#does this count as negative? i dunno just in case

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 3

Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they truly are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Your brother warns you against Elijah, so you get a Tarot reading to clear things up, only to be interrupted by Klaus.

Warnings: Brotherly Warnings, Witches, Alcohol, Tarot, Compulsion, Negging, Manipulation, Holding Hands, Kissing, Biting, Blood Play

Word Count: 2.7k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

“That Elijah guy really creeps me out, you know.” Austin tells you as he haphazardly enters your apartment. He makes his way over to the middle of your living room before throwing himself down on the sofa, opening his Styrofoam container of pad Thai

“Creeps you out? You met him for like five seconds!” You juggle your to-go box and two bottles of water as you kick the refrigerator door shut, setting them both down on the coffee table next to him. Your brother always had something bad to say about the men whose company you kept, but he seemed painfully vigilant about this one. “What do you even mean?”

“I dunno, sis, there’s something off about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but like… who wears a three piece suit like that in New Orleans?” He shakes his head and takes a bite of his noodles as if he hadn’t eaten in days, which very may well be the case. “And an all black one, at that?”

“Maybe he’s a local,” you argue with a shrug, having noticed that particular strange detail yourself. “Maybe the heat doesn’t bother him like it bothers us?”

“No, his accent isn’t from here.” He shakes his head and takes another bite before taking his time to swallow. “Whatever it is, I don’t like it. You’re always way too trusting of people, and it’s going to get the best of you one of these days.”

“Oh, shut up, you don’t like anyone.” You roll your eyes and twist the noodles onto your fork, slightly blowing for them to cool. “Maybe he just came from a funeral… or maybe he’s a vampire, and that’s why he’s cold enough to wear all those layers.” You joke with a dramatic tone, finally taking your first bite.

“Vampires aren’t real, sis. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Despite living in the most magical city in the world, your brother remains one of the most defiantly skeptical people you’d ever known. He refuses to believe in the supernatural despite the local legends, convinced instead that Louisiana has the highest homicide rate in the country due to the fault of human beings alone.

“So, what is it this time, then, huh? The vibes are off? His handshake wasn’t as strong as you wanted it to be? He didn’t look you in the eye for the correct amount of time before looking back down at the floor?” You call him out of his chronically obsessive behavior, referencing reasons he’s given you in the past for not liking certain people. “All we did was talk about books, anyway.”

“Uh-huh.” It was his turn to roll his eyes as he chewed on his noodles. “I know that look.”

“What look?” You ask sheepishly, hoping you weren’t imagining how Elijah was staring at you in the library.

“Just be careful.”

———————————————

The city is more alive after your brother passes out on your couch, and you slip out into the heavy night air, leaving him nothing but a note that you locked up tight and would be back before morning. You know you’d never hear the end of it if you didn’t tell him where you were, even if he had never done the same for you in return. Classic Austin.

The absence of the sun does little to bring down the temperature and humidity of this place, making it feel as if a thick blanket of heat rests on your shoulders, wrapping itself around your torso and legs as you attempt to seem unaffected by it, the beads of sweat on your skin no doubt giving you away. Everyone else in the crowd around you either seems to embrace it, not to notice, or be far too inebriated to even care. You duck in between a few drunk and disorderly tourists, a splash of watermelon slushie getting spilled in your hair before you’re able to walk into the voodoo shop that most people were too scared to enter.

“You shouldn’t be here, baby. It’s dangerous after dark.” The old lady behind the counter tells you, looking up from her ancient spell book. The wrinkles on her face tell the story of decades of magic, of life in the quarter that your brother would never even pretend to believe as the power within her vibrates the air around you, reminding you of what drew you to this city to begin with.

“The sign out front says that you do tarot readings.” You pull a twenty dollar bill out of your pocket and gently place it on the counter, pushing it toward her. “Would you be willing to do one for me?”

“You sure you want that?” Her voice is cautious as she looks you over, her eyes whitened with age as they peer into your very soul.

“I’m sure.” You’ve been dying to have your cards read so that you might know what to expect, to see if the fates can prove your brother wrong about his misconceptions about the man in the library.

“Alright, baby.” She smiles and shuffles the deck, slowly singing a song to herself in the process as three cards slowly fall out onto the counter in front of you. “Let’s see, here.”

She turns the first one over slowly before looking up at you, almost as if to make sure you’re paying attention. “The Moon. You’re going to have to choose between two paths, although it may not be clear which one is good and which one is bad. You can rely on the light of the moon to guide you, though, child. Don’t forget that.” She wags a finger in your face and turns the next card over. “The Emperor, a strong masculine figure will enter your life. He is rigid on control and order, but he’s also one who will serve you well. Don’t dismiss him too quickly, now.” She smiles at you before her hand hovers over the last card for what seems like forever, shaking a little before flipping it upright.

“The King of Swords… reversed.” She gives you a wary look, inhaling deeply before lifting her palm up to face you, as if that will help ease your mind somehow. “Don’t you worry now…”

“Don’t worry? You look worried!” Your eyes widen as your heart begins to race, wondering what could be so damn scary about this card that could frighten this old woman to the point of shaking.

Before she can answer you, the bell jingling above the door breaks your train of thought. The woman’s face suddenly drops as if she’d just seen a ghost, her expression far worse than when she saw your third card. She pats your hand affectionately as if to tell you that she’s all done with you, that you can go now, before letting go of your fingers. Without a word, she hurriedly collects your cards, making sure to shuffle them evenly back into the deck before taking a deep breath and glancing up at the new customer.

“What have we here? A little midnight tarot reading, is it?” You’d recognize that voice anywhere as it resonates deep within your bones, his very presence prickling your skin into an uneven pattern of excitable gooseflesh. “Consulting the fates before deciding to give me a call, love?”

“No harm in that, is there?” The woman answers for you, plastering a more believable smile onto her face as your benefactor slowly approaches the both of you.

“I suppose not.” He looks at you with a dark grin before addressing her again. “And what did the cards tell you this time, Marie? Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

“You know I can’t tell you that. The reading’s for her, and her alone.” She continues to shuffle the deck, making sure to lose your cards along the way. “Although I’d be happy to read your cards if you’d like.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.” He smirks, standing right next to you as he leans against the counter. “I’ve had them read more than enough times in my lifetime.”

God, he smells good.

“What can I do for you this time, wolf?” Marie asks him with a pained familiarity.

“Wolf?” You repeat, trying to make sense of the growing knot tying into your stomach.

Klaus laughs nervously, turning that angelic face of his toward you. “That’s just a little term of endearment Marie uses for me.” He pauses and waits for her to agree with a silent nod. “Wolf, baby, love, darling… you’ve heard one, you’ve heard them all, isn’t that right, love?”

“That’s right, ‘love’,” she corrects herself.

You can tell that Marie’s afraid of him. You can see it in her eyes, plain as day, but for some reason, as soon as Klaus looks at you, you hear a voice in your head telling you not to fear him. It calms your nerves and reassures you that her trepidation is unfounded, telling you that you can trust him with your life. It’s a new, very odd feeling that makes the knot in your stomach seem to unravel and disappear entirely without much of an explanation at all.

————————————————

“I was right about you, wasn’t I? You’re a believer.” Klaus glances over at you knowingly as you lead him through the quarter toward your apartment. Although his tone is light and flirty, his eyes are very serious.

“A believer? What happened to me being morbidly disturbed?” You vaguely remember the three cards Marie had given you, but decide not to focus on them for now. Instead you decide to focus on how closely his hand brushes against yours with each stride, how electric it makes you feel as he walks beside you.

“I don’t see why the two can’t coexist within that beautiful body of yours.” He raises an eyebrow as his pinky finger hooks in between your thumb and forefinger, sending a jolt of warmth up your spine. “As your benefactor and mentor, I find it my duty to inform you of the dangers that lurk in the darkest corners of this city, witches being one of them.”

“Witchcraft is real?” You ask point blank, cutting through any witty banter you might otherwise throw his way.

“Oh, I’m afraid so, love. Every story you’ve ever heard hushed whispers of, every suspicious tradition carried on by the locals, every legend of lore uttered by a tour guide…they’re all true. It’s a way of hiding in plain sight. They get to practice their way of life while the tourists are none the wiser. It’s a pretty convenient arrangement, really.”

“And you know all this, how?” Your heart skips a beat as he speaks so plainly about the supernatural presence in this city, giving you hope that you’ve found a like-minded person. You’ve always suspected that the stories were true, but never talked about it with anyone this openly.

“Oh, I’ve lived here for centuries,” he exaggerates with a cocky glare. “But it won’t take you that long to notice all the magic that’s in this city, to see just how dangerous it can be for someone like you.”

“Someone like me? What does that mean? Every city is dangerous, Klaus.” You take his warning with a grain of salt, but you still heed it, keeping his words in the back of your head and saving them for later. “And what do you mean, my mentor?” You allow him to take hold of your hand completely, wrapping his fingers around it with a squeeze.

“Did I fail to mention that I’m a painter, as well?” He laughs as you turn a corner on the sidewalk, your apartment building just a few doors down now. “It must have slipped my mind the moment I saw you and your work.” He gives you a beguiling smirk, his lips flushing a light rosy hue. “You were both so enchanting.”

“Really?” You smile at his confession, blushing at his compliment. “What do you paint?” That smirk of his suggests that he feels the growing warmth that’s spreading all over your chest and neck as it slowly makes its way into your core, that maybe he’s been feeling it all along.

“I tend to focus a bit more on abstract ideas, landscapes, skylines, things like that. Painting for me is a way to… clear my head when I need to escape, but it’s nothing as political or bold as your work.” He pauses, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “That being said, with the right funding and guidance, I think yours could be astoundingly better.”

“Better?” You try not to sound offended, but his words cut like a knife as you arrive at your doorstep, steeping in the awkward silence before he speaks again.

Does he even like your artwork at all?

“Oh, don’t be cross with me, love.” He releases your hand and slowly turns toward you, plating both palms over your hair to better look into your eyes. “The things I could show you if only you’d let me into your mind, into your creative process, in here,” he presses his middle and forefinger against your chest, pointing at your heart as he brings his face closer to yours. “I could help you discover so many new things, teach you techniques you haven’t even dreamed of, make you see stars brighter than the hottest summer’s day.”

Is he still talking about art?

His words fan that warmth inside you into a spark, unable to stop your body’s chemical reaction to his touch or the hypnotic sound of his velvety voice. You know deep down that something that burns this hot can’t possibly keep you alight for very long, but like a moth to the flame, you can’t help but be drawn to the fire within him. It’s been so long since you’ve allowed yourself to be consumed by anyone else’s madness, to be engulfed by their passion, but if this is what burns you down to mere embers, then so be it.

“I can do that.” You nod, eyelids fluttering as his lips feather over yours, parting ever so slightly before you decide to stand on your tiptoes and kiss him.

He tastes just as good as he smells, the faint flavor of whiskey and copper parting your lips as you breathe in his citrusy scent, committing it to memory. You moan as his tongue clashes against yours, exciting every neuron in your body as your hands end up in his dirty blonde curls, tugging and pulling him in even closer to you. You can feel his breath quicken as his chest rises and falls against yours, his hands mapping out every inch of your neck and shoulders as he greedily sucks your bottom lip between his teeth. Step by step, he walks you backward against the wall, his hips needily pinning you in place as his kiss greedily deepens to the point of breaking your skin.

You gasp as he pulls back just enough for you to notice your blood on his lip, his eyes seeming to darken with desire before he languidly licks it off, looking you in the eye to see how you’ll react.

Your eyes widen, uncertain if you’re actually witnessing what you think you are. Did he just bite down hard enough to draw blood and then… lick it?

He holds onto you with that wanton stare, watching the wheels turn inside your head as you try to register what’s happening. He tilts his head to the side to see if fear or disgust will override your carnal desire for him before he gently brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the rest of your blood. The salt of his skin stings your exposed tissue as he tugs it downward before bringing it up to his own mouth to taste.

“Klaus,” you start, the pain in your lip barely outweighing your need to keep kissing him.

The sight of your blood on his lips somehow triggers something deep within you, something he already knew was there from the very second he laid eyes on you. Like some kind of dark and twisted Manchurian Candidate, he knew exactly how to draw it out of you, how to give you just enough to make you want a little bit more. How did he know something about you that you didn’t even know about yourself?

He merely grins in response, sucking his bloodstained thumb as he keeps those enchanting eyes of his locked onto yours. “I look forward to mentoring you, love.”

