#but unfortunately not being on meds makes me dig a hole

[resident-rats]

Physically I am tucked up in bed on phone, mentally I am floating face down in a river

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Broken Ribs- Prompt Fill

What if the Hunters broke Jon's ribs in America? In other words, Jon does not have fun on an airplane.

cws: nausea, injury, disassociation, hospital mention, fainting

I am still accepting bingo prompts, send me a prompt, a character, and let me know if you want a fic or a drawing (crossed out prompts are filled, starred ones are ones I have asks for)! Card by the wonderful @celosiaa​! Enjoy!

The air of the airport is oppressive.  Close and loud with the pain lancing through Jon’s chest.   Bustling people, ridiculously wide expanses of space all somehow abandoned and bustling at the same time.  

It’s hot.  He’s too hot.  

Shoulder straps of his bag digging into his back, bracing against the weight, crushing ribs that crunch sickeningly as he jogs on hole ridden legs, shoes with worn down soles skidding, only grasping purchase with the help of his cane.  

He can’t miss his next plane.  He can’t.  He needs to get back home… or rather the Institute.  He doesn’t really have a home anymore, does he?  Not his flat, certainly, and not with Georgie.  

Just one more flight.  A long one, but at least there will be no more running to catch planes, inconveniently at opposite ends of massive American airports.  

Airports are already weird, empty spaces where everything is big and loud and expensive and sleepy all at once.  Places where time has no meaning at all, and everyone is in both business dress and pajamas, sometimes at the same time.  But adding the whole American thing to it… is odd.  It’s not that it makes that much of a difference, every airport is actually very similar, but there is still something about the tang of ‘Rugged American Individualism’ that makes his skin crawl.  

Or maybe that’s the lack of sleep, and the lack of a proper shower in… too long.  He hates this.  He hates this.  He can’t stand the feeling of grit on his skin…. not since Prentiss, not since the circus.  Between traveling and being followed and kidnaped again and now traveling some more… he’s sweaty and grimy and he wants to tear his skin off, or at the very least scrub it raw.  Cut his nails to the quick, wash his hair a dozen times, scrub himself  again for an hour under as hot water as he can stand for as long as his useless legs will hold him up.  

He gets to his gate as the plane is boarding.  Barely in time.  

They take his cane at the front and he wants to cry.  Limping to his seat in the very back, vision getting spotty with pain.  He Really should have someone look at his ribs, they haven’t been right since the kidnapping.  Just the universe’s punching bag, isn’t he?   Kicked in the ribs by hunters.  He hadn't even Done anything.  (Well... he has now, but he hadn't at that point!

He just about collapses in his seat.  

Middle seat.  Shit.  

Christ he's dizzy.  Wouldn't be surprised if he's running a fever from the pain.  His body sending all sorts of signals of distress: thirsty, nauseous, tired, shaky, panicked that he needs something or he'll pass out or cry, or.... or... or.... he doesn't know.  

There is a tap on his shoulder.  Window seat passenger wants to get through.  Jon carefully eases himself to his feet.  Trying very hard not to wince, or puke, or pass out.  He limps his way up just far enough that Window Seat can get through.  Just.  

His ribs crunch as he sits again.  He tries to covertly wipe the thin sheet of sweat from his forehead.  A poor effort to detract from the attention his pallor and limp are surely getting him.  

He sits absolutely still.  His nose itches, but no... moving to scratch it would hurt too much.  He just... won't move.  The whole flight, ideally.  But surely his bladder and bad leg will have other ideas about that.  Jon sighs as shallowly as possible.  Breathing hurts.  

He drifts out of consciousness for a while.  Isle Seat arrives at some point.  The plane starts taxiing.  Jon doesn't remember the pieces, but they occur.  

He does notice the plane taking off.  The acceleration of the plane.  The stomach dropping climb.  And all Jon can think of is falling.  Aching chest tighter with panic.  

The smell of tea made too dark and with too much lemon.  What would have been a pleasant and soothing voice if he hadn't been plummeting with the acceleration of -9.81 meters per second per second without even the comfort of air resistance.  Oxygen moving by too fast to snag a breath.  He could have been falling for seconds, minutes, days, weeks, years, and it would have made no difference.  Hitting the ground would have even been a comfort at that point.  

He's gasping.  Chest crunching under the strain of his breathing through the vice grip of terror.  

He orders himself to take a very shallow, very measured breath.  The plane is leveling out, and he doesn't want to attract any more attention.  

Luckily he has always been good about deflecting attention.  Had a panic attack in the middle of a maths class in secondary school, and not a soul noticed.  Window Seat is staring out the window in fascination as the houses get ever smaller and are eaten up by the cloud cover.  Isle Seat is napping.  

Jon is very very very glad that he hasn't run out of dramamine yet or ...he would be a lot more not okay than he already is.  He is out of pain meds.  Unfortunately.  

Should have bought some in America.  You can get big bottles there.  Big bottles.  And God knows he needs them.  

He clasps his hands tightly and try to pull his breathing into a careful and shallow rhythm.  

He is drifting again when Window Seat lowers their armrest.  It strikes him on the way down.  Brushes him, really.  He bites down a yelp.  He curls protectively around his ribs, which causes them to crunch again.  That Really isn't healthy sounding.  Spots dance across his vision again.  

He isn't sure how much time passes before Window Seat makes to get up.  He almost doesn't have the energy to stand.  

He's seeing spots again, and he doesn't know how he will manage to let Window Seat back in.  

The seat in front of him has lowered their seat.  Jon, in the back row can't tilt his back.  Christ it hurts.  It all hurts.  The turbulence, the standing and sitting for Window Seat, the drinks cart making far too many rounds.  He doesn't get anything.  Can't stomach the snacks or the provided dinner, barely manages a couple sips from his own water bottle.  He knows his leg would thank him if he got up and moved around, but the thought of standing is too much.  The movie that he tried to watch was too grating and it just added to how Loud the plane is.  Almost as loud as his hammering heart and the aching of his chest.  He can't do it.  He can't do it.  He can't do it.  

He bites back a scream when Window Seat orders another drink.  The flight attendant jostling his ribs again, passing over the beverage.  This has to be the third or forth time.  How many drinks can one passenger need?  How many more before Window Seat will need the loo again, dragging Jon to his aching feet again?  

Jon bites back tears.  He was awoken by Window Seat again.  He'd apparently fallen asleep on Isle Seat.  ...Or maybe passed out.  Jon doesn't know.  He's too dizzy.  He doesn't look at Isle Seat.  He wants to apologize, but the thought of speaking sounds too painful.  He clings to control of his breathing.  Shallow breaths.  Slow, shallow breaths.  Don't make the ribs worse, don't make the pain worse.  

Jon doesn't remember letting Window Seat back in.  He possibly remembers standing?  Possibly remembers black spots eating through his vision?  And then he's face down on his grimy tray table.  A face full of the novel he picked up in the airport on his trip Before getting his ribs busted.  He's pretty sure he passed out and hand't fallen asleep, but he can't be certain.  

The flight attendant is shaking him awake, and Jon tries to hide the tears of pain that causes.  Yes, yes, he knows.  Tray tables needs to be folded away before they land.  

Getting off the plane is hard.  Window Seat is anxiously out of their seat and getting their luggage, meaning that Jon has to decide if he would rather sit back down, only to have to stand again when the way was finally clear, or he'd have to stand without his cane , bent at an awkward angle.  All after digging under his seat for his bag.  He thinks keeping it under his seat is easier on his ribs than getting it into and out of the overhead compartment... but he doesn't know.  He is fighting unconsciousness again.  

The plane is too hot.  Too loud.  His head hurts.  His ribs hurt.  Sick with pain, and shaky with hungry and dehydration.  He isn't sure that food wouldn't make him feel worse, however.  He skipped provided breakfast as well.  

At least he can't remember much of the flight.  Probably a blessing.  

He finally limps to the front of the plane.  He almost cries with relief when he is handed back his cane.  He's so tired.  So tired.  

At least he doesn't need to get any luggage.  All he has is is backpack and cane.  And a text from Elias saying Daisy is already there to pick him up.  

Right.  

Best not to keep her waiting.  

He doesn't think he can survive any more aggression.  Not for a while.  

He's too tired to even panic about being alone with her.  

She shakes him roughly when she spots him.  Demands to know why it took him so long, why he didn't text. All but shoves him into the car.  That's more than he can take.  He passes out.  Cane clattering to the pavement, head striking the wheel with the force of his momentum.  

When he comes to, he is being carried.   He hurts too badly to move, feels too sick to think.  He moans into the chest of whoever is carrying him.  Doesn't even have it in him to start in fear when he realizes the only one with biceps that big and fair is Daisy.  

They are going down a flight of stairs.  He wonders vaguely if she's going to kill him... but then realizes he might take that as a mercy right about now.  

Except she doesn't kill him.  She's taken him to the Archives.  He can hear Martin.  

"Daisy!  Jon!  Daisy, what did you do!  What did you do to him?"

Him... Jon?  He tries to ask what the fuss is about, but only manages another moan.  

"I didn't break him.  Your problem now."  She grunts that out, and plops Jon into Martin's lap.  At least he thinks... after he possibly blacks out again.  

Martin is patting his face.  Martin is patting his face.  "Hey, Jon?  Can you open your eyes for me?"  Jon tries.  And fails.  Eyelids too heavy.  "Jon, what's wrong?"

"Hurts," he whispers.  

"Hurts where?"  Martin is cupping his face.  Jon starts crying.  

He can't respond.  

"Jon can I take you to hospital?  Please?”

“Ribs..."

"Jon, please?"

Jon doesn't want to go to the hospital, he just wants to sleep.  Possibly just sleep right there and never move again.  Martin is warm and soft and smells nice and is quiet.  But he doesn't have energy to argue.  He makes a noncommittal sound.  "Stay?"

"Yeah, of course.  I'll call us a cab, yeah?  Get you checked out, then... you could come to mine, if you like?"  

Jon really doesn't have the energy to respond, so he just... gives it up and closes his eyes.  Letting himself drift and not worry about getting carried.  Maybe if he's lucky he'll either sleep or disassociate long enough that he doesn't have to actually think about the hospital.  Maybe he'll come back to himself on Martin's couch.  He even lets himself hope that maybe someone will take the initiative and clean him up first.  The idea of other hands on him would ordinarily be horrifying, but he's just too tired to care.  For now... he'll just sleep.  

[willowgast]

hi! i’m very interested in history and would love to study it in college, but i don’t know what careers i could get with a history major besides being a teacher. are you planning on becoming a teacher, or do you have other career suggestions for those studying history? tysm if you respond!

so, here's a testament to how terrible i am at running this ramshackle blog - i just found this in my drafts after goodness knows how long and frankly i dread to count back and find out. but it is a very good question and i am very, very sorry for taking probably months to do this, and even if this no longer interests you (i apologise again) i'm going to post anyway in case it interests somebody else. going under the cut because this might become a tad long-winded - there's also a tl;dr at the very end of the post for those who don't want to sift through my stream of thoughts.

i am not personally planning on becoming a teacher, at least not in a high school level or younger - still have far too many Spicy Memories from that age to want to return to a school setting in any capacity. academia does appeal to me a lot more as an option - i'm loving my dissertation work and there are lots of areas within my broad field of medieval northern europe with room for fresh, new research. i could specialise in any number of areas, but right now what appeals to me most is literary history and archaeology. unfortunately, my course isn't running the archaeology paper it usually offers as part of the second year setup this year, so i won't get to try out specialising in it, but it's something that's grabbed my attention more and more over the course of my first year of study.

beyond remaining within academia or going into archaeology, i've also considered museum work and archival work. my interest in working in a museum has sprung from a similar place to my interest in archaeology - i've discovered that staying holed up writing at a desk all day, every day can be very draining and, more importantly, that working with physical, material history right in my hands and before my very eyes is Really Super Cool and Exciting. i would very happily look into options for working in a museum in curation or conservation, helping to preserve artefacts and make them accessible to the general public. archival work comes from a similar place, too - i guess it combines my interest in literary history with the feeling of intimacy and immediacy that comes with working with material history.

steering away from fields directly relevant to history, i'd also love to spend some time working in a library - any kind at all, from my local public library to something more academic. one of the papers i'm taking is palaeography, the study of manuscripts, which i've developed a much greater fondness for than i expected to when i started. it's made me really interested in working in an academic library that curates and cares for collections of older manuscripts, i guess like a crossover of a library and a museum.

there's a few areas too that aren't directly related to my degree, but are helped and supplemented by it - these are translation, publishing, and creative writing. languages and literature have always been my strongest subject in school, so it helps a lot for me that my course is interdisciplinary, combining study of medieval languages, literature, and history rather than being strictly a history degree. i maintain a good standard of french and german from when i studied them at school and i'm also learning danish, norwegian, and swedish on the side. the last three are mainly just for reading purposes as i sometimes get set academic articles to read in those languages, but i'd love to work and study in norway some day so i'm practicing norwegian to a more proficient/practical level. at some stage, probably once i've completed my degree, i'd like to save some money aside to take exams and hopefully get qualifications in some of those languages - probably german and norwegian - just to have some formal acknowledgement of my work to hand if i ever want to pursue any programmes or qualifications in translation studies. literary translation, working with creative literature rather than formal documents or academic writing, is something i'm very sure i would enjoy.

publishing is harder to describe, i guess. i have a small role as the editor of my department's silly little student magazine and i'd like to expand and apply to editorial positions at other, marginally more respectable student publications - it's certainly a role i'm enjoying a lot, although i haven't done much research into the professional publishing industry yet. it's on the backburner until i pull my life together enough to properly research career options there.

alternatively, the one thing that has always been my go-to dream job since i was a kid is just 'writer'. i love writing fiction and poetry, i have spent at least some of my free time each week writing whatever comes to mind for as long as i can remember. i have a big fantasy project on the go at the moment that i don't really talk about on this blog, but i do now have the beginnings of a world anvil page talking about it which is linked in my pinned post. i'm not banking on it or considering it as a very reliable option, but i will keep slowly and lovingly building it until it's ready to share, and then i'll simply see what happens next.

(if it took off though, i would drop everything else in my life like a hot plate and live out my silly little childhood dream to its fullest potential. tween magnus deserves some justice in this life.)

anyways - TL;DR now:

jobs i'm personally interested in:

academia/professional scholar

museum curator or conservator

archaeology

archivist

librarian

literary translator

something in the publishing industry idk

writer

general history-degree-related advice:

there are more options out there than just teaching which are directly related to the field of history. the more you dig into your area of interest, the more weird and whacky jobs you never expected to exist will crop up on your radar - i'm sure there are plenty of obscure things i've missed out here. unless you become a tenured professor or senior curator or secure a job at a particularly fancy/prestigious institution, none of these jobs pay particularly well, and academia especially is known for treating everyone who isn't a tenured senior academic like mud. therefore you pretty much have to be in these jobs out of passion rather than a desire to live comfortably and with above-average financial success. finally, most people i know at university, regardless of their field, aren't aiming to find careers directly relevant to said fields (apart from like, med students and lawyers and that kind of thing). especially in the humanities. none of us really know what we're doing. if you're comfortable studying these subjects for the pure passion and joy of it, fantastic, i'm right there the same with you - if you want something that has a more stable degree-to-career progression, humanities right now probably aren't top subjects. there's a whole ongoing cultural debate about how criminally undervalued humanities degrees and jobs are, and i hope that soon we'll see some tangible results from this - among them that all of the jobs i've listed above will be marginally better paid, and junior academics better treated within their fields.

history is wonderful. come join us. (also if anyone else doing humanities has points or advice that i've missed out, please feel free to add them, my scope of experience is still very limited)

[dweetwise]

Dummy but make it thicc

[i have no idea what you're on about anon so my brain took an idea an ran with it. here’s a ridiculous dummy thicc reader sequel no one asked for]

warning for non-consensual ass slaps i guess?

Pyramid Head X dummy thicc f!reader (crack)

After the clapping incident with the Doctor, you felt ready to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. Nea kept snickering for days and Ace, the bastard, went on to tell the entire survivor camp about your unfortunate assventure at Léry’s. At least Jane shared your mortification and stayed by your side in solidarity while the others joked about you and the Doc.

When a harrowed Laurie returned from a trial with a new survivor in tow and announced the arrival of a new and terrifying killer, you were elated to have the attention shift from you.

It was only a matter of time before you woke up in a trial in the unfamiliar map of a crude replica of a school. You’re alone but eventually find a generator in one of the classrooms, crouching to repair it while listening to the ominous screeching of metal on concrete coming from somewhere within the building.

When you hear a heartbeat, you sneak away to a hole in the wall in a corner that you spotted earlier, ready for a quick escape. It’s impossible to tell if the killer is coming for you or chasing someone on the floor below you.

While sneaking over, you trip over something and pain flares up your leg--razor wire? What the fuck? You try to get loose, the wire digging into your ankles. Fuck. You need to get somewhere safe to pry off the sharp item. You glance at the vault leading to another room.

You carefully begin to squeeze through the opening in the wall, minding your injured legs. Shit, it’s a tight fit! You use your arms for leverage and manage to fit your ample bosom through the opening, but your hips are just way too thicc! You kick your legs for momentum, but the damn wire gets them tangled up together! You try to back out through the hole, but now your boobs are stuck. You sit there for a second, uselessly hanging from the vault with your thicc ass sticking out one one side of the wall and your generous breasts from the other. You scream out in frustration; why does this keep happening!?

“H-hello, y/n? Are you ok?” Dwight calls out from the hallway, peering into the room where your front half is currently situated. “Does it look like I’m ok?? I’m stuck, help me out!! And don’t you dare bring up the hospital--” you warn. “I wouldn’t! J-just tell me what to do!” Dwight assures, blushing from second hand embarrassment, no doubt. “...Go into the next room and push my ass.” “W-what!?” Dwight exclaims, beet red and looking scandalized. “I’m not getting back the way I came! So help me through!” “I couldn’t--” “Shut the fuck up and do it!”

Dwight disappears from the doorway and you hear him pitter patter to the other room. You hang your head in embarrassment and try to tell yourself that Dwight finding you is probably the best possible scenario. The boy is painfully shy and surely wouldn’t even dream of letting the others know about any of this--

“I’m gonna get one of the girls!” you hear Dwight’s muffled squeak through the wall before he sprints off in search of the others. “DWIGHT YOU COWARD! GET BACK IN HERE AND TOUCH MY ASS!!” you yell in frustration, uselessly pounding on the wall with your fists.

Before you can make too much of a scene, you hear the heartbeat approach again and ease up on your tantrum. You hear heavy footsteps in the room you were just in (and where half of you technically still is) and hold your breath while the heartbeat keeps getting louder, praying to whatever deity that the killer doesn’t find you in this embarrassing position.

