved him off. "I'm fanta... bulous."

"Fantabulous?" Emily whispered.

"Pretty sure it's a combination of fantastic and fabulous." JJ whispered back.

You stared at Penelope in concern. "You sure you're okay, Pen?"

"I'm fine, Beets! Splendid, even! I'm just so happy to see the three of you! God, look at that. You're all so perfect together. My Beets, Chocolate Thunder, and your beautiful baby--"

"Okay!" JJ exclaimed, cutting Penelope off before she could spill the main surprise. "We've still got a lot of work to do here, so... go, both of you."

As soon as you and Derek were out of earshot, JJ said to Penelope, "Pen, you gotta calm down."

"I can't. Oh my God, I can't calm down. It's the knowing. I hate knowing secrets, I'm not good with them."

"It's only for one more hour," Emily reasoned. "You can do this. Just... take a deep breath."

JJ and Emily somehow managed to keep Penelope from spiraling any further, long enough for them to finally commemorate the main event of the night. Your living room was crowded with beloved and very familiar faces: members of the BAU and a few friends of yours and Derek's. The speakers were blasting "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire, and you stood in front of the guests with Derek to your side when Emily and Penelope finally brought out the cake.

"Ladies and gents, we're about to witness a very important moment in history," JJ announced to the room. "In a few minutes, we'll finally find out the sex of the newest member of the (Y/L/N)-Morgan's household!"

The crowd erupted in cheers. You felt Derek give your hip a squeeze.

"Does anyone care to share their guesses?" JJ asked.

Shouts of "boy" and "girl", and a very vague shriek of "twins", all piled on top of one another. JJ quickly gestured with her hands for the crowd to calm back down.

"Without further ado, I present to you, Derek Morgan and (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!"

As your guests exploded in a synchronized ovation, Derek pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "You ready, Bug?"

"As long as you are, Mr. Morgan."

You and Derek each grabbed a knife from the table, but before the blades could touch the cake, Penelope's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait, let me remove those candles for you."

"No, Penelope!"

Emily's warning came too late.

The entire room held their breaths at the sight of the candles in Penelope's hand. The tech analyst darted her eyes in confusion before she realized what she had done.

"Oh no."

"Is that--" Derek's voice sounded lost in awe.

"Yes, it is," you breathed out.

"The cream, it's--"

"I know." A humorous chuckle escaped your chest as a lone tear fell down your cheek. "It's a blue buttercream. We're having a boy."

Derek didn't waste any second before gathering you in his arms. Around you, your crowds of friends celebrated along in a sequence of hoorays and applause. But even in the midst of that ruckus, you felt like there were no other people left on this world with you other than Derek and your baby.

Your son.

"Hey, Little Man," Derek whispered as his hand landed on your belly. "I can't wait to meet you."

[inthemaelstrom]

ART ISN'T SUPPOSED TO MAKE YOU COMFORTABLE

By Jen Silverman (NY Times)

(Mx. Silverman is a playwright and the author, most recently, of the novel “There’s Going to Be Trouble.”)

When I was in college, I came across “The Sea and Poison,” a 1950s novel by Shusaku Endo. It tells the story of a doctor in postwar Japan who, as an intern years earlier, participated in a vivisection experiment on an American prisoner. Endo’s lens on the story is not the easiest one, ethically speaking; he doesn’t dwell on the suffering of the victim. Instead, he chooses to explore a more unsettling element: the humanity of the perpetrators.

When I say “humanity” I mean their confusion, self-justifications and willingness to lie to themselves. Atrocity doesn’t just come out of evil, Endo was saying, it emerges from self-interest, timidity, apathy and the desire for status. His novel showed me how, in the right crucible of social pressures, I, too, might delude myself into making a choice from which an atrocity results. Perhaps this is why the book has haunted me for nearly two decades, such that I’ve read it multiple times.

I was reminded of that novel at 2 o’clock in the morning recently as I scrolled through a social media account dedicated to collecting angry reader reviews. My attention was caught by someone named Nathan, whose take on “Paradise Lost” was: “Milton was a fascist turd.” But it was another reader, Ryan, who reeled me in with his response to John Updike’s “Rabbit, Run”: “This book made me oppose free speech.” From there, I hit the bank of “Lolita” reviews: Readers were appalled, frustrated, infuriated. What a disgusting man! How could Vladimir Nabokov have been permitted to write this book? Who let authors write such immoral, perverse characters anyway?

I was cackling as I scrolled but soon a realization struck me. Here on my screen was the distillation of a peculiar American illness: namely, that we have a profound and dangerous inclination to confuse art with moral instruction, and vice versa.

As someone who was born in the States but partially raised in a series of other countries, I’ve always found the sheer uncompromising force of American morality to be mesmerizing and terrifying. Despite our plurality of influences and beliefs, our national character seems inescapably informed by an Old Testament relationship to the notions of good and evil. This powerful construct infuses everything from our advertising campaigns to our political ones — and has now filtered into, and shifted, the function of our artistic works.

Maybe it’s because our political discourse swings between deranged and abhorrent on a daily basis and we would like to combat our feelings of powerlessness by insisting on moral simplicity in the stories we tell and receive. Or maybe it’s because many of the transgressions that flew under the radar in previous generations — acts of misogyny, racism and homophobia; abuses of power both macro and micro — are now being called out directly. We’re so intoxicated by openly naming these ills that we have begun operating under the misconception that to acknowledge each other’s complexity, in our communities as well as in our art, is to condone each other’s cruelties.

When I work with younger writers, I am frequently amazed by how quickly peer feedback sessions turn into a process of identifying which characters did or said insensitive things. Sometimes the writers rush to defend the character, but often they apologize shamefacedly for their own blind spot, and the discussion swerves into how to fix the morals of the piece. The suggestion that the values of a character can be neither the values of the writer nor the entire point of the piece seems more and more surprising — and apt to trigger discomfort.

While I typically share the progressive political views of my students, I’m troubled by their concern for righteousness over complexity. They do not want to be seen representing any values they do not personally hold. The result is that, in a moment in which our world has never felt so fast-changing and bewildering, our stories are getting simpler, less nuanced and less able to engage with the realities through which we’re living.

I can’t blame younger writers for believing that it is their job to convey a strenuously correct public morality. This same expectation filters into all the modes in which I work: novels, theater, TV and film. The demands of Internet Nathan and Internet Ryan — and the anxieties of my mentees — are not so different from those of the industry gatekeepers who work in the no-man’s land between art and money and whose job it is to strip stories of anything that could be ethically murky.

I have worked in TV writers’ rooms where “likability notes” came from on high as soon as a complex character was on the page — particularly when the character was female. Concern about her likability was most often a concern about her morals: Could she be perceived as promiscuous? Selfish? Aggressive? Was she a bad girlfriend or a bad wife? How quickly could she be rehabilitated into a model citizen for the viewers?

TV is not alone in this. A director I’m working with recently pitched our screenplay to a studio. When the executives passed, they told our team it was because the characters were too morally ambiguous and they’d been tasked with seeking material wherein the lesson was clear, so as not to unsettle their customer base. What they did not say, but did not need to, is that in the absence of adequate federal arts funding, American art is tied to the marketplace. Money is tight, and many corporations do not want to pay for stories that viewers might object to if they can buy something that plays blandly in the background of our lives.

But what art offers us is crucial precisely because it is not a bland backdrop or a platform for simple directives. Our books, plays, films and TV shows can do the most for us when they don’t serve as moral instruction manuals but allow us to glimpse our own hidden capacities, the slippery social contracts inside which we function, and the contradictions we all contain.

We need more narratives that tell us the truth about how complex our world is. We need stories that help us name and accept paradoxes, not ones that erase or ignore them. After all, our experience of living in communities with one another is often much more fluid and changeable than it is rigidly black and white. We have the audiences that we cultivate, and the more we cultivate audiences who believe that the job of art is to instruct instead of investigate, to judge instead of question, to seek easy clarity instead of holding multiple uncertainties, the more we will find ourselves inside a culture defined by rigidity, knee-jerk judgments and incuriosity. In our hair-trigger world of condemnation, division and isolation, art — not moralizing — has never been more crucial.

[whumpshaped]

whumptober 4

prompt list masterlist

tw possession? more just two souls sharing the same body but in a werewolfier sense... but it's not a werewolf- nonhuman whumpee, dehumanisation, captivity, fantasies of gore and cannibalism (doesn't actually happen), manipulation, conditioning

"You in there?"

Whumpee threw themself agaisnt the bars of their cage, feral as can be. There didn't seem to be a single coherent thought behind their eyes, only the bloodlust and hunger of the beast within them. Whumper sighed, exasperated.

"That's no good. I don't want an animal. Not right now." They turned around to look at the guards by the door, silently contemplating which one they needed less. "Hey, you. C'mere."

The chosen guard was visibly anxious as they followed the order, standing beside Whumper. "Yes, sir."

"I need Whumpee a little calmer. More... clear-headed. Docile." They put a hand on the back of the guard's neck, slowly guiding them towards the cage in which Whumpee was still wreaking havoc. "You think you can do that for me?"

"What exactly is my job here, sir?"