[bigscaryblueberry]

(I feel like every newsletter has been more disappointing than the last when it comes to the Deltarune progress updates. I hate being too negative about this, but... I waited and waited to see if he would at least put a website status update too, and it never came. So it really looks like the newsletters are a replacement for the yearly updates. And in that case, I don't even want them anymore.)

(Like... He said that "doing a newsletter every three months is a bit like celebrating the anniversary all year" and that's just NOT true at all. Not a single thing he's said in any of these newsletters has gotten me feeling excited like content from the yearly updates have. Where are the screenshots? The music teases? No, the unused song does not count. I just want him to have something to show for the progress he's supposedly made. Or even just give us a percentage breakdown of progress on 3, 4, and 5. It would make the news that he's STILL (!!!!) not done with Chapter 3 be a little less painful, you know? It feels like progress on the game has gotten exponentially slower the closer he gets to finishing Chapter 3, and that it's just gonna be infinite to the point where he takes a whole year to make 1% more progress on it. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating, but... Man. This was just the worst anniversary. Doesn't help that the only thing they actually did for it, the sleep-themed merch, was revealed days early.)

(And... My goodness. The fact that we still haven't gotten the Silence ending yet that he promised us for this year. Is he saving that for winter? Or will it just be on the 17th because of Chapter 2's anniversary? I dunno. But it's kind of crazy that the one thing I expected to be the bare minimum ended up not even happening.)

[toracomics]

Welcome to the stage- my new OC (not very new)! Tori Hamato! She’s the youngest of the tmnt and obviously the sister of the turtles (2012).

TW? (Vaping (I dunno whether I had to say this or not but I might as well just in case)

Name- Hamato Tori (japanese)

Age- 14

Species- Box Turtle

Weapon- dual Kama

Likes- bugs (much to Raph’s disgust), singing and song writing, gymnastics, ninjitsu, fighting, drawing, listening to music, writing novels and poetry, counting.

Dislikes- the colour pink, strong smells, loud noises, zucchini’s, dishonesty, being thought of as weaker because she’s a girl and/ or the youngest, criminals.

Personality- energetic, confident but not cocky, friendly- but has a social battery, excitable, sassy, youngest sibling identity (lol).

Positive qualities- compassionate, loyal, honest (brutally), optimism, supportive, helpful, excitable, calm, respectful.

Negative qualities- has a vaping addiction, brutally honest, doesn’t often show it but has a big temper, stubborn, impulsive, holds grudges.

Extra info- she has a vaping addiction. This started with her finding one and curiously trying one. She wasn’t addicted at first, however, as well as her family (etc) didn’t find out until she was addicted. She found that after the first kraang invasion (season 1 finale), the vaping eased her stress and helped her ‘escape reality’ making her more dependant on it for sleep and to maintain a positive mood. Her brothers become suspicious and then find her using one late at night on the surface. After writing that I feel like making a comic or story… I think I might do that. *Might*. If people would read it.

She is on the spectrum, though it isn’t her whole personality (obvi). It mostly affects her in the facts that she doesn’t catch onto sarcasm well, has a social battery, has obsessions and hyper fixations, sometimes lacks emotion and other times doesn’t understand her emotions, has a sensitivity to sounds and strong smells, stims (biting, fidgeting), and loves counting - despite not being able to count well.

Not only does she like watching and touching bugs, but she likes eating them (when they’re dead and cooked mostly). This disgusts Raph to the point that the first time she ate a bug, he went and threw up in the bathrooms. Sometimes she’ll offer them to him or eat them near him (intentionally) just to tease him and gross him out. The others find it gross, but think it’s all worth it to see Raph, the ‘strong’ and ‘tough’ one, so grossed out and afraid by it.

Yes, she draws on eye brows and eyeliner. Haters go elsewhere lol.

Anyways, hope you enjoy this character. I’m considering making comics and / stories based on this character if people would read it. Feel free to repost it, but don’t post it on other platforms without a link to the original and a reference to the artist (ToraBlue (I know no one would post my stuff elsewhere to begin with but I just thought if put it there just in case, thanks <3). Feel free to ask questions/ make suggestions and I hope you all have a lovely day:)

(Two posts in one day? NPB! ✨👏)

[disquiet-dream]

Actually, now what I think about it, prev reblog is probably why I roll my eyes hard at the like, "Japanese writers keep writing extremely transfem characters and then not having them call themselves trans"?

(Long ramble below, also read prev reblog first I think)

Well, not the whole reason. There's also the part where "Japanese people [negative thing X] all the time!" is you know. Usually racist.

But even that aside, like... When we're talking about characters who are definitely amab, present feminine, are often treated as in some way separate from both the male and female csst members...

I dunno, seems pretty transfeminized to me! And so it feels like arguing over whether they have to turn to the camera and go "I Am A Trans Woman" to "count" is just... Not something I can bring myself to care about, and while I respect that others do it just feels silly to make a big deal of them not using specific identity terms.

And I mean, part of this is also that these archetypes are like, usually (not always) treated reasonably kindly? Not necessarily the most nuanced portrayal of gender and often there will be some uncomfortable shit, but like, ime usually overall treated as "good if kinda weird" rather than "disgusting and evil". Which is nice!

(This is of course not to pretend there's never transmisogyny going on here. Like even if we pretend - and it would be pretending, because it's wrong - there's never a transmisogynistic element to these characters...

There's also much more directly bigoted "man in a dress" archetypes quite frequently - although certainly no more than are in Western media, to be clear.

And like, there's even shittiness in how they're divided: Ones who pass well, regardless of how they identify, get to be treated as weird but harmless. Characters that do not are jokes at best and degenerate perverts at worst.

Which you know. Does suck!)

Anyway, yeah. Just something I'm thinking about again. Because like, even when I had a much worse theoretical framework and vocabulary on the subject, I did broadly hold this view. Kind of always been on the "if they are going to treat someone like a tranny faggot regardless it's really not worth spending all of your time splitting hairs here." train.

(I consider this distinct from the like, "it's bad to say tme because everyone is affected by transmisogyny!" argument because like...

To put it in oversimplified terms:

I think if e.g. a cis butch woman is identified as a trans woman and discriminated against then that's a misidentification and so meaningfully distinct - although, to be clear, homophobia and misogyny are you know, still very real and almost certainly something this person deals with (+ often other forms of transphobia as well) - in how it impacts their life.

While if e.g. a self identified crossdresser is identified as a trans woman and discriminated against then, well, in a sense I don't consider that a misidentification at all! They have correctly been assessed as "amab person who is presenting too femininely and must be punished for doing so". And like, obviously the exact manifestation is different and in many cases significantly less severe, but I'm not sure what you would call the force that punishes that kind of behavior if not transmisogyny!)

[mariaiscrafting]

This is kind of fruitlessly negative, so I get it if you don’t want to publish it. But I feel like some of the major dnf shipper blogs, specifically the ones that specialize in ‘analyzing’ Dream and George, need to take a large step back lol and reevaluate what they’re doing. I find it incredibly hypocritical when they claim unbiased and respectful behavior when they spend all their time piecing Dream and George’s relationship together like a puzzle that they don’t even have half the pieces to

Okay, so now we’re getting more into the territory of vaguely referencing people, and yet lacking specifity necessary in this discussion, so I’m not sure how much I want to engage with this ask. I’d like to criticize specific instances of fans crossing lines they shouldn’t. The reason I made the original post was in response specifically to the several seconds-long video and the many people overanalyzing it. I don’t want to condemn dnf shippers as a whole without pointing to specific behavior because it’s way too much like what antis will do in overgeneralizing mcyt stans and even creating false allegations about things they purprotedly did, derived from general statements and assumptions.

All I’ll say is that yes, every single person who owns a blog dedicated to dnf or who even posts/reblogs dnf analyses - myself included - need to think carefully whenever we’re posting. We don’t have an excuse for condemnable behavior. After so many years of Internet culture existing, we know about what kinds of toxic stan behaviors to avoid. We have examples of fans invading Youtubers’ and streamers’ privacies. We have examples of instances in which CCs felt shippers went too far and essentially ruined their real life relationships with the people they were shipped with. We need to learn from that past and exhibit genuine empathy for CCs we ship now, in 2021, within the MCYT fandom. I had this moment of self-reflection back in 2016, when I was in the Phandom and several things came to light that made me realize that I was one of those toxic people reblogging posts overanalyzing eye contact and hand brushes. I hope that y’all who do these same things nowadays can pause for just a second before posting and think, would you be comfortable with someone doing this to you? Would you be comfortable with someone writing this kinda thing about your siblings, cousins, closest friends? George and Dream explicitly stated they are okay with shipping, yes, but just consider actually being a decent human and not completely abusing of that boundary.

[pochipop]

Can I request an headcannon on how Bakugou, Izuku, Todoroki and Kirishima would react to their crush ((Y/N)) going from funny and outgoing, to closed off, rude and aggressive after a breakup with her ex. She starts working herself so hard on training and such that she can hardly stand.

＃GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — STRUGGLING WITH EMOTIONS AFTER A BREAKUP.

#. synopsis! — how they love and like to be loved .

#. characters! — kirishima, bakugo, midoriya, todoroki .

#. warnings! — mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

𖦹. ━ KIRISHIMA !!

Kirishima worries very quickly but doesn't approach you immediately. He feels lost on what to do, but it's painfully obvious to him that something is wrong. . . He just doesn't know what, nor does he know how to fix it. Since joining UA and studying alongside you, Kirishima had always admired your positive demeanor and funny quips. They made him feel a sense of ease and allowed him the chance to relax even in difficult situations. He knew he could count on you to be a good friend to him, and somewhere along the way, his feelings. . . Changed. Deepened, he supposes.

He's always been a sucker for the little things, so when he watches as you withdraw from everyone in what feels like the blink of an eye, —he's scared, because he doesn't know how to put the pieces back together again. His previous image of you is scrambled amongst this new conglomeration of negative feelings that you don't know what to do with, —and when you snap at him for the first time, his heart aches to the tune of your harsh words.

"Hey, (y/n), are you okay?" Kirishima had asked, jogging to catch up with you on the way back to the dorms.

You gave him a surprised glance, but pulled your gaze away quickly. . . As if there was something there behind your eyes that you just didn't want him to see.

"I'm fine, yeah," you answered, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder just to give your hands something to do.

He hesitated after that. It wasn't what you said, it was how you said it. . . Like his concern was inconveniencing, —and it wasn't like you at all.

Maybe that was the moment he finally understood what he didn't before. Maybe it was that dejected spark in your eyes that finally helped him understand. . . You weren't fine. You were trying to process something, and everything else was getting lost in the mix. "You just seem. . ." he paused, searching for the right words, "I dunno, upset I guess. Maybe angry. I can't put my finger on it, but I know something just isn't right, and I want to help if I—"

"I said that I'm fine," you interrupted, tone cold and harsh.

He felt himself shrink back like a kitten that's been hissed at by its mother.

"Sorry," he apologized, with no clue what else he could do for you.

If you wouldn't let him in, he couldn't do anything. He couldn't fix what you wouldn't tell him was broken, —couldn't mend what you wouldn't say. And Kirishima decided that it wasn't really his place to begin with.

A few nights after that, the two of you haven't spoken. He's stolen glances at you in class, but each time, you only seemed to drift farther away from him. It pained him to see that faraway look on your face, like you were waiting for something, or someone, that might never come.

The redhead is wide awake, despite the clock's creeping numbers. It's technically Saturday now, but he doesn't feel tired enough to sleep yet. Outside, he can hear. . . Something. He's not sure what, but eventually brings himself to move to the window to sneak a peek.

Shock rakes through his body with a grip as cool as frozen iron. At first, he thinks it's Midoriya down there, training at such an ungodly hour. Maybe he just let the time get away from him, accidentally staying out past curfew. . . But the more Kirishima's eyes adjust to the darkness, he's quick to realize that's not the case.

He watches for a bit as you throw yourself into this individual sparring match, —steps becoming sloppy, and movements disjointed. It's so unlike you. Whenever he's seen you use your quick, he's always admired the control you have over it. And this feels like a completely different person to him, like someone else is inhabiting your body and using your quirk as their own.

You stumble, knees buckling with that last hit. Before he can see you crumble to the ground, Kirishima is moving as quickly and quietly as he can through the halls to reach you. Something isn't right, and he knows it. . . And he just can't ignore it any longer.