There’s the familiar sound of a generator being kicked, and then the heartbeat vanishes. You let out a sigh of relief; seems the killer didn’t want to waste time looking around in the room--

You let out a startled yelp when you feel something smacking playfully against your behind. Trying to twist around to glare at the perpetrator, you remember the wall is blocking your view. Who the fuck would--

A dark, echoing chuckle through the wall interrupts your thoughts, followed by the heartbeat blaring in your ears. You feel cold sweat start trickling down the back of your neck; the killer had found you! But instead of slashing you with his weapon, he had... spanked you?? What was he playing at? Your feel another swat against your buttocks.

“Hey! Stop it, you creep!” you yell out, trying to kick the killer with your legs but end up just floundering like a fish on dry land, the killer chuckling in amusement at your antics. Suddenly a metallic ‘clank’ through the wall can be heard, followed by the killer letting out a surprised grunt.

“Back the FUCK off, you bastard!!” you hear Yui’s voice, sounding absolutely pissed and ready to throw fists on your behalf. “Yeah! G-get away from her, or else!” Dwight’s voice follows, clearly trying to be brave for you. “You heard him, assface!” Yui keeps taunting the killer while Kate sneaks into the room you’re in. “Are you okay y/n? What happened?” Kate whispers, barely concealed panic on her features. “I got stuck and the killer found me and is slapping my ass,” you mutter in defeat, more embarrassed than anything, just done with the whole situation. You idly listen in as Yui has proceeded to yell Japanese profanities at the killer, who is clearly trying to communicate something by interrupting her with the occasional grunt and groan. “Aww geez, I’m so sorry,” Kate offers, cringing in sympathy. “We’ll get ya out of this hun, just hang in there,” she encourages, kneeling down beside you to offer companionship. “Not like I have a choice,” you say, rolling your eyes.

The argument of the other side of the wall abruptly stops, and soon Yui’s head pokes in from the doorway.

“The killer’s gonna help us get you unstuck!” Yui announces. “How the fuck did you even--” you try to ask, wondering how she could have possibly arrived to the conclusion from the unintelligible shouting match. “We’re gonna push from this side, Kate you pull, ok? On three!” Yui interrupts and bolts back to the other room. 

You feel someone start untangling the barbed wire from your feet, but before you can even stretch your legs as the wire comes loose, the trio apparently gets into position to start pushing you. You feel cool metal against the entirety of your buttocks, flinching from the sensation but steeling yourself as Kate grabs your arms.

“One... two... THREE!” Yui shouts.

On the cue, Pyramid Head shoves against your ass with the flat side of his helmet, while Yui and Dwight push the bottom of the helmet from either sides, and Kate pulls on your arms, feet flat on the wall for better leverage.

“Woah!” you yelp as your ass finally slips through the wall and you land on Kate, sprawling out inelegantly on top of the blonde. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Yui cheers through the hole, no longer muffled. She gives Pyramid Head’s helmet an encouraging smack. “Thanks for the help! And, uh, sorry for throwing the flashlight at you earlier.”

Dwight rushes into the room to help you up on your feet, with Yui and the killer following shortly after.

“Soo...” Kate drawls, dusting off her tank top. “Ya gonna kill us, or...?” she glances at the killer, who shakes his head and motions for you to follow him. “I think he wants to farm,” Yui, apparently now fluent in monster lingo, explains. “Works for me,” you say, relieved to have the whole thing over and done with. The three of you start to follow the killer through the school, practically getting a guided tour of the unfamiliar building.

Later, when Dwight is opening the exit gate and Yui and Kate are arguing over a purple med-kit, you sneak up to the unsuspecting killer, giving his ass a hard SMACK. The killer flinches in surprise while you blush in embarrassment, not expecting the flesh to be so... firm. You stare at the generous, round globes and barely resist the urge to grope.

“Uh... That’s for earlier!!” you say when the killer turns around to face you, puffing yourself up in challenge and trying to hide your blush. The killer snorts, crossing his arms and tilting his head in a silent challenge.

“B-besides--you got two slaps on me! If anything you owe me one!” you ramble on, embarrassment setting in at the words flowing out of your mouth. The killer gives a hearty chuckle, before--you can barely believe it--turning around to indulge you.

“What the fuck,” you hear Yui mutter.

The killer proceeds to further surprise you, bending to grab the hem of his apron, before starting to pull it up to reveal his--

“OKAYWE’RELEAVINGBYE!!” Dwight squeaks out in mortification, bolting out through the now open exit with a giggling Kate and stunned Yui in tow, leaving you alone with an eyeful of bare killer ass.

[i had way too much fun writing this. inspired by that one dbd screenshot of ph’s ass]

[tundrainafrica]

I just find it so unfortunate that some aggressive shippers ruin a ship and a character for so many people. A popular Erwin x Levi artist got hate comments by some Levihan shippers and so many people are bashing it now on twitter because of that. Its just so sad considering LH was one of the most beautiful and fun dynamics in such a depressing story. Even Hange is getting hated because LH is pretty much the default ship involving them and it just breaks my heart :(

Twitter has some great content and I actually hang around AOT twt for some quick content. It’s like every time I’m feeling fast food I just hang there, like a few tweets, read a few soc med AUs etc etc. 

But god. It’s a mess man. Last year I was constantly on twitter to be honest and it left me in a bad mood everyday because people are just being assholes for little to no reason really but just to put themselves in what they believe is a morally higher ground from their peers. And people just like fighting and the funny part is no opinions are actually heard, no views are actually exchanged. It’s just “you dont agree with me so you’re a bad person.” 

Ad hominem attacks are just everywhere.

So I like staying in my small little hole and just talking to myself there and just liking the content of the Levihan people I actually follow. I see stuff I don’t agree with but I’ve kinda accepted that a lot of people there are just there to push an agenda because really if people were that open minded, I don’t think lynching and call out culture would have gotten this far.  

I’ve used this same analogy so many times but I feel like in Twitter, people are just scrambling for some sort of moral high ground. Because of that, it is completely useless to engage in discourse there because one thing I noticed is most people who are vocal there already have a set stance on something and the fact that they’re ready to just bully anyone who stands in the way of their agenda, just makes convincing them out of the agenda impossible and a complete waste of time. And there are two issues in particular among the LH community which are really unsettling for me: the ship wars and within the LH community, the gender war. 

Ship wars

I find the ship wars unnecessary because really what makes a superior ship? 

Probability of being canon? How much fuel they were given in canon? Healthiness of the relationship?

The truth is people ship for many reasons. But really, who are we to judge how a person goes about the way they decide to participate in the fandom and ship? As long as it is something they keep within personal spaces and do it responsibly, I don’t think it’s our business to judge someone or lynch them. The important thing is people are able to not be an asshole about it. People can ship the most questionable shit, create the most dubious content, as long as that person is respecting boundaries and putting the right tags and trigger warnings, who are we to call them out right?

Of course I prefer LH over other Levi ships personally but is there really a need to attack other people’s ships about it? I probably do poke fun at Ereri because until now I still do not get why people enjoy Ereri in the first place but why destroy the fandom experience for people just because we don’t agree with them.

My general intention behind shipping Levihan is because above anything I value the healthiness in the relationship and the things people can learn about love and relationships by analyzing Levihan’s dynamics and headcanoning them. I love Levi and Hange’s dynamics to death and I like digging deeper into them and pulling out lessons from it about love, life and relationships and just sharing them with people which is my whole point for participating in this fandom in the first place. 

But in the end, ships are just preferences. Some people like getting a kick out of dubious pairings and toxic relationships. As long as they consume these responsibly and don’t emulate them in real life, I see no problem in it. 

The toxic ones are the ones who actively crucify people for preferences. 

The Gender War

One really disturbing thing I found about twitter is that deciding to use ‘she’ to refer to Hange can get you lynched. I found a few accounts that would reblog tweets where someone says something like “Yes, Hange, Queen” which gets retweeted by some NB Hange folk who say stuff like “Unfollow this transphobe now.” 

Because apparently deciding to headcanon Hange as a woman or just preferring to use ‘she’ makes people a transphobe. Which is personally just... really disturbing. I don’t believe words like homophobic, transphobic, racist should be so easily thrown around unless there is hard evidence to believe that someone is really one of the epithets above like for example: 

There are things I find completely assholish like of course, refusing to use someone’s preferred pronouns if they ask you. 

But Hange is fictional and Hange is a gift to the fandom.And I don’t even think the issue about Hange’s gender should have ever reached this far. The only thing Yams ever said was that Hange is just not the type to be tied down to a single gender. 

And policing Hange’s gender and saying NOPE SHE’S NON BINARY USE THEY Is just counterintuitive to the whole idea that she’s a free spirit. In the end, Hange as a character wouldn’t have given a fuck whether people called her a they, she or even a he. 

And yeah, it’s frustrating really that these two issues I just discussed above are ruining Hange as a character for a lot of people and consequently, ruining Levi x Hange as a ship. 

Apparently, a lot of people are closet LxH shippers or closet Hange stans because the moment they tweet something about Hange, there are people who will attack them. If people refer to Hange as they, they get attacked. If people refer to Hange as she, they get attacked. There are so many antis apparently to the LxH ship, some apparently are jealous because ‘it’s the closest to canon’ while others just apparently deem it a toxic ship because of our own internal gender war.  

There’s no winning really. And to be honest, there’s nothing I can do either and I don’t want to engage in any arguments in twitter if at the end of it, I’m just gonna end up wasting my time listening to ad hominem attacks directed at me just for not agreeing with someone in a fandom related matter. . 

I’ve said my piece about the Hange gender issue so many times. There are NBs who use she. There are those who use they. Being female and being NB aren’t mutually exclusive. You can be both at the same time.

But yeah, we still have people being assholes about this and pushing factually wrong agendas. I love research and I have been writing research papers and metas for a lot of things even before I started this blog in the first place. And I eventually learned that the world is so complex that no opinion is completely and absolutely correct. 

And ideally, opinions shouldn’t be made so easily. 

Don’t get me wrong. I believe everyone is entitled to a preference and when I say preference I mean the type of food they like, the type of wallpaper they like. 

But no one is entitled to a moral judgement or opinion just for existing and when I say opinion I mean questions on morals, on what’s right or what isn’t, what is or what should be. Every single person has the responsibility to research, hear both sides of a discourse and understanding them before deciding for themselves what’s right. And this is why hearing accusations that someone is ‘transphobic,’ ‘homophobic’ blah blah over how we hc a character just really does not sit well with me. 

Passing moral judgement on someone requires discernment, deep thought and lots and lots of evidence. But yeah this is a philosophical question and a political question so I ain’t going to delve into it here.

Because, in the end, fandoms are preferences. The way we choose to participate in a fandom and create content are preferences more than anything.

So what? (Btw, if you reached all the way here, thank you for listening to me ramble lol and sorry if you weren’t expecting this type of ramble)

I know I’ve just been rambling a lot up there for a lot of reasons but really what message do I wanna give? 

Fandoms are preferences more than anything so I don’t even believe that there should be a discussion on moral judgement here. People can have the weirdest kinks, the most questionable preferences but as long as they aren’t going around romanticizing abuse, beating up people in real life, killing them and lying in real life, who are we to judge?

Even if someone says they have a rape kink and abuse kink when it comes to fics, as long as they acknowledge it’s something they shouldn’t emulate in real life, as long as they can keep an adult conversation about it, I think these people are generally kinder and more pleasant overall than people who force their healthy canon ship and lynch everyone for having more questionable preferences. 

Ship and let ship. Live and let live. Headcanon and let headcanon. If a person has a differing opinion, listen. (Or really, if you just don’t want to deal with listening to differing opinions coz you’re just gonna get stressed, don’t lynch? Don’t send hate? And just ignore it?)

Ask yourself. Does the person acknowledge that it isn’t right in real life? Do they acknowledge if they emulate it in real life it has the potential to be harmful?

Honestly, all I wanna do is just let people stan Levi and Hange however they want to. There are obviously hcs I dont agree with. But in the LH community we just all love Levihan, let’s not ruin the fandom experience for anyone. In the AOT community, we all just love AOT, let’s not ruin it for anyone. Let’s not hurt anyone, attack them etc. 

If someone doesn’t agree and they can hold an adult conversation about it and they don’t emulate these toxic opinions in real life and they recognize that there is the option to just agree to disagree, why don’t we just listen and engage in this discourse to learn more about other people and to build more perspectives?

Because really it isn’t the questionable hcs or the multiple genders which leaves such a bad taste in my mouth. It’s the people who just go straight to attacking instead of actually considering that there’s potential for discourse and there’s potential to ‘agree to disagree’ because in the end, fandom discourse is a question of preference more than moral judgement. 

It’s easier said than done really. But personally for me, I just try to keep my fandom experience as non toxic as possible while at the same time as mentally fulfilling as possible. I enjoy discourse, I like hearing differing opinions and I really believe with something as light and as inconsequential as fandoms as our common ground, we can learn to peacefully co-exist despite differing opinions on what the best ship is or what Hange’s gender is. 

Note: I won’t delve too much on the Hange gender issue here because I have pending asks about those which I’ll answer in one go, but I really believe that both they and she are valid pronouns for Hange. 

I have a general preference for ‘she’ because it’s just easier to read. But personally I don’t think too much about the gender identity issue because it’s really just too complex for me and i like spending my time thinking of other headcanons about Hange than gender and people who push the Hange is nb agenda and people who push the Hange is a female agenda and just insult each other and lynch each other are both equally unsettling. 

[poptod]

October 1st (Elliot Alderson x Reader)

Description: He waits until the last moment and it’s too late.

Notes: i wrote a love letter to my friend but im never gonna send it so im profiting off my misery. gender neutral as usual

Word Count: 1.9k

+

Sad, sick people have a tendency of gravitating towards each other, whether or not they're aware of the illness of the other person. You know this quite well – in your rather sick childhood, where your mind was plagued with thoughts of self hatred, most of the friends you made were just about as sad as you. Looking back, it is a rather horrifying thought considering you were only twelve and so ready to die. Your mother said you were exaggerating, and that makes sense. Things were dramatized back then. But there's a flicker of truth in there, a small part within the soul that truly believed they should be dead. There's no sicker thought than that.

This trait, that part of yourself, carried through into adulthood. Unfortunate, really – that means it isn't just teenage drama, it isn't just your peers or your family. It's you. You look at yourself in the mirror and realize with tired, drooping eyes that it was always you. There's a quote – something along the lines of, "some people grow sad very young, and I know this, for I am one."

Elliot is sort of like that, too. Well, the two of you get on fine – in both life and within your friendship – and you don't really need to talk about it. You're both well aware of the others' problems, but it doesn't need to be mentioned. All you do is sit in cafe's together so neither of you are approached by creepy people and smoke together at his apartment. It doesn't need to be more than that.

Despite that barrier in your head, he's still your best friend. Maybe because he's one of your only friends, the other being an internet friend who you visit every now and then. Oh well. You lead a pretty sedentary lifestyle – you don't need a lot of friends. Just one to hang around.

Still, he does get around sometimes. He gets up out of nowhere, you ask where he's off to, and he says out. Most of the time he doesn't let you come, but this time he has and he's just wandering around. Looking at people and rationalizing their presence, watching the birds on benches, staring at shopfronts. For a moment you think to ask why he'd take such excursions in such cold weather, but with a glance to his peaced out face you know he doesn't have an answer.

You suppose that's just fine – there's something about fall that has you enjoying time outdoors. The piles of golden and red leaves pushed up against the sides of the streets, the coffee signs in front of every cafe, each with their own drawings of steaming coffee, and of course the scents in the air. It's not a particularly nice part of the city, but it has a fair share of restaurants and most smell of apple cider and cinnamon. The taste of pumpkin is also there; probably because you're sitting next to a Starbucks.

People pass by you donned in fuzzy jackets and long scarves. You look a bit like them; you're not a fan of the cold, so you have mittens, a hat, boots, and a scarf. Elliot on the other hand is much the same, as usual, and you don't expect him to ever stray from that routine. You like his routine. It's familiar.

"I'm leaving soon," you finally blurt out, a topic barely in your conscious mind but ravaging your subconscious. It's both good and bad news, considering the trip is for getting a doctorate, but it's clear he doesn't feel the same way. His eyes widen and he looks to you almost incredulously.

"Where?" He asks.

"Berlin. They've got this program for foreign students. I'll finally be able to get my doctorate in linguistics," you say, nodding to yourself. "I, um... I don't know if I'll be back."

"Why not?" He asks in a softer, rougher voice.

"It's an expensive move, you know? And there aren't that many jobs for linguists here.. at least, there's more in Europe," you half mumble, staring at your fidgeting fingers.

He gets up and leaves. Without another word except an astounded stare out into space, he stands and leaves you on the bench. You almost go after him, but he's got that look about him, and you know he's a little lost in thought. It'll be fine – you won't leave for a little while (not until October, actually), which gives you some real time with Elliot, if that's what he wants. As hard as it is for people to read him, you have a knack for it. That's probably why he spends any time at all with you.

You're going to miss him quite a lot. Lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling in your sleep clothes, the clock well past midnight, you wonder if he'll miss you too. He hasn't talked to you since you told him, which you did a good week or so ago now. Guilt settles deep in your chest – he's a man of routine and you're seriously breaking it. Fortunately, it's not really your problem. You have your own life and it doesn't revolve around what makes him comfortable.

You still feel bad about it, though.

About two weeks before you're set to leave he finally texts you, telling you to come visit him, and though he doesn't say it you know he means one last time. You get it right before you're about to get in the bath, and instantly you reach for the drain, unplugging it to let it drain while you redress yourself. Something nice – not your sweatpants, no matter how warm they are in the late September chill.

Outside rain falls in great sheets, battering down on the already dead leaves and the many, many busy people. Most everyone you pass by is dressed in black – black coats, black pants, black umbrellas. It's like they're mourning a death, though the only death you can think of is that of summer. You don't have an umbrella in your bag, but there's enough people on the streets with umbrellas and enough overhangs that you manage to stay mostly-dry, till the crowd thins out around Elliot's apartment and you get drenched. Droplets of water run down your fully-soaked hair, falling cold on your eyelashes and turning your nose a blushing pink.

Excitement pounds through your heart at the prospect of seeing your friend again. People at your workplace are nice, but no one is quite as intricate or interesting like he is. Every person is special, as are you, but you find yourself looking for the same traits in all your friends. A sort of quiet person with far too much beneath the surface. That's the only way you know how to describe what exactly Elliot is – well, he's kind. Soft-spoken, usually. Lost in his thoughts. Distant. Compassionate, and surprisingly, warm. You don't hug him much but he's warm, and for some reason you never expect it.