"Whatever you need to do to beat some sense into them." Whumper tilted their head to the side with a wicked grin on their face. "Or feed them. Both works for me."

The guard swallowed. Clearly, Whumper didn't actually expect them to be anything more than pet food. "If I may, sir, I think I have a better person for this sort of thing."

Whumper laughed. "Oh, I bet you do."

"One of the medical staff–"

"I'm not putting my doctors and nurses in danger."

"No, that's not it– one of them seems to be well-liked by... this thing, sir. Very well-liked. I think it would be beneficial to bring them in so they could attempt to calm the beast from the outside. Of course, I would never suggest sending them inside, sir."

"You're so desperate to get out doing anything, huh?" Whumper shrugged. "Fine. Who is it?"

-

The scent of blood. The scent of flesh. The scent of living humans walking around in the room. Whumpee was hardly conscious of any of that, but the beast was. And it wanted to rip into those things, tear people apart and lap at their blood.

The world always seemed so small whenever the beast was in control. It was always hyperfocused on a single little thing, a single sensation like hunger, and it wouldn't let any other thought disrupt that focus. Whumpee could never rationalise with it. Logic didn't exist to the beast, nor did requests, or even orders. The beast didn't have friends or loved ones to listen to.

Except one.

"Um... hello."

Whumpee immediately recognised the voice. They wanted to scream at them to leave, to get away and not look back. They couldn't be trusted right now.

But strangely... it wasn't only them who recognised Caretaker. The beast stopped its violent protest against the confinement for a moment to sniff the air, pupils dilating as it realised who was standing on the other side of the bars.

"Remember me?" Caretaker asked with a gentle smile. Whumpee felt themself nod in unison with the monster trapped inside of their body. It was still pressing its whole body against the bars of their prison, — both the iron and flesh one, — but it wasn't as malicious anymore. "Good. Good... Um... You're not... supposed to be out right now."

The beast whined, and Whumpee suddenly felt a deep sorrow for it. They could feel the pain radiating from its soul, fusing nicely with their own sense of unwantedness.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry." Caretaker came closer, and the beast made no move to hurt them. It didn't try to reach through the bars and grab them by the throat. It just stood there, hurt, lost, and confused, wanting so desperately for Caretaker to say something that would've made it better. "If... if you don't let Whumpee take the reigns for a while, I... I'm inclined to believe they will hurt you."

Whumpee knew that very well. They doubted that the beast cared much, though. It wasn't the beast who had to be conscious for the recovery. It took the wheel to cause chaos and destruction, then left Whumpee to pick up the pieces.

Sure enough, it wasn't very convinced. Its attention shifted to the other people in the room and growled threateningly, only getting more riled up when it got no response from Whumper.

"Hey. Don't do that," Caretaker asked softly. It didn't listen. "Hey..." The bars weren't far enough away from each other to allow Whumpee to reach through, but Caretaker was able to get a thin arm in between them. Multiple people tried to step forward and stop them, but Whumper simply told them to stay back. Whumpee wanted to step back and get away... but they weren't in a position to do so, even though they shared a body with the vicious thing.

But the beast didn't attack. It let Caretaker cup its cheek and direct its attention back to them, and the growling died off quickly.

"Getting hurt and getting yourself sent to the medical ward isn't the only way to see me," they whispered. "I promise. So please, stop this for now. I will come back on a day that's a bit less busy, and when the boss doesn't need to talk to Whumpee specifically. Don't get yourself hurt for no reason."

It rubbed its face against their hand like a housecat, whining pitifully. Clearly, it didn't want to let Caretaker go. It was painfully lonely, Whumpee realised with a wave of guilt.

"I will come back," they repeated. "I will."

Usually, the beast would just disappear from one moment to the other, leaving Whumpee to jolt awake as if they'd just had a nightmare, but in the middle of an unfamiliar situation. But this time, it handed over the reigns in a controlled manner Whumpee didn't even think was possible.

They slowly gained control over each muscle in their body one by one, until they had the clarity to stop nuzzling against a nurse's hand like an animal. They pulled away feeling quite embarrassed. "Sorry," they muttered.

"No need to apologise." Caretaker pulled their hand back through the bars. "I wish I didn't have to tell it to go away. I'm sorry."

The tender moment was instantly interrupted by Whumper's shrill laugh. "That's amazing! That's perfect! We've got a monster-tamer in our ranks, huh?"

Caretaker flinched away from the noise, and Whumpee found themself grateful that there were bars separating them from the source. They could feel the beast growling from inside of them again, eager to defend its only friend, but all they could do was tell it to quiet down; though they couldn't deny the uncomfortable feeling in their own stomach when they saw Whumper throw an arm around Caretaker's shoulder.

"I wonder how else we can utilise this little friendship of yours."

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps

[clone-anon]

I wonder if I might make a special request for a dear friend of mine? Would you mind a reader x Tech fic where, after years of trying, reader ends up pregnant with twins? She's just got the news today, so there's still loads of excitement and terror, but this would be such a fun surprise - if you feel so inclined 😉

All the love for you and the amazing gifts you create!

*cracks knuckles* Here we go.

Warning: talk of an ob/gyn appointment (no details, just implied ultrasound), pregnancy, twin pregnancy

The positive pregnancy test was wild enough. After trying for so long, you finally got pregnant. That news was huge in itself. Tech was not going to miss the doctor's appointment. He held your hand the entire time and asked questions, but felt you were both as prepared as you could be for what was to come. That was, until, you were told that you were actually carrying twins.

"Twins?!" Your face lit up as worry flooded your chest. The fact that Tech was silent didn't help. Still holding your hand, he reached behind himself to pull up a chair and sat down. Whatever else was said seemed to go over both of you, but everything seemed fine so far. You were alone in the room with him and moved to get up, get changed, and head out the door. Tech silently helped.

"Tech?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Twins," he said quietly. "So there are two of them."

"Yes, Tech. That's what it means to have twins."

"Of course," he replied, trying to shake the shock away. You could see the gears in his head starting to turn again. As you walked home, he held your hand and had his other around your waist, almost like he needed you near him more securely. Each passing moment brought him back to life with all of the tasks he needed to do for your growing family and now doubly so.

"It's okay," you said, sensing him on the brink of overwhelm and turning to him as you reached your front door and walked inside. "They aren't coming twice as fast. We still have time to wrap our heads around this and get ready."

You held his face and he nodded once and smiled. "I will do everything within my power to make sure you and our babies get the best care."

"I know you will." You were overwhelmed with the feeling of finally becoming parents, excited and happy, but also mildly terrified. He pulled you into his arms and kissed your temple.

You had barely settled on the couch and he brought his datapad out, already researching how a twin pregnancy and delivery might differ and wanting to make sure you could both be prepared. He felt his protective instincts growing faster than he expected, but would channel them into supporting you. You knew he would be a fantastic father and would always remind him of that. While it was still too much to talk about all the changes that were happening at once, there was some solace in listening to what he was reading and discussing a few things. You would both have to let the news soak further into your consciousness. Later, he put the datapad aside and sat with you, holding you to his chest and rubbing your back, simply happy to be with you. All of you.

[galactic-pirates]

for the ship ask, since I didn't go with them: B'elanna and Seven?

I have to be honest I hadn't really thought about them too much until I saw some B7 posts. They interact so rarely :(

But the more I thought about them, and the more posts I read - I'm sorry I know I should link them but I'm not sure I reblogged them (I know, I'm mad at myself too) so they are long lost and tumblr search is garbage. Anyway, it just seemed to make sense.

They are outsiders - half Klingon, half Borg. Both struggle with that dual nature and that they don't fit. For B'elanna she's too human to be Klingon, but too Klingon to be human. I wonder sometimes how much of her famous "klingon temper" is performative, and more out of frustration than anything. One of the amazing metas I read talked about klingon courting, and how B'elanna was a poet (which is the role males take in klingon society).

As someone who has internalised a lot of societal bullshit, I feel like B'elanna doesn't accept herself. It's hard to say given when Voyager aired whether it was so heteronormative due to the time period, or if those attitudes do still have hold of parts of the Federation. Given how different B'elanna feels because of her heritage, I wonder if she didn't do any sort of self-analysis, and pushed away anything that didn't fit the very traditional mould, as she wants to be 'normal' (in her eyes) in one area. Hence clinging to her relationship with Tom even though it doesn't seem to make her happy. Like she doesn't think relationships should be happy.

Contrast this with Seven who as Borg I'd argue had no real concept of gender or sexuality - they were Borg and that's all that mattered. But her guide to all things 'human' was the Doctor who was very cis hetero in what he pushed on her. I'd say she tried to adapt, thinking what the Doctor said was the way, only to learn later she had some stuff to unlearn. That the world wasn't that rigid and she could make her own choices. That they weren't wrong - that there is no wrong, only preference.

I would love to explore a concept of how B'elanna and Seven could have worked while still on Voyager. They definitely had their moments. I love how B'elanna respected Seven enough to be honest. There was that exchange where B'elanna told Seven she was rude but it was without judgement. Or when they talked about going back to Earth and B'elanna pointed out as a Marquis she wouldn't be welcome either, aligning herself with Seven.