"Y/n!" He calls out, rushing to your side.

You're still kneeling on the grass, teeth clenched with an arm clutching your abdomen.

"What are you doing out here so late?" Kirishima questions, "—oh man, are you bleeding?"

It's not much, but your knee is busted up and some blood has seeped from the small wounds. He quickly pulls you up and helps to steady you with his own body, wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders. He takes you to his dorm room, insisting that you let him take care of the injuries on your leg, even if they're minor. In the end, you're hard pressed to find the strength to resist. . . So, you don't.

As he cleans your knee up for you, he asks in the most earnest tone you've ever heard him take with you for a genuine answer to his next question.

"What's going on?" He asks, shaky hand dabbing at your skin with a damp paper towel, "it's so unlike you to do things like this. You're not reckless. . . At least, I never saw that side of you. Not until now."

He's not saying it to make you feel ashamed, but you can feel it pool in the pit of your stomach anyway.

"I. . . I needed an outlet," you admit, unsure of how else to phrase it.

"I needed something to put my mind to, something I could dive headfirst into without anyone questioning it. But obviously, I picked the wrong option."

It wasn't unusual for you, or for anyone studying at UA for that matter, to train hard in order to achieve personal goals. However, the way you'd been going about it was, just as Kirishima said, —reckless. Roughly two weeks of extended, rigorous self-training, paired with all the regular classes and healthy competitions between your peers. . . You were running yourself into the ground, and the worst part is that you knew it.

"Why the sudden need for an outlet like this?" Kirishima presses gently, preparing himself to give advice, or even to offer comfort, depending on your reply.

"I got dumped," you say, bitterly so, not caring if it sounds silly to admit it.

That's the truth of the matter, and you've come this far with him, so he might as well know the full story.

"It's not like it was the most serious relationship in the world. We're all still high schoolers and everything, it's just. . . The way it happened, the way it seemed like I was the only one torn up about it, I. . . I guess that hurt more than the actual end of the relationship," you elaborate.

"You should feel however you need to feel about it," Kirishima says firmly.

"Whether that's sad, crying into a pillow for a while, angry, taking frustrations out on some of the training dummies. . . Just don't do this to yourself. Don't block us out. You have lots of friends that love you, —that care and are worried about you, y/n. So please don't push us away."

You're at a loss. The guilt only piles higher when you look him in the eyes and are forced to come to the sobering realization that he's being completely genuine. The worst part is that he's right, and there's nowhere left to run and hide. Everything is on the table now.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, in a voice that's barely above a whisper.

Tears prick at your eyes.

"I've felt so stuck. Like nothing was going to change unless I could prove. . . Something to myself, whatever that something is. That I'm strong, maybe. Or that I still have a powerful will. But I lost myself in the training. I tried stuffing down my emotions, and they started to choke me by the end of it. And I took that out on everyone around me, who just wanted to help, and I'm. . . I'm sorry, but I know just saying that isn't enough."

"Everyone needs help sometimes," Kirishima tells you, slipping his strong arms around your neck to pull you in for a tight hug.

His warmth is familiar and comforting.

"Even the strongest people on the planet need help sometimes. It's okay to ask for it."

𖦹. ━ BAKUGO !!

Bakugo notices the changes, but actively ignores it for the first week or so. He sucks with feelings, and he knows it, so he doesn't even think he'd be able to help. Not to mention that he's hard pressed to admit that he wants to in the first place. He's not in any position to be telling anyone else how to express themselves in a non-aggressive way, really. It might even be hypocritical for him to step in, he thinks.

Things will go back to normal. Maybe you're not getting enough sleep and it's taking a toll on you, he reasons. Mr Aizawa has been harder on everyone recently; it wouldn't be surprising if you weren't getting enough rest. Heaven knows Bakugo has certainly pulled a few late nights to get extra studying in as of recently.

Or maybe something is happening behind the scenes in your personal life, —the life he knows very little about. Perhaps you're struggling with any number of things that are common for teenagers; insecurity, hormones, comparison, stress. . . His guess is as good as anyone else's, really. And he hates to admit it, —but he's worried. More so especially as the days go by and you haven't returned to your normal self; full of life and ready to make the most of each day.

The final straw for him comes in the form of a moderate grip around your wrist, pulling you away from your training. He says nothing as he practically drags you along, but you don't struggle. . . In some way, you're almost glad this is happening. Maybe Bakugo will be the one to talk some sense into you. Maybe he can help you overcome this cycle of self-neglect that you've found yourself in.

"You shouldn't be here," he says to you in his usual gruff tone, lowering his volume so that no one else throws glances your way.

It's already strange enough that he's taken it upon himself to speak with you away from everyone else like this.

"What do you mean?" You ask, wrist falling away from Bakugo's touch.

The lack of contact forces you to notice just how warm his hands really are.

"Don't play dumb," he frowns, "—you know exactly what I mean. You look like you have one foot in the grave."

Surely that's an exaggeration on his part. . . It hasn't gotten quite that bad, has it? You know you look worn out, but half-dead has to be pushing it, at least a little. You hope.

"I'm just having a hard time right now," you mumble, a bitter tone lacing through your words.

"I can tell," Bakugo answers flatly.

"And it's none of my business what's causing it, so if you don't wanna tell me, fine. You don't have to. But you should know that heroes have to understand a lot, and one of the most important things is when to step back in order to save yourself the trouble of the crash."

He's right. It's important to know your limits no matter what career path you choose; from pursuing an average life to reaching for number one hero. His harsh but factual words ring true to you, and you feel shame twinge just under your skin.

"I. . . Got broken up with," you say before you could convince yourself not to, "—and it's the first time, so I feel lost now. Training is something I control, so I pushed everything too far, and I know I did. But I didn't have another solution."

"That's stupid," he tells you, pointedly so, his characteristically blunt nature earning a small laugh from you in spite of your tender ribs.

"I know," you reply.

"You could hardly stand back there. All your moves were sloppy, your aim was so far off it might as well have been in the opposite direction, —I mean come on, be realistic about this. You're not learning anything like this, and you sure as hell aren't getting better. You're just running yourself in circles until you collapse, and from the looks of it, that won't take very long if you keep this up," he scrutinizes, and rightfully so, you digress.

"I get it. I'm not dumb," you mumble.

"Could have fooled me acting this way," Bakugo answers harshly.

"Listen, I said that I get it, okay?" You repeat.

"I heard you the first time," he replies.

"Yeah, and I heard you insult me enough the first time. I know I'm being stupid, but I couldn't think of anything else to pull me up. I wasn't trying to make you worried, or anyone else, for that matter. I just wanted to feel like I was in control," you say, catching him largely by surprise.

"You did, whether you meant to or not," he tells you. "Deku's been talking about it for days, —he had a whole meeting with the entire class yesterday evening just to tell everyone to be extra nice to you."

Suddenly, the cookies tied to your dorm room doorknob and the small "have a good day!" note left on your desk that morning make a lot more sense. . .

"I have a lot to make up for, don't I?" You ask, hand curving around the back of your neck awkwardly.

"Probably," Bakugo shrugs, not sugarcoating the truth. . . And it's comforting in a way that coddling never really could be.

"But they're all a bunch of pansies. They'll forgive you as soon as you say you're sorry, so it's not like you have anything to worry about."

His reasoning is a little off, but his conclusion is correct, so you let him have it. After your talk, Bakugo drags you over to Mr Aizawa and gets permission to walk you back to the dorms. It seems that everyone is in silent agreement that it's for the best. And it's then that you decide you'll fix things as soon as your body has gotten a good rest. . . Starting with Bakugo, since he went to all this trouble.

𖦹. ━ IZUKU !!

Izuku's worry is painfully obvious to everyone, you included. If he's trying to hide it, he's doing a really poor job of it. The more he worries, the worse you feel, and the more you throw yourself into any training you can possibly think of. You take to physical combat like a fish to water after the first few days. It feels good for a while, like you've tapped into an untouched part of yourself. Until the high wears off and the strain begins to slow you down. The cycle begins. . . And it's a thin line to walk, —much thinner than you even realize.

Midoriya watches from afar as you drift away. He's at a loss, has no clue what to do for you, nor how to approach this without bursting into tears at your feet. He's not the best at emotional regulation himself, and in fact, he always thought you were pretty solid in that department. So, this new development shocks him, leaves him rattled, and because he's lost as to what to do for you, he can only sit and feel helpless to stop it.

"Hey, y/n," he gives you a small wave, and you're anything but oblivious to the way his eyes refuse to meet yours.

"Hi," you answer blandly as you stuff the last of your things into your bag.

"Do you have any plans for this weekend? Everyone was planning on getting together and having dinner, because it's been a while since we've done that. . . Everyone's been busy and all. . ."

A part of you wants to go, —wants to be with your friends, people you really do love and care for. But a nagging voice in the back of your mind is telling you that you just can't risk it. There's something you need to fix inside of you before you let people around you, —close enough to see into your heart.

"I'm not sure," you reply, "I'll think about it."

Izuku knows what that likely means. It's code for "no, I'm not doing that but I'm trying to be polite, so take this hint and leave me be." Still, the optimist inside him won't let the glaring reality he faces break his spirit. He hopes you really will think about it, and that you'll decide to come in the end.

"Okay," he offers up a small smile, "—where are you headed now? If you want, we can walk back to the dorms together."

"I'm going to train for a while before I head back, so there's no need to wait for me," you tell him, and you cringe at the fact that it sounds much meaner than it was meant to be.

"Training?" He cocks his head to the side.

"We did a lot of that today, aren't you tired? You really shouldn't work too hard, it'll take a toll on you eventually," Midoriya notes.

And he's right. You know he is, because it's currently happening. You're sore, everything aches, and you have random scratches along the skin under your uniform. This isn't good for you, and you've long since acknowledged that. But something is calling you, telling you to just go, train, get all of these feelings out in hopes of regulating them enough to not feel like screaming all the time.

"I'll be fine," you insist.

It sounds harsher than you intended, and you know he picked up on it too. His eyes widen ever so slightly in shock. . . You've never spoken like that to him before. In fact, he's never heard you speak to anyone like that at all. Not ever.

"Sorry," he apologizes, hoping to diffuse everything and step out as soon as possible.

But he can't go back to the dorms. He has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that if he goes, something bad is going to happen and he isn't going to be able to look at himself in the mirror if he ignores that feeling and something does end up occurring. So, he sticks around and watches from a hidden place as you use fists, feet, knees, and even your quirk on practice dummies.

Things seem fine for the first ten minutes or so. He almost wills himself to leave you in peace, feeling guilty for spying on you like this. . . Izuku feels like he's invading your privacy, encroaching on something he shouldn't be.

And then it happens. You throw a solid left hook, but your knees buckle, and you yelp as your balance falters. Before he can think, he's rushing toward you, but not fast enough to stop you from knocking one of the training dummies over with your body. Shaky arms hold you over the inanimate object before they give way as well, and you allow yourself to go limp.

"Y/n! Are you alright?" He questions, kneeling down beside you.

It feels shameful, but you don't have the energy to keep the facade up anymore.

"No," you whisper out, throat tight from the threat of tears, "—I'm not."

"Is it bad? Here, let me help you to a hospital or something," he offers, an urgent tone lacing his words.

You roll off the training dummy, back slamming against the ground with a soft thud.

"Listen," you tell him, bringing an arm up to cover your eyes where tears are welling.

"I'm really sorry. I've messed up a lot, and I don't know how to fix it. . . Or how to fix myself, I guess."

"What do you mean by that?" He asks.

"I got broken up with," you say, too exhausted in every way possible to feel embarrassed about it anymore.

"It wasn't even that big of a deal. It's not like I thought we'd be together forever, or that we'd grow up and get married. . . None of that, I just can't escape this feeling of dread now. Like I'm waiting for everyone else to decide I'm not worth it too, and just leave me hanging."

Midoriya falls silent for a moment.

". . . It's okay to be sad," he decides, "that's normal, I think. I can't really say that I know how you feel, because I've never been in your shoes. But I know what it's like to feel hopeless sometimes, and maybe even alone. And I can promise you that working yourself to the bone like this doesn't make that any better. It'll drive you crazy if you let it. So please don't shut your friends out."

He may not know what it's like to be in a relationship, but he knows what it's like to care for someone so much that it stings. He's beginning to think his feelings for you are mounting in ways he could never have predicted.