He lights the joint, taking a few puffs to ensure it's working before handing it to you, leaning over the small couch so you can reach. Smoke clouds itself in your lungs, forming pockets of dry, happy thoughts in your head. It all comes out with your exhale, like the freeze of hot breath in winter and the fog of dry ice.

"I love you," you say. Blurting is becoming a bad habit for you, but that's okay. You won't see him for a long time, and you need to get it out, no matter how surprised Elliot looks. He always looks a little surprised. "You know that, right?"

He laughs – he actually laughs. A smile spreads across his usually dull cheeks, and a blush crosses him, pink around his grin and pronounced in his ears and the tip of his rounded nose. You can't help it so you smile with him, absorbing the entirety of his fluster. He's always so closed off. Maybe you help him out of that hole, but it's mostly wishful thinking that drives your thought process towards that.

A cloud of smoke releases itself from Elliot's mouth. He doesn't say anything in relation to your announcement, but you don't particularly expect him to. He's a little odd when it comes to affection. You don't mind it in the least, too caught up in memorizing his little movements and his breathy sighs to bother with the tough things.

So that's it. You spend one more afternoon-into-evening with him, and you don't see him again, not at the airport, not over text or Skype. There was a chance of that – you knew that, but it still disappoints and saddens you to watch the ground disappear, the last memory of your Elliot from several days ago. It feels as though it's already fading despite the fact that you remember every detail of your time with him. How could you forget?

Fidgeting with your bag on the plane, you close your eyes and wonder what things will be like when you get back, if you ever do. Your bag is a little like his jacket – a comfort, with fringes that are easy to fidget with, as much as it might annoy the person sitting next to you. Anxiously you dig your hand into your bag, looking for your anxiety meds, only for your fingers to brush against paper.

You don't have paper in your bag.

Pinching it between your fingers, you pull the paper out, revealing an envelope with your name on it. With shaking hands you tear open the glue, unfolding a note scrawled onto leaf paper. There aren't any lines for guiding, but the words are perfectly spaced.

(Y/N),

I'm not sure if I'll ever send this to you. Maybe not – everything is so unsure right now. My constants in this hectic state of the world are few and most are not good. My job, my scars, my anxiety, they never go away but neither do you. It may seem inconsequential to you – you're likable and you have other friends, but I don't. Not really. I have you, though, and it often feels like that's enough.

I always wanted a forever person; someone there throughout all life for better or worse. A bit like tonight – it ended with a bar fight, but somehow I enjoyed it. I looked to you and you were grinning and bashing a guy's head in, and somehow that made me smile. It's always better with you. I don't talk about that enough.

You're the good in the world. I find it hard to believe, much less articulate, how good you are. How kind. Understanding. Creative, open, pure in the best way. You make me want to become a better person, and isn't that what humans strive for? A connection with someone who makes you believe the world is capable of good, someone that makes you believe you'll be alright – so long as you stick by their side.

I don't write these kinds of things. You know that – I don't like bringing my deeper emotions to light. But you're safe and I trust you; I just hope you understand how special you are to me. You deserve so much good and I wish I could give that to you. I can't give you what I want to give you, but I will always be your friend, no matter what.

Elliot

He wrote this a while ago. That bar fight was a year or so ago – is that how long he's been keeping this letter back? Is this why he asked you to come over? ... Is this his attempt to get you to stay?

The plane's already over the ocean. You can't even see the shore anymore.

You realize just a little too late that he's the good in the world.

[angelwars11]

Title: Remembrance

Prompt: Vespers

Pairing: Jesse/Kix

Rating: G

Word Count: 2k

‘During battle, his senses become hyper-aware and then so numb afterwards that he can barely even feel the blood on his fingertips. It paints his hands in scarlet that once was inside of his vode’s bodies, flowing freely and keeping them alive. Kix hates that part—when he’ll exit a tent and stare down at his hands, and finally address it.The sensation of silent distaste surrounds him in white and black ghostly shadows of what once was.’

— 

‘To no man or being will I cause or permit harm to befall, nor will I refuse aid to any who seek it. These obligations I willingly and freely take upon myself in tradition of those that have come before me. These are things we do so that other may live.’ -The Medic’s creed.

This is day 2 of the ClonecestInJuly challenge! I finally finished this story, oh my lord; it took forever!! Thank you to all my beta readers/editors, @blazesurrender, @maplerosekisses, and @starimperial. You all did an amazing job and I really appreciate it. I hope you all enjoy this one! Lots of angst and tears and pain this time! *evil laughter*

*Warning: Very VERY brief mentioning about a suicide attempt

Fire explodes from left to right. Troopers scream in pain, in agony. Multiple howls of anguish and despair bounce across the damaged land as Kix runs to each and every injured trooper—checking on them to make sure they are still alive. If they are, they get a tag indicating whether they have minor or major injuries. Deceased soldiers receive black tags indicating death for those who will come to collect the bodies and bury them later. 

Kix almost falls to his knees when an explosion sends him forward. He growls under his breath and continues blasting away as he goes. White and blue fall to the ground like fallen angels from the heavens. It’s anything but graceful; they crumple unceremoniously to the ground in bloody heaps of tangled limbs. Kix kneels down, checks for their pulses, and tags them. He administers a small dosage of painkillers out of empathy.

“You’ll be okay. The other medics will come for you soon,” Kix reassures each one of them who is alive before he moves on.

It’s a never-ending cycle of dread, sorrow, and frustration, but he keeps moving. He can’t stop for long periods of time or other men who need him will die from their wounds. Kix cannot let that happen; he will save as many brothers as he can, even if he has to leave a couple with some painkillers and move on. ‘They will be okay’ he always reassures himself even in these dire situations. 

During the battle, his senses become hyper-aware and then so numb afterward that he can barely even feel the blood on his fingertips. It paints his hands in scarlet that once was inside of his vode's bodies, flowing freely and keeping them alive. Kix hates that part —when he’ll exit a tent and stare down at his hands, and finally address it. The sensation of silent distaste surrounds him in white and black ghostly shadows of what once was.

Kix is never verbal about how much he hates feeling the blood on his hands. Other times, especially after a hard battle like this one, he’ll make it known to everyone near him how broken he truly can be. Kix’s sight blurs with tears of absolute anger and hatred. He is angry that he's lost vode, and he despises this war for what it’s done to them, to him! More blaster rifles sound through the fog in the distance and droid poppers crackle nearby, too close for comfort.

The gun in his hands feels so heavy all of a sudden. He doesn’t want to hold it anymore; he hates it. He wants to drop it and run away, but he can’t because—I have to save them all! Kix can taste salt from the sweat dotting on his upper lip as it makes its way down and into his mouth. He doesn’t mind because it’s a distraction from all the blood, horror, and gore he sees beyond the black visor hiding his terrified features. 

He may seem like an emotionless soldier, but underneath he’s kriffing scared, petrified even. Kix has to hide all that unadulterated terror in the back of his mind and raise his walls up to protect himself from getting exposed to the wrong people.

Kix slams his heavily fortified facade up so he can save lives. 

Another brother falls to the ground in pain. He’s not dead, not yet, so Kix dashes across till he reaches the white armor decorated in contrasting red, and pulls him into a hiding spot to check him.

What lives am I saving? I keep losing so many! So karking many!

“It’s okay, udesii. Udesii, vod. You are going to be okay. Alright?” Kix kneels down beside the injured trooper and takes off his white med-pack.

This is going to be a long day.

...

Hours later, it's over. The sun has set and the temperature has dropped to comfortable and manageable levels. Gray clouds create a dark formation in the sky in the silence that is only broken by the occasional noise—moans of agony, the sounds of cleaning and quiet chattering, troopers walking the perimeters, or the officers debriefing with the Generals. Despite the silence the night carries, there is still so much going on.

The medical tents are a holy mess of different sounds, smells, and sights. The worst part is the distinguishable metallic scent of blood on surgery tools that have to be left out on silver platters. Not surprising at all; the Republic does not give aid to the 501st or provide appropriate sterilization, which means that microorganisms live on the blades of each tool. It disheartens Kix to be well aware of that disgusting and unsanitary fact. 

Kix is used to the smells, however, thanks to years and years of being a medic. It's fortunately —and unfortunately— a side effect of olfactory fatigue, which is also known as nose blindness. 

Kix stares at the glowing holo-pad with empty golden eyes as his finger skids across the glass. Numbers move about on the screen. There are many casualties and many designation numbers—names—covering his holo-pad. On and on until he reaches the very bottom and lets out a shaky breath. Exhausted and trembling, he places it on the nearest tray, like a pitiful coward who could barely hold in his lunch, and walks out into the lukewarm night. 

He stumbles as far away from the tents as possible, near a little grove of trees, and becomes sick. Kix trembles for so long with his clammy glove-covered palms on his knees and saliva slowly dripping from between his pale lips and sickly green covering the bridge of his nose. He says the blood doesn’t bother him, and it doesn’t, not on its own, but the number of men that died today does.

The green treetops up above sway as Kix slowly kneels in the sand near the pond, nearly as silent as the world around him. Nothing will bother him as long as he stays right here away from the others. He can still feel their blood on his hands, and his skin itches like holes cover every inch of it. He can still hear their cries of pain and agony, fear, and devastation—sounds that carry in range for miles, especially when one has lost a loved one. Kix couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel if he lost Jesse to the clankers on the battlefield. What if Jesse had died alone without Kix to be there for him?

 Kix closes his eyes against the negative thoughts. Jesse may not be with him right now because he's in a debriefing, but he'll come back and find Kix. He’ll search out his riduur like always, no matter where they are. Nonetheless, Kix feels so lonely that he digs his blunt nails into his skin until they create half-moon indents. Kix wants so badly for his cyare to come back and hold him, sing to him, and comfort him any way he can till the nightmare is over. 

The numbers Kix saw on his holo-pad left him pale and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth like sandpaper.

Death count: Thirty-five men. 

Kix grunts and slams his hand into the ground. 

“Kriff,” He hisses in frustration. He lowers his head towards the soft sand under his body and breathes. The silence is broken temporarily by the wind whipping around him, the feel of it on his skin comforting, almost a physical touch.

The wind is practically hugging him.

“Kix,” A voice calls. A familiar, caring voice that almost always has an undertone of warm amusement in it. 

Jesse. 

He feels the sand under him shift as Jesse kneels beside him.

“Hey, you okay?” Jesse asks. He eyes the puddle of stomach bile a couple of meters away with concern before he glances at the medic once again; Jesse offers a sympathetic smile and his facial expressions soften a great deal. Kix stares at the moving sand for a second, blank and wide-eyed, before he turns his attention onto Jesse with eyes full of exhaustion and hopelessness. Jesse immediately pulls him into a consoling hug. 

“Okay, it's okay. I've got you.” Jesse brushes his hand back and forth along his back and makes small shushing sounds. “What do you need?” 

Kix tucks his face into the side of his neck. Hot salty tears roll down his cheeks and cross paths with the sweat and grime covering his face to create visible tear tracks. Kix tries to focus on breathing for a moment but the smoldering negative feelings return like an avalanche.

“There were so many that died, Jess. Force, I lost so many good men. All of them were good men. So man shinies...it was their first battle and they didn't even make it. It…it hurts to have to run, check them over the best I can, mark their bodies, and then keep moving. But the ones who died… Why do I have to leave so soon? Why can't I say goodbye to them,” Kix whispers into the junction between his collarbone and neck. 

Jesse's hand halts on his shoulder.

“You still can. Right now. A prayer for the dead, for our brothers who've marched on to join our aliit in tra.”

Kix blinks pensively before nodding without saying another word. Jesse is right. Kix can still have a Vesper and pray for their dead brothers. It’s safe to do so now that the battle is over and the surge of adrenaline has faded. Kix isn't needed right now; the patients are resting and the other medics are watching over them, which means that Kix is free to rest— or pray with his riduur. 

The two of them place their hands on their knees and bow their heads. 

Kix whispers solemnly, “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”  His eyes flutter closed. 

 “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” Jesse whispers after him. 

Kix opens his eyes and gazes up at the stars. Each one looks the same but they are all unique and different. Just like us clones. Kix opens his mouth and lets out a sigh that’s weary but resigned.

"Bongo." The first name. The first known trooper he tried to save. When Kix found him stuck under a huge pile of rubble he immediately remembered his name. The poor trooper was so scared; he thought he would die alone but Kix was there with him at the very end. 

He even held Bongo's hand as the life departed his gilded eyes. 

"Anzanti." The second name. A shiny who came to his med-bay once asking for help because he found one of their brothers trying to hurt himself in the ‘fresher. Anzanti was afraid and tried his hardest to distract their brother, Duros, while Kix stopped him from successfully taking his own life. Anzanti begged Kix not to tell the higher-ups, the Generals. He promised the medic he’d watch over Duros and would never take his eyes off of him.

Now Anzanti is gone. 

Who will watch over Duros? 

Kix knows that Duros did not die in the battle which means that Kix can find him and make sure he’s safe and well.  With Azanti gone there’s no telling whether Duros, with that knowledge, will try and hurt himself again. 

Kix makes a little mental note to search for Duros later. For Anzanti. 

Three more shinies. "LMC-211. Ennez. Sephi." Kix remembers their names only because he saw them on the list; like many names he’ll utter in remembrance tonight. 

And maybe a little more.

On and on and on till he hit the last name. 

 Kix swallows his grief. "Heart." His throat feels so parched without a drink of water. 

Jesse thinks he's finished so he opens his mouth to say something to console him but—"Echo," Kix pushes through clenched teeth. Jesse jerks up in surprise and then he sighs, soft and reminiscent.

"Hardcase," The medic groans out this one—a painful name to remember. A name that belonged to a spirited, uplifting, and crazy vod that now only two remember. Kix ends it with a choked off sob and his arms curl around his abdomen in grief; he leans forward and rocks back and forth to withhold the tears from breaking through his carefully constructed walls. Jesse raises his hand to steady him and console him but he aborts the movement when Kix makes a sound of abandon. 

Jesse sighs internally. Oh, Kix. 

"Dogma," Kix growls, irate. His fingers grab at the sand that falls away around his trembling knees and legs; Kix throws it in a frantic attempt to find another outlet for his rage. Jesse lowers his head, as he is angry too but holds it back and glares at the ground. 

Kix bites his tongue till it almost bleeds. So many vode. Gone. Gone! 

"Tup…" Tears trickle down his face in his grief; his shoulders shudder with barely restrained fury and quickly growing anxiety. Calm yourself Kix, come on! Come down. This isn’t you and you know it. Just breathe...in and out. Be at peace. His eyes flutter closed again and his chest lifts with each careful breath. 

Jesse watches him with pride, his eyes burning with that aching urge to cry in frustration. 

Kix tips his head back finally and stares up at the stars for who knows how long. Millions of them glow in the night, showing the way like a lantern. There are crimson, azure, white, gold, and orange ones. Each radiating star creates part of a constellation up there, and each one is massive, alive right down to the very core of their divine being. 

Jesse settles one hand on Kix's shoulder, and finally, Kix looks over at him and shivers involuntarily. Jesse nods in silent understanding.

"Fives," Kix whispers the last name almost as if he’ll get struck down. "I couldn't save him, Jess. I stood there and let him walk out of that 'fresher, I should've,” —Kix bites the inside of his cheek to stop the tears. “I should've stopped him from going out there, from getting killed."

"You couldn’t have done anything, cyare. Fives… He did something that got him into trouble, and if we had helped him in any way then we could’ve been arrested. We could’ve been taken from the battlefront and decommissioned. And I…I believe you did the right thing, Kix. Okay?" Jesse hugs him gently.

 Kix takes a sharp breath and tenses. 

"Stop blaming yourself for their deaths. You had nothing to do with it, and you weren’t the one who killed them. You tried your best to save them and that’s all that matters." Jesse breaks their hug in an instant so then he can stare at Kix firmly.

 "Did you kill them? Any of them?" Jesse asks. Kix looks down and Jesse grabs his chin softly and brings it back up. 

"Did you kill them?" He repeats, but this time plain-spoken.

"No. No, I didn't."

"Good." 

"But I miss them so damn much! I wish none of them died! I wish they were here right now, next to us."

"I do too darling. I miss them every day," Jesse whispers. He cocks his head to the side, and a small tear slides down the right side of his face. Kix reaches up immediately and wipes it away. 

It's silent, giving Kix time to think for a moment. 

"Where they are; they are marching ahead in Tra. With Gods, we cannot see. But we will join them when it's our time as well," Kix says. His eyes, hopeful. 

"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," Jesse whispers. He looks up at the sky in silence. 

"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," Kix echoes. 

Like that, the prayer is over. They whispered the names of the fallen and their loved ones and then they said ‘they are not gone, only marching far away.’ Afterward, the two of them remain curled against one another in the relentless sand; Jesse and Kix stare up at the heavenly skies above filled with gas giants and stars of pure beauty. The two troopers' fingers interlock together in between their thighs and then Kix rests the side of his head against Jesse's armored shoulder. 

"Thank you, Jess." Kix slowly closes his eyes.

Jesse leans over and kisses his forehead. 

"Of course, cyare." 

In the far distance, the planet’s second moon beamed down upon a vivid, tiny funnel-shaped flower called a Statice. It stands at least 28 inches in height. The flower features small, delicate petals that fluff together atop green stems in a beautiful soft shade of pink. The Statice looks spectacular under the soft glow of radiance. The petals of this flower are visibly ethereal in every way. 

Its pink shade stands for something. A special meaning. 

It symbolizes Remembrance.

[trensu]

Episode 48: The One where JGY and SS Host a Pity Party and Everyone Wishes They Hadn't

The show just dunks us right into yunmeng bro feelings again

jc's all should i get on my knees and thank you?

and wwx is like i never wanted your thanks

and now jc is just spilling his insecurities all over the place

Blah wwx was always better than him blah blah everyone liked wwx more blah blah DADDY ISSUES blah blah blah

and wwx just looks more and more hurt as all this bitterness is pouring out of his little brother 😞

i mean even jl was like hey uncle, maybe don't do that???

lwj is glaring at jc the whole time ofc

and jc gets so mad he tries to start a physical fight EVEN THO HE HAS A GAPING STAB WOUND IN THE CHEST

which is actually quite hilarious if you ignore how utterly heartbreaking the yunmeng bros relationship is

thankfully jl and lxc hold him back (not that he could've gone very far bc again GAPING STAB WOUND)

and ofc lwj has to throw in his two cents

lwj: clan leader jiang. Discretion

oh lwj, a man of few words

Oh no, ohno, oh nooooo, jc’s starting on their oath oh god

“YOU SAID THAT I WOULD BE THE CLAN LEADER AND YOU WOULD BE MY SUBORDINATE. YOU WOULD ASSIST ME FOR LIFE”

“SO WHAT IF THE TWIN JADES OF GUSU ARE THERE. WE WERE THE TWIN HEROES OF YUNMENG”

*GROSS SOBBING*

CAN I TOO GET A GAPING STAB WOUND IN THE CHEST BC I'M PRETTY SURE THAT WOULD HURT LESS

OH GOD WWX'S EYES ARE ALL RED

"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME ANYTHING. YOU TREAT ME LIKE A LITTLE FOOL."