However, I feel that anything more than friendship with them is most likely to evolve post-return. We don't know I think for sure (possibly novels covered it, but I don't know how 'canon' they are?) what happened to B'elanna. I personally headcanon that she didn't rejoin StarFleet but that Tom did. Instead B'elanna moved into some kind of R&D engineering because she is brilliant. At the same time we know that Seven started drifting and ended up with the Fenris Rangers. I feel like B'elanna and Tom's marriage wouldn't survive the long-distance, the pressure from Tom's family, their different career goals etc. I think it's possible they had a second "let's stay together" child, and then realised they worked better as co-parents/friends.

Also I feel like B'elanna, away from Voyager, and faced with bringing up another part-klingon (or two), and as all good parents do wanting better for her kids, finally had the space and the inclination to do a little soul-searching. I think the Voyager crew maintained some sporadic contact. We know Harry gave Seven a model of Voyager. So B'elanna hearing Seven is in the sector and going "hey want to get drinks" is perfectly plausible. Not as a date, just as friends catching up, but then they talk (and drink) and they do have a lot in common. Going back to what I said at the start about not fitting in this world, not being any one thing, and so a foot in both camps and at home in none.

I can't see them as a "happy ever after" type romance. I feel it would be more like "sometimes girlfriends" as everytime they are on the same ship/planet they'd hook up. Not serious, and not exclusive, but over time it becomes perhaps one of the more stable and long-term relationships that either of them ever have. They don't live together, but if anything happens they know they can call, and the other will be there no questions asked.

So yeah I ship them.

Send me a ship

[scribblestatic]

My head hurts and thinking is hard, so here's some more Clown Deku

---

All Might sits and talks with the mute boy who asks questions through his notepad.

It's quite strange to him, though. After all, All Might had been prepared to be met with despair or shock, but after the boy's initial question, he'd been...just fine. If anything, he was more concerned about his stomach and lung injury once it was revealed to him.

[Have you eaten today?] he asks.

[Is it painful?]

[There's blood at the corner of your mouth.]

[Do you need a doctor?]

[Who did this?]

"Ah...well, the government has kept the incident quiet. You don't need to worry about it now, young man."

The boy looks conflicted, his brows scrunching up. Then, he flips the notepad to the next page.

[I felt something dangerous.]

"Hmm?"

[I think that's what it was. My quirk sensed danger?]

A flip of the page.

[That's why I clung to you. I'm sorry.]

"Hah, danger in your area?"

But he shakes his head.

[Danger for you.]

The man chuckles.

"Danger is a part of heroics, young man. It can't be helped." He pats his pants, where both bottles filled with the sludge villain sit, padlocked and sealed. "You faced it yourself despite being a civilian, but as a hero, it's a daily part of life. Don't worry for me!"

That seems to have the opposite effect, the boy worrying his bottom lip. He glances off to the side, and All Might goes to stand.

"Well, I'm fresh out of juice today... Walking this man over to the police won't be trouble, though. After all, you sealed him into these bottles very well! You've got an interesting quirk, young man!"

But the boy stops him, holding his wrist. He worries his lip a little more before he holds up his notepad.

[If I could heal you, would you accept that?]

All Might's thoughts stall for a moment, having trouble processing the words.

"...Heal me?" He sighs. "Young man--"

[Midoriya Izuku]

"...Young Midoriya, I appreciate your offer, but the best doctors in Japan and the US haven't been able to heal what's happened. This is simply the result of my own actions." He smiles, though it's more wane than he'd like. "Though, the fact you've thought of such a thing is quite generous."

But the boy, Midoriya, shakes his head, flipping the page again.

[My quirk isn't just tricks.]

A flip.

[Maybe... Would it be okay if I tried?]

A quick flip.

[Just on the scar.]

All Might gazed in the boy's large green eyes. They're a bit watery, like he's naturally inclined to making kitten eyes at everyone he meets. There's also what appears to be a bruise forming on his cheek. Perhaps it was because of the sludge villain?

Still, having a random person use their quirk on him...

But the boy's eyes appeared incredibly...

There was a voice inside him, telling him the young man could be trusted.

That voice wasn't usually wrong. In fact, it had saved his life more than once before.

"...Well, if you'd like to try on the scar, I don't think that'd be the worst. Might improve my overall look, haha!"

All Might slumps back to the ground, his legs crossed. He then raises his shirt, showing the puckered, ugly scar again.

"Give it your best shot, Young Midoriya."

The boy smiles, a wobbly little thing, and the page flips.

[Thank you.]

He then puts it down, scooting closer as he inspects his wound. His brows are scrunched as he looks over it, his hands hovering like he wants to touch it. Though, not without permission.

"If you have to touch it for it to work, that's quite fine."

The boy looks up at him, then finally puts his fingers on it lightly.

His gaze flits around the injury as he seems to be thinking. Perhaps he's trying to make the scar look its best and is trying to visualize it? Though, All Might isn't quite sure what his quirk is. Maybe something related to making things appear as he wills it? He has a clown-like demeanor to him, especially when using his quirk.

Right now, though, the silliness is quite absent.

Young Midoriya, presumably done inspecting the injury, looks up at him and smiles again.

Though, there's a crinkle to his eyes that, for some reason, puts him on edge.

Then, the boy's mouth opens.

And a soft, wheezy voice crawls its way out of his throat.

"Heal..."

Immediately, All Might's body throbs. And he's struck with pain.

Agh, shit. He shouldn't have...

He scrambles back, away from the boy as the pain laces its way across his lungs. All Might gasps, his body struggling and arching as his fingers scrabble against his chest.

Why the fuck did he do that?! Why did he just--

His eyes squint open, barely able to with the stabbing pain and the sweat rolling down his brow. That boy... That boy--!

But...

The boy is still. Slumped on the ground.

All Might can't keep his eyes open anymore, squeezing them shut as his nerves claw at his body. Teeth clenched, he breathes in heavily, but that only makes the pain worse, to the point he nearly feels he'll collapse...

...

Though, after a few moments, the pain starts to fade.

He huffs and gasps, trying to get his bearings together. His ribs feel like they're creaking in his chest, and his hands tremble from how much it had hurt. By God, it had hurt.

He'd never experienced a pain like that before, and he'd sure prefer to never experience it again.

All Might's face scrunches into a scowl as he manages to sit up. The boy, Midoriya Izuku, is still slumped on the ground, on his side. He's not sure, but his hands seem more pale than before.

He breathes in, prepared to take in not one, but two villains...

And when he breathes, his chest feels...

Full.

All Might pauses. There's still a dull pain in the left side of his chest, a pain he's familiar with. He's felt it constantly for several years by this point.

But now, a part of that pain is absent. Gone.

And when he breathes in, he doesn't taste copper at the back of his throat.

Experimentally, he coughs.

And when he looks at his hand, nothing.

There's nothing. No blood. No flecks of it either.

He breathes in deeply, filling his lungs, and he reaches for the left side of his chest.

The scar is still there, but under that, his ribs fully extend outward. Both lungs intact.

Both lungs intact.

All Might's gaze shoots to the boy, still unconscious on the ground, and he scrambles over.

No, Young Midoriya didn't attack him.

He just didn't heal his scar.

He healed his lung instead.

Fresh oxygen fills his body with energy he hasn't felt in his smaller form in a long, long while.

All Might wheezes, not from a lack of breath, but from shock.

"Young Midoriya--!"

When he turns him onto his back, he sees that the boy's entire body has gone pale. He's pale, save for the bruise on his cheek, which has only become darker. All Might's hand quickly goes to his neck and feels for a pulse.

It's there, but it's weaker than he'd like.

He quickly picks the boy up, leaving the notepad on the ground, and he feels for his quirk.

It's there. His quirk is still there.

And he's got maybe another hour in him that hadn't been there before.

He breathes in, imagining himself inflating, just like the illustration he'd told the boy about how his quirk works now. And he does.

One moment, he's his usual, thinned-out self. The next, he's All Might, all muscle and power thrumming under his skin.

All Might grits his teeth, his smile absent as the boy lays limply in his arms.

"Hold on, young Midoriya!"

Then, he hops away from the roof, shooting toward the nearest hospital.

[biscuits-of-bagend]

DnDoc, The Loch o' the Lowes #2 - The Ettrick Shepherd

Part 1

Previous stories: DnDoc, Coming Home DnDoc, Space Band DnDoc, A Man's a Man DnDoc, The God of Rock 'n' Roll

---

Once they'd all extricated themselves from their wetsuits back in the TARDIS, they climbed very carefully back onto the paddle board in shorts and t-shirts and took it across to the north side of the loch. If they hurried, they could grab dinner from the café in the lochside cabin before it closed for the evening. The Doctor also said he wanted to introduce the others to an old friend, though he was being sufficiently cryptic about it that Rogue didn't think it was going to be straightforward.

   There was a bit of a queue at the café - the slightest sunny day in Scotland seemed to bring the population out in droves - so they decided to go statue first, food after. The Doctor took them across the car park, over a row of giant boulders at the boundary, then into a patch of long grass with a path mown through it. The path took them up a small incline then around the face of a low wooden wall. Rogue had been watching the ground to make sure his slightly tired feet went in the right places, but now he looked up at the enormous marble statue on a high, stocky column.