Any attempt at stopping yourself from crying goes completely out the window. You force yourself into a sitting position with tears falling down your cheeks. Still, you give Izuku the smile he deserves.

"Thank you. I really mean that."

𖦹. ━ TODOROKI !!

It takes Todoroki a while to catch on. When it comes to emotions, he's not the best with them, and he's kind of oblivious to it as well. Which really isn't his fault, of course, —his apathy is both unintentional and a product of his home environment.

He just thinks it's odd at first. The change is sudden, and he chalks it up to stress or a little bit of cracking under pressure. Every high school student goes through that, —even him.

Even so, Shoto has a feeling somewhere inside that says things in this case just aren't that simple. You've been short with him recently. . . With everyone, actually. He's also noticed the way your mutual friends have been sparring you worried glances for a bit now.

Just what is it that he's missing? Did something happen and he's just completely out of the loop?

He wants to ask but struggles to find the right words to say in doing so. Sure, he might not be a wordsmith by any means, but he should be able to do this much. . . But he just can't. For whatever reason, everything feels so futile, like he'd just be messing it up if he pressed it. The alternative of leaving it alone and doing nothing seems just as unpromising, though.

"Todoroki!" You call his name, snapping him away from his thoughts immediately, "—come on. We should start before Mr Aizawa thinks we're slacking off."

"Oh," he utters softly, "yeah, you're right. Let's begin then."

"Don't go easy on me. If I win, I want to win fair and square," you comment.

"Understood."

It's then that he notices a lot of things all at once. Reality hits him like a ton of bricks, unforgiving and impossible to miss.

Your usage of your quirk is beyond unstable, which isn't typical of you at all. In fact, Todoroki can't think of a time when you've never had almost perfect control of your abilities. Even Bakugo had commented on it when he first met you, —which was saying a lot. And it was deserved.

But this person sparring with Shoto now feels alien to him. It's not the you he knows, the one who has impeccable composure when it comes to using your quirk. Your movements are uncoordinated, too loose at some points, and stiff as a board at others. Everything you shell out is easy for him to dodge or retaliate against, even at close range.

"Timeout," he says, putting both hands up so you'll lower your guard.

It's hard for you to meet his eyes after that. You're not dense enough to think that was a good showing of your abilities, —but it was all you could offer.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Everything you're doing seems so erratic and unplanned, and you're starting to look like it's getting harder for you to stand, —and it's not like you at all."

His matter-of-fact way of communicating wounds your pride a little, but you know it to be true. This isn't you at all.

"Not to be rude. It just feels like you're fighting with anger instead of intellect or skill, which you have both of, and we both know that. Did I do something to make you upset?" Todoroki questions.

"No. . . You didn't do anything wrong," you tell him, but he still seems skeptical of your answer.

"You haven't been talking to me much recently either. Like you were trying to shut me out," he comments.

You open your mouth to deny it but stop yourself. There is some truth to that. Shutting him out was necessary for the continuation of this weird, unhealthy cycle of copious amounts of training and layers of self-isolation and despair. Shutting everyone out was necessary for that.

"I. . . It's not you," you attempt to assure him, but the wavering tone leaves him cynical.

"It's not anyone. It sounds so annoying and cliche to say it, but it really is just me. I feel like I've dug a trench for myself, and now I can't seem to get out of it."

"Did something happen?" Todoroki inquires further.

There's really no point in hiding it any longer. You've gotten this far into the conversation, so you might as well tell him everything.

"I was in a relationship up until a few weeks ago. Nothing all that serious, but it was nice to think someone had those kinds of feelings for me, you know? At least, I thought so. I got dumped, and it wasn't even bad or anything, —it just. . . Was. It happened, and that was it. But I feel so weird about everything, like I did a bunch of things wrong, and I need to be punished for it or something. Which I know makes no real sense, but in my head I. . . I don't even know."

And the truth is that Shoto doesn't know either, nor does he know how to make it right. He wishes he could snap his fingers and heal whatever emotional wounds you've been scarred with. . . But he can't. He's a hero in training, not a sorcerer.

"I can't say what's a good solution," he prefaces, "but I don't think what you've been doing is really working. Your body won't keep going forever if you don't give it time to recover."

"I know," you heave a heavy sigh.

"I just wanted to feel like I was in control of something. Like I was regulating myself somehow."

"Class is almost over. When Mr Aizawa dismisses us, let me walk you to the dorms and then I'll go buy you something to eat. You'll feel a little better once you've had a nice meal," he suggests.

It's all he can think of, and it's more than enough. Food won't solve your emotional troubles, but his company and encouragement paired with an actual meal instead of the random snacks you've been having for the past few weeks are likely a great place to start.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Turns of Phrase

Prompt: I'd like you to consider: all the sides in the mindscape have the "way too literal" problem, like for example, Virgil actually grows taller when his anxiety is heightened, Patton actually grows wings when Thomas has a 'heart aflutter', e.c.t. But Roman just has a huge stack of negative ones. Creative block, bruised ego, shackled creativity, e.c.t. And then there's h/c when somebody (Logan) sees 👀👀

Thanks for the prompt babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, Roman whump

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count:  5722

 This is Roman’s fault. Really. It is. He’s the one who works the closest with the Imagination, which means he’s got control over how Thomas interacts with his own imagination, which means that he’s got control over how Thomas sees the Sides.

 So yeah. This is his fault.

‘Heart all aflutter.’ ‘Heightened anxiety.’ ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’ All the little innocuous phrases that are just turns of phrase, not supposed to be literal, well…they got into Thomas’s head when he was younger, and since, the Imagination has never quite gotten rid of them. Shouldn’t be too bad, right, this should be something they can deal with.

 And for the most part, they do.

Patton wears the hoodie tied around his shoulders to block the chill from the slits sewn in the back of all of his shirts in case the wings decide to pop out again. When they do, everyone crowds around to make sure he doesn’t fly off into the sky or accidentally twist one. The feathers are the softest things you can imagine and work great for stuffing pillows or plushies.

 Virgil’s clothes are made of stretchy, baggy material and the doorways are much, much higher than they need to be. There’s a special cupboard tucked high up in the pantry that just has Virgil’s comfort foods in them so he can reach comfortably when he’s tall.

 And, well…there’s a reason Janus wears such a long cloak.

 For the most part, these are just minor inconveniences. Listen, when you live in a completely imaginary world where you can summon anything you need and change anything you don’t like with a snap of your fingers, things like new clothes or snacks are easy.

 Then there’s Roman.

 Roman, who is tied most closely to the Imagination.

 Roman, who represents not just Creativity, but romance, motivation, desire.

 Roman. The Ego.

 The problem with throwing around these types of phrases is how easy it becomes to dismiss them. And for Thomas, who has a creative profession, that’s good. For Thomas.

 Not so good for Roman.

 “Hey, you’ve been having some trouble getting ideas out lately, you doing okay?”

 “Yeah, I’m just going through a bit of a creative block at the moment.”

 Roman’s fists ache as he pounds on the door, heaving sobs trailing off into hitched gasps as he slumps against the unyielding wood. As a desperate last resort, he throws himself at the door, barely making it shudder in its frame. It’s as if he weighs nothing, not an ounce, unable to make so much as a goddamn dent in the world around him.

 “Let me—let me out, please, let me out, I gotta—I want out,” he sobs, over and over, as his room grows smaller and smaller, the walls pressing in around him, blank, sterile, cold, “I wanna—out, let me out, let me out, let me out please—“

 He’s not even in his room anymore. He’s in a pure white cage, on the wrong side of a door that will not open.

 “Dude, like…reign it in a little bit.”

 “You sure?”

 “Yeah. That’s…like, way too much.”

 “I dunno, I think it feels weird if we weren’t doing this.”

 “C’mon, it won’t kill you to shackle your creativity a little.”

 Roman wakes up to the quiet clinking of metal against metal. He goes to wipe his face and a bolt of pain shoots through his arm. The shackles spread him so far his chest aches, wincing as he tries to turn just a little to avoid the rush of agony that would come from having his arm trapped in the wrong position. At least he was lying down this time, and he’s on his bed. He isn’t being forced to stand the whole time, strung up on the ceiling.

 They’re so cold.

 The shackles sap the warmth from his body bit by bit, draining it until the weight of the cold pressing down onto his chest is enough to make him gasp. On instinct, he pulls, trying to get a little more of himself wrapped up, warm, safe, but the chains barely make a groan as they wrench him back apart. He grits his teeth and holds still.

 He learned not to try and break these. He used to rage and slam against them like a brute, trying to pull their fastenings out of some mystical holder, embodied in his wall, only to come away with bleeding and scraped wrists from his pains, rubbed raw and chafed horribly by the cruel shackles.

 For the most part, he’s able to keep the others from noticing. They can’t hear a thing when he’s trapped in the creative block. He’s careful to always wear long sleeves to hide the scrapes and burns from the shackles. They don’t know the true extent of what happens to him when Thomas decides he doesn’t want his creativity.

 But he can’t hide all of them.

 ‘Bruised ego.’

 Patton knows. Patton somehow always figures things out and doesn’t tell anyone, least of all Roman. But sure enough, after the audition, Patton showed up outside of Roman’s door and knocked, quietly asking to be let in.

 Roman had let him, splattered as he was with blues and purples and greens and yellows, all the colors that didn’t belong to him, and yet here they were, painted on him. He’d kept his undershirt on, letting Patton feed him the soup that was sure to end with Roman lying on his back in the bathroom, panting, until the bowl had run dry and Roman’s smile had come back.

 After Patton had gone, the smile had slid off, the paint cracked and chipped. Roman had stood, leaning against the bed for stability, and made his way slowly, oh, so, slowly, to the bathroom.

 Getting his shirt off had been agony. Every time he moved skin had stretched, bruises had protested, even his muscles cried out. The undershirt was soaked in sweat and a light sheen had clung to Roman’s body as he stood there, panting, wincing in the mirror. He couldn’t look.

 That had been the last time it had gotten very bad. Very bad.

 They only ever seemed to notice when it was very bad.

 His prince costume hides the shackle marks. His undershirt hid the bruises. No one cared to look for him when he was trapped in the creative block. No one could see. No one wanted to see.

 No one knew.

 Roman’s been lucky lately.

 They’ve all been happening one at a time. The block never has shackles strapped to the wall. The shackles are never clasped around bruises spilling beneath his skin. The bruises are never from both beating on a door and from the outside world. He can deal with them if they’re like this. One at a time.

 He’s had a few close calls, though. He almost missed a meeting with Logan because the block had him trapped. It squeezed him so tight it felt as if he hadn’t any room to breathe, not until the door and opened a crack and he’d hurled himself out, panting harshly, rushing to Logan’s. He was caught at his desk recently too. The shackles had formed and dragged him over to the corner where he’d bitten his lip to try and stay quiet as he desperately tried to draw himself away. He’d accidentally made too grand a gesture and his sleeve had ridden up, exposing the edge of a mark or bruise and he’d have to pull it back down quick enough so that no one would notice. And so far, it’s worked.

 No one has noticed.

 And what would he say? That this is just some dumb stupid thing he has to deal with? The others know about this whole ‘taking things too literally problem,’ look at Patton, look at Virgil, look at Janus. They all understand and they receive the same amount of attention Roman does. Honestly, they’ve been receiving what they’re entitled to. Their stuff actually runs the risk of harming Thomas. Fire, wings, banging your head, sure, that’s fine, but they—look.

 Having your heart flutter signifies great emotions, the potential for love, you should pay attention to your emotions!

 Heightened anxiety? It’s not great! It means we should be listening to Virgil and what’s going on, what’s upsetting Thomas, how to help.

 And everyone should always be worried about spontaneously combusting pants.

And even if they did find out, what is Roman supposed to say? That it’s his fault they all have these issues? That Thomas’s psyche takes certain liberties with the hard-and-fast rules of what happens to metaphysical people? It’s his fault, after all, he’s the conduit. It’s fine. He can handle this stuff. It’s all fine.

 He should’ve known his luck would run out.

 Roman blinks awake to feel the walls pressing in on him, tighter, tighter, tighter. His breath catches in his throat.

 No.

 No, no, no, he’d been doing so well, so well, they’d just had a conversation about how he’d been so good, the ideas had been good, he’d had—he’d had so many he was ready to work on, he just needed to—

 Roman squeezes his eyes shut, racking his brain. He knows he has ideas. He had them a little while ago. It wasn’t that long. They can’t have vanished so quickly. Wait, what time is it? How did they—how long has he been here? What is—how long has it been? Have the others realized he’s here yet?