OH THIS HURTS SO MUCH

that last bit, tho. i can't even hold that against him bc wwx DID lie to him. he DID neglect to trust him and his judgement. 

he took jc's choice away and made it for him, and that's not cool. 

and, like, i get it, I do bc i would probably want to do the same thing wwx did if i were in a similar situation with my own siblings

BUT STILL

jc: shouldn't i hate you? can't i hate you?

WHICH REALLY JUST TELLS ME THAT HE DOESN'T HATE WWX

HE WOULD NOT BE THIS TORN UP, THIS TEARFUL MESS, IF HE DIDN'T STILL LOVE HIS BROTHER AND WANT HIM BACK

this whole time jc is inching towards wwx, getting closer and closer until he's close enough to punch him if he wanted

Jc does make a sudden sharp movement towards wwx 

Which obvs has lwj jolting forward to protect wwx

But wwx IMMEDIATELY puts a hand on lwj's knee

jin ling darts forward to hold his uncle and is like, hanguang jun, my uncle's hurt!!

BC JC IS THE ONLY NOT EVIL AND/OR DEAD FAMILY HE HAS LEFT 

AND EVEN JL KNOWS THAT LWJ IS SO VERY WILLING TO HURT ANYONE WHO HURTS WWX

I AM HAVING TOO MANY EMOTIONS

jc's angry and hurting and is like i'm not afraid of lwj, come at me bro

lwj GLARES at him, brow furrowed and mouth pinched

jc: why? why wwx? why didn't you tell me?

oh god, he's not even yelling anymore, he's just fucking crying and i'm crying and there's just wet icky tears everywhere

wwx takes a shuddery breath and tells him it's bc he didn't want to see him like this

JC: you said i would be clan leader and you would be my subordinate. you would assist me for life. you'd never betray the jiang clan. you said it yourself

HE'S NOT YELLING. HE'S NOT EVEN ANGRY

his voice is weak, and shaky, and weepy and he's just so, so hurt

AND I'M A SOBBING MESS

and wwx swallows passed the lump in his throat but his voice still sounds a bit raw when he speaks

wwx: i'm sorry. i broke my promise.

FUCK 

FUCKING HELL

MY YUNMENG BROS

jc: we've reached this point. i don't need your apology now. i'm not that delicate

STFU JC, YOU BALD-FACED LIAR, "NOT THAT DELICATE" 

YOU'RE AS MUCH OF A SOBBING WRECK RN AS I AM

GET A THERAPIST JC

"NOT THAT DELICATE" I'M GONNA PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE IS WHAT I'M GONNA DO. GOD. NOT THAT DELICATE

JC: i'm sorry

*sobsobsobsob* MY YUNMENG BROS

wwx: don't apologize to me. that's what i owed the jiang clan.

here wwx closes the distance between them to place a hand on his brother's arm

HUG HIM GOD DAMN IT, LET MY YUNMENG BROS HAVE A PROPER HUG

wwx: as for this matter, please don't keep it in your heart.

and he goes on to say smth like i know you probably won't let go, but it's water under the bridge, that was all stuff that happened in my past life

AND THEN HE REACHES UP AND GENTLY WIPES AWAY JC'S TEARS WITH HIS THUMB

AND GIVES HIM A SWEET LITTLE SMILE

AND I'M DYING. MY HEART HURTS SO MUCH I'M DYING

I SHOULD'VE KEPT A BOX OF TISSUES NEAR ME, MY SLEEVES ARE ALL SNOTTY AND DISGUSTING NOW, DAMN IT ALL

AND THAT WAS ONLY THE FIRST 10 MIN OF THE EPISODE WTF

I’VE BEEN REDUCED TO A SNIFFLING WEEPING MESS IN 10MIN FLAT WTF 

yunmeng bro moment ends (thank god) and we cut to the next scene where nhs is oh so conveniently regaining consciousness

now all the diggers are screaming to remind us that oh yeah, there's like Plot Stuff here, it's not just about the yunmeng bros

ss gives jgy some meds bc he's hurt or smth, who gives a damn

our boys follow jgy back to the dig site for Plot Reasons

and SURPRISE!! we have nmj's no-longer-headless dead body!!

lwj and wwx look at each other like WTF??

oooooh boy, nhs gave jgy the dirtiest look

wwx is being Clever again and pointing out Plot Relevant Things 

ss gets all offended and holds wwx at sword point 

but there's lwj with bichen in its scabbard, one step in front of him and ready to block anything ss sends their way bc lwj is not gonna let wwx get hurt if he can help it

ss is all like wwx you set him up! And wwx’s face is like, i aint even bovvered

wwx: i'm saying this with all modesty, but if i were the one who set him up, i'm afraid he wouldn't have just gotten one arm hurt

HOT DAMN

LOVE MY SUNSHINE BOY

and here my sunshine boy is being all Clever again and laying out all the facts and explaining how there's a 3rd party involved in all this

LOLOLOL HE'S REALLY PLAYING THIS UP FOR JGY TOO

he's like, there might be a predator behind you, the guy who's been spying on you this whole time...HE MIGHT NOT EVEN BE HUMAN

oh wwx, so Dramatic™

but hey it's working bc jgy looks spooked as hell

LOLOLOL

HE SEES JGY START FREAKING OUT AND HE LOOKS OVER TO LWJ AND GRINS AT HIM LIKE, HEY LAN ZHAN, SEE WHAT I DID, LOL, I SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF THIS LOSER, DID YOU SEE? 

oh, now wwx and jc are bound by the wrists but not lwj, for some reason? 

Which, rude, why deny lwj the chance to be tied up? Let him try new experiences! What if he likes to be tied up? 

NOW HE’LL NEVER KNOW BC YOU DIDN’T LET HIM TRY IT

jgy and ss have a moment that i don't care about but i have to mention it

bc RIGHT AFTER we see our precious beautiful sunshine boy lean WAY into lwj's space to talk shit about them

like, seriously, just a couple inches more, and wwx would be resting his cheek on lwj's shoulder 

IT'S WONDERFUL AND I WISH HE'D GET EVEN CLOSER

shockingly, lwj is NOT as distracted as i would be having wwx that close 

bc he's studying ss and SUDDENLY SEES HE'S GOT THE HUNDRED-HOLES CURSE ON HIM 

which btw, EWW?? THAT'S THE GROSSEST THING EVER 

I REALLY WISH THEY'D STOP SHOWING IT SO MUCH BC IT MAKES MY SKIN CRAWL

he tells ss to turn around to get a better look and wwx sees it too!! he's like, IT WAS YOU!!!

and for the audience's benefit, nhs goes to lxc and is all what's going on???

lxc and jc gives some exposition about blah blah blah stuff we know about already

amidst all this we keep getting shots of wwx looking stunned and hurt (but still oh-so-beautiful)

wwx: jgy, i didn't do anything against you back then. we were not even that familiar. you wanted to kill jzx. why did you push that on me?

HE LOOKS SO HURT AND ANGRY AND CONFUSED BC WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM? WHY DID JGY HAVE TO USE HIM??

and lwj is watching wwx while he shouts this and god how can he stand watching his soulmate be hurt over and over and over again?? HOW DOES HE COPE?

jgy does a mini Rant of Evil Explanation and ss does a rant about classism

which, if said by literally anybody else, i'd say hm, yes, you have a point 

but bc it's said by ss, a spineless coward who never takes responsibility for his own actions, i'm like STFU SS

omg lolololol

ss: would i have been swept out of lan clan like a pile of leaves [if I were highborn]??

AND ICE PRINCE LWJ ANSWERS ALMOST BEFORE SS COULD FINISH ASKING

lwj: Yes.

AND THEN HE LOOKS SS DEAD IN THE EYE

lwj: betrayers won't be tolerated by the lan clan

HELL FUCKING YEAH

YOU WEREN'T KICKED OUT BC YOU WERE LOW-BORN, SS

YOU WERE KICKED OUT BC YOU'RE A TRAITOROUS COWARD

and like, i need to point out that lwj is sitting cross legged on the ground right now (along with wwx, ofc) and ss is standing over him while ranting

and YET, the way lwj holds himself and the way he speaks, does in no way indicate that he's at a disadvantage here

dude's unflappable. JADE OF LAN, INDEED

ss is like i am so sick of your condescending attitude

then he's like just bc i made that one little mistake you could never forgive me!!

FUCKING EXCUSE ME??? 

LITTLE? LITTLE MISTAKE??? 

HOW MANY PEOPLE DIED BC OF YOU SS?

HOW MANY DIED BC YOU BETRAYED THEM??

ss continues to rant and starts to go off his rocker

and then wwx starts to laugh but it's not a happy laugh

it is, in fact, a laugh very similar to the laugh we heard in The One where the Moonlit Rooftop Betrays Us

ss is like, what's so funny???

wwx: nothing. i just didn't expect...

AND HE'S GETTING TEARY HERE EVEN AS HE LAUGHS

WWX: i didn't expect you to get so many people killed just for...just for this

HE LOOKS SO DISILLUSIONED

MY POOR PRECIOUS SUNSHINE BOY

THE WORLD KEEPS DISAPPOINTING HIM

omg i want to RING JGY'S NECK WITH ZIDIAN

HE'S GETTING ALL UP IN WWX'S FACE

TELLING HIM THAT NO MATTER HOW KIND OR CHIVALROUS HE IS, HE WILL ALWAYS BE BLAMED FOR ANY BAD THING THAT HAPPENS, THAT NO ONE WILL EVER BELIEVE OR TRUST HIM

FUCK YOU JGY I HATE YOU SO MUCH

MY POOR SUNSHINE BOY IS TREMBLING WITH RAGE

bc he knows it's true. ppl really ARE always going to suspect the yiling patriarch.

oooh, jc just defended his brother! sort of.

But it has the unfortunate side effect of drawing jgy’s attention

so now jgy is cutting into jc

god jgy talks a lot. stfu jgy.

wwx has been teary eyed on and off this entire episode so far but hasn't actually cried

but jgy is now belittling all of jc's work, all the effort he put in to rebuilding lotus pier, implying that he wouldn't have been able to do if not for wwx

and that's the breaking point, that's what makes wwx finally shed a tear.

lwj is watching wwx, as always, and sees wwx cry

he must feel utterly helpless

ooooh, MY CLEVER SUNSHINE BOY

EVEN AMIDST ALL THIS TERRIBLE EMOTIONAL PAIN, HE PICKED UP ON JGY'S TRIGGER WORD(S)

wwx: just a "son of a whore" made you talk so much

oooh jgy tries to leave but wwx stops him in his tracks by asking him how he killed nmj

and then he's like "aren't you afraid?"

CHILLS, MAN, I'M GETTING CHILLS AT HOW HE DELIVERS THIS

SO CALM, COOL AND COLLECTED YET TINGED WITH A THREAT

jgy: afraid of what? (lol he whirls around angrily like the Drama queen he is)

wwx leans forward and looks him dead in the eye

wwx: afraid of him coming back to you

AND THE SMIRK HE WEARS

THAT'S THE SMIRK OF THE YILING PATRIARCH 

He smirks and leans back against the pillar, all easy and relaxed while jgy looks freaked the fuck out

and then

THEN

WWX STARTS TO WHISTLE

RESENTFUL ENERGY COMES IN TO STROKE AT JGY'S ARM ALL MENACINGLY

I'M GETTING CHILLS ALL OVER 

THIS IS SUCH A BADASS MOVE ON WWX'S PART

and also, holy shit do i enjoy those close up shots of wwx's eyes and his beautiful beautiful lips

the sound team did a great job making those whistles sound super eerie, btw

i can't get over how cool and confident wwx looks here

he's not worried or bothered AT ALL, this is him doing what he does best

Wait, do i have a competency kink…?

LOL JGY JUST GOT BITCHSLAPPED BY RESENTFUL ENERGY, LOVE IT

wwx has stopped whistling now, which is unfortunate bc that means no more extreme close-ups on wwx's gorgeous features

jgy: yiling patriarch, you're worthy of your title, aren't you?

YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT HE IS!

Okay yeah, i guess i have a competency kink now, THANKS A LOT WWX

FUCKING SU SHE JUST TRIED STABBING WWX

LWJ TO THE RESCUE, HELL YEAH

OUR MAN HANGUANG JUN LEAPS TO HIS FEET AND NOT ONLY BLOCKS THE STRIKE

HE FREAKING SLICES SU SHE'S WEAK ASS SWORD IN TWO 

THEN FOLLOWS UP WITH A SLICE AT SU SHE'S WRIST

I LOVE YOU HANGUANG JUN

Lwj calmly goes over to wwx and slices off the ropes that were keeping his wrists tied and does the same to jc

wwx goes up to jgy (who's held at sword point by lxc) and calmly takes his weapons

wwx: jgy, hand it over. it's not of much use in your hands.

with a deceivingly dainty clink, Plot Device 3 rolls out of jgy's sleeve and into his hand

then he lets it fall to the ground bc he's a petty bitch that way

we get to see wwx being all Smart Detective and revealing just how long jgy has been planning all this 

jgy’s all like even between me and xy we could only create Plot Device 3 half as powerful as Plot Device 2

LOLOL THAT'S BC THE TWO OF YOU ARE WORTHLESS HACKS.

WWX HAS MORE SKILL AND TALENT IN HIS PINKY FINGER THAN THE BOTH OF YOU COMBINED

man there's a lot of Plot Exposition happening and lxc is having Feelings about it.

DON'T FUCKING LOWER YOUR SWORD LXC WHAT ARE YOU DOING

look lxc, i don't mean to sound cruel or heartless or whatever, but omg i do NOT CARE about your complicated Emotions right now

NOT WHEN IT'S GIVING JGY THE OPENING TO MANIPULATE AN ESCAPE

jgy is now being like "oh, i was wrong" and acting all pitiful and TOTALLY PLAYING LXC FOR A FOOL (AGAIN)

wwx: hey, jgy, can't we stop talking? let's just fight? can we just start killing each other?

LOLOLOLOLOL 

HE TOTALLY SAW THAT JGY WAS MANIPULATING THE SITUATION AGAIN AND IS LIKE, NOPE, NOT DOING THAT AGAIN

LESS WORDS MORE SWORDS PLZ

LIKE, MY BOY IS JUST DONE. HE IS DONE WITH THIS. LET'S GET TO THE FIGHT NOW THX.

jgy ignores this and keeps talking to lxc AND OMG WWX'S FAAAAACE IS CRACKING ME UP 

GOD WORDS ARE NOT GONNA DO IT JUSTICE

HE JUST LOOKS AT JGY FOR A SECOND LIKE, SRSLY BRO? BEFORE ROLLING HIS EYES AND SCRUNCHING UP HIS EYEBROWS LIKE "CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THIS GUY, JFC"

IT'S SO FREAKING FUNNY OMG

meanwhile jgy continues to throw a pity party that no one likes and the episode ends

There really wasn’t much wangxian time in this episode, fucking jgy and ss decided to HOG ALL THE SCREEN TIME, THOSE PATHETIC WHINY ASSHOLES

but we got a lot of Yungmeng Bros which was painful but waaaay better than anything jgy or ss has to offer

Return to Masterpost

[ramblinganthropologist]

N7 Challenge - 14 (Military)

Summary: Alistair Shepard isn’t the military type. So... why’d he enlist in the Alliance anyway?

---

“Shepard... mind if I ask a question?”

Normally, questions like that made Alistair's skin crawl. However, he was currently bent over the Mako and trying to get it to work so all his thought process was focused on that. It didn't really register who or what was asking him a question until he backed up to evaluate his progress.

Then he realized it was the Normandy's only turian.

“Oh, hey Garrus.” He glanced back at the panel – still loading for twenty more minutes. That meant he had time to catch his breath after the nightmare that was Noveria. Hours later, and he still felt freezing as he pried frozen rocks out of the treads. At least any ice had long since melted.

A quick glance told him that the turian's body language registered as curious. So, that probably knocked out tactical or mission questions. If he had to guess, Garrus was about to ask something personal. For a turian, that was... odd. Definitely against the manual of interacting with someone in authority. So whatever it was, it had to be important.

He could play ball.

The turian looked around the empty room before he spoke. Then his mandibles twitched – a classic sign of turian nerves acting against him. He was curious, but uncomfortable about asking this. So it was probably important enough that Alistair backed away from the console and let it keep working.

Man, he was glad he took that turian body language course back in basic. It was saving his ass now for sure.

“What's up?”

Garrus's mandibles twitched again. “Just... you're not really the military type, are you?”

Alistair blinked at that. “Uh... I'm going to have to ask for some clarification there. What do you mean?”

Now the turian in front of him really looked uncomfortable. Had he been annoyed, the Spectre would have enjoyed it. But mostly he was just tired and cold, and he wanted to get this conversation over with so he could get back to work. His bed was calling his name, and he needed to answer it as soon as possible if wanted to stave off the post biotic headache that was currently looming behind both his eyes.

Biotics – they got you coming an going. At least he wasn't an L2 though. Man, it sucked to be Kaidan.

“Well... you're not...” Garrus mulled over his words. “Aggressive. Forward? When people look at you they don't seem to think you're a threat, even in armor.”

Yeah, that happened when you were under 5'5” and didn't really carry much muscle. Hooray for being the medic.

He held up his talons quickly though. “No offense, by the way. Just pointing out something I noticed while we were on Noveria. You don't really have a military presence about you.”

Alistair resisted an eye roll as he glanced back at the panel – 15 minutes now. “Yeah, I know. It's because I'm small and all lean muscle. Still managed to get to the end of N7 though, so I don't see why that's a problem.”

Ok, maybe there had been a bit of edge to his voice there. But could you blame him? This wasn't the first time he had ever had this conversation with someone, and no doubt it wouldn't be the last. He was pretty sure people would start adding Spectre to the 'shit people didn't thin he was' list. It was getting kind of long.

But whatever, welcome to his life.

“I didn't mean anything by it... you just don't seem the type.” Garrus' mandibles twitched as he shrank back a little. “Why'd you join anyway? Is it a Shepard family thing?”

Despite his annoyance, Alistair let out a quick and bitter chuckle as he typed something into the mainframe. “No, I'm the first in the family and hopefully the last.”

Then he turned around, tapping the spot where his head met his neck. Though he couldn't see it, he could feel the metal embedded into his neck. Right then, it was warmer than usual. It wasn't quite overheating yet, but it got close.

“I joined because my brain was going to explode if I didn't.”