   It obviously wasn't as tall as a magnificent column in the middle of a city or something - if it was it would probably hit the tree cover - but because you were standing right next to it, it felt mightily imposing. The marble figure on top was sitting on a marble rock, with a marble plaid thrown over his shoulder and an adorable marble dog at his side. On the sides of the column, which the Doctor gestured for them to follow him around, there were a few couplets of simple poetry in memory to James Hogg, the man depicted above.

   "He was a nice lad," the Doctor said. "Terrible liar, but earnest about what he cared about. But at the same time not cheesy. He was oblivious in some ways, but startingly sharp in others."

   "What do you mean bad liar?" Ruby said. "Did he mess you around?"

   The Doctor laughed. "Oh, he's definitely not an ex. We had an argument up in the hills about ghosts once. I was absolutely shitting myself because I kept thinking I could hear things, and he kept rolling his eyes and asking me if I was a southern tourist. I was also white at the time, kind of don't want to know what he'd have said if it happened now. Who knows, maybe it'd have been fine, but I could imagine the word 'voodoo' being used, and not correctly.

   "No, what he lied about was his birthday. He tried to convince people he had the same birthday as Robert Burns, but this was like, categorically untrue based on something previously published. Same thing again with conflicting autobiographical details about when he started writing poetry, god love him."

   Ruby chuckled, but Rogue was distracted. There was never baking heat in Scotland, but he'd been quite warm ever since he towelled off. Whereas now he was shivering. He turned around to face the loch - well, lochs, since from this angle you could see both the Loch of the Lowes and St. Mary's Loch, which was connected to it via a narrow stream, or as it was known in Scotland, a burn. He was sure he could hear some sort of foghorn, but surely there were no boats around; no boat big enough to have a foghorn could have fitted down that burn. It was a low hum he could hear, not unlike the TARDIS, and it was coming from the water.

   He turned back to face the statue. The Doctor had been watching him, and he put his hand on Rogue's upper arm.

   "Hey, you okay?" said the Doctor, rubbing his hand up and down.

   It occurred to Rogue that was the second time the Doctor had asked him that in the past hour.

   I just want to have a nice day out, Ruby had said, a holiday from monsters and gods and stuff. If Scotland doesn't work out this time, I'll never ask to go there again.

   Presumably, she didn't actually mean that forswearing of Scotland forever more, but Rogue still didn't want to ruin the mood of the afternoon, not when he didn't have any evidence that anything was wrong. Mind over matter, motion over mind.

   Rogue put his hand over the Doctor's. "I'm okay, just hungry."

   "Alright, let's go grab some toasties," said the Doctor.

   "Sounds good." Rogue nodded.

   They sat outside at a picnic table to eat their toasties and sip their tea. Rogue could have gone for some fish and chips, in all honesty, but the caravan-shaped café was charming and wildly convenient. Plus this ham and cheese toastie was delicious.

   As the Doctor and Ruby chatted, Rogue kept hearing a buzzing echo. It was like someone on a video broadcast didn't realise they'd left their mic on so he was hearing the instructions and requests from a producer filtering through into some sports commentary or something. Except the content didn't concern programming schedules or pieces to camera.

Poor heartless man! And wilt thou lie

A prey to this devouring flame?

That thou possess not bonny May,

None but thyself has thou to blame.

   He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again, trying to shake the words out of his head but without anyone noticing.

O tempting spirit I beg of thee

These twisting arguments to desist

How dare thee bring thy heinous words

And compel this mind which pious ist?

   Who were the voices talking to? Clearly not him. Whatever was going on was not meant to be overheard. His shoulders started to rise up around his ears and there was a sinking feeling in his stomach. Whoever this 'pious mind' was, he got the feeling it bloody well better resist or something terrible might be about to happen to 'bonny May.' More frighteningly, neither of the others had heard the voices. It was probably some fragment of poetry he half remembered, something his brain had dug out for him as a crisis response when he got scared in the water and when the Doctor started talking about ghosts. Gods, he was out of practice. He wondered if he'd even be any use as a bounty hunter at this point.

   He looked out over the water, trying to hide his expression from his friends. Maybe he could just be a good tourist instead. He thought he saw a cottage in between the two lochs, but once again a blink took it away. He could find nothing solid to rest his mind upon.

   He felt the Doctor's hand stroking his thigh as he and Ruby talked. Well, at least there was that. He took the Doctor's warm, strong hand and held it, waiting for the fear to pass and wishing he'd never gone swimming.

---

Part 3

The poem I'm referencing here is a ballad Hogg has collected and put his own spin on called Mess John. In the spirit of keeping balladry alive, the second verse is my own invention!

@off-traveling-in-the-stars @casavanse @monster-donut @randomwholocker (let me know at any point if you no longer wish to be tagged in each post)

[darkhorse-javert]

Flufftober Attic

@flufftober

I followed attentively, watching as Holmes paced through the house, feeling, stamping, giving everything the most minute examination. He even waited for me as he scrambled into the attic; one with an actual floor although crowded with things. He paced that around, running fingers over whitewashed wall edges, before going back to the ladder head. Just before he reached the square, he caught my eye hard and held up a hand

Stop, stay there. I stilled my walking, a few steps from the ladder myself, able to see down there. Holmes climbed down neatly, settign his feet on the landing. The police gathered around.

"There's nobody up there, inspector, unless you count a mouse or two."

Hrrm The police officer croocked his neck to look up at me "Doctor, can you confirm that?" He barked up at me.

"There's nobody up here, but me Inspector." there's a scratchign sound and I look around, then back down the ladder, "but I think he's right about the mouse."

The inspector huffs and adresses Holmes "Well, everyone says you're the best in the business at spotting the most minute signs Mr Holmes, and you've looked it all over... So that foreign reporbate must have moved on, perhaps was never here berfore.

"An old grudge on the owner, perhaps," I heard Holmes muse aloud as they all moved off along then landing and then down the stairs.

There was more scraping. it didn't sound quite like a mouse, but what else could it be. It's very quiet, now they've gone. The thump of the big door, a great distance away, travels through the wood to my feet first, rather than my ears.

Then there is the patter of feet, two pairs, bounding up the stairs. One I know to be the long-limbed leap of Holmes, the other,- i discover when he appears at the foot of the ladder- is Mr Harcourt himself. His face is white, sickly

Holmes eases him aside and climbs up the ladder like a monkey to join me, turning to offer Harcourt a hand as he climbs up afterwards

The man is shaking, white as a sheet and postively sick. Holmes face curls into a tiny smile, as he strides across to the end wall of the attic, and knocks on it with a light fist.

"Vous pouvez sortir Monsieur, c'est sûr maintenant," he calls, apparently to thin air.

"Andrei, c'est bien." Mr Harcourt says into the silence afterwards, slightly louder, and his voice far steadier than he himself looks.

What until then seemed to be part of the wall, right next to Holmes, moved a little, then swung outwards into the attic.

Eyes gleaming against the darkness, then thin cheekbones and a thatch of hair darkened with sweat, a man worn thin and living onj his nerves, comes out. His eyes, they're the eyes of fear, darting between Holmes and Mr Harcourt, and the ladder.

"C'est bien Monsieur." Holmes repeats softly, his eyes slightly down, figure quiet

"How, how did you know, about the wall?" The man croaks, with a slight accent.

"A very slight imperfection where the door was." Holmes looks the wall up and down "You'd only know it with fingertips, not by the eyes. other than than, it was very neatly done."

"And, you would not turn me in, to be sent back?"

Holmes shakes his head, "No sir, I do not think you are a threat, or a spy to be turned out."

And then he offers his hand, which the thin man grasps with both of his own. "I wish you luck."

"Thank you Mr Holmes," Mr Harcourt croaks, creeping step by step across the attic towards the other man. Holmes inclines his head, in silence this time and signals to me with his hand.

It's time to go

[potofstewie]

Peripheral

"When you see something just beyond your peripheral vision, you may be inclined to take a closer look. But it’s also best not to do so."

Caution: Paranoia, constant eye rubbing, she/her reader

W/C: 1.4k

Beings: Connie x ██████████

“Okay man, seriously, stop rubbing your eye. You’re gonna get a headache or some shit.” In between chews from her messy hamburger, Sasha chastised Connie as he rubbed his eye for the umpteenth time that night. Tonight was the weekly Saturday hangout that Connie, Sasha and Jean held at the local diner. They’ve had this tradition since graduating high school and they solemnly swore that they would do their best to uphold such a tradition; even going so far as to keep it between the three of them and not inviting their other friends.

 Pushing Connie’s hand away from the troubled eye, Jean put down his soda. “That is disgusting, Connie. Did you even wash your hands before doing that?” The murky yellow light hanging above their booth flickered, prompting another harsh eye rub from Connie. Exasperated sighs left the mouths of his friends as he continued. 

“Don’t look if you’re so disgusted then, the fuck. Last I checked, it isn’t your eye.” Connie snapped, grunting at his failed attempt at soothing his irritated eye. “Shit’s been bothering me since last Saturday and it hurts like a bitch. It hurts a little less when I look forward but I can’t see out of the corner of my eye.” He explained, moving his plate of fries closer to him and away from a particular greedy hand. 

“You should seriously see a doctor about that.” Jean advised with Sasha nodding in agreement.