 What if they look for him and they think he won’t come out? What if they start to hate him because they can’t find him? What if he can never get out again? What if they realized they never needed him in the first place?

 He—he’s not wrong, he can’t be wrong, he has to be right, he has to—he has to find a way out of here.

 Quickly, Roman squeezes his eyes even tighter, mouth making random shapes as he tries to think. If he can just think of a really good idea, he’ll get out. If he just thinks, if he just does his job, if he’s really good he’ll get out. He can do this, he can do this, he can do this. He can—

  Clink, clink, clink.

 No.

 No!

 Roman snarls as the shackles encase his wrists, forcing to his knees, still crouched in this room that is too small, too pale, too awful. He lunges for the door as he hears the chains slowly start to tighten, their long lengths slipping over and over each other in coils.

 The chains pull taut and he’s suspended there, in the dank air, snarling like a mad dog at a door that is just out of his reach.

 For the first time in a long time, he slams against the chains, raging and bloody as he thrashes back and forth trying to just get to the door—

  Roman, you’re on thin fucking ice.

  Look I don’t wanna just hate a side but roman you royally fucked up bud

  Yeah I’m definitely mad at Roman

 Roman barely suppresses a whine when he realizes where the comments are coming from.

 His nose breaks open and blood pours down his face. His eyes swell and darken until he can only squint through it. One of his fingers breaks and the shackle pinches.

  Roman I have revoked your rights.

  Roman shut the FUCK UP challenge please

  After one line making fun of janus is enough to be cancelled, Roman

 Even without looking down, he knows red and purple are blooming across his ribs. Roman winces pain as he howls again, trying frantically to get to the door, he’ll wrench his arms out of their sockets if he needs to—

  I just hate roman!!! i don’t need a deep reason to hate roman, or anyone else

  oh boi did Princey drop to least favorite side REAL FUCKING QUICK

  It’s not that I don’t despise Roman he’s just never been my favourite. He’s too prideful, rude and while he does have his insecurities the way he hides them makes me uncomfortable since it’s at the expense of other characters. His treatment of the other sides is so awful.

 …is he really that awful? Is…does he…is this…

 Is this how it’s supposed to be?

  I'm gonna spread my anti-roman doctrine. Fuck Roman. Hate that man

  I genuinely hate Roman so. Fucking. Much. Like, can't stand him. Fuck him, I hate him

  It’s always roman-hating hours.

 A dry sob chokes its way out of Roman’s throat as he curls in on himself, another bruise leaving him gasping on the floor like a gutted fish. The chains let him fall to his knees, chest bared to the merciless door. He coughs. Blood flies out of his mouth and spittle drips down his chin. He coughs again. And again. And again. It hurts. Everything hurts.

 He coughs.

 The room presses in on him.

 The shackles trap him.

 Bruises bloom over his body.

 He coughs.

 This is all his fault, isn’t it? He’s the one in charge of the Imagination. He’s the one who makes sure the sides exist and can interact with Thomas. He’s the one who controls how they respond to turns of phrase.

 He’s the one who’s awful to the others. He’s the one who didn’t tell them the truth. He’s the one stuck in this room, in these chains, taking a beating from words and thoughts that he can’t see.

 This is his fault.

 And he doesn’t know if he can fix it.

 Roman gives up.

———————————————————

“Has anyone seen Roman?”

 Patton looks up from the floor as Virgil rolls over. “No, I haven’t. Virgil?”

 Virgil sniffs and shakes his head. “You asked Remus?”

 Logan frowns. “I can’t find them anywhere. Do you know if—“

 “Where the fuck is my brother?”

 “Nevermind, I found him,” Logan mumbles as he turns just fast enough to avoid Remus barreling into him. “I was just coming to ask you.”

 “He was supposed to meet me by the Imagination,” Remus says, bouncing up and down, “we were gonna go exploring. He hasn’t been by all day. Where are you hiding him?”

 “I’m not hiding him,” Virgil yawns, “and neither’s Pat.”

 “Nope! No princes here!”

 “Pocket Protector?”

 “No, I need to ask him about tomorrow.”

 “Ugh.” Remus throws himself down on the couch. “Where’s Snakey? Maybe he knows.”

 “What do I know?”

 “Ah.” Logan turns to see Janus striding out from the shadows near the staircase. “We seem to be unable to locate Roman.”

 Janus raises an eyebrow and flicks a speck of dust from his gloves. “What an unfortunate situation. My deepest apologies.”

 “So you don’t know where he is.”

 “Of course I don’t, why would I?” Janus rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’ve checked everywhere for him.”

 Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Janus…please.”

 “Have any of you even tried his room?”

 “Of course we have, that’s where I looked first.”

 Janus shrugs. “Then I guess our little prince has wandered away. What a shame.”

 Virgil rolls his eyes. “Maybe he just stepped out for a minute. Why don’t you go look again, L, we’ll check down here.”

 “Oh, will we?”

 “J, I swear—“

 Logan quickly heads back up the stairs as Virgil and Janus start bickering. He turns the corner and is soon faced with Roman’s big red door. He reaches out to knock.

 “Roman? Are you in here?”

 Silence. Logan sighs and goes to turn away when he hears it.

 He stops.

 Goes back.

 “Roman?”

 He puts his ear to the door.

 A soft gasp.

“Roman, can you open the door please?”

 “L-L—Lo—“

 Logan swallows heavily. “Roman, I’m coming inside.”

 “L-Logan…”

 Logan pushes open the door.

 He can feel his face go sickly pale.

 Roman is lying on the ground, collapsed in a pool of what looks like blood. His face is swollen, his nose broken, his mouth barely forming the shapes to say Logan’s name. His prince costume is mangled. His wrists are rubbed raw. Even from this far away Logan can see the bruises forming all over his body.

 “Roman!”

 There are shouts from downstairs. The others are worried. Good. Logan’s going to need all the help he can get. He just has to move first.

 Oh, Roman…

 “L? L, what’s going on up there?”

 “First aid,” Logan gasps, then clears his throat, “we need the first aid kit! Roman’s hurt!”

 “What? How’d he—he hasn’t even been in the Imagination yet today!”

 “We can figure that out when we’re up there, Remus, go go go!”

 By the time the others are already rushing up the stairs, Logan has already crouched down next to Roman’s head, trying to figure out the best way to get him up, off the floor, or at the very least figure out what happened.

 “Stay with me, Roman,” he murmurs, petting Roman’s head as his other hand starts to carefully test where it might be hurting, “stay with me, come on…”

 “Lo? Lo, are you in here?”

 “No, wait, don’t—“

 Patton’s cry of dismay quickly followed by Virgil’s curse means he’s too late to warn them. Logan looks up to see their faces drop in absolute shock.

 “Where are the others?”

 “Uh…” Virgil tears his gaze away from Roman’s crumpled figure. “Remus said he…he has some stuff that would help.”

 “And I am of course more than eager to see what our favorite little prince has gotten himself into this time,” Janus drawls, still out of sight, “I’m positively brimming with anticipation.”

 Patton still hasn’t recovered. Virgil carefully takes the first aid kit from his hands and rushes it to Logan. An instant later, Janus appears in the doorway.

 “My, my, Patton, you look so startled, what could possibly…”

 Janus trails off as he finally spots Roman. His eyes widen as he takes in the bruises, the blood, the marks of what look like prison cuffs?

 “Oh, god…” Logan blinks and Janus is crouched beside them, his hands hovering over Roman’s broken form as he starts crooning to the prince.

 “Oh, honey, what happened to you,” he murmurs, his hands starting to pull away the fabric cutting into Roman’s throat, “you poor, poor thing…”

 “Got it.”

 Remus appears in a flash, crouching down as well as Janus and Logan start to help Roman unwind from the bloody mess he’s in. Logan glances over; it’s a kit that has more medical supplies than the first aid kit. Bandages, he can see antiseptic, surgical towels…

 He catches Remus’s eye and they exchange a nod.

 “Where does he need to go,” Janus asks as they start to get Roman upright, “you want him downstairs?”

 “Let’s get him to our bathroom, J,” Virgil suggests, carefully getting his arms around the prince’s shoulders.

 “Do you think it’s safe to sink with him?”

 “Presumably he had to sink out to get back to his room, but I’m not sure it would be wise.”

 “So we’ll carry him,” Virgil says firmly, “all of us.”

 As it turns out, Remus and Janus can help Virgil just fine. Logan snatches up Remus’s kit as Patton grabs the first aid kit, hustling down the corridor to keep up with the others.

 “Lo, what happened?”

 “I don’t know,” Logan mutters back, “but I…I don’t think it was…the Imagination’s been closed all day, hasn’t it?”

 “That’s what I thought too. You don’t think—“

 “I don’t know, Patton, I…”

 Patton’s firm grip on his arm speaks volumes as they finally get to the bathroom.

 The tile is already warm as the others carefully lay Roman down in the big place near the edge of the shower. Logan takes a moment to check what they might need.

 The bathroom is one big open space with a tub in one corner, a large walk-in shower area at the other, and two sinks with a wide counter. Patton and Remus have already started setting up the first aid kit as Janus pulls on a different pair of gloves. Virgil still has Roman’s head in his hands, murmuring softly to him.

 “Is he awake?”

 Virgil shakes his head as Logan sits down. “I can’t tell. He’s looking around but I—he’s not saying anything.”

 “That is not completely unexpected,” Logan murmurs, “we have to get him out of his clothes. They’re making it harder for him to breathe.”

 “Someone needs to stay by his head,” Remus calls, “in case he wakes up and starts freaking out.”

 “I’ve got him.” Sure enough, Janus slips two of his hands gently under Roman’s head as he unclips the back of his collar. “Shh, shh, easy, sweetie, you’re safe now.”

 Virgil scoots back and starts tugging on his hoodie strings. Patton, still hovering by the medical supplies, catches it.

 “Hey, Virge,” he says, shooting a quick nod at Logan, “why don’t we go make something to eat? Something small, and something to drink.”

 “Yeah…yeah that’s a good idea.”

 As the two of them leave, Remus kneels by Roman’s feet and curses. “We’re gonna have to cut them off.”

 “You mean cut the rest of them off,” Janus mutters, “what happened?”

 “You think I’m not beating myself up asking that same thing?”

 “We have to get Roman stable,” Logan says quickly, “and that means we have to see what—“

 “The damage is,” Remus growls.

 “Quite.”

 “Alright. Be careful by his wrists.”

 “We will.”

 “Jan if you drop his head I swear to—“

 “I won’t, I promise.”

 “…I know.”

 “You’re worried about your brother,” Logan whispers as they start peeling the clothes away, “we understand.”

 Janus keeps his promise, cradling Roman’s head as the work to get the rest of his prince costume off. Under any other circumstance, Logan admits this might actually be read as amusing. Peeling Roman out of his clothes, however, has never been less devastating.

 Every inch they pull back reveals more bruises. Roman’s torso is warm, throbbing, carpeted with horrible wounds. Every so often a piece will stick and Roman winces, prompting Janus to stroke his face carefully, murmuring reassurances that they’re here, everything’s okay, Roman’s safe now.

 Remus chucks bruise cream at Logan and they start, methodically applying the cream and bandages. Janus gives them an extra hand where they need it, while keeping up the constant litany of reassurances. Logan comes away confident that nothing is broken, just very badly bruised.

 “So what now?”

 “He has to rest.” Logan pulls off the gloves, running his hand over the ground to make sure they haven’t spilled anything. “I…I don’t know how long that will be.”

 “I don’t want to leave him.”

 They look around, eyes wide at the strangled whisper coming out of Remus. Remus stares down at Roman’s bruised form, thankfully clear of blood now, his hands trembling as they rest on his knees. Remus looks up at them, his eyes glistening.

 “The last time I left him like this it was bad.” He swallows and looks back down. “I’m not leaving my brother.”

 Logan looks at Roman. Brave, strong, sweet, kind Roman. Bruised, scared, exhausted, broken Roman. His hand tightens and without thinking he tucks a stray hair behind Roman’s ear.

 “He hates it when his hair is out of place,” he murmurs as Janus raises an eyebrow at him.

 “We’re not leaving our prince,” Janus says firmly, glancing back at Remus. “Would you like to come sit up here with us?”