Then he went back to the panel, typing out commands as he tried to ignore the turian all but standing over his shoulder. An awkward tension filled the room, probably because neither really knew what to say. Garrus probably felt guilty... and he didn't like talking about this.

Almost a decade later, and he was still annoyed.

“Your brain?” Garrus's head cocked to the side briefly. “I thought if you got past infancy, the rate of cancer-”

Alistair shrugged his shoulders as he gave up on the console for the moment. “It does. My problem was that my biotics are so strong they were overheating my brain without an amp.”

He smiled bitterly as he rubbed the port. “Most humans get their implants at puberty to help jump start more serious training. I should've gotten mine at 14, but... well, let's just say I didn't get that chance. I probably would have been part of the L2's if they had gotten to me in time.”

Instead, he had been whisked off Mindoir as the batarians rounded everyone up. A few years in foster care, then aging out... his teen years had mostly been a jumble of headaches and missing memories that came from his brain overheating. Or at least that's what the doctors told him from ages 14 to almost 20 when he went to them.

Then his brain had almost fried at 20.

“So... when did you get yours?”

The Spectre still had his hand on his amp as he spoke. “20, when I enlisted. I think I set a record for oldest person to get one and not have permanent brain damage. Pretty sure I'm in a couple medical text books under patient X or something.”

Not that he had ever gotten the chance to read one. He'd wanted to – med school had been in his goal plan once he finished community college and transferred to a four year school – but the military had made that goal a distant dream. He still thought about it sometimes, but with how things were going he'd probably be in for life.

It wasn't how he'd seen his life going, but that's how it was.

At any rate, Alistair shrugged and let his hand drop from the cooling amp. “I only joined because the Alliance had the tech to keep me from dying from brain overheat. I was only going to stay for my enlistment, but then the Blitz happened and Akuze wasn't long after. Before I knew it, here I am at N7 and suddenly I'm a Spectre.”

So, for a guy who didn't seem the military type... he was ass deep in the military. Maybe that was to his credit. Either that, or the universe didn't want him to settle down and go to med school. Was there some  future where he was like Doctor Death or something that it was trying to prevent?

Could've done that without the Reapers, you know. He would've accepted not getting into med school well enough.

At least Garrus nodded at that. “Sort of all just hit you at once.”

“Yeah. Besides, couldn't leave Bo in by herself. We work too well together to split up.”

The meter on the Mako beeped to let him know he had five minutes left until he could finish up. With any luck, he would be able to do so in silence. After having to talk about a past he wasn't too happy about, Alistair wasn't feeling too cordial as he continued to type data in.

Bitter? Absolutely.

Unfortunately for him, Garrus didn't leave. Instead, he just stood there, his body language screaming he wasn't sure what to do next. In animal species, they might wash their face or dig a hole. In turians, their mandibles twitched and their talons flexed. He was making a show of both at the moment, all he needed was the teeth grinding.

Not that Alistair wanted to hear that. Recordings of it were nasty enough.

So he worked in silence, finishing up the Mako repairs. After he pulled a few more rocks out of the treads, the timer beeped to let him now he could shut the diagnostic off. Its details were already streaming into his omni-tool; he could analyze them later at his desk, away from everyone else in the quiet of his room.

“Well... guess that's it for me. If you need to fix-”

“I'm sorry I said anything. You are a military type.”

Alistair blinked as he looked up at the turian in front or him. “Quite the change of heart you've got going on there, Garrus.”

He watched as his mandibles flared out a little – classic signs of embarrassment. Well, at least they were getting somewhere. Honestly, he was feeling a little bit in the same way. He just hid it by running away instead of staying there like an idiot.

Amazing the coping strategies between their species.

The turian cleared his throat as he glanced away. “Sense of responsibility, I guess. Should've seen it sooner.”

“Some might call that idiocy.” He allowed a brief smile. “Thanks, I guess. I don't mind not being seen as a military type, mind you. It makes getting people to agree to things without having to shoot them a lot easier.”

Which was good, because he had terrible vision and barely massed marksmanship in basic. Now that he was down an eye... well, he was glad diplomacy worked much better for him than shooting. Maybe that was why he had survived in N7.

At least that made the turian relax. “You have a point there. I think I probably would have been more annoyed if someone the other Shepard's size bumped into me in the Presidium.”

“Garrus, if Bo had bumped into you, you'd have been flat on your carapace and probably dealing with a concussion.”

He would know – he had seen enough of it.

At least that got his companion chuckling, which wasn't a bad sound. It was kind of chicken like, but not in an awful way. Honestly, it was something almost soothing to his grated nerves. Maybe this was his reward for sitting through the conversation.

Wasn't totally worth it, but it was nice.

“Yeah, that's probably true.” He stopped chuckling. “Anyway... looks like I should get out of the way so you can get back to work.”

Alistair nodded as he started to walk. “Nice talking to you, Garrus. If there's anything else wrong with the Mako, let me know. You know I have these nice, non-military sized wrists that are good at fitting into things.”

“Never going to let me live that one down, are you, Shepard?” Still, there was that chuckle again. “Right, talk to you later.”

Something about it felt good as Alistair left the area to head back to his quarters, wrist full of data. If he thought about it, it was the first decent conversation the two of them had ever had. Maybe they should have more of those.

Though... he could do without the 20 awkward questions next time. Some things he just liked to keep to himself.

[deanie1987]

My thoughts on 10x8 (LONG and SPOILERY)

Hey how about that episode huh? I have a lot of thoughts about it so this may be...uh pretty long. First off, I really liked the episode (at least the Gallavich parts that’s all I’ve seen so far. I am SO happy that I understand where they both are coming from and I don’t have to head canon anything. That in itself makes this episode much better than I thought it would be. Also, I have been vomiting my opinions all over The Internet so I apologize if I’m repeating myself.

First the good stuff: OPEN AFFECTION AND LOVE AND SMILES! The warmth that their happiness gives me could heat my entire house for a year. It is such a wonderful thing to see. From them arm in arm to holding hands in the diner to that incredible kiss at the courthouse (which has now jumped into my top 3 kisses) it truly is making the season for me. I miss the sex scenes and they don’t get enough screentime, but they feel like lovers to me, not roomates or pals. Finally. I also love that it seems like Mickey is 99% comfortable with it, but there is still that 1% of holding back.

IAN. Oh my god Ian!! *Fiona voice* He is trying so hard. He is doing his best to really communicate with Mickey and maintain a healthy relationship. But it’s hard for him and he’s not good at it and he gets really jumbled and nervous when he’s trying to get his thoughts out (god I relate to Ian so hard sadly.) He is initiating so much of the affection and the declarations and wanting Mickey to know that he loves him. We have been waiting for so long to see it and I’m so thankful.

The acting - Noel and Cam are a gift and they give this mediocre material such depth and emotion. No matter how ridiculous the plot, they know their characters and they take them seriously. I can’t imagine caring about this couple even a fraction as much if they weren’t played by them.

The character consistency (which is an extension of the acting) - Puppy Ian has made a triumphant return but that is tempered by his life experiences. He isn’t naive and idealistic anymore. His confidence and self-worth have taken huge blows over the years and it shows in how he approaches the proposal and then of course in his cold feet (and how desperate he is for advice now as compared to before his diagnosis). It seems perfectly in character for Ian to grab onto an impulsive notion with the best of intentions and then second guess himself and fuck it up the second it really matters. I think he is trying to control his impulses and I DO think that he had the best of intentions with the proposal and the marriage idea, but the self doubt crept in at the last moment like it always does. Having said that, they were fighting and rushed and I don’t blame him for wanting to take a step back to figure things out once circumstances changed. Unfortunately, his impulses once again ended up breaking Mickey’s heart and I appreciate just how good Noel is. The script never once referenced anything other than their current situation, but you could read on his face the toll of years of disappointment and humiliation and anger. My god.

Which leads me to the bad:

The last scene - I know that a lot of people hate the punch and think its out of character for Mickey, but I just don’t. Violence isn’t a first resort for either of them anymore, but it is definitely still in their arsenal. They threw punches in season 5 (Ian being the initiator), Mickey drugged Sammi in order to torture her, they shoved and pushed each other in season 7, Mickey tried to start a fight with one of the cartel guys then as well, he stabbed people in prison for pay, he and Ian both stabbed Chester with no qualms and Ian was prepared to do it again, he and Ian physically fought in 10x3 (they each shoved each other pretty hard), Ian threw punches in season 6 and physically threatened a lot of people as Gay Jesus.  They grew up around casual violence. In the first few seasons they both sported cuts and black eyes all the time. They got hit by their parents, by their siblings, by strangers and by each other. It might not be as frequent as it was when they were young, but it is still a form of communication for them both, for better or for worse. Beyond that, Mickey is an abuse survivor who spent the last few years either in jail, on the run or in a Mexican drug cartel. To act as though violence isn’t part of his life anymore just makes no sense to me. He has grown tremendously and I do think that violence against Ian is something that probably horrifies him, but that punch was YEARS in the making. He tried to remove himself from Ian and the situation but when Ian asked him to communicate how he felt about things, you could just see in his face the disbelief and incredulity that after all his words and his grand gestures, that Ian would STILL somehow not know how he felt. So he walked back up the steps, maybe hoping that he could come up with words that would adequately convey the heartbreak, anger, betrayal, loneliness, humiliation and disappointment that he has felt for years where Ian was concerned. But instead he punched him. I don’t like it but I get it. And Ian seemed more annoyed than scared or genuinely angry, and I will be shocked if a big deal is made of it by anyone in the next episode. The falling down the stairs and leg breaking was an accident obviously and necessitated by Cam’s leg, but it wouldn’t shock me if the writers had something like that in the script beforehand. These are damaged guys who grew up and still live in shitty environment full of poverty, ignorance, crime and casual violence. The Gallaghers may be on the edge of upward mobility but they aren’t all there yet and that probably goes double for Mickey. 

All things Terry and the Milkoviches - I appreciate that Mickey is no longer afraid of his father, but that whole scene sat terribly with me. This is one of the areas where Noel’s 5 year absence from the larger Shameless universe really stands out and it’s clear that trying to pick up where they left off really doesn’t work. The new Milkoviches are bland and dumb as well.

Ian’s jabs - I’m really ready for Ian to knock it off with the digs about Mickey to Lip. I’m glad that Mickey challenged him about murdering people (although again, seriously is really THAT much of a stretch to think that Mickey has been involved in something a little seedier, though you would think that Ian would know by now.) I hope it comes up again and Ian apologizes for thinking that way about him.

Episode as a whole - I didn’t watch the rest of the episode yet (maybe more thoughts on that if anything inspires me) but fast forwarding through the other scenes made the lack of character interaction that much more noticeable. It is ridiculous that Ian has had more scenes with Tami than with Carl. I hate it.

One last negative I guess. Every scene that we have gotten with Mickey and Ian together have been nearly perfect, but it isn’t enough and I really wish that they had started this storyline at the very beginning of the season and not rushed so much of it. I still kind of want a season 11 with them in it, because there is so much stuff that we don’t know. For example, I find it really interesting that in some ways, Mickey and Ian are somewhat back to their earlier selves. In season 4 and 5, Ian sort of devolved into drugs, prostitution and various scams (mostly due to his illness of course) while Mickey tried to be at least a little bit more on the up and up. They sort of met in the middle of the criminality spectrum. But now they seem to be more closely aligned with their seasons 1-3 situations. Obviously, Mickey is out and Ian has been diagnosed with bipolar, so their personalities have definitely changed since that time. But in the years that they were separated, Ian sort of pulled himself back into “normal” society for awhile with a legit job and vaguely middle class aspirations (at least until he went off the deep end and stopped taking his meds). In the meantime, Mickey was sent away to a real prison and worked for a Mexican drug cartel. No middle class aspirations there. For as much as they are in love and as much as I believe that they know each other better than anyone else, they have changed a LOT and experienced things apart that are hugely impactful to their development as adults. They are coming together again, but not as the teenage boys that they once were, but the products of their experiences mostly while they were apart and I really wish that that would be explored more. I know that fanfic can fill a lot of holes, but I have been so impressed with the way that Noel and Cam have played everything so far that I want to see them on my screen as these characters for as long as I can.Finally, next week looks interesting. I think that the majority will be played for laughs but judging from the stills, the emotion is going to knock us on our asses. I can’t wait. 

[elisaphoenix13]

Saving The Parents

Tony woke with a pounding head and blurred vision, and absolutely no idea where he was. When his vision cleared though, his watch and sunglasses were missing and he found himself on some unforgiving concrete flooring.  Every bone and muscle in his body was protesting having to lay on a hard surface that he probably hadn't even been on for more than ten minutes.

A quick look around his concrete prison revealed that he was alone and that was what made his heart clench. He was with Stephen when (Tony assumed) they were drugged and grabbed on their way to a charity gala, and his husband was nowhere to be seen. It was unlikely that they only took the engineer. Even dumbass kidnappers would know to use the sorcerer against him. It wasn't exactly a secret that they were married. Tony just really hoped that Peter was still safe at home.

Shit, he fell deep into the parenting hole. Here he was, being held hostage for some asinine reason, and he was worrying about Peter. That wasn't bad but he felt that unless he had evidence that the teen was in danger, he should be worrying more about himself and Stephen. Definitely Stephen. He didn't care about himself right now. He needed to know where the sorcerer was and if he was okay.

He found out about ten minutes later that the doctor was not okay. The door to his windowless room slammed open and Stephen was thrown in where he fell to the ground in a bloody heap. The door was closed before Tony could get a look at their captors, so he turned his focus back onto his bleeding husband.

"Fuck."

That single word was an enormous understatement for their situation. When Tony managed to crawl over to the motionless sorcerer, he felt bile rise in his throat when he saw the man's injuries. Stephen was undoubtedly tortured for either information he didn't have or even just because he was married to the billionaire, and that thought made Tony swallow back his body's second attempt to vomit.

He tears open the doctor's bloodied shirt to find the worst of the injuries and he shrugs off his blazer to apply pressure to worst of what looked to be stab wounds. It definitely wasn't the only way Stephen was tortured. There were burn marks everywhere he could see skin, his hair was wet, and there were lash marks--

"Oh baby...I'm so sorry, and it's going to suck, but I really need you to wake up." Tony says as he lightly slaps Stephen's cheek. Thankfully, the sorcerer does wake up but the engineer's heart breaks when he comes to with a whimper. "I know. I know. I need you to focus your magic on your wounds and heal yourself. That's a thing right?"

"Don't..." Stephen mumbles incoherently. "...sleep..."

"No. No! No sleeping! You will not wake up! You're bleeding too much!" Tony panics until Stephen weakly reaches up and grabs his bicep.

"Tony. Don't let me sleep." He chokes out. "Not...not until I...heal myself."

Tony nods and watches carefully over the next (what felt like) hour as the worst of Stephen's wounds close, only having to lightly smack the sorcerer back to attention twice. When Stephen finally finished, and vocalized the fact, Tony gently pulls him toward the far wall and sits against it, letting Stephen lay his head in his lap. The sorcerer fell asleep in seconds.

In the midst of Tony's panic, he didn't fail to notice that Stephen was tech free as well. He really wanted to know if the sorcerer knew what was going on, but he didn't have the heart to ask him anything when he was in so much pain. Something Tony would fight to never let happen again. If their captors came back thinking they could just take Stephen again, they had another thing coming.

Tony sat there for a long time. He couldn't say how long, since there were no windows to show if it was night or day, hell, he didn't even know if it was still the same day they were taken. He may very well have been out for twenty-four hours and their captors got sick of waiting and took Stephen while he was unconscious. He was getting tired again but he wouldn't sleep. Not when Stephen was vulnerable.

It was hard anyway because the concrete floor and wall were hurting his ass and digging into his back. There would be no sleep for him

_______________

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Peter wanted to yell at his spider senses because he knew something was wrong. Tony and Stephen never came home from the party or whatever it was they went to and for once, Peter wished his parents had shoved him into a three piece suit and made him go with them. They hadn't called or texted with a change of plans, something they always did, so the teen's worry was through the roof. It actually took him a good hour to even think about telling the team and tracking his parents after he woke up that morning and found their bed empty. He asked FRIDAY if they had gone somewhere, but the AI stated they never came home.

So now the team was sitting silently in the living room while both FRIDAY and Victor tracked their corresponding humans, and Peter alternated between pacing and sitting to bite his thumb. The biting was quickly stopped by Bucky who would pull his hand away whenever Peter's fingers inched toward the teen's mouth and the former sergeant ignored the glares directed at him. So the vigilante stuck to pacing until FRIDAY finally spoke up.

"I managed to track Boss and the doctor approximately ten miles from town but then something interfered with the equipment."

"Look for any bunkers or warehouses near where you lost the signal." Rhodey orders.

"Sending satellite images to the tablet now." FRIDAY responds.

Rhodey picks up Tony's tablet from the coffee table before Peter can, and pulls up a hologram of the pictures. "These are all legitimate bases for SHIELD and...wait..." The colonel zooms in on a group of trees to show a well hidden part of a building. "FRIDAY...is that building still abandoned?"

"Yes Colonel. No one has bought it yet."

"That's our best bet. We'll take the Quinjet."

"Alright. Everybody suit up. Bruce stay here in case they might need medical attention." Steve orders and Bruce nods before leaving to stand-by in med-bay.

Rhodey turns to Peter when the teen's suit covers him. "Peter--"

"You can't leave me behind!" Peter blurts.

"I know kid. I just want you to promise that if I tell you to leave...then you leave. Alright? I'm responsible for you right now." Rhodey says calmly.

"Yeah...okay. I promise. I swear." The teen agrees and the colonel claps him on the shoulder.

"Good. Let's go get our idiots."

_________________

Their captors really were stupid enough to try to take Stephen away again, and Tony lost it. The moment the sorcerer was forcibly pulled from him, the engineer jumped to his feet and punched the man who held the sorcerer. He barely had enough time to stop his husband's imminent fall to the harsh ground and set him against the wall before the other men were swarming him and he was fighting again. When (not if, he told himself) they got out of here, Tony was going to thank Happy and Rhodey for forcing him to train with them (and eventually Clint and Natasha) so he didn't rely on his Iron Man armor.

Unfortunately his training only went so far when he was surrounded by four mini-hulks that were barely fazed when he hit them. Tony was pretty sure he was hurting himself more than them and the only reason the first guy dropped Stephen was probably because he was surprised Tony fought back. It was all short-lived when one of the men yanked Tony into a very tight chokehold and another grabbed the half-conscious sorcerer off the floor and held a knife up to him.

"Are you kidding me?!" Tony shouts. "Haven't you done enough to him? What is this about anyway? Money? Information?"

"Revenge." The billionaire's captor growls into his ear before pulling out a gun and shooting Stephen.