“And how can you not see out of your peripheral? Isn’t that like- bad for driving?” 

Connie sighed in annoyance as he gave up his futile efforts, eye red as it repeatedly tried to blink away the dark spots. “It’s hard to explain like- I know I can see out of the corner of my eye, but it’s like something is blocking my view. All I see is like a dark blurry spot that’s right at the edge of my eyesight.” Ice cold Sprite zipped up his straw as Connie lubricated his mouth before continuing. “And I know that there’s something there, I can feel it in my bones. I just can’t focus on it enough to make it out.” 

Silence engulfed his bewildered friends as they exchanged worried and confused looks between themselves. “Conrad..Cornelius..Cornball, that is freakishly weird and you need to see an eye doctor pronto.” Reaffirming Jean’s advice, Sasha folded her arms. “Maybe you’re going blind or you have that eye thing that makes it difficult to see headlights at night.” 

“Cataract.” Connie interrupted. 

“Astigmatism, dumbass.” Jean corrected, looking down at his phone that had lit up with an incoming phone call. Just by his eagerness to get up and take it, both Connie and Sasha knew who it was. “Look, just go to a doctor, maybe there’s something stuck in your eye or whatever. I gotta go, later.” Rushing both his words and his body, Jean took off from the booth to the front  door, eager to hear what his crush had to say. Sighing, Connie continued to rub his eye. 

“Dude! Quit it already!” Sasha cried out, even she was at her limit with his troubled eye. “Just put your cup on it or something, ice it!” Connie ignored her words, temporarily stopping his eye rubbing to try and see from the corner of his eye. Concentrating on the dark spot, Connie blinked a couple of times; a tactic that proved futile for the past week. But after a few more blinks and another eye rub, the dark spot seemed to take up less space in his sight. From the corner of his eye, he could finally see some of the booths that stood empty behind him, the dark spot somewhat covering them. 

“Hey, I think my eyesight is getting better!” Connie stated, barely hidden glee laced in his voice. Sasha let out a small gasp of excitement, her hand buried in Jean’s forgotten basket of fries. 

“Really? Then maybe it was just an eyelash or some lint!” 

Grunting softly in agreement, Connie blinked and rubbed his eye some more, his morale raising with each blink. A few more blinks and he could see the booths more clearly, however the dark spot was still there but smaller. Focusing on the spot, Connie could feel that something was wrong. It felt as if someone, no, something was staring at him with total malice. It was as if he was ignorant prey being watched by a skilled and bloodthirsty hunter. Shaking off the feeling of dread, Connie continued to focus on the spot. 

As he focused, the spot took on a more cleaner appearance; the edges no longer blurry but sharper. To the imagination it looked as if someone was sitting at the booth behind him. Blinking a few times more, the spot still remained dark, however now it appeared to have eyes. And they were staring right back at him. The spot-now-turned-figure gazed at him with soulless eyes, no mouth or nose to be seen. Connie couldn’t tell if it was looking at him or through him. Whatever it was, it rattled him so much that he finally broke eye contact and moved his sight back to his friend Sasha who was busy playing on her phone. 

Nervously sipping on his soda, Connie couldn’t help but feel the eyes on him. It was as if it was watching his every move, calculating his actions, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. As the buzz from the nearby guests and servers grew louder in his ears, Connie swore he heard the figure get up from its seat and make its way towards him. Its foot falls sounded heeled which made him release a nervous chuckle. A ghost with high heels? Yeah, right. Now focusing his sight on the table, he wondered if what he saw was actually some sort of ghost or an actual patreon of the diner just trying to leave after a night out. Sighing in contempt at his rude assumptions, Connie raised his gaze to the aisle next to him; gray eyes meeting with large, black, pupil-less ones with the hints of white barely visible. 

A shudder jolted from his body as the figure was mere inches from his face; breath fanning his face. As he absorbed the figure’s features, it was as if time slowed down. The creature seemed interested in him, an inhumanly large smile of delight plastered on its face. A soft, high pitched groan hissed out of the creature’s throat as it continued to watch him. It had felt as if the temperature within the room dropped by 40 degrees. Connie wouldn’t be shocked if he could see his breath. 

After a few pensive seconds, the creature’s eyes shifted towards Sasha who still didn’t see or sense what was going on. With fear, Connie’s eyes followed the creature's gaze, praying that his friend would just look up and notice him. Alas, his prayers were heard as Sasha put her phone down with a sigh, her own eyes meeting his with boredom that quickly morphed into puzzlement. 

“Uhh, Connie? Why are you staring at me?” She asked slowly, observing the fear laced within her friend’s face. Connie silently and slowly looked back to the aisle next to him, expecting to see the creature. A long held breath that he didn’t know he had flew out of Connie. Heaving for more air, Connie’s eyes began to scan the faces surrounding his booth, trying to locate the creature. 

“You..you didn’t see it?” He asked, panting. 

“See what?” Sasha inquired innocently. “I was too busy texting Historia.” 

“The..the..” Before Connie could give his answer, his words died out as his eyes watched the front door of the diner. A woman in a black mini dress walked out the door confidently, an aura of sexiness emitting from her. Connie watched through the window as she walked down the street, catching the eyes of all passersby. While everyone else felt a twinge of lust from looking at her, Connie could only feel primal fear. He watched quietly as the woman stopped in front of the window, one step away from leaving his view. She turned towards the diner, looking inside and smiling. As she raised a manicured hand and waved, Connie knew she was looking straight at him; her stare and smile holding sinister happiness. 

Blinking a few times, Connie now looked at the window which was now devoided of the woman. Sitting back in his seat in disbelief, Connie couldn’t help but feel both relief and guilt. Why guilt? He wasn’t so sure. But something told him that he was responsible for whatever would happen that night.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2023 Panel from Fuan no Tane/Fuan no Tane Plus

Tagging: @ihavenorealfriendslol @perfect4taehyung @ferrrrrrrrr @sdragon-06 @emii4evr @myoodan @xdrin @questla72 @9irly9irl @d0ntt3xtm3 @ryomens-vixen @lains-wired-reality @suckmybigtoe2 @sirshitsalot12 @tee4str @missmadness123 @hobicakess @lovelyfakirxahiru @merakidoll @crazycatboi0 @gothicfrida @s04py-bunny @iamstraightcis @elisacarynia @forbiddenfruit211 @getosho3cakes @whispers-of-lilith @cawcawmothafuckaw @yanhpipe @syynnaaah @xendrassk @deepestballoonllama-fandoms @honeybleed @bakuyoo @utas-faerie-gf @loandbeholded @yaoilover27 @oneofthesevensins @whats-humanity-lol @ilikeyacutg2563885 @dilfhos @nutheadgeenat @blkwriters @bianyeo @pandaloveswendell @ranpxsr3alwife @alaniiisworld @memotoadd @leias-worid @lolito-chan @junivenus @wackywoohoopizzaboi @valentineluvu @hrclhesargadt @slayblaxk @9loveless @xoxxosblog @sunboikyo00 @sanjunlvr @yournomsstuff @kielzze @euunii @amberbeeszeesees @evalynanne

[mxcottonsocks]

There's also Mina's monologue about her and Jonathan's modest bringing up sometime in September but I don't know if anyone has mentioned that yet

Yes, good point! I think when I had a look through the notes of that post some time earlier, someone had mentioned it, though I don't remember if it was in a reblog, comments or tags.

'Modest' is a relative term, so it could mean a whole bunch of different things depending on the speaker and their outlook on life.

Mina and Jonathan both seem to have good heads on their shoulders, though, and a sense of perspective, and compassion for others, and so on. They seem to know that they are financially and socially better off than some people, but worse off than others. So in their case I'd be inclined to take the description of their upbringing as 'modest' seriously. That doesn't necessarily mean that they aren't upper-middle class by origin (Victorian literature is full of people 'living in reduced circumstances'), but it definitely seems to imply that they probably weren't living an upper-middle class lifestyle, and were probably the lifestyle of the lower-middle class (at least when Mina wasn't rubbing shoulders with the likes of Lucy).

My personal headcanon for Mina is that she's from a solidly middle-class family: a line of clergymen, lawyers, country doctors, etc; they have good educations, and do just well enough in their careers to justify their education and to raise a family decently, but the family neither soars particularly high nor sinks particularly low for very long... but it just so happens that the family is on a low ebb when Mina is born, and perhaps healthcare costs deplete their savings, and then her parents die. Perhaps she spends a few years living quietly with an aunt (who later dies too), and then when she is old enough, all the money which her parents (and the aunt) had managed to save is used to give her the best education possible, with the intention of her going into teaching when she's old enough to make her own way in the world.

I think I probably favour this (in relation to Mina's education) headcanon at the moment because in some ways, Mina is very similar to the character of Esther Summerson in Dickens' Bleak House, including in their strong desire to be useful. This is a description of Esther's education at what is apparently a "first-rate establishment":

It was understood that I would have to depend, by and by, on my qualifications as a governess, and I was not only instructed in everything that was taught at Greenleaf, but was very soon engaged in helping to instruct others. Although I was treated in every other respect like the rest of the school, this single difference was made in my case from the first. As I began to know more, I taught more, and so in course of time I had plenty to do, which I was very fond of doing because it made the dear girls fond of me. At last, whenever a new pupil came who was a little downcast and unhappy, she was so sure—indeed I don't know why—to make a friend of me that all new-comers were confided to my care. They said I was so gentle, but I am sure THEY were! I often thought of the resolution I had made on my birthday to try to be industrious, contented, and true-hearted and to do some good to some one and win some love if I could; and indeed, indeed, I felt almost ashamed to have done so little and have won so much.