 Remus shakes his head. “If something comes through that door trying to get him,” he says in a low voice that Logan has never heard before, “it’s going to have to get through me first.”

 Logan nods. They take up their watch. Remus’s hands twitch every so often, and Logan sees him lay his hand on an unbruised part of Roman’s ankle when they do with a tenderness that takes him a little aback. Janus can’t seem to stop running his hands through Roman’s hair, making comforting noises every time Roman winces as he breathes.

 Logan, well…Logan is trying desperately to figure out what happened.

  Roman hasn’t been in the Imagination today. Remus was waiting and he hadn’t seen him.

Roman hasn’t been seen by anyone else all day.

The last place Roman was seen was in his room.

No one else has been in Roman’s room today.

 “Logan,” Janus calls softly, “Logan, you’re shaking.”

 Logan looks down. Oh. So he is. He takes a deep breath and takes Janus’s offered hand. “I’m…thinking.”

 “About…?” Janus indicates Roman.

 He nods sharply. “I’m having trouble coming to anything but a most troubling conclusion.”

 “What?”

 Logan explains. Janus goes pale.

 “You don’t think…”

 “I don’t want to think that, no.”

 “R-ro-Bro,” Remus whispers, “oh, Ro-Bro, you gotta tell us something when you wake up.”

 He sniffles.

 “Please wake up, Ro-Bro. I gotta…I gotta kick your ass for blowing me off and getting into a fight without me, I gotta—you gotta tell me what kicked your ass so I can go put it in the fucking ground…” He sniffs again, his whole body tense, even as his hand remains gently on Roman. “You just gotta wake up, Ro.”

 After a little while longer, Virgil and Patton return carrying snacks and drinks. Remus doesn’t even look as Virgil sets his octopus water bottle at his elbow. Janus murmurs a thanks and eats a little. Logan eats and drains about half of his bottle. Virgil sits at Remus’s side, Patton at his other.

 “Has he woken up yet?”

 Remus shakes his head.

 “He’s probably just sleeping, Remus, he needs to rest.”

 “I know.”

 “Do we know what happened,” Virgil asks quietly, “at all?”

 Logan winces. “Well…”

 “…don’t like the way you said that.” Judging by Virgil’s expression, he likes it even less after Logan’s finished explaining.

 “Oh, shit.”

 Everyone’s gaze instantly snaps to Patton. Listen. Patton doesn’t curse. It’s a thing. When Patton curses it’s bad.

 “Patton?”

 “Roman…Roman has a thing,” Patton explains, “you know like…like my wings? Or how Virgil gets taller?”

 Virgil nods. “Yeah, okay, but those don’t…hurt us, why would Roman’s…”

 Janus is the next one to curse. “Of course…the bruised ego.”

 Patton nods sadly. “Roman takes, well, it’s not really his choice, Roman is forced to take the brunt of the negative reactions Thomas has. That’s part of his thing.”

 Logan’s eyes widen. “Wait, but if this has been happening since…well, since Thomas has had an ego, and we didn’t know about this, then…”

  How many times has this happened?

 Remus growls. “New rule: no one is allowed to fuck with Roman.”

 No one dares disagree. Logan scans over the injuries again. He frowns.

 “Hold on…some of these seem…consistent with that judgment, but then why…”

 A faint groaning sound snaps him out of his musings. A tense silence falls in the bathroom as Roman starts to stir in Janus’s hands.

 “Roman,” Logan calls softly, “Roman, can you hear me?”

 “L’gan?”

 “Yes, Roman, I’m right here. Don’t try and move too much right now, you’re very hurt.”

 Roman blinks up at them, his eyes focusing glassily on Janus, who smiles. He tucks another piece of hair away from Roman’s face.

 “Shh, shh, my prince, hold still,” he coos, “you’re awfully banged up, sweetie, just hold still…shh…”

 “J’nus? What’s…where is…” Roman’s face swivels back to Logan. “Where am I?”

 “You’re on the bathroom floor, Roman, we had to see to your injuries.”

 Roman’s eyes go wide and immediately all of them reach out to hold him still as he tries to move.

 “Shh, shh,” Janus shushes, “none of that now, sweetie, you’re hurt, calm down…”

 “I’m—I have to—“

 “You’re not going anywhere,” comes Remus’s voice from behind them.

 “Remus!”

 “What? He’s not!”

 “Yeah, but there’s no reason to scare the shit out of him.”

 “I can’t see,” Logan hears Roman’s frantic whisper as he turns to glance at the others, “I can’t—let me—“

 “Logan, is it safe for him to sit up?”

 Logan nods. “Just take it slow, nothing too fast. It will probably be the best if he can lean against someone.”

 “Jan—“

 “I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m not going anywhere.”

 When Roman is upright, his back against Janus’s chest, only then do Virgil and Patton relax the slightest bit. Remus doesn’t. Logan’s gaze switches anxiously between the two.

 “Remus—“ Roman swallows— “Re, are you—are you mad at me?”

 “A little.”

 Roman shrinks under Remus’s glare. “I’m sorry.”

 “Jeez, Ro, it’s not—I’m not mad at you like that,” Remus mumbles, “it’s mainly just—well, our thing is…you know, cat pile.”

 “You’re—you’re mad because you can’t lie on top of me right now?”

 “Yeah! It always makes you feel better! And now I can’t help you feel better!”

 “R-Re—“

 Remus lets out a wounded noise and surges forward, careful to avoid barreling into any of the others as he wraps his brother in a protective hug. Janus huffs lightly but stays upright. Roman’s eyes close and his head drops to rest against Remus’s.

 “I’m the only one allowed to fuck with you,” comes Remus’s muffled voice, “no one else.”

 “I know,” Roman whispers, “I know.”

 Logan swallows heavily. “Roman,” he prompts softly, “we aren’t mad at you. We won’t get angry with you.”

 “...promise?”

 “I promise.”

 “I promise.”

 “I promise.”

 “Promise.

Janus just squeezes Roman’s shoulder gently. “I promise too, sweetie. Now, will you tell us what happened?”

 “I, um…” Roman’s gaze flickers over to Patton. “Have you—um…”

 “I’ve told them a little, sweetheart,” Patton says when Roman can’t finish his sentence, “we’ve figured out the ‘bruised ego,’ is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

 Roman nods. He turns his head back towards Remus, his face contorted. Logan carefully reaches out to ruffle his hair.

 “Take your time,” he whispers, “we’re not going anywhere.”

 “I have three,” Roman blurts out after a moment.

 “…three, honey?”

 “Patton has…the wings, Virgil has the height, Janus…Janus…”

 “Has the pants.”

 Janus lightly flicks Remus’s head, shaking his head fondly.

 “Are you saying you’ve got three turns of phrase, Princey?” Roman nods. “Okay. Is one of them ‘bruised ego?’”

 “Mhmm.”

 “Okay. Are you comfortable telling us the other two?”

 Goosebumps rise on Roman’s arms and Janus carefully positions them so Logan can help rub them away. Remus growls protectively and huddles closer.

 “…creative block,” Roman murmurs, only for Remus to tense. Remus raises his head slowly.

 “Ro-Bro?”

 “I, um, my room—my room shrinks and I—I can’t get out the door, I can’t move anything, I can’t breathe, I—“

 “Shh-shh-shh,” Janus soothes instantly, “you’re safe, my prince, you’re in the bathroom with us, you’re not there, you’re not there.”

 There are a few tense seconds of deep breaths.

 “…what’s the third one, Roman?”

 Roman looks at his wrists, turning them over as if he doesn’t recognize them. “…shackled creativity.”

 Patton clenches his fists as Virgil muffles another curse. Remus follows Roman’s gaze, the line of his shoulders growing tenser by the second. Janus carefully laces his fingers through one of Roman’s hands, Logan lacing his through the other.

 “Thank you for telling us, Roman,” he murmurs, “and…I do not know how much this is worth to you, but…we are so sorry this happens and that we could not do anything about it.”

 “It’s okay,” Roman murmurs, “it’s my own fault.”

 The bathroom falls silent.

 “…Roman, it’s not your fault.” Virgil scoots closer. “How—this isn’t your fault.”

 “Isn’t it? I’m the one that’s the closest to the Imagination,” Roman says softly, completely convinced of what he’s saying, “I’m the one that makes it possible for Thomas to see us…the Sides, the Imagination…isn’t that my job?”

 “Not like that,” Logan says firmly, “never like this.”

 “Logan’s right,” Virgil says when it looks like Roman’s about to argue, “you’re the conduit for the Imagination, but you’re not responsible for everything that this place does, let alone how Thomas interprets and internalizes stuff.”

 “None of this is you, Roman.” Janus rests his cheek against the top of Roman’s head. “None of it. It’s not Patton’s fault he grows wings, it’s not Virgil’s fault he grows taller, and it’s not your fault that this happens to you.”

 “You’re missing someone off the list there, Jan-Jan.”

 “Remus, I swear to god—“

 Remus cackles, throwing his head back as Janus swats at him. Of course, the problem is that they all try and look mildly annoyed at Remus, and yet the instant it makes Roman giggle, even a little, they all have to break character because Roman’s smiling again.

 “Seriously, Ro-Bro,” Remus says after a moment, “this isn’t on you. You don’t deserve this or some other fucked-up shit. This is fucked up all on its own. You’re not responsible for this.”

 “We’ll talk to Thomas,” Logan says, “about…negative feedback and internalizing things, alright? This isn’t healthy, Roman, it’s not—it’s not supposed to be like this, and it’s definitely not your fault.”

 “…okay.”

 “Can you say that for me, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, reaching around to cup Roman’s face, “that it’s not your fault?”

 “I-it’s not—“

 Roman stops. Swallows heavily.

 “Go on, my prince, you can do it.”

 “…I-it’s not my fault.”

 “Good.”

 “It isn’t my fault.” Roman’s eyes go wide and something hitches in his throat. “It is—isn’t—I—oh, god—“

 They catch Roman as he starts to cry.

 “You did so well, sweetheart, so well, I’m so proud of you.”

 “It’s okay, Princey, it’s gonna be okay.”

 “I’ve got you, my prince, I have you.”

 “You’re gonna be fine, Ro-Bro, I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

 “You don’t have to do this alone, Roman.”

 Roman rests there, in the arms of his family, bruised and exhausted, but not broken.

 Not anymore.

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[the-pallid-king]

He looks at you and nods. And he knows that, of course. He knows you won’t abandon him or any variation of it. But he sometimes has doubts. And it’s occurring to him that his doubts have nothing to do with you. They’re about him. 

He huffs. “That’s your weirdness. Food sex is all you.” Sort of. Once he figured out you were into it, then he also got into it. So. Yeah. He’s counting it as yours, even if he knows better. 

He snorts. “It’s more visible for sure. Not any guessing games with hollows.” But when you ask that he shrugs and decides to give you a straightforward answer. He doesn’t want you doubting whether or not you can trust his responses. “You don’t make me uncomfortable. Remembering how delicate this balance we have is… that makes me uncomfortable. Remembering that I ask you to do unnatural things just so we can stay together makes me uncomfortable.” You have a point. But even with that point, you’re unwittingly illustrating the difference between them. “Killing humans will never be the first thought I have. I don’t have to remember not to. Protecting them probably won’t ever be your first thought. That’s something you’ll have to recall. You’re right that I could hurt them. But it’s not in my nature. You could probably protect them a lot better than I do. But it’s not in your nature.” He pauses though and glances at you. “At least, I don’t think it is. Feel free to correct me if I’m getting this wrong.” 

Since he expected a straightforward negative, he stumbles mentally. “Does it? I wasn’t serious, but now I’m wondering what it depends on.” 

He matches your nod and hopes that means you believe him.

He snorts an amused sound, arching a brow over at you. "It's a two person activity so it must not be all me." He waves a careless motion, "But fine, my point still stands." If anything, you saying it's his thing and not your thing just further makes his case. If you do something strange, maybe it's because they're doing something strange that just doesn't quite work for you.

A smirk tugs at his mouth when you seem amused, but that shrug wipes it away, his first thought that he does indeed make you uncomfortable. It's kind of strange and contradictory, to want you to be slightly intimidated by him sometimes but not uncomfortable. But your answer makes more sense than that. He listens to you make your point and it actually makes a lot of sense why he might make you uncomfortable. He's not sure how to feel about that, but he doesn't feel guilty or ashamed by any of it. When you pause and look over at him, he meets your glance only briefly, before he shrugs and looks away. "I dunno, honestly." He's very reactionary. If a hollow were to storm its way into this street and start devouring people, he'd go after it, but it would be a reaction to the hollow itself, which would coincidentally protect people, but not be his first goal. But then, "I wanted to protect that little girl." Enough so to make her afraid of him. That makes him sound like the instinct is there, though, it skews the data. "But I feel no particular draw to care about anyone here, aside from you."