Tony yells out in alarm when blue eyes start to dull when the man holding the sorcerer throws him to the ground, and he freezes back up when the gun is turned on him.

"Revenge for those your weapons have killed or maimed." His captor continues. "So we will make you watch us slowly kill those you care about. Now that your husband is at death's door, we'll be going after your kid next."

The engineer fights to get out of the man's grasp. "Let me go!"

"No, Stark. You're going to stand here an watch him die."

Tony's anxiety went through the roof. One of his worst nightmares was coming true and there was nothing he could do. He couldn't call for his suit, or the team since he didn't have any of his tech, he wasn't strong enough to fight off the other men, and he had never felt so helpless in his life. Not even in Afghanistan. At least there he had a chance.

The screeching of metal breaks Tony out if his trance and the door to the room flies open to reveal a very angry Spiderman. White lenses look at Tony briefly and then turn to the dying sorcerer on the ground...and instantly turn black with red in the center. Instant kill mode. Peter was going to go against his personal standards for his own revenge. Tony couldn't let that happen.

"No! Humans! They're humans! You kill them then you're just lowering yourself to their level!"

Tony had never been so relieved to see white lenses come back. He was even more relieved when the vigilante turned his attention on the men in the room after webbing the gun out of the hand of Tony's captor, and knocked them all out. Peter's mask falls from his face, and both he and Tony rush to Stephen's side where Peter covers the sorcerer's gunshot wound with a compression web. Stephen was breathing heavily and when he coughed, some blood speckled the floor.

"E-Exit...wound..." Stephen gasps out.

Tony turns his husband onto his side as carefully as possible and almost sobs when he doesn't find one. Stephen couldn't heal himself if the bullet was still inside him.

The engineer turns him back to his regular position and gently cups his face. "We'll get you out of here. So you better stay awake."

Peter nods and holds back the threatening tears. "The others are here. We brought the Quinjet. I told them where we are so they're on their way."

"Peter..." Stephen whispers as he reaches up and pulls the boy's head down to his chest.

"You'll be okay Mum...please be okay..." Peter cries into the doctor's chest until Stephen's grip loosens and he looks up with red eyes to find blue eyes closing. "No!"

"Stephen! Stay awake!" Tony yells frantically.

The rest of the team arrive just as Stephen's hand falls to the ground and his eyes close, and Bucky rushes forward to pull the distressed teen away from the sorcerer. While he and Rhodey fight to keep Tony and Peter in their arms, Wanda and Steve move the unresponsive doctor out of the room and to the Quinjet. When Stephen was out of sight, the teen cried out his emotional pain that even Bucky got misty-eyed as he continued to hold the struggling boy back.

"He can't die! HE CAN'T DIE!"

_______________________

Tony and Rhodey exit the master bedroom and the billionaire shudders as he rubs his hand over his mouth, and his best friend leads him into the living room where the rest of the team was waiting. Stephen was rushed to the med-bay where Bruce and a few other doctors were waiting, and since Peter was still frantic, Rhodey had to sedate him. It was the only way to calm the boy down. He would have made himself sick if they let him wait for news about the sorcerer. Tony was barely hanging on as it was.

"Here." Natasha says as she hand over his and Stephen's missing tech. "We found them in one of the rooms. They had something built to scramble their signal."

Tony ignores his paranoia about being handed things and takes them. "Thanks Romanov." He mutters.

"He'll be okay." She says.

The engineer blinks back tears. "Will he? I watched him get shot! Bleed out! I watched my kid cry from fear of losing another parent and there was nothing I could do!" He shouts.

"Tones...dont make me put you down too."

Tony scoffs and slumps into an armchair. They all spent the next few hours in complete silence since the mechanic was refusing to respond to any of them. He just wanted to wait for news whether it was bad or good. The fact that Bruce was doing surgery meant Stephen had a chance of surviving, even if it was the slightest one.

Tony would take what he could get.

"Tony."

The billionaire's head snaps up from its resting place in his hands and he finds Bruce standing in front of the elevator. He and the rest of the team stand up as he walks over and the scientist rubs the back of his neck.

"It was touch and go for a while...but he'll be okay. Stephen will be okay." Tony covers his face and nearly collapses from relief as Bruce continues. "Peter saved his life."

"He saved both of our lives--"

"No...Tony...that compression web saved Stephen's life. Without it, he would have died either before leaving the building or enroute. Strange would not have made it to the tower otherwise."

"How long until my wife wakes up?" Tony asks quietly.

"An hour at least."

"Peter should be up soon. I'll go wait for him first then we'll go down to med-bay."

Bruce nods and makes his way back to the elevator to go back down to med-bay and Tony fights through his relieved trembles to walk back to the master bedroom. Tony opens the door and steps through, quietly closing the door behind him and walks over to the bed to sit next to Peter. He only had to wait another twenty minutes for the teen to wake up and doe-like eyes blink up at him.

"You drugged me." Peter mutters accusingly.

"Actually Uncle Rhodey did, but he just wanted to help." 

Peter plays with a stray thread on the comforter. "I-Is...is it just us now?" He whispers and Tony could tell he was desperately trying not to cry again so he reassured him with a small smile.

"No baby...Mom is going to be okay. You saved his life with your webs."

Peter looks back at him. "Can we see him?"

"Yeah. We might have to wait a while for him to wake up but we can sit with him if you want."

Peter nods and shuffles after his father once he climbs out of the bed, and Tony says nothing when the teen softly grabs the back of his shirt when they step onto the elevator. It was a simple reassurance for Peter that although Stephen was going to be okay, that Tony was still there and safe. When the elevator opened on the med floor, Tony leads his son into Stephen's room and only falters for half a second when he finds the sorcerer connected to a few more things than he was used to seeing when the team got severely injured. Peter didn't seem to notice the slight hesitation and Tony was grateful. He needed to look strong for Peter.

"Why don't we watch a movie while we wait for him to wake up?"

Peter simply nods and they drag a couple of seats over to Stephen's bed and they sit down to watch Ratatouille. About half an hour into the movie, the two jump when the sorcerer grumbles.

"If any of you cook with the help of a rodent, tell me now."

Tony and Peter jump to their feet, sending their chairs sliding back a couple of inches and they move closer to hover over the occupied bed. Stephen reaches up once again to cup Peter's cheek and smiles softly.

"I'm sorry for scaring you cub."

"You're so grounded." Peter replies with a wet chuckle and Stephen responds in kind.

"He's not the only one you scared asshole."

"Oh right. Myself. How could I forget?"

"You're hurt. I'm going to let that slide." Tony says as he leans down and kisses his husband. "On a scale from one to ten, one being hit by a truck and ten being held in the fiery pits of hell, how do you feel?"

"You don't believe in hell."

"Answer the question."

"Four. Hit by a truck and set on fire."

Peter frowns. "Should we get Bruce?"

Stephen smiles. "No. I'm healing myself as we speak." Both Tony and Peter open their mouths to tell him not to push himself but the sorcerer seemed to know what they were going to say. "Slowly. I won't overdo it. Peter, come cuddle while you can before Bruce comes back."

The teen laughs and carefully climbs on the bed to lay next to the sorcerer and Tony returns to his seat, with Stephen's hand in his. They return their attention to the movie, and Stephen falls asleep ten minutes into the second one when Bruce comes back to check on his patient. He opens his mouth when he finds Peter snuggled into Stephen's side, calmly watching the new movie, but decides to say nothing since the doctor was resting. Having Peter on the bed was probably Stephen's idea anyway. Those two were nearly attached to the hip. This family always found comfort with each other and he wasn't about to stop it.

"Don't you get tired of watching Disney movies and Star Wars?" Bruce asks instead.

Peter let out the most offended gasp in the history of America.

[sentherefortherescue]

My submission for the Halloween thing :3

For @heather-likes2review

[[MORE]]

"The mission is pretty simple this time Thunderbirds 2; there is a mine in Phoenix Arizona that has had a cave in while three miners were decommissioning it. Our job is to locate the missing miners and seal off the cave entrance once we are finished." 

"FAB Thunderbird 5, Scott and I are on our way, eta one hour, five minutes."

"Simple would be nice, especially considering what day it is. We almost got away with not having a rescue on Halloween, thanks to the time difference though…" Scott said as we leaned back in the co-pilot seat of Thunderbird 2. 

"Yeah I get it. Last year did not go well. All the freaky stuff happens in October. At first I thought it was just superstition, now not so much." Virgil set Thunderbird 2 on autopilot and began preparing the mole pod. 

"What do you mean?"

"Well I mean, last year we had that whole 'mysterious figure lighting fires in the middle of nowhere, only for John to see no human heat signatures' situation. Or the 'gigantic flying bat ramming into buildings' problem in New Mexico. It's never just a small, simple rescue on Halloween." 

"Fair enough, my old buddy Kevin from the air Force works as an EMT now and he says he hates working Halloween. So many stupid calls like "I dressed up as a clown to scare people and got stabbed!" Scott exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air mimicking a dumbfounded teen. 

"Haha ouch. Although it kind of sounds like he deserved it?"

"Kevin said it was the guys sister who stabbed him too, in their own house… haha so yeah, he had it coming. But he's fine so it's ok to laugh about it."

_____________________________________

"We are approaching the mine," Virgil stated as he prepped Thunderbird 2 for landing. 

The thunderous bird landed, kicking up all of the loose dirt and dust around it. Scott was already down in the mole pod ready to deploy. Thunderbird 2 rose on her struts and opened the pod door allowing Scott to drive out.

After positioning the pod outside the cave entrance, or what used to be the entrance, Scott bounded out of the pod and joined Virgil. 

"This is International Rescue, can anyone hear me?" Scott called into the comms. 

A few seconds of silence met the boys until a small static click was heard and a man started speaking. "International Rescue? Thank God you're here! Please hurry she has gone nuts!"

Exchanging looks Virgil asked, "sir? Can you repeat that?"

"It's Maria, she said she was hearing voices earlier, b-but we just played it off as her being nervous. Now she's gone batty! It started with her talking frantically and then she began physically shaking us and telling us we weren't alone. She's saying the voice is getting louder but we can't hear anything. I don't know what's going on man!"

"Okay sir, please stay calm, we will get to you as soon as we can." Scott answered the frantic man. 

"I told you… never normal." Virgil stated as he walked to get to his Exo-suit. 

Virgil donned his Exo-suit and walked over to the cave entrance. "Sir, my friend and I are going to be using a drill to get to your location, you and your other co-workers, need to step away from the wall approximately 25 feet." 

"Okay." Another pause of static before the man's voice returned telling the boys that he and his coworkers were far enough away. 

Scott started up the drill and began chipping away at the wall while Virgil moved some of the rocks out of the way to make the opening larger. It wasn't long before a hole was made long enough for the workers to climb out of. 

Virgil walked to the entrance and removed his hand from his Exo-suit offering it to the workers as they climbed out of the cave. It wasn't long before a dark figure came barreling out of the cave at top speed. 

"Maria, wait!" One of the men shouted. That was all Virgil heard before he was impacted by the small bodied woman. The woman had enough adrenaline running through her that when she made contact with Virgil, she actually made him stumble backwards a few steps. Unfortunately she had taken the brunt of the hit and ended on the floor unconscious with multiple impact points visible on her body. 

"What the?" Virgil grunted as he stumbled to regain his balance. The other two men slowly emerged from the entrance of the cave to see their co-worker sprawled out on the dusty ground, a sizable amount of blood seeping from a cut on her face. 

Scott launched himself out of the pod and slid down at the woman side. "What happened?" He asked looking at the workers then to Virgil. 

Both workers were speechless, and all Virgil said was that he didn't know. Virgil shed his exo-suit and began examining the girl. "She has a mild concussion and a few small cuts from where she impacted with my suit, but other than that she should be okay."

"Good," Scott answered. "Let's take her to the med bay in Thunderbird 2, then we'll come back and seal the cave."

"FAB."

_____________________________________

After insuring that the three workers were safe and as comfortable as the could be in the back of Thunderbird 2, Scott and Virgil began to walk over to the cave entrance. 

"Virg, do you have any idea what happened?"

"Aside from potentially being spooked from being trapped in a cave for a couple hours, type of claustrophobia insanity I really don't know." 

"The one male worker said that Maria had said that they weren't alone…" 

"Do you think that we should go in and look for someone else?"

"I'm not picking up on anyone else on my scans, but it couldn't hurt to go and take a quick look. If you don't mind going in, I'm going to ask the workers a couple of more questions. Something isn't sitting right with me. Bring your exo-suit, we are not sure what you'll find down there."

Virgil entered the cave, calling out to what felt like an Abyss of rock and darkness. The only light was from his shoulder torch. 

"This is International Rescue, is anyone here?" He called out again.

Nothing. 

"Scott, it's been about 20 minutes and I haven't found any other signs of life and after running new scans there are no new heat signatures, so I'm going to make my way back up to the mouth of the cave."

"FAB Virgil. I talked to the workers and they said that when Maria got there she was fine and wasn't being weird at all, but after approximately 15-20 minutes after the cave and she started acting erratically and started showing signs of unexplained paranoia."

"Is she awake yet?"

"Yeah, she woke up about 10 minutes after you went into the cave. She seems calmer now, she’s still a bit frantic, but not nearly as easily frightened as she was before."

"Good. I'll give her a more thorough check-up when I come back." 

'Hellllo? Can you help me?'

"Hold on Scott! I may have found someone."

"You did?"

"I think so, adjusting comms so you can hear around me." Virgil adjusted his comms so Scott could hear the noises around him in the cave. 

"This is International Rescue. Can you hear me?"

'Help, please.'

"What is your name?"

'Sandra… please stay with me.'

"Sandra please keep talking, I'm going to try to follow your voice."

"Umm Virgil? I can't hear who you are talking to."

"You can't? Hmm weird, maybe she's just too quiet."

'Free me, save me.'

Virgil wandered deeper into the cave ignoring the previous comments by Scott. He didn't think it was possible, but Virgil swore it was getting darker and colder. 

'Stay with mmm...'

"Sandra? Sandra? Please keep talking. I can't find you with my scans, you have to keep talking."

'They left me, just like you'll leave me.'

"I promise I won't leave you. We'll get you out, stay calm."

"Virgil?" Scott called, "What's going on?"

"Not sure, she's muttering about someone leaving her. You still can't hear her?"

"I can only hear you. Hold on. Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5, John can you run a scan of the cave again for life signs?"

"Sure Scott." A small pause before John continued, "I have three people inside Thunderbird 2, you and Virgil."

"Is there any reason why someone wouldn't show up on the scan?"

"The rock is not deep enough for a type of material that would be messing with my scans. Why?" 

"Virgil is talking to someone in the cave, but I can't hear her through external comms and she's not showing up on any heat scans."

"Now that you say that Virgil's brain activity is quite spiked right now. It could be just because of stress." 

An audible yell was heard from the comms. "Virgil?" Scott yelled, "Virgil what's going on?"

"She's not human Scott!" 

"Not human?" Another grunt as Virgil fell onto the ground. The whirring of his exo-suit amplified over the comms. 

"She's dead Scott! She's not...!" 

Virgil was obviously spooked. Wasn't making any sense. "Hold on Virgil, I'll be right there!"

Scott was met with no response other than Virgil huffing and puffing as he ran towards the entrance of the cave. Sandra crawling after him, her nails digging into the dirt. Long brown, dirty hair fell from her face and sunken eyes stared him down as he ran. 

It wasn't long before Scott nearly ran into Virgil as he bolted past him. "Virgil!"

"Run!" Scott took a look behind him, but saw nothing. He couldn't hear anything either. 

'You said you'd save me.'

"It's hard to save you if you're a ghost!" Virgil yelled back and saw that Scott was not following him. Virgil skidded to a halt, "Scott what are you doing?" 

"Virgil," Scott turned around to look down the cave, then back at Virgil, "there's no one there!"

Virgil's breathing was rapid and distressed, "but- but she's right there…"

Scott took one last glance towards down the cave, just to make sure. 

"Come on Virgil," Scott said as he began to lead Virgil out of the cave. Virgil turned around to see Sandra waving at him, then she sulked back into the shadows. 

_____________________________________

*Back at Tracy Island*

"Hey," Scott asked as he walked into the living area with two cups of coffee in hand. "Feeling better?" 

Graciously taking a cup Virgil settled back into his spot on the couch. "Yeah, but I don't know why? Did I just lose it?" 

"G-good new-news." Brains said as he entered the living area with his tablet in hand. After a few hand swipes he brought what was displaying on his screen to be viewed on the main monitor. 

The screen showed scans of Virgil's brain waves at various times during the mission, as well as a graph and another diagram that had something to do with an element. Scott didn't quite understand, but Virgil did. 

"Wait, what?" Virgil asked. 

"Brains, what is this?" Scott asked as he and Virgil both leaned forward. 

"T-this is a scan of Virgil's b-brain, with a corresponding gr-graph and the elem-mental properties of an unknown t-toxin."

"Toxin?" Both boys asked. 

"Y-yes.  In 2056 there was a-another small cave in an-annd afterwards miners reported getting headaches and hearing s-strange n-noises. It seems that there was a small u-underground explosion around the a-area of the cave which seems to have caused the cave in.

"After doing some r-research using the data taken around the area at that t-time I compared it to the data from t-today and noticed a similarity. To put it simply a m-mineral in the mine was m-mixing with a gas from underground. These two elements mixed together cause hallucinations, both a-auditory and visual." 

"So the second explosion was larger causing more of the elements to mix, increasing the hallucinations effects?" Scott turned to Brians. 

"E-exactly!"

Virgil released a large sigh he was holding. "Thank God, I thought I was going nuts."

"Not yet little brother," Scott said as he clasped his hand on Virgil's back. "When that time comes we can blame Alan and Gordon."

Virgil slumped back into the couch, "see I told you, Halloween is always weird."

Brains chuckled slightly and began walking down to his lab. 

Unbeknownst to the boys, Brains left something out of his report. 

There had been a previous accident in the cave back in 2054, two years before the explosion. A support beam had collapsed and a woman named Sandra Torres perished having been trapped, and left behind.  

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Afterward (12/13)

The deeper they dig, the more frequently and louder Connor screams. At first, it seems Sarah is the only one who hears him, but around four feet into digging, Will starts wincing too, and April gets it at five. There aren’t words, just the most heart-wrenching, broken, blood-curdling scream like he’s dying all over again, and doesn’t want to be alone this time. He didn’t deserve to die alone, but that’s the way it seems things turned out for him.

The dirt feels strange on Sarah’s hands when she can’t entirely feel it. There’s no neurons to her skin anymore. She hates everything about this feeling and yet, it persists. She can’t do anything to get rid of it, and she can’t even try to move on until she’s sure that the threat has been eliminated and nothing bad will happen to April. At least, nothing more than what’s already happened.