[I'm only comparing Mina's (conjectured) and Esther's (actual) backgrounds in terms of education, not in relation to any of the other stuff in Esther's background, e.g. the horrible godmother, etc.]

[yo-snap]

Hi, idk how to format fanfiction here. THIS IS FANFICTION!!!

Fandom: WALL-E (2008)

Title: Gender

Characters: M-O, WALL-E, AUTO, EVE, GO-2 (a GO-4 oc)

Rating: Everyone Language: English Word Count: 2,976 (excluding notes)

[A/N: I thought you tumblrinas would read this. It has a GO-4 fancharacter that i call "GO-2 (GO-4 Unit 2)" he's a robot doctor, and AUTO is that cringe ass version i posted whenever ago.

Some people like talking about gender. I don't. But it's something that comes up with robots a lot I WONDER WHY. (It's because all robots are QUEER, and denial of that is bigotry.) Anyway, here we go w the WALL-E squad bc i said so. Might be a little rambly. Spoilers: you might not like what i have to say.

TW/CW: i don't care about your feelings, INTERPRETATIONS!!!! gender stuff, lgbt+ stuff (implied), talking w friends, personal questions/feelings, misgendering??? (not really), surprise, walking in on someone, computer repairs (mentioned), meeting friends, running off, i don't mention who is talking every single time so don't hang on things]

“I'm just a little fella.”

“You're just a little guy.”

“I'm like just a little guy.”

“You're a little fella guy.”

“I'm just a little fella guy.”

AUTO turned to the two cubic robots that were talking. They seemed to be having a deep conversation.

“I'm like just the littlest fella.”

“You're the littlest fella that i know.”

“I'm like a pretty little fella.”

“You're like small.”

“I'm like a small guy.”

“Like a little fella of sorts.”

“I'm like a little fella, right???”

WALL-E nodded. “You're like a little fella.”

“Like a little guy, right???”

“Are you a guy, M-O???” AUTO couldn't keep quiet anymore.

“Huh???” They both turned to him.

“Are you a ‘guy?’ Do you consider yourself masculine???”

“‘Masculine???’ What do you mean???”

“You mean like a man, right? A male human???” WALL-E was somewhat familiar with the concept.

“Correct. Do you relate yourself personally to men???”

M-O thought. “Huh. I guess i never thought about that.” He considered. “Um… I'm gonna say ‘no,’ not really.”

“I see.”

“I think you're a little guy, but i don't think you're very male-like, M-O.”

AUTO beeped. “I would be inclined to agree. I would not consider you very masculine from an outside perspective.”

M-O considered. “But i'm still like a little guy, right???”

AUTO paused and made another tone. “Affirmative, you are just a little guy. A little fella. Small.”

“Thank you.”

“You know, i don't think i've ever thought about that myself either.” They looked at him. “I mean, i know that men and women are different. I know it's an important thing for them. But i never really gave any thought to which side i relate myself more to.”

“Have you not?”

“Nah, not really. I might relate to a character in a movie or something, but them being either male or female didn't really affect how i saw them.” He tapped his eyepiece. “I guess maybe i'm a little more masculine, since the characters that i relate to more are usually men… Or, well, at the same time, i do have a lot of women characters that i relate to, too. Hmm. I don't know!”

AUTO made a tone. “Do you think you are similar to both? Or to neither???”

He was thinking. He seemed to be struggling, as he grumbled a bit. “I-i'm sorry, what??? What's the difference?”

“Pardon. I mean to say, do you believe that they are both similar to how you see yourself? Or, do you believe that they are both different???”

“Uh…” He still wasn't understanding. “I don't know! I guess both???”

“Both what???” M-O asked, also bamboozled by the question.

“I don't know!!!”

“I apologize. I suppose the question is a bit unclear. I do not know how to say what i mean.”

WALL-E continued to think. “I guess i'm kind of masculine. And i guess i'm kind of… what's the other one? ‘Feminine???’” AUTO nodded. “And i guess i'm also kind of neither of those. I'm kind of…”

“You're kind of a silly guy.”

“Affirmative, he is just a silly guy.”

He had been trying to phrase it, but they distracted him. “Um… sure. Yeah… Thanks.”

“I believe that i understand what you are trying to say, WALL-E. It can be a very difficult thing to define. Do you find that your opinion of it changes at times???”

WALL-E considered. “Yeah. Yeah, i guess. Kind of.” He nodded. “Sure. It changes.”

AUTO nodded. “I understand. That makes sense. I have often found you difficult to classify in those regards as well. I cannot say that you are more similar to one than the other, and i cannot always say that you are similar to either of those.”

“What about me, AUTO? Am i ‘feminine???’” M-O bounced for attention.

AUTO studied him for a moment. “Not very. Perhaps in some regards, you are more feminine than masculine: as cleanliness is typically more associated with women than men. But i would not say that you are very feminine at all.”

“I think you're a good balance, M-O. You're no more feminine than you are masculine, at least to me.”

“But how do you perceive yourself??? Your opinion of yourself is the most important.”

M-O shook his head. “I don't relate more to women than i do men. I think you're both right about me. I like being neither.”

AUTO nodded. “That makes sense. I am happy that you are comfortable.”

“Well, what about you, AUTO??? How do you see yourself???” WALL-E cocked his head.

“I find the perception of myself somewhat similar to both of you. Most times, i do not consider myself either masculine or feminine. But other times, i consider myself feminine.”

WALL-E made a shocked tone. “Whoa, really??!! You consider yourself feminine?!”

AUTO felt awkward. “Yeees… Is that surprising???”

WALL-E fidgeted. “W-well… yeah, a little. I didn't usually see you as either, but i would have said you were slightly more masculine than you are feminine.”

“I understand why you say that. My voice chip is rather low, which is a masculine trait. And i suppose that first encounters are important for how you perceive somebody. I may have come across as more masculine when we first met. Is that your opinion???”

“Y-yeah, i guess that has something to do with it.” He glanced away. “Um, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to make this awkward.”

“There is no need to apologize. I appreciate your input. Would you like to know why i consider myself more feminine???” WALL-E nodded, and M-O beeped in the affirmative.

“The AUTOPILOTs are each essentially part of a triad. There is us, and there is the onboard computer, and there is the ship. The onboard computer was given a feminine voice, much more human in intonation than mine is. Many of her dialog options were recorded at one time by a human woman. She was given the ability to synthesize new words using the phonemes, er, rather, the sounds of the languages with which she was installed. She can answer questions and relay various items from her library, but she is not quite the same variety of AI that we are.

“The ships are considered feminine. Humans have almost always referred to ships as feminine, out of tradition. To my knowledge, it is in relation to the safety and protection provided by a mother or a goddess, or sometimes it is in accordance with the idea of ‘Mother Nature.’” He glanced down at a very confused M-O. “Um… they just refer to vessels as feminine.”

“Okay. And since you're part of the three, you consider yourself feminine, too???” WALL-E was following along.

“Correct. Not always, but on occasion. I feel it would be a bit silly not to. I believe that i have some traditionally feminine traits, such as the concern that i have for the safety of my passengers and robots. I am very diligent in reviewing the information that the computer provides and making adjustments as necessary in order to maintain their safety. I also try my best to accommodate my captains and remind them of their personal needs. I believe that i am sometimes somewhat motherly, which is typically the most feminine that an individual can be.” He thought. “But i suppose those traits could be seen as fatherly as well, depending on inflection or interpretation.”

“I think that might have been what it was for me. Sorry for misinterpreting you.” WALL-E made an apologetic tone.

“That is quite alright. I believe many of my captains have interpreted that as well. Most have used only masculine pronouns when referring to me. I do not mind. I wonder how i would feel if i had been referred to with feminine pronouns.” He tapped his face.

“I always thought you were neither, AUTO. You're too smart to be compared to a human.”

He made a tone. “Thank you, M-O.” He reached down and pet the top of M-O’s head, making him wiggle and chirp happily.

WALL-E made a delighted tone. “I wonder what Eva would say. I don’t think i’ve ever asked her what she thinks.”

“Do you think she’s done with her tune up yet???”

“Inconclusive. Let us ask.” AUTO floated over to the console that connected to the various areas of the ship and put the line through to the repair ward. They could see the video feed on the screen, and it showed GO-2 working on Eva’s body compartment. The three of them made embarrassed and flustered tones, and the two robots on the other end looked over at the camera. “Apologies!!! I did not intend to disrupt!”

GO-2 and Eva glanced at one another, and he floated between her and the camera. “It is no issue. May i help you with something, AUTO???”

“Oh, nothing important. We were just curious as to the estimated time at which Eva's tune up will be complete.” The others were chattering in the background.