He's relieved when you say you aren't actually interested in his drink, but he still keeps it pulled away from you, more on his other side so that he's basically putting himself between you and the cup. With any sort of deeper inspection, it's a really ridiculous behavior, given how easily they could get more. "I just thought it would make me a bad boyfriend if I said no."

[dukeofonions]

Duke Gets Personal

So I’ve been doing a bit of thinking lately (dangerous I know) since the last Asides and I’ve come to this conclusion: I miss enjoying this series. 

(This gets long and is just a mess of feelings and thoughts so sorry in advance)

I miss analyzing videos and the characters, I miss looking at theories and coming up with my own, I miss getting excited for future episodes. I really wanted to stop enjoying it and move on to something else, but then this flipping video dropped and I just loved it.

This is the first time I’ve just genuinely loved and enjoyed an episode since Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts, the one where I stayed up until almost 2 or 3 in the morning to watch even though I had work the next day. 

The videos that followed just didn’t really do it for me, and the whole concept of Asides didn’t help either since it’s purpose seemed to have been lost with the first episode. Heck, I hesitated to call this last one an Asides just because it feels like it should have been a main episode.

That combined with the waits (especially after Putting Others First) also killed a lot of my engagement with the series. I’ve said before that POF felt like it was set up to lead directly to the finale, only for Asides to be crammed in and forcing us to wait longer for the conclusion to that episode, and season two as a whole.

I’ve said countless times how Asides has messed with the flow of the original series, with the complete tonal whiplash that was Flirting With Social Anxiety being the follow up to POF, and how the introduction of Nico completely undid everything that happened (at least to Roman) at the end of POF by having things suddenly be happy and good between him and Thomas.

I’ve said that certain moments (like seeing Virgil having to face Thomas again after his confession) were ruined by the Asides as well since we don’t get to see them happen in the main series and tend to be, well, brushed aside.

And you know, to an extent, I still see Asides as completely unnecessary and it feels like it was thrown in at the last second because they forgot they wanted to add a love interest to the plot so had to find some way to do it without disrupting the flow of the main series but ended up doing so anyway and so far all these Asides could just be regular episodes because they were apparently necessary to have before the season finale despite Asides being a relatively new concept so why would we have to have them before the season finale unless you were planning to go this route the whole time so why bother making a “separate” series in the first place when you were just going to be telling the same story anyway???

Sorry for the run on sentence but it felt like the best way to describe my confusion.

But to summarize, the last episode clearly shows that things are being set up for the finale. Everyone is reaching their breaking point and clearly, everything is not as fine and dandy as I initially thought the series was implying. And it’s here that I get to the actual reason of this little post.

The thing is, I’ve been jumping to conclusions about the series and making judgments about it as if I have the complete picture when, that’s not even remotely true.

Like this episode clearly showed that things are being put into place, and there is more thought to the story and characters going on than I initially gave them credit for. Sure, there are things I still don’t like, but I’m starting to come to the realization that I just need to wait and see where things go before jumping to judge something I don’t even have yet.

And part of that is because I do want things to get better. Like take Virgil for instance. I hate how he’s been written lately because it feels like all his negative actions just get excused and the show never addresses how harmful some of the things he says and the solutions to dealing with him (I’m glaring at you Embarrassing Phases) aren’t actually good or healthy at all and maybe I’ll elaborate on that later. 

But my point is that I need to see these things be resolved and for them to get better. It feels like all these characters flipping hate each other right now and it’s exhausting to see them like this. I just want them to work things out and start on the road to getting better because my gosh I just want them to feel like a family again. 

And I understand that story-wise it makes sense as to why they’re all so prickly with each other but y’all, Virgil’s been mad at Patton for who-knows-what for awhile now and we still don’t have a conclusion to that and again, I think the waits are a problem when it comes to this series because things get left unresolved for months, or even years, only for an episode to finally drop and the issue is never even brought up because those characters are completely absent.

And that’s why the Asides bug me so much because they initially promised something (less angsty content that we’d get more frequently between the heavier longer episodes) that we never ended up getting and it gets treated like a joke. 

Like I understand that so far the main thing that separates Asides from Sanders Sides is that they tend to be filmed in a different format, but is that really enough to count it as a separate series when it’s existence is deemed necessary for the series you’ve already been working on for awhile now?

I dunno, I loved this episode, I genuinely did and I’ve loved seeing people pick it apart and analyze it because there’s so much to unpack with it. And just from a technical standpoint, my inner film lover was geeking out at the use of camera angles, lighting, music, all of it.

And since I loved it so much it started to make me wonder if I’ve been being too harsh on the series, and even Thomas and the team in general. Most of my thoughts have come through assumptions made, and my own personal feelings, towards Thomas and the team, and I’ve realized that yeah, I have been harsh. And honestly, a bit unfair.

I’m not saying I don’t still have my own personal issues with them all, but a lot of the things I’ve said have just been, well, assumptions. Especially in regards to how much care and planning actually goes into this series. With all the details put into this last episode, how could they not have been planning things out?

Now part of me is hesitant to let my guard down in regards to how this series will go due to a number of things. One of them being that this could probably be the last episode that Joan had any input in, and personal feelings towards them aside you couldn’t deny that they had so much passion and love for the series. And it makes me wonder if future videos will be better, worse, or even the same without them.

Another thing is, again, the waits for videos. I still don’t understand why Thomas’s content in general takes so long to make, especially the unscripted videos which are fairly simple in terms of their content, so why do they take months to come out? And with everything they’ve talked about wanting to do or are planning to do, it makes me wonder if anything will ever get done due to them not seeming to be able to find a way to make their videos faster.

Like I don’t know if it’s an issue with finding people to work on videos, or them continuing to make things more difficult than they need to be, or maybe them just not working as much as they say, or a combination of multiple things. But again, I don’t know if any of that is the case.

All we have is Thomas’s word and the end product when it does finally come out. And yeah, this last video was really good in terms of the production, but there are still some things about it that make me feel iffy about certain aspects of the series that could come in the future, but this post is already getting longer than I intended for it to be so I’m just gonna wrap things up here.

On one hand, I don’t want to get my hopes up all the way due to one video that exceeded my expectations (which I had zero expectations to begin with) when the rest of the series could end up going downhill. On the other hand, I want to let myself try and enjoy the series again and find things to love about it instead of constantly focusing on the negatives.

Negatives that, technically, aren’t even real negatives to begin with.

So what does this mean for my blog? Well like I said, I still have some issues with the series and other things that I’m not gonna push aside (I use that word a lot don’t I?) just because of one video. However, I’m going to try and stop making harsh conclusions about the series before I’ve gotten the whole picture.

And of course, my blog is still open to anyone that has their gripes with the series because that’s what it’s for. Even if we don’t agree I like to get other perspectives from people and a lot of y’all really do bring up some good points. And the last thing I’m gonna do is turn around and start saying that y’all are wrong for feeling a certain way about the series.

This is all personal here. How I’ve been thinking and feeling in regards to what I’ve been personally saying. And you know what? This could all completely change by the time the next episode finally comes out because who knows what could happen between now and then?

When you’re presented with a new perspective or new information, sometimes you’re just bound to change your own and that’s just the way it goes. 

I’m probably going to start delving into the fandom and series again. Maybe write a fic or two or just some simple analysis. I do have one passion project of mine that’s been in the works for awhile and I’m finally getting closer to making it a real thing so I’m excited about that.

But I also really wanna start branching out into other media as well. Talk about movies or shows that I like, dislike, or have some kind of connection to. Whatever it is, I just wanna start having fun again, in whatever form that takes. 

So, yeah. That’s the long and short of it. 

I am gonna make an actual post talking about the video because oh boy there’s a lot to unpack with that one. But this has been pressing on my mind quite a bit since the episode and I just needed to get my thoughts out. If y’all stuck around to this point I’m sorry for the emotional spiel, and I’m also sorry if anything I’ve ever said has made anyone feel bad or ashamed for liking the series because really, there’s a lot to love about it and I don’t want people to think they shouldn’t like it just because of what some random person thinks.

I mean heck, I love movies and shows that are considered “bad” by most and who cares? As long as it’s not my family hating on the things I love than I don’t care. 

*laughs in family issues*

Alright, gonna atually close this out now so... see y’all and hope y’all are going okay.

[radramblog]

some time to perish

So I saw the new bond movie.

…

Eh?

(heavy spoilers, for those who care)

I seem to recall the reception to this film being much more negative than what it is now that I actually look at it. I had hesitation going into this thing, and to be fair, I think there was good reason to- Spectre was a mess, after all, and this film leans heavily on the plot of that story. I haven’t seen Quantum of Solace, but my understanding is that even with the actual lines of continuity drawn between the Craig movies, none of them were as much a clear sequel as No Time to Die was to Spectre.

So what is the good here, because there is a fair bit. I do like Craig’s performance a fair bit- in the 15 years since Casino Royale, he’s managed to portray both a younger and a much older Bond just as well as each other, and the idea of a deliberately aged Bond isn’t something I think we’ve really seen. Save for Never Say Never Again, but that doesn’t and shouldn’t count. Similarly, we have solid performances from all the returning cast- say what you will about Desmond Llewelyn, who obviously owned the Q role for a very long time, but Whishaw’s iteration is still charmingly dorky, and Ralph Fiennes’s M is still as solid as ever. I do kind of wish the movie stuck a little closer with him as a potential antagonistic character, as it did a bit in the first half or so- if nothing else, so we could get more In Bruges-esque vibes.

Some elements of the baseline story are also pretty good, with the new characters it brings with it. The idea of a new 007 replacing the retired Bond is something I’m shocked we haven’t seen before, and I do like the character they’ve got started for her. While I know they Will Not Do This, because Eon Productions are cowards, they absolutely should have Lashana Lynch as 007 going forward- it would not be hard to just…have them be 007 movies, and not James Bond movies.

(hell seeing as Skyfall made it “canon” that James Bond was his actual name, and considering the ending of the film, gonna be hard to justify continuing to use it?)

There was a fair bit I did like about this film in general. The action was pretty good, as expected from the franchise at this point, and the soundtrack worked pretty well. One of my biggest issues with Casino Royale, great as that movie is, is that it just refused to use the Bond Theme like, ever? And this movie does not make that same mistake. Along a similar line, I’m not really into Billie Eilish’s work overall (just not my thing), but the theme she performed for the title was solid enough. I dunno. Still salty about everything to do with Radiohead’s Spectre, so.

There is, unfortunately, a lot I also don’t particularly like about the film. For one, we have yet another example of a Bond movie completely wasting its villain- Rami Malek is an incredible actor, and I’m sure Safin’s character could have more to do given the chance, but they don’t and as a result he’s barely bloody in the thing. Also, it’s yet another instance of Bond Villain With Disfigurement- in this case, one of two, what with the main henchman (Primo, apparently) being a one-eyed man. Kinda.

Similarly, they did Felix Leiter so fucking dirty in this film. Leiter is a character with pedigree- not quite as much as the main characters, but he’s been in 10 of the 25 movies, and Jeffery Wright is a great actor doing a great job in the role. And then he gets wasted by the biggest shitheel side-villain the franchise may have ever seen, and it feels completely pointless. Like, Bond doesn’t need more motivation in this film? My guy has plenty, between the other characters at stake and the severity of the plot in general, you didn’t need to do that to the guy. I think this might be worse than the one where his wife gets murdered and he gets maimed by a shark.

Speaking of said shitheel, Logan Ash is probably my least favourite character in the film. Just a smiley asshole who we never get a motivation for and who’s neither interesting, funny, or intimidating. I genuinely think this character was just a waste of time. Along the same line, the character of Obruchev, despite being super plot-relevant all the way through, is just a little annoying- he reminds me of Boris from Goldeneye, but Boris had the decency to be in like, three scenes.