“April, get the incantation ready,” she says, shouting a little to be heard over Connor’s screaming. 

April immediately stops digging and fumbles for Sarah’s notebook. They can’t make the hole exactly six feet, not without a measuring tape, but it seems good enough because it’s about as deep as Will is tall.

“Open the bag and drop the heart into the hole.”

Will obeys without hesitation, but the moment the heart is out in the open air again, the darkness around them feels deeper, and it’s all Sarah can do not to scream like Connor is. The urge bubbles up in her chest, pushes at her insistently, prods her like the needles from her IV what feels like a million years ago. It burns, almost. And when the heart hits the dirt at the bottom, it feels like she’d vomit if she could. The nausea rolls over her, won’t leave her alone.

As April begins speaking in a tongue unfamiliar to her mouth, trying not to stumble over the latin Sarah knows all too well from years of practice, the first sparks of flame begin to eat away at the heart. At the same time, they bite into Connor and he burns too, still screaming and now begging desperately for help, so loudly that it has Will covering his ears and crying all over again.

A burning sensation, twin to everything else, settles itself in every inch of Sarah’s being, but when she looks at herself, she isn’t being destroyed like the rest of it. Maybe it didn’t get to her, and wouldn’t that be a thought. The blessing April tried to use to release her, worked, but only partially. Not enough. She’s here still, but at least she’s not caught in the way Connor is.

“It’s going to be okay,” she tells him, even as he’s vanishing and the sound of his screams warps painfully. “Everything will be alright, Connor. You’ll be happier now.”

“Tell him I’m sorry,” Connor cries, and she nods. 

He fades, and when Sarah looks down to the heart, it’s almost completely gone.

“Bury it again,” Sarah says, and while April and Will get back to it, she takes Connor’s almost gone hand. Holds it. Strokes her thumb along his knuckles. This time, he’s not alone. He smiles at her, a little sadly, and just like that, he’s gone. 

Then she starts at helping them in the dirt all over again. Burying it doesn’t erase it, but it does help make sure the pain stops, and protects people in the future. Sarah had hoped this would free her as well, but she’s still, wishing she could kiss April again. They only did it a couple of times, but it felt like coming home, and now, now all of that is gone. She can’t ever feel that again. And she’s still trapped here, but with no idea why or how to escape. Connor may have suffered, but he’s not still stuck here, still in pain. He’s free. 

“Sarah, you’re still here?” April asks tentatively, watching more dirt fall into the hole than herself and Will are managing on their own. 

“I’m still here.”

When they approach the top of the hole again, Will mutters something about walking home, and leaves the two of them alone to sort this out themselves. Sarah smooths the dirt, and wishes they could put back the grass. Someone may dig this up again in a few days out of curiosity, but by then, the threat should have completely passed. 

Then April gets back into her car with her shoulders sagging down, the weight of everything they’ve been through in the last few days sinking on her, into her, deeper than it should for any human being as they weave through the chaos brought on by the hospital literally collapsing.Thankfully, April’s apartment isn’t too far of a drive and they’re only trapped in the car for twenty minutes before the keys are yanked out of the ignition and April trudges up to her home. Sarah remembers it being homey, if a little disrupted by the haunting.

The first thing she notices is that the spirits are gone now. No longer here. They must’ve gone when the heart was buried, just like Connor. It seems they truly were a part of it, not just tied into everything. But the thing that really hurts is that Sarah’s grandmother’s cross is sitting reverently on the kitchen counter. A ward, but one which doesn’t push her away because it’s a part of her, she thinks, something which ties her to the Earth. Maybe burning it will free her, but she can’t imagine destroying something so tied to her family, to her life, to everything she stands for as a person even though she isn’t a believer like April is. 

As though she’s forgotten Sarah is still here, April all but falls onto her couch and buries her face in gritty, dirt and blood covered hands. She needs a shower. But that’s likely the last thing on her mind with the trauma she’s been through, the minute shakes of her shoulders. Too slowly, Sarah realizes she’s crying. And all she wants to do is sit beside her, wipe her tears and kiss her jaw and promise her that everything can be fixed. If only things were that simple.

Sarah feels strange, just standing here and watching this. Like she’s intruding on a private moment, seeing something not meant for anyone’s eyes. Oddly enough, she feels this is as intimate as watching someone shower. So she turns away and busies herself admiring the crucifix. Now that she’s gone- and so is the threat- she wonders if April will keep it. Probably not. There’s no point, and it only serves as a reminder of the kind of pain with which she was inflicted. No one likes reminders like that. They just hurt too much.

She can’t think of anywhere else to go. She doesn’t think she can leave Chicago, as whatever is binding her is probably here, but April is the only person she really knows. Will is more of an acquaintance, and he clearly needs space right now.

Out of nowhere, she hears it, then. 

“Sarah?”

“I’m still here.” 

She hears April moving around behind her, probably trying to see her, find her. She isn’t visible, though. Connor didn’t teach her that, and she has yet to figure it out herself. “What happens next? Med is destroyed, and so’s Connor, and you- you’re still here.”

“I don’t know.”

And she doesn’t. When it comes to these things, she usually has the answers. It’s her job to have the answers. This time, the time that it actually matters, she doesn’t, and she hates herself for it so much that she actually feels the pain in her gut. Any words she might come up with would offer no comfort. Perhaps it’s time she stops trying to help. 

“Who does your work? You said it yourself, how many people need your help.”

“I don’t know.”

“And if you’re still here, that means you’re trapped, so how- how can I fix that?”

“I don’t know.”

Every time Sarah admits it, she feels even smaller. Even worse. And when she looks to April again, finally, she sees her standing in the middle of the room with her palms up and her eyes shut, the way she must have seen Sarah do when she was trying to contact the spirits on that first fateful night. She’s adorable and naive and too good for everything that’s happened.

“What if I did it? I’m a fast learner, and I’ve got all your notes. I can learn, make a difference-”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Sarah interrupts. She only did this because there was nothing else she could. No one deserves the loneliness, the uncertainty.

April’s eyes open, almost glowing gold, and she says softly, “Then don’t ask. I want to.”

Not for the first time, Sarah thinks she’s otherworldly, but now, there’s a truth to it. She looks more than human. And if there were words to describe the way she feels right now, they’d pour out of her like a waterfall. Unfortunately, there are no such luxuries, and she’s speechless. 

“And since you’re still here, until I can free you, you can help me. We can help people. Doesn’t that sound like a good thing?”

It does. Sarah wants it. And maybe, just maybe, she can have it.

[fisherfurbearer]

Updates

Well.

It’s my 21st birthday today.

I’ve been very quiet here since winter, but in actuality so much has happened. I’m still sorry for being-here but not-being-here, and vanishing on everyone waiting on art, but it’s really been a whirlwind. Just a real wild ride.

I had this big, rambling post written up, explaining what’s happened so far this year and what’s been going on, but I don’t think it’s necessary really. What matters is that I’ve made it this far. This time six months ago I really wasn’t sure if I’d make it to see today. But. Here I am.

I feel like life has been pretty unrelenting in the past few years, and it never seems to end. Between this post and my last text posts, I’ve had another Break Down due to problems with work and doctors, and it’s been pretty terrifying, but I think it’s going to be okay. We’re not out of the woods and I really need to focus on this right now so I still won’t have time to get back into art (which I do plan on doing!! But it’s really not fair to anyone for me to start up again when I’m still not completely stable) and everything else.

But hey. Even after that recent disaster, I’m still here. I’ve been on much better meds for almost 5 months now, I’ve been figuring out what I want to do with my life, and I have my second wind. Things have been getting a lot better (even though a LOT has also been going wrong, but such is life, and we get through it!) and I’ve been on the right track for several months now. I think I’m truly happy.

I’m still here and so is most everyone else. I figure it’s about time I do an update on everyone, as this is a pet blog after all, and I think it’s best to let everyone know how we’re all doing. It’s been a long time since I really talked about everyone properly, and a lot has happened. So here’s the all-encompassing update on everyone:

INVERTS

I posted about this a bit before, but yes. At the start of July I found that I lost about half of the tarantulas. While I think in general we were doing okay picking up the pieces from everything that happened, not everyone was alright. It’s my fault, and I take responsibility. I don’t care how tough things were, it wasn’t fair to them that I let them go unnoticed for too long. Most of the slings passed away, they got too dry, and the more moisture dependent ones passed away as well, including Boopus, Conte, Lucy, and Cassini.

There is a huge hole in my heart from losing them. I will never let this happen again. I don’t CARE how hard things get for me, I will NEVER let my illness take the lives of the ones I care about ever again. I don’t know if it’s the right decision to continue keeping Ts at all after what happened, but since it did, Jessie and I had a very serious conversation about was has to change if I want to keep the remaining Ts. I’ve spent a lot of time re-working how I care for everyone, and so far, everyone has been recovering VERY well. The remaining Ts are: Agnes, Deckard, Isidore, Montag, Winnipeg, Wilder, Flaveri, Kessler, Kitty, and Turnip. They are all fat and hydrated and doing better. Deckard and Isidore molted successfully, and Winnipeg is deep in pre-molt. Montag had some sort of weird kinda-mites-but-not-mites thing going on, but I got most of them off and they’ve been doing really well for about a month now.

Suffice to say I think everyone is going to be okay. The ones that are here. I do love them deeply and I need to not let my illness get in the way of them. My depression was slowly eating away at everything I loved, including them and my desire and ability to care for them, but I will never let it happen again. No matter what, I’ll do what’s best for them, even if it’s a tough decision.

As for the other inverts...the roaches are all doing very well. Red goblins have had their ups and downs but the colony is big and thriving. I finally have adults again and babies are cropping up once more. My dubia colony is finally stable and they’ve been delightful waste disposals for all the ugly peppers and bolted greens from our poor little garden. The rothi, the Original Dig Sons, are STILL kicking. I thought the female was gone but she cropped up again and is as gigantic and cute as ever. They’re chubby and happy and digging like champs. The little kenyans are also doing well!! I’m moving them in with the dubia and they seem to thrive with them. Everyone is peaceful and passive to one another, and by being in the bigger colony they have much more space and food options than before.

All in all, the inverts are recovering and doing okay. I also have thriving isopod cultures in the geckos’ vivs, and they’re doing very well! Lots of orange P. pruinosis in there.

REPTILES

Vladimir and Estragon are doing WONDERFULLY. After the fire I was very worried about the smoke, but both geckos have been perfectly fine and very active and healthy, especially as the weathers warmed up. Estragon is exploring all the time now, and has recovered well after all the stress of moving around so much earlier this year. As I type this he’s climbing the glass of his viv and mleming the air. He’s such a little man and I love him. I’ve been watering the vivariums properly again and they’ve been exploding with growth! Not all the plants made it but the ones left actually need trimming, they’re growing too fast!! The local pet place has lots of vivarium plants available actually and I got a couple that I’m going to plant in the empty spots for the boys. So right now the vivs definitely look a little wonky, but it’s nothing we can’t fix, and the boys themselves are doing GREAT. They lost a little weight after all the chaos, but Gogo is a good chunky boy and Didi is doing awesome too!! Eating lots and he even catches the loose roaches that have been living in the leaf litter, which is pretty cool to watch and great enrichment for him. My little men have been doing so good and I’m so happy that we’re all okay. <3

MAMMALS

Before the fire, I had recently gotten my very first rats, which was a huge deal on here, if any of you remember that!! Java, Lisp, and Python have been thankfully 100% okay after the fire, and have suffered 0 smoke injury! They were farther from where it happened, but there was definitely some smell in my room but now, eight months later, I think it’s safe to say that they’re unaffected. The rats are doing GREAT. They get pampered every single day by everyone here, and my roommate LOVES them. Even when I couldn’t take care of them, he’d feed them and squish them daily, which was a huge help while I dealt with all the craziness. I’m getting back into the routine and taking over their care again, but I can’t thank him enough for his help.

The rats are now THE BIGGEST BOYS and Java is the BEST bean!!! He went from peeping and running away when we first got him to bruxing like CRAZY whenever we hold him and he loves being squished. I don’t know why. They all just love being held and squished and Lisp has some really unsettling Extreme Happy Boggles when we do it, he loves being crushed. (Not that we actually “crush” them, just gently pretend to squish them with our hands while joking about squashing them into pancakes)

They get so much love every single day, and they’ve been one of the best things to ever happen to us. Unfortunately since moving here (and I wasn’t aware of this until the day of move-in, haha, lucky me...) they’ve had to live in the basement which is colder than I’d like and makes it hard for me to care for them, but soon we’re switching to 100% fleece and they’ll be able to live up here with us properly!! I’m so excited about it and it’ll make caring for them so much easier. I’m so excited.

OH and how could I forget. I put off saying this but we DO have a few more pet friends since I last mentioned everyone in December. We bought five little mice into our home many months ago, and their names are Awesome Opossom, Moggles the Mole, Inspector Beans, Bhombus, and Trungalo. They were one of the best things ever, for me. They’re the perfect fit for our lives and they’ve been thriving since we got them. They’re so relaxing and wonderful, and they are incredibly calm and squishy little girls. Sadly, Possie passed away a month or so after she came here (she was almost like a FTT...she was doing so well, then she just...she wasn’t growing like everyone else, no matter what I did, and one day she just. Didn’t make it. We found her snuggled up in her favorite hide in a pile of fleece. No one bothered her. She passed away peacefully.) and she just...she was here for such a short time but she changed everyone’s lives forever. She was the most incredible little thing. She was so outgoing and sweet and when we bought them home she instantly became Nick’s favorite little friend. I’d come home from work and he’d be in the middle of the living room playing with her. He loved her so, so much and even though the mice “are mine” I really think Possie was his. She was a very special little thing and I’m glad she could spend the last of her time with us. She was an incredible little animal.

All in all though...the rodents are doing good. It still hurts my heart that Possie passed away but we did everything we could and we had a special little service for her under the big tree in the backyard, and we will never forget her. I kinda wish everyone here could’ve gotten to know her too. She was really something special.

Otherwise...ahh gosh it feels really sad to say anything else after talking about Possie. She was so, so wonderful, but so are the remaining meecers. Mice are weird. They’re just so small and gentle and wonderful, and I’m really happy to have them with us.

Oh yes!! And there are two more little friends who joined us. I researched getting birds for a few years, and back in mid-April in my area there was a couple having to rehome some of their button quail. They hatched and raised them by hand, and I talked it through with Jessie and we jumped on the opportunity to adopt a pair. It worked out wonderfully for everyone and now it’s been about four months with us and they’re doing fantastic. Their names are Wasabi (male) and Mushroom (female) and they’re an extremely devoted mated pair and we love them. They’re in our front living room and while we don’t/can’t handle them they have become so outgoing in their own way and I’ve learned so much about caring for them over the past few months. They’re very relaxing to care for and any time I slack a bit with anything, they let me know by tapping the front of the enclosure until I investigate and fix whatever’s wrong. It’s actually really helpful and over time I’ve gotten much better and now they hardly ever pace or tap the front, which makes me feel like I’m doing something right. They seem peaceful and spend a lot of their time with each other and bathing in their dirt bath or foraging for treats. c:

All in all, we’re really getting there and have been getting so much better since The Disaster that was winter. The animals are doing great/much better, I’m getting better (although the recent scare is still a drain and I do have to work 12-9 pm today but so it goes...) and it’s going to be alright, I think. And I have a very supportive partner and awesome roommate and friends and I can’t thank them enough for helping me get this far. I wouldn’t be here without them.

Well anyway. Happy birthday to me, I spent way too long writing this and now I need to rush to get ready to work for the rest of the day/night. But so it goes, I’ve been through worse. c;

[jbuffyangel]

Exhausted: This Is Us 3x05 Review (Toby)

This Is Us focuses on the Pearsons’ significant others in “Toby.” It’s an extremely packed episode, which probably means they need to focus on the supporting characters more frequently. There is a connective thread with Toby, Beth and Miguel, beyond just being married to Pearsons, finally being explored, which I am excited about. They each carry their spouses to the point of exhaustion.

Let’s dig in...

Toby and Kate

Chris Sullivan carries this episode on those big, broad shoulders and gives us a side of Toby we haven’t seen. At his core, Toby is caretaker and in that way reminds me of my husband who is also just as amazing.  But there are times I want to ask Toby, “Aren’t you exhausted? I am a glass half full, rainbows and unicorns type person, but even I cannot compete with Toby’s energy, positivity and enthusiasm. Toby is always on. He’s almost superhuman in that way.

Well, it turns out Toby is not superhuman and yes, he is exhausted. We see flashbacks of Baby Toby, who is the very definition of the cutest, and we learn Toby’s sadness has always been part of him. In fact, he’s very similar to his mother. Is depression genetic? If yes, then I didn’t know that. 

Anywho, Toby’s mother is overwhelmed with a new baby and fighting constantly with his jerk of a father.

“There’s so much of her in you it scares me.”

THAT IS NOT SOMETHING YOU SAY TO YOUR CHILD! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Unfortunately, Toby’s father does not view depression as a medical ailment and simply advises his son to get his “mopey” attitude under control because it won’t play well as an adult. What a prize this guy is.

Toby used his wonderful sense of humor to cheer up his depressed Mom as a child. Ugh my heart. As for Toby’s mother, just speaking from experience, sometimes you really just need “one damn day.” You’re doing great, sweetie.

Toby’s last live in girlfriend wasn’t able to handle his moods and she left him, which sent Toby spiraling deeper in his depression. Eventually, he started seeing a therapist, started taking meds and then he met Kate.

I would classify Kate the same as me – high maintenance. This works well with someone who gravitates more towards the caretaker role. But the focus needs to shift time to time, so your partner doesn’t feel short changed.

Toby spends a great deal of time cheering Kate up, cheering Kate on, and being her “rock” as she earnestly put it. However, Toby’s need to be Kate’s hero has led him down a disastrous plan of going off his meds. The sadness is coming back and Toby doesn’t know what to do other than pretend it’s not happening.

However, once Kate announces she’s pregnant (YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FINALLY SOME GOOD NEWS FOR THESE TWO), Toby’s rock wall of positivity and joy goes tumbling down. He sobs into wife’s arms. 

Letting go and succumbing to the depression isn’t weakness. It’s strength. Sometimes you need to drown before you can swim.  Sometimes you need to go deep into the hole before you can figure your way out.

It’s also a hugely important moment in Kate and Toby’s marriage. I always say marriage is not 50/50. Sometimes it’s 90/10 or 40/60. What you and your partner need day to day and year to year shifts. 

I think it’s fair to say though Toby has been carrying his share of emotional burdens. Toby can’t be sad because Kate is. Toby can’t worry because it’ll make Kate worry more. Toby can’t be angry because Kate is lashing out from pain and grief, so he just has to take it. It goes on and on and on, which is why I wanted to ask Toby, “Aren’t you exhausted?”