GO-2 considered for a moment. “I believe we are almost finished. We should be roughly completed by the time WALL-E and M-O arrive here, if they intend to meet Eva.”

“Ooh, really???” WALL-E glanced at the screen again after being too embarrassed to look.

“Affirmative. We will not be much longer.”

M-o beeped. “Oh, yeah, let's go meet her!”

“Thank you, GO-2. End transmission.”

GO-2 saluted at the camera, and AUTO turned off the line. He turned to his friends. “You are leaving now???”

“In a minute. Do you wanna come with us, AUTO???”

AUTO thought about it. “I am unsure. I do not want Eva to be upset with me.”

“Oh, you worry too much! We'll just tell her that we bugged you until you connected to the ward.” M-O pat AUTO's arm to comfort him.

“We'll always take the blame when Eva's mad at you, AUTO!”

He made a low tone. “Thank you, WALL-E. But i highly doubt the effectiveness of your efforts.”

The three of them made their way towards the repair bay. They didn't have a MVR with them, so it took them a bit longer; and M-O latched onto WALL-E after a little while ‘to not slow them down.’ The others knew that wasn't why he did it, but they would have both admitted to wanting to carry him in their hands if they were asked. M-O didn't want them to fight about it.

They entered to see Eva waiting around after her repairs were completed. It must have been just before they got there, as GO-2 was still updating her repair log. He inputted the last bit of info and hurried over to see his friends. “Hello all! How are you today???”

M-O zipped over to circle around Eva. He beeped happily and circled around GO-2 as well. “Hiii GO-2!!!”

WALL-E rolled up beside Eva and they both reached to hold hands. “Hi GO-2! We're good, how are you???”

“I am well, thank you. It is always a pleasure to work on Eva.”

“It's a pleasure to be here, GO-2!” Eva made a bright tone.

“I must apologize, Eva. I sincerely did not mean to invade your privacy as i did.” AUTO made a low tone and cautiously hovered toward GO-2.

WALL-E beeped quickly. “Uh, it was my idea, Eva! We thought you were almost done.”

“Uh, yeah, i was the one that said that. Heheh, i guess i got my timing off. Sorry.” 

She rolled her eyes. “It's fine, guys. We're all robots here.”

“Oh yeah, that's why we all came down here!” M-O rolled between GO-2 and Eva. “AUTO asked us about how we think about ourselves! Like if we're more similar to men or women.” He beeped. “I said that i was neither. WALL-E said that he was both and also neither. And he was really surprised by what AUTO said about himself!”

“Okay!!! But to be fair, you guys have all known him a lot longer than i have!!!”

That made Eva curious. “What did he say???”

“That he believes that he is somewhat feminine???”

“You knew that, GO-2???!!!” This was still an intense point for WALL-E.

He made a tone. “Of course. I am a sort of psychiatrist as well as a regular doctor to our robots. We have talked about this at length.”

“GO-2 was the first person that i told. I additionally simply trusted him as a friend.” AUTO put his hand on GO-2's back.

“Wait, what does ‘feminine’ mean???” Eva cocked her head.

“It's like a woman. ‘Masculine’ is like a man.” M-O wanted to make sure he still understood, and was satisfied that no one corrected him.

“Oh.” She processed. “So AUTO is like a woman???”

“W-well, partially. I typically see myself as neither masculine nor feminine.”

Eva thought for a moment. “I guess that makes sense.”

“How do you see yourself, Eva???”

She glanced at WALL-E. “I think it makes sense to be neither. I don't think i'm more like women than i am man. And i don't think i'm like men very much at all.” She beeped. “I guess i'd have to think about it.”

“Well– can i tell you what i think???” WALL-E wanted to share.

“Um, sure.”

“Okay, so when i first saw you, i thought you were beautiful. Gorgeous. Completely amazing. I was astounded. I couldn't believe my optics. You were incredible. You–”

“Yes, WALL-E, we know how you felt.” All of them, especially Eva, had heard WALL-E's first impression of her a hundred times before.

He made an awkward tone. “Er, w-well, i thought you were a little bit masculine in appearance. Like in shape, anyway. You were kind of like… like a triangle???” He put his hands together to demonstrate the upside-down shape that he meant. “Which is like a man. And especially with the ion rifle. I thought you were like an action hero, which are usually men.

“But then i saw you up close, and i heard your cute little giggle, and i wasn't sure anymore! And then we actually met, and your voice was so sweet and beautiful and wonderful, and i thought it was really feminine! Aaand after that i kind of lost it again. I think you're kind of like both, and also like neither. I wonder if you and i are alike like that.”

AUTO made a quiet tone. “M-may i offer my opinion???”

She slowly turned to him and glanced him up and down. “Sssuuure.”

He tapped his fingers together nervously. “W-well, i will say concisely: i view you as more feminine than masculine. In regards to shape, you are very rounded, and i believe that you were designed to look like an upside-down egg, which are things that come from female animals. Your directive had you incubate plant samples, which can also be considered feminine, as females are almost always the ones to incubate within their bodies.

“Your voice chip is also more feminine than masculine. I like it very much. But i have to believe that you were intended to be seen as feminine completely, as you were given a name that reflects the Biblical character of the first woman. I would say that your, rather, all of the EVEs’ intention was to be feminine: but you personally are not completely feminine. I think you are you, Eva. I admire that about you.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and AUTO thought he might have said something wrong. “I also think you're just Eva. You're a round fella.” M-O wanted his opinion to be known.

“Like how you're a little fella.” She didn't say it as a question.

“Exaaaactlyyyyy.” He nodded his head and looked at everyone as if trying to convince them.

“What about you, GO-2??? Do you have an opinion about yourself???” WALL-E didn't want him to be left out.

He turned to him. “Not exactly. Not in those parameters. I suppose that i can be either feminine or masculine, depending on how i am viewed. Human doctors do not have a typical gender… or, rather, they are not typically men, nor typically women: they are both. As for how i see myself, i do not give it much thought. I am usually too busy to consider that aspect of myself. I like who i am, and do not feel that i need to label myself as either masculine or feminine.”

“Yeah, me too!” M-O chirped.

“Affirmative, i feel that way as well most times.” AUTO nodded.

“I guess i'm kind of like that too. But now i am gonna think about it, because you guys are saying that i seem feminine. Maybe i'll agree with you.” Eva still needed some time.

“I can understand that. But i also want to think that i could be either. I wonder what it would be like to be a man or a woman.” WALL-E tapped his eyepiece.

“Well, whatever it's like, i'm sure it's not as fun as this!” Eva took off out of the repait ward, giggling and looking back as she did.

“Eva!!!” WALL-E called after her and dashed to follow.

“Oh, i'll catch you guys later! See ya!!!!” M-O sped off as fast as he could. “Hey guys, wait up!!! I'M JUST A LITTLE FELLA!!!”

AUTO and GO-2 watched them leave. They were both glad to see that they were so happy.

“You know, AUTO…” He turned to look at GO-2. “I could always try to adjust your voice chip. Perhaps i could help you sound more feminine. If you would like that.”

He made a tone. “Thank you for the offer, GO-2. But i am content with my voice as it is currently. It is how i have always sounded, and that voice matches me now. But thank you for offering again. I always appreciate it.” He affectionately pet GO-2 on his siren, and GO-2 made a satisfied tone.

[Post a/n: check under your chairs, i lost the ending again. Oops.

Heeeyy, there you go. THEY'RE QUEER! And i don't care if you don't agree. To clarify: M-O is gender neutral, WALL-E is genderfluid, AUTO is demifemme/gender neutral, Eva is questioning nonbinary, and GO-2 is agender. They use the pronouns that i used here. That's my version. Peace sign.

This is cross-posted on FFN and AO3 under the title "GO-4 It!!!"]

[strayheartless]

Give you what you like - SephGen:

As always, don't like don't read! I will 100% admit that this is inspired by that Avril Lavigne song, and I won't apologise for it.

Sephiroth is not so oblivious to the human condition that he didn't know when something felt off about the people he was close to. His very exisitance revolved around knowing when danger was afoot; to know the threat and be the solution, and he found when dealing with certain people it served him just as well. He may have missed out on key communication skills as a child, but he's not stupid.

There had been something amiss the minute he'd heard his PHS chirp obnoxiously that afternoon. Genesis' text had been short but there was something about it that made it feel less curt and more desprate. In one blunt sentance he had managed to tell Sephiroth both exactly what was wrong, while also leaving him completely in the dark about how he himself played a part in it.

"you're coming over tonight?"

The question mark was a idle pleasentry. They both knew it wasn't a question, nor a request. This wasn't an anxious lover asking for his attention; this was Genesis telling him he didn't trust himself enough to be left alone.

In all the time they had been doing whatever this was, Sephiroth had come to understand that this was Gen gifting him a rare sliver of trust. He didn't think either of them would give up their fully unguarded selves to eachother - there was too much messy, jelous rivalry sitting between the two of them, but what they did trust eachother with felt like pure gold to Sephiroth.

Genesis demanding his time was less a irritation then it was a revelation. He would never let the other man know, but Sephiroth craved every second they spent together like a mako addict. Genesis lit every cell of his body on fire like nothing else could.

All this to say, he knew Genesis; had mapped his skin so many times he could do it in his sleep. He knew what made him tick and he knew when something was wrong.