Honestly, the middle third of this movie is generally much too long and half of it feels like it could have been cut. The movie is long, like almost 3 hours, and it feels it. You know you’re in for a long one when the pre-title sequence has two parts, each of which is probably longer than most average Bond pre-title sequences in general. A lot of setpieces felt unnecessary, and certain threads go unanswered- Ana de Armas’s character is really cool once she gets going, but then she just disappears from the fucking film immediately after that part of the plot is resolved, despite clearly being set up for a larger role- not to mention things like the shootout in the forest feeling like kind of a waste of time. Again, it’s a section where Logan Ash gets a bit of focus (among other things happening to him), and this time could have been better spent developing Safin.

Speaking of Safin, his motivation is completely unclear and his plan makes little sense. I think he just wanted to, um, kill the world with nanobot disease? Which, side note, I think it’s very funny that they just killed all of Spectre, Blofeld included, in this film, like, wow you really didn’t like how that movie was received, huh. Kind of undermines the whole “super-secret and powerful organisation” thing. But Safin’s motivation for wiping them out…well, I’m not sure they ever give one? Like, they justify some of the other stuff, but the specific dialogue about his motivation just doesn’t explain shit whatsoever.

And the plan…sigh. Yet another film where DNA is the magic word that does whatever the fuck you want it to do, sure. Fine. It shouldn’t get my goat as much as it does, but it does, so. There was the bit where Q is analysing the data from a USB stick and it’s just full of a bunch of people’s DNA profiles and just. Erghghghg. It was A Mess, and I don’t like it, and I wish people would stop writing plots that basically treat genetics or molecular biol like they are arcane majykks that can do anything, everything, and all in between.

Overall? Probably, like, a 7/10 or something. No Time To Die is, ultimately, a send-off to Craig and his era of Bond movies, and it definitely does that. To my knowledge, this is the only Bond film they’ve ever made where they knew going in that This Is The Last Movie With This Guy- and certainly the only one to actually take advantage of that fact. I don’t know that I would have gone out of the way to watch it if I wasn’t kind of already invested, but it’s not as awful as it very much could have been, so we’ve got that going for it. It’s a pretty solid action flick, one that promises a future for the series that I almost guarantee we aren’t going to see, but one that also ends an era conclusively and satisfyingly.

As a closing note- I do think it’s funny that this is a movie where the only “Bond Girl” is the one from the last movie. For the best, really.

[starshinewriter]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck, Louie Duck & Scrooge McDuck Characters: Louie Duck, Huey Duck, Dewey Duck, Scrooge McDuck, Doofus Drake (mentioned) Additional Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Love, Protective Older Brothers, doofus is the worst, scrooge used to be as well but hes working on it, Episode: s03e21 The Life and Crimes of Scrooge McDuck! Series: Part 10 of Set After Summary:

Louie apologized to Doofus, he isn't sure how to feel about it. (Spoiler alert, he's very sure.)

Notes: 

yes im aware this is another louie-centric story and yes im also aware that i still have to finish the final chapter of AMOM.... that's all i got.

hope you enjoy!

Alternative to Ao3:

The first thing Louie does when he gets home is go up to his room, he thinks his Uncle has some idea of how worn out he is cause he doesn't say anything against it. He knows that he'll have the room to himself since his brothers are still occupied with the gribbles and honestly that relieves him a bit, as bad as that makes him feel he needs to be alone right now. There's also the thing of them knowing whenever something is wrong the moment they see him and will ask questions that he isn't ready to answer yet.

He throws himself on his bed and does everything he can not to think about the day's events but fails almost instantly. So he tries to think about everything except the part that bothered him the most. He fails at that too.

He apologized to Doofus Drake, that was something that he did. And he's supposed to feel happy about it, apologizing is a good thing, but all he feels is everything he always feels with Doofus: dread, terror, the overwhelming desire to get as far away from him as he possibly can- which is about as opposite from good as you can get. He doesn't get it, why doesn't he feel better about this? Why does he feel like he just made a huge mistake? Sure, Doofus is Doofus, but he had gotten him off of his back, which had been his whole goal, he should feel good right now, but all he feels is trepidation.

Trauma, Huey would call it.

All he knows is that he wants it to go away and he doesn't know how to make it, and that might be scarier than actually being scared. What if it never goes away? What if he always feels like he can't let his guard down, ever? What kind of life is that? He buries himself in his blankets and that's where he stays, alone, until the door opens and voices that are talking about something he can't hear pause when they see him. He can practically feel them look at each other and carefully step to the bed.

"Hey, Lou." One of them -Dewey- says. "Whatcha up to?" He doesn't say anything. They look at each other once more. He feels the bed move a moment later- once, twice, and then he's surrounded by the comforting presence only his brothers can give. He stays in the blankets.

"What happened today? Uncle Scrooge gave us a summary but it was mostly about him and what he went through."

"Doofus Drake was there." Is all he says, but it's more than enough, in less than a second arms are encompassing the blankets and grabbing him in a hug. They know what a trigger Doofus is for him.

Huey places his head near where he knows Louie's is, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He feels his head shake and fights back the urge to sigh, of course he doesn't, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't. "We won't force you, but it might help you get your thoughts in order."

"I apologized to him." His brothers share a glance,

"Why?"

Louie shifts in the blankets, his brothers move to make him more comfortable. "To get him to leave me alone, mostly, and drop the case. But I dunno, Uncle Scrooge was apologizing for what he did, so I thought I had to too."

Dewey looks at him with confusion, "But you didn't do anything, not anything that he didn't deserve. Why apologize for that?"

"It felt like the right thing to do."

"Was it?" Louie is silent for a few minutes, that's what's worrying him, what if in making the right decision for the case he made the wrong one for himself?

"I don't know." He finally answers. "I just know I wanted Scrooge and me to be able to go home and I didn't want to have a sworn enemy my whole life."

Huey holds him tighter, "Louie, your relationship with him is not the same as Uncle Scrooge's relationships with his enemies. You're terrified of him! You can't be around him or even think about him without freaking out! He trapped you in his house, he tried to have you killed, he's not your enemy, he's an abuser!" The room falls silent after that and it stays that way until sniffles start to come from the blanket pile.

"I didn't want to do it," Louie admits. "I just did what I thought I had to. But now, now I'm so scared." He breaks into sobs and his brothers quickly pull him out of the blanket and into a hug. "It's not fair, why did I have to be the one to do it?! Why does he get to get away with everything?!" Dewey starts rubbing his back which makes him calm down a bit.

"All I can say is he better hope he doesn't run into us."

"Agreed." Huey replies; Louie lets out a small laugh, yeah he better, but Louie wouldn't feel sorry for him if he did.

____________________________________________________________

His Uncle finds him in the kitchen later and nods at him as he goes to get something from the fridge. "Are you feeling better, lad?" He asks as he sets up a kettle on the stove.

"No." Louie says honestly.

"Ae thought that might be the case." He pours tea into the kettle. "Ae know apologizin' fer somethin' is hard, especially ta someane like that, but sometimes it's just somethin' yew have ta do."

"... What if I made a mistake?" Louie responds without looking at him and his Uncle sighs.

"The only ane that can tell ye that is yew, do yew feel like ye made a mistake?" Louie hesitates before nodding. Scrooge hums, "Necessary evil it's called, sometimes its the only thing we can do. Doesnae make it right, or fair, but look at the positive: at least he'll leave ye alone now."

Louie doesn't say anything to that. Was that positive big enough to negate the negatives? "I wish I didn't." He admits all of a sudden. "Does that make me a bad person?"

His Uncle looks at him sternly, "Louie Duck, you are ane o' the best people ae know. Ye constantly make me want ta be better, and ae know ye do fer the rest o' this family as well. All o' yew kids do. Ae know this situation is awful but ae'm proud o' yew fer being the bigger person, if that counts fer anythin'." Louie nods, it does, it counts for a lot actually.

"Huey said I shouldn't have had to do it, that my relationship with Doofus was different than your's with your enemies. Worse. And that he didn't deserve an apology. I agree with him and I hate that I did it. It didn't make me feel any better, didn't lift any weight off of me, it just made me feel worse. And you know what the worst part is? That I keep thinking that I made him like this, that if I hadn't of gone to see him on Only Child Day he wouldn't be like this, how messed up is that?"  

Scrooge turns back to the stove and removes the kettle then pours himself a cup of tea, "The lad was right, my relationships are nae that the same as yers, and it'll do yew no good ta compare them. Ae'll be honest- that child deserves a lot o' things, but an apology is nae ane o' them. Ae'm sorry yew were forced inta that position, yew should never do things cause someane else is or because it seems like the right thing ta do." He sighs. "It was a sticky situation, and ane ye really shouldnae have been involved in, ae dinnae need Donald yellin' at me ta know that's true." He says with a wry grin. "Ae'm glad yew were there though, ye were a great help." He adds, more sincerely.

Louie beams, "Maybe I should be a lawyer."

Scrooge chuckles, "Maybe." He looks at Louie, "Somethin' ae realized today was that while ae had a hand in creating my enemies and them me, ae ultimately made myself. Anyane can go on and on aboot apologizin' and holdin' people accountable, but at the end o' the day our own actions are the only anes we're responsible fer. Yew didnae make Doofus what he is, he made himself like that."

"That makes sense. Thanks, Uncle Scrooge." Maybe now he can feel better about this situation, between his brothers and his Uncle he's coming out with a much clearer view than before.

"And speakin' o' holdin' people accountable..." Louie looks at him with interest. "Ae'm thinkin' Doofus' parents and ae need ta have a little chat aboot his behavior. He cannae make yew as upset as ye get every time yew run inta him and get away with it." Louie grins at him, okay, now he can really feel better about this whole thing. It won't be right away, but he knows now that it is possible. He'll probably be scared of Doofus his whole life, and will never, ever, be near him again, but he won't always be a source of trauma for him and that's probably the best outcome.

And this point, he'll take whatever he can get.

[mindwideopen]

Bert.... is mad.

Look at bert’s head! It’s about to explode with fury. He’s soooo mad! Oh no.... Bert, will have..... your.... ass..... No. because Bert would never do that. Bert is a loving guy, but he’s reached his limit, as a lot of us do from time to time. Bert gave Ernie ALL of his power. He allowed ernies antics to affect him negatively. What Ernie did? Who knows. Probably swindled Bert out of the bigger piece of pizza, and more grape drink. He does that a lot...

Or maybe he drank all Bert’s ice cream soda when all he wanted was plain seltzer,

or he probably annoyed Bert by playing tag with him, when he was trying to read.

Ernie is a bit inconsiderate like that, or, Ernie is needy, and wants attention from Bert, and Bert is into his own thing, Either way, Ernie doesn’t mean to act like a mindless, thoughtless Turkey culo. He wants love, like we all do. Unfortunately, it’s coming off really inconsideratly. Sometimes, when it’s not you that’s the one being annoyed, it can be hilarious. But let’s put ourselves in each of their positions for a minute...

Bert, does NOT look happy. He looks mad, yes, but also, hurt, upset, not appreciated, not understood, not cared for. Bert, is a perpetual victim of Ernie’s naughty business. Bert can also tend to like things the way he likes them. Kinda an immobile, guy. Maybe a guy that takes himself too seriously, too sensitive, with no sense of humor. BUT, regardless, Bert deserves love, and respect, and consideration even though Ernie doesn’t always show it in the way Bert appreciates. Does that mean Ernie doesn’t love Bert? Not sure. Are they in a serious codependent relationship of abuse? Could be. Or are they in a mutual friendship that somehow works for the both of them? It all depends on your perception.

Let’s take in Ernie for a bit. Ernie, is a purveyor of glad tidings, fun and joy. On the flip side, Ernie has a ton of energy, and doesn’t flow outside of his own desires in the moment very well. Some would say, “Ohhhh... That Ernie... all he cares about is fun, and play, and singing, and dancing, and his rubber ducky, and he’s messy, and carefree, and doesn’t listen to Bert at all. What an Turkey culo!! But Ernie does care about how he, and others like Bert, feel. And he wants to break Bert out of his comfort zone, and have a little fun with his best friend. How you view them, is irrelevant to them, but means everything to you. Because they are not affected by you in the least. They’re muppets. But the energy that they bring up in you, is very very real.

Ernie and Bert are facets of these 2 men: Jim Henson, who played Ernie, and Frank Oz, who still maybe I dunno, periodically plays Bert. But, they created these characters. And they evolved over time, both the characters, and the men.

I heard an interview where frank oz was discussing the character of Bert. At first, bert was a conundrum. He was boring. But frank oz, in his genius, made boring, fun! Well, Bert may be boring, but he