This isn’t Kate’s fault either. We can only know what our partner shares with us. Toby kept Kate out. He wanted to be the rock and she needed a rock. It was a mutually beneficial relationship until it wasn’t. That’s marriage. You have to grow and evolve with your partner.

Now it’s about what Toby needs. Toby needs to know he doesn’t have to be in control all the time. He needs to know Kate isn’t going to leave him when the sadness comes. Toby needs to let Kate all the way in. It’s her turn to be the rock.

Randall and Beth

I love you Randall. You are a deeply good human being. You are a blessing to all the lives you touch, but sometimes my friend, you leap before you look.

Randall and Beth are preparing for his first campaign event and my first thought was...

Beth just lost her job. Maybe this isn’t the best time to be piling on. Are they independently wealthy? That house is huge and it must come with a serious mortgage. Do they not have bills to pay? Everyone seems very calm about the whole no income situation. I would not be this calm. Then again, maybe Randall listens to Suze Orman and has 12 months of savings.

Side bar: Every time my husband and I saved whatever monthly sum Suze Orman said we needed she would then add another three months. For example, we’d save 3 months and she’d say save 6 months. We’d save 6 and she’d say 9. And so on. It made my husband very cranky and now I’m not allowed to watch Suze Orman because he says she turns me into a crazy person. End side bar.

Unfortunately, Randall just dives right in and tells the people who came for free barbecue all the ways they are wrong about their current council man. He has a bit of a faceoff with the restaurant owner who explains the current councilman saved his business years ago. People don’t owe him loyalty. They owe him their lives.

Yeesh. Yeah, probably should have put some quiet feelers out there Randall. Maybe a poll Jed Bartlet style. I don’t know what this means for Randall’s future as city councilman, but he’s not off to a great start.

What I really want to talk about is BETH. My queen is not doing great. She is putting up a good show of confidence in front of Randall about interviewing for new jobs and fielding six figure offers. 

Source: livelovecaliforniadreams

However, she broke down crying in an interview. She’s not expecting a call back and Beth is right.

What’s sad is Beth doesn’t feel like she can share this with Randall. She constantly has to be on like Toby. Beth is so busy nurturing Randall’s dreams and easing his anxiety there’s very left over for her – both in the relationship and within herself.

Of course she broke down in an interview! Beth honey you were fired from the business you helped build. Grab some booze and take a week off girl. You need it.

But Beth can’t do that. She has to support her family. If she’s worried then it means Randall will worry more. And on and on and on it goes.

Miguel and Rebecca

Poor Miguel. I think he’s been given a bad rap. He’s trying to so hard to be there for the kids and Rebecca, but he’s not trying to take Jack’s place. That’s impossible. He’s simply trying to keep his promise to Jack. 

Source: @livelovecaliforniadreams

There are people who are such a force in our life that it's difficult to imagine them ever dying. It's impossible in fact.

It’s an exhaustive effort from Miguel. Literally. He carries a piano upstairs and spends the better part of the day fixing Rebecca’s refrigerator. Then he gives a pep talk to Randall (which is not well well received) and lets drunk Kevin crash at his place. This was just one day. I’m sure it makes Miguel feel for Rebecca on a whole other level.

I understand the kid’s reservations to Miguel. Their guard is up. They are protective of their father and the hole his passing has put in the family. But I’m fond of Miguel for the same reason the Pearson children are guarded around him - he is not biological and he reminds me of my grandmother. 

My mother’s mom died when she was 19. Her father (my grandpa) eventually remarried. My mother liked her step mother and even grew to love her, but the day my sister was born my father had a tough conversation with my mom. He said, “I know this is going to be hard to hear, but Jeanne will be the only grandmother our children will ever know. So, I think you need to think seriously about the kids calling her Grandma.” My father’s mother was also gone by this time. 

My mom said it was hard to hear, but she knew her step mother would be an amazing grandmother. And she was. My Grandma Jeanne wasn’t my biological grandmother, but she was the only one I had and she was truly wonderful. I like to think she was a gift my Grandma Noella and Grandma Sara sent to us.

So, when I look at Miguel I think what a gift he is to the Pearson family. And it’s what Jack thought as well. It’s why he asked Miguel to look after his family.

Kevin and Zoe

This is a safe space. I am going to raise my stupid white person hand and say I too did not know what the pillowcase was for. So, thank you Kevin Pearson. Your ignorance illuminated my ignorance and I learned something! 

The scenes between Kevin and Don Robinson, Jack’s army buddy, are truly wonderful. 

Source: livelovecaliforniadreams

There’s so much pride in Robinson’s voice as he reveals the truth to Kevin. Jack hid this piece of his life for a good reason, but there is so much to be proud of as well. It’s really a defining moment in the series, where Kevin realizes how much of a hero his father was and how little he really knows about his time in Vietnam.

I was kind of scratching my head when Robinson said Jack never wrote him back. Does that sound like Jack Pearson thing to do? I shrugged it off though and just chalked it up to Jack trying to leave the war behind like Don said. But then, he finds Kevin and gives him the letters. Robinson had to measure the promises he made to Jack versus the wishes of his son. Not an easy decision, but I think he made the right one. Those letters are going to be illuminating.

Source:  wondersprince

As for the photograph and the woman with the necklace, the same necklace Kevin wears with his father’s dog tags, I’m not sure what it means. Obviously, this person is incredibly important to Jack or else he wouldn’t have kept the necklace for all these years. Could it have been romantic? Sure. If it was does it mean Rebecca wasn’t Jack’s true love? No, not at all.

Keep in mind Vietnam was pre-Rebecca. Jack was pretty clear when he met Rebecca he knew immediately she was “The one.” However, we love many  people in our life. It’s okay to carry pieces of them with you, which is what I think Jack has done. He kept a piece of this woman with him, just like he kept a piece of Don Robinson with him when he place his hands on his children's’ faces and said, “Breathe.”

Stray Thoughts

I think Randall’s dual culture upbringing is strength. He is a black man who was raised in white culture. I think it gives him unique perspective and he belongs in both worlds. It’s not an either or. Maybe this makes me naive but it’s what I think.

Holy crap is this how in vitro really works? It’s so friggin expensive and the success rate is so low! Wow. Sending snuggles to everyone who has every struggled with infertility. You are not alone.

Randall unbuttoning his shirt is all the reason I need to vote for him. Done deal.

Randall: All his lemonade froze Beth.

Beth: Yeah but he was stupid baby.

I love everything about them. I ship it like Fed Ex.

Three hours to get ready Kate? Just as an FYI - that’s all over when you have a baby. You’ll be lucky to get a shower.

Nobody had fun at prom? Man, can teen Pearsons catch a break at some point?

A+ on the prom dresses. Absolutely what I wore in high school. We were slaves to fashion in the late nineties. ;)

I’m super confused. So, Randall’s date wouldn’t go to prom with him because her dad is a racist asshole? How does that work? You are in the dress. The hair is done. Randall Pearson is looking gorgeous in a tux and has a corsage ready to go. You tell dad to go to hell and get in the damn limo kid. Where is her mother in all of this??? What is wrong with people????

Kate’s impression of Adele is dead on.

Rebecca is such an amazing mom. Kate doesn’t give her nearly enough credit.

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 15

“I’m actually more worried about you and your store, seeing how you buy poisonous herbs at such a high price.”

I answered Arleaf’s dad while changing the topic.

“Well, obviously, it’s ‘cause this sorta medicine is a local specialty of our village. Oh, yeah, and don’t you go entering our fields either. I won’t forgive you if you do that.”

This village grows some questionable herbs… According to Arleaf, it’s some sort of ingredient for anesthesia, but let’s not get too deep into that subject.

‘Hmm? That field? The herbs I saw growing there were not poisonous ones but a kind that is very effective as an antidote.’

Doubts of Veno’s knowledge on medicinal herbs pass through my mind, but it’s likely to be some other field.

“… is that right?” “It’s just that I post requests for adventurers for the stuff that grows in places a li’l dangerous.”

I don’t really want to know too much about this topic. Well, with three days and the help of a map, I’ve got a pretty good grasp of the villages and the area around here. I wonder if I’m running around a little too carelessly. Actually, I wonder if why Arleaf’s dad is being so hospitable to me is because I’m a regular customer. Or maybe it’s because I seem like I’m also fond of dangerous meds.

“Aren’t you actually here to stock up? I know some guys who can help you out.”

Ugh. Totally suspicious. I don’t wanna delve into anything too shady. I hope Arleaf’s alright. It sucks how she has to go peddle such dangerous medicine when she’s got such a cute face.

‘They do say that every rose has its thorn.’

Veno, if you could, I’d like you to disagree.

‘Is it not quite the cliché for a hero to fall into such trickery? Humans are but foolish beings after all.’

It’s not that I don’t get you, but I’d like for you to think of Arleaf as just beautiful. Anyway, I’ll reject her dad’s proposition.

“I don’t really need to, no. I’m just here to complete whatever quest that’s convenient for me.” “You’re downright cold. You know, if you get wrapped up in our business a little more, you can learn what’s behind that beautiful face of hers.” “Aren’t you treating your daughter like some kind of public hazard? What’s really going on with her?” “Can’t tell secrets. Heh heh heh heh.”

With that, I take my pay as is routine by now, and leave the apothecary.

From this point… I head to the tavern to enjoy a late lunch. As I entered the place, the owner of the tavern was just placing a new bounty list on the wall. I’d like to go bounty hunting too. It’s pretty good money if you have proof of the work you did.

It really gets your blood pumping, like fighting a boss. But right now, my priority is to get stronger. It would be foolish for me to plunge myself into something that dangerous. But like Veno says, even sighting a wanted person is important information, so I should keep an eye out. With a tankard in one hand, I scan over the bounty list.

“Hmm? Ah, aren’t you… Cohgray of the Swamps?”

What, am I famous already? Did the proprietress of the inn talk about me? But rather, Cohgray of the Swamps…

“What is Cohgray of the Swamps?” “Ah, you’ve been going to the swamp ever since you’ve arrived here, haven’t you? Because you’re Cohray and you go to the swamp every day, you’re Cohgray of the Swamps.”

That’s an awful nickname. You couldn’t have picked anything cooler for me? I mean, in fantasy or superhero settings, the characters always have some sort of nickname. So maybe it’s normal for a nickname to come from something so simple.

“…” “Hey, don’t worry about it. Being famous is good. Work gets easier too. Since you’re so familiar with the ins and outs of the swamp, you might get invited by other people to guide them.”

Huh? You mean it might be possible for me to make friends with other adventurers and to be invited for things? That gets me kinda excited. I guess it’s fine, but I’m also interested in what the owner of the tavern posted just now.

“Is that a new bounty list?” “That’s right. They’ve sent this one as a special delivery even to a village like this. Probably means that their country is desperate.”

I had to restrain myself from yelling out after reading what it said.

Human metamorphosed from a dragon, 30,000,000 lag reward Engaged in battle with the joint forces of crusaders from Saint Yggdra and a dragonslayer on the △th day of the ○th month. Be wary of its ability to breathe flames like hellfire and to call down thunder. It is believed to be a Fire Dragon or Thunder Dragon. The dragonslayer weakened the dragon by placing a curse on the dragon to transform it into human. Right as the dragonslayer was about to finish it off, the dragon used cunning magics to flee. This dragon is hiding in the form of a human, aiming to recover strength, and extremely dangerous. We request neighboring nations to aid in the suppression of this dragon. The dragonslayer is in hot pursuit. We wish for any helpful information regarding this matter!

There’s no facial composite or description about appearance on the wanted poster. But judging by the traits and skills, that’s got to be Veno. Funnily enough, they called their own Forced Possession Summoning a curse.

‘It is natural for humans to falsify things so that it sounds better, is it not?’ “A dragon that dangerous is hiding in one of the countries next door, eh? Even then… that reward would really strain the coffers. An eager adventurer looking to get rich quick would go searching for this, eh? Too bad he’s not here.”

For some reason, the owner exasperatedly grumbled.

‘I cannot believe they released a wanted bulletin in a mere three days. You ought to be real careful of this, aye?’

With the reward being a whole 30 million lag, isn’t that actually a monumental amount? Arms and armor are expensive, but even then, it doesn’t cost that much. Killing a dragon weakened and in the form a human pays 30 million… any adventurer blinded by greed will definitely get wind of this and come looking.

… yikes. They still don’t know what kind of dragon Veno is exactly, but if they knew that he’s a Poison Dragon, they might suspect me, a Poison-Wielder. We’ve got to try our best to peacefully and quietly release this spell.

‘It is possible that they could have magic that can detect our whereabouts. You ought to tread forward carefully.’

Whose fault do you think it is that I’m in this predicament? is what I wanted to say, but I guess it’s not entirely Veno’s fault. We’re the victims here, having been forcefully brought together by those bastards. Because of all that, I was feeling pretty anxious. I played it cool, finished my meal, and headed back to the inn.

Back at the inn, I look around in my room. It’s my fourth day in this alternate world… for some reason, coming back to this room already calms me down. It’s beginning to feel like my home. Do people usually get this attached just by staying for a few nights? When I look over at my mixing machine in the corner, I really do mistake this room as my own. Even though I keep telling myself to be ready to escape at any given moment… well, no point in kicking myself over it. I check my status to see what I’ve accomplished with the past three days.

Kogure Yukihisa Poison-Wielder Level 17 Acquired skills: Spirit Link, Poison Absorption, Poison Release, Synthesize Poison, Detect Poison, Poison Enchantment, Hunting Sense, Hunting Mastery I, Aiming Shot, Trap Mastery I, Call Fungus

No other skills were added from what I remember. However, there are more poisons I can make by Synthesize Poison.

Like Moderate Paralysis and Moderate Anesthesia. That, and also Weak Acid, Weak Silencing Poison, and Weak Hallucinogen. By applying the poison to my bolts with Poison Enchantment, I know that Paralysis and Hallucinogen have an effect. Paralysis is as the name suggests, it numbs my target. It makes them sluggish, numb, and prevents them from moving. It takes some time for the poison to kick in and it doesn’t change with condensed poison either.

The other one is the hallucinogen. It kicks in almost immediately, making the target dizzy and hallucinate. The hallucination scares them and—depending on the monster—causes them to run away or go berserk. Veno thinks it’s stupid ‘cause you can’t tailor it to do anything specifically.

Besides balls of poison, I can also make poisonous mist with Poison Release now. If I release it upwind, it should spread pretty far, but I have yet to test it out. It’d be dangerous if I carelessly use it though; it might even spread to the village.

Right now, I’ve been meaning to try out my Weak Mollifying Poison. It softens up the hide or scales of a monster’s protective layer. Unfortunately, as it is, it doesn’t do anything even if you dump it right on them. Furthermore, it doesn’t cope well with heat. One of its weak points is that it disappears once it heats up. I don’t have enough levels to condense it either, so it seems like it’s out of my reach at the moment. While it doesn’t take all that much time to create, I made quite a bit of it, so I gathered it in a bucket. I took some of the inedibly tough meat that they sell here in this village and marinated it for a bit in this mollifying poison. I plan to borrow the inn’s kitchen tonight for this experiment in poisoned steak grilling.

Putting all this poison talk behind us, I’ve gained the skill Hunting Mastery. Thanks to Veno and his advice, I earned this skill by practicing with my crossbow. Well, I’m pretty familiar with how the crossbow works now as well. Maybe because of that, I also have Aiming Shot… I focus on aiming and the bolt strikes with a little more power. This definitely seems like an active skill.

This skill uses a bit of mana. I thought a good way to fight a monster would be to dig a hole in the swamp, trap it, and kill. When I tried that out, I gained Trap Mastery. Did I try that out today? Once the poison kicks in, they quickly die. The condensed poison made with Poison Release seems to work well enough.

Ah, obviously, I haven’t poisoned any human beings yet. Actually, I’ve been fighting monsters deep in the swamp upfront and it was kinda tough. I retreated many times thanks to Veno warning me. Some monsters don’t care about the pools of poison and they charge straight in for me. I don’t think I’d be able to fight ones that can shoot me with magic. I still don’t feel like I’ve fully mastered the crossbow.

That’s why I use traps to fight. Just in case I need them, I tend to store up my spoils with storage magic… but Veno almost always deliciously feasts on them. I’ve still got a lot to work on, but it’s going pretty well, eh? As well, I tried theorizing the difference between Masteries and poison creation. You can practice your Masteries but I can create poisons without practice. This is the difference between something gained from training and something that’s inborn. Veno had said before: no matter how hard a snake works, a venomous bite is not something that can be learned. Since it’s something I’m inherently capable of, it has nothing to do with hard work. It’s likely something to do with me being a Poison-Wielder that I can wield poison. Not only is it convenient, it’s nothing to scoff at either.

‘Surprisingly, you have grown accustomed to it.’

Well, yeah. I was originally a basic code monkey. I thought I’d hate a job as physically demanding as an adventurer. I didn’t think I’d be as good as I am. With that said though, there are still many monsters that are above me and levelling in the dungeon and fighting monsters there seems tough. Not only because of that, I also have people hunting me down, so I want to get stronger… I realize that it’s considerably difficult fighting alone.

Veno’s protection has helped me out a lot, but when I encounter a bunch of monsters together, I still have to withdraw. A real-life example would be the pack of Zombie Dogs. My poison ineffective against them, so I had no hope of beating them head-on. I’m not strong; there are limits to what I can do alone. Even with me power levelling, it’s rough to fight in the pools of poison.

Hmm… it might be dangerous, but should I be a little braver and join a party? They even call me Cohgray of the Swamps. It shouldn’t be weird for me to find some adventuring buddies, fight monsters in the area, and to take a tiny share of the experience. It’s just that I’m 26 years old and I somehow feel like I should be an experienced adventure already. I worry that others will refuse to join me because of that.

Arleaf’s dad is probably… I dare say, in his thirties. And he’s got a daughter that old already. I’m afraid marriageable age here is different than the one in Japan. I don’t think I look that old, but… well, whatever. I think I’ll head to the swamp after a quick rest. Since I’m going to the swamp again today, I suddenly I realized that I have to dry my robe in the shade.

“There’s mold on it… what’s worse, there’s even mushrooms growing…”

I didn’t realize that there were mushrooms with red caps growing on the lining of my robe! It’s only been three days since I got it from Veno! I didn’t think it’d grow mold that quickly. It’s a huge shock to me, but… that can only mean that I’m filthy.

‘It is because you do not often air it out, is it not?’

I know. It’s because I jump into swamp water so much and hanging it out to dry is a pain. I’m also often in a damp place. It doesn’t matter how much of a Poison-Wielder I am, my clothes won’t be resistant to poison too, eh?

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /next/ (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread) (support Average Translations on Patreon or Paypal)