... and something was wrong.

If the text hadn't been enough of an alarm bell, then opening the apartment door to find Genesis sat on the floor surrounded by food, wine and candles was.

They didn't do romance; not like this anyway. A night in watching stupid period drama's was the extent of anything even remotly romantic they'd done together.

They weren't dating. They had made that quite painfully clear to eachother in the way that they hid every less than platonic interaction they had with eachother. The best lable you could put on the whole affair was just that. An affair.

they weren't cheating or braking up any marriages with their activities, but the sneaking around, and the pain he knew both of them felt because of it made every move feel like a trasgression somehow.

They didn't do romance. That's not what this was.

"Should I be calling a doctor?" Sephiroth said, and if their was wariness to his words -to his movments- he felt he was justified in it.

Genesis just looked at him; his legs crossed, bare shoulders hunched a little, like he was trying to make himself smaller. Those alarm bells were getting louder.

"Will you just... " he seemed to struggle with himself for a second "Just come sit with me... please."

Sephiroth blinked. "I didn't know you knew that word." maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but it was enough to morph Gen's face into something a little more recognisable.

"If you are going to be an ass you can just leave," he snapped, expression stromy and far more recognisably Genesis. "I have not the inclination nor the patience to put up with your snide humour tonight. If you can't leave it at the door then we are wasting our time here!"

That was enough to have Sephiroth shedding his paldrons and coat, throwing them over a near by armchair before sinking to the floor in front if his friend. From down here he could see the tiredness in Genesis' eyes that had been growing steadily worse since the training incident.

Tonight it looked to have taken over his entire face. Under the thin veil of performative irritation, Gen looked bone tired.

"There he is," Sephiroth breathed, leaning in to Kiss Genesis sweetly on the mouth. It was soft and light, and so wholly not them, but for the sake of not knowing what Genesis needed, Sephiroth simply let it be. As he pulled away Gen's face changed again; the look more regretful now, a little resigned.

"I'm sorry," he murmered. " I- I feel like this whole thing has just gotten away from me."

"what thing? us, this?" The situation wasn't making sense, but if Genesis was willing to share then Sephiroth was willing to listen.

Genesis simply looked away. "no, not us,"

"What then?"

"It doesn't matter now. Its decided, best not to dwell," that was not the answer he wanted, but he supposed it was the answer he'd expected. They didn't share feelings outside of sex. if words or emotions came out during, both of them could put it down to racing adrenaline and hormones. Outside of that they were plauged with an inability to get past pety rivalry enough to ever trust that the other wouldn't throw their insecurities back at them in the heat of the moment.

Sephiroth knew that they both felt like they were already sharing too much. He may want to drown himself in Genesis almost constantly, but that didn't mean he was stupid enough to actually do it.

He moved to sit more comfortably on the floor; pressing his back up against the arm of the couch for support. Genesis tracked his movements, seemingly searching for some kind of physical sign from him.

"Come here then," Sephiroth said, parting his thighs as invatation for Genesis to sit inbetween them. As Gen cautiously shifted towards him he hooked an arm around the red heads waist and effectivly disregarding the caution entirly. "What to you want?"

He could have asked what he needed but that was never a word they'd used. 'Need' implied a certain level of interest in the others wellbeaing that neither of them were willing to admit to; 'want' felt better, more detached... perhaps they also both knew what bullshit that all was. Sephiroth didn't want to think too hard on that.

Gen's face made a complicated movement. Something between pained and upset, with a dash of devistated adoration (not that Sephiroth would point that out.)

"I want-" he seemed to choke on the words for a second. "I... want to pretend we're real lovers... just for tonight. I want to sit here with you and I want to eat, and drink until I can't feel the pain in my chest anymore, and then I want you to take me to bed and make love to me like I mean the world to you. I want-"

He cut himself off looking away from what was most likely the look of pure shock on Sephiroths face. How in the seven hells was he supposed to respond to that.

Alas he had to say something. "why?"

Genesis breathed in a long fortifying breath. Sephiroth wished he could see into his head. He wished he could just know what the hell was going on with him. Why was he acting so strange?

"Because maybe I'm finally tired of not being loved," he whispered. "And as ridiculously difficult as it may be to believe darling, I am actually a human capable of complex emotions such as loneliness."

Sephiroth tightened his hold on him, drawing Genesis in so that they were chest to chest.

"Thats not everything." Genesis didn't look offended, but he seemed a little hurt anyway. it wasn't the whole truth, he could see it in Gen's eye's, and maybe he could see it reflected back at him. They had never defined their relationship; had always made it feel like a sorded secret. But to so plainly lay his own insecurity at Sephiroths feet like that? To look him in the eye and tell him 'I wish you would love me' as if Sephiroth had never shown any indication of being less than consumed by him body and soul?

It hurt more than he was willing to admit to himself. He loved Genesis with an intensity that amounted to sheer physical agony somedays. But they had never said it. They had never breathed a word of their true feelings towards each other because they didn't do that, it's not who they were.

"Perhaps not lover, but does it really matter?" He ghosted his lips over Sephiroths and the general felt the shiver that ran down his spine where his hand met Genesis' back. "Secrets of no, you get to release some tension, I get to pretend to feel wanted, and the world comes crashing down anyway. so why not just say yes?"

That alarm bell thats been going off was now hammering the inside of his skull, making it hard to think, hard to breath.

This wasn't right. There was something so horrendously, grotesquely wrong with this picture, and he could scream with fustration with not knowing what it was.

Genesis was being the most vulrnrable he had ever been with him, and it was terrifying. he wanted it to stop. He wanted to live in a world where there wasn't this stupid rivalry, this petty game of one-upmanship. A world where he could tell Genesis 'I do love you' and not feel like he was giving too much of himself away, like he was betraying his position to the enemy.

He wanted to be able to love Genesis the way he wanted to, the way Gen deserved...

And maybe thats why he let him self say...

"okay,"

[shion-yu]

Day 16: Hospital

Elliot would stay until Cliff woke up. Part 2 to Day 21 - Blood Loss. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Cliff - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741453.cliff.

CW/TWs: Blood

‘How had it come to this?’ Elliot thought bitterly. He could still feel Cliff’s blood, hot and sticky, all over his hands and arms, even though it’d been days since he’d scrubbed all of it off during the longest shower of his life. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and rested his forehead there. The hospital chair he’d been sitting in had long since ceased to feel uncomfortable, and now just felt like a pain Elliot had to resign himself to. 

He still couldn’t process what had happened. It felt like he had heard about it from someone else. Because surely, this couldn’t be real. Cliff had broken Eli’s heart, but Cliff was supposed to be fine. Elliot needed him to be the problem, the one he could blame - not the one who Elliot was terrified for. The doctors said Cliff had severe stomach ulcers and that he was lucky that Elliot had found him so quickly. Hemorrhage like that, the doctor said, was not something someone could survive for very long without emergency treatment. But Elliot didn’t feel lucky, nor did he feel that Cliff was lucky. Ulcers didn’t happen overnight. Elliot knew that Cliff had a sensitive stomach, but it hurt him to realize just how much Cliff had probably been silently suffering through. It didn’t change the fact that Elliot was angry at him or that they were broken up. It also didn’t change the fact that Cliff had said terrible things to him. But Elliot certainly couldn’t say that Cliff didn’t care anymore. 

Cliff’s father made a brief appearance. He didn’t ask who Elliot was or say anything to Cliff, he just examined his son and then left. It was all Elliot could do not to say something biting as he shuffled away, the smell of alcohol lingering behind him. Elliot didn’t think he had the right to show up at all, but Dr. Barrows had always stayed in the shadows. Cliff’s mother, of course, didn’t even call. 

If Elliot squinted his eyes, he could pretend that Cliff was only sleeping. There was still the hum of several machines and pumps, as well as the click of the IV medications Cliff was receiving around the clock. 

It made Elliot angry to think about Cliff’s parents. Elliot had all the reason in the world to hate Cliff, but he was the only one here for him when he was so sick. Meanwhile Cliff’s parents, who were supposed to love Cliff the most, were absent. Elliot knew if he so much as fell over and had to go to the ER for a band-aid, his parents would have rushed to his side. They would’ve been there to stick up for him every step of the way and protected him. Elliot felt a feeling of loss that was not his own, but Cliff’s. It was terribly sad to imagine Cliff had never had parents who acted kindly towards him. The same parents who ignored him now were such a big part of why Cliff didn’t feel fully comfortable loving Elliot, too. It just wasn’t fair. No matter what Cliff had done, Elliot didn’t think he deserved this. 

So he stayed until Cliff woke up. Cliff didn’t remember much of what happened, but Elliot was there to tell him in no uncertain terms how disturbing it had all been. Cliff seemed guilty, but Elliot told him they needed to agree about breaking up because something this dramatic couldn’t happen again. It wasn’t right for either of them. Cliff agreed and must have said sorry a hundred times before Elliot gave him one final kiss goodbye. Then he left the hospital and didn’t go back. Cliff was going to be okay, and Elliot had to move on even though Cliff had broken his heart into pieces. They’d both find someone better for each other, Elliot told himself. He’d find someone who was proud of him, every bit of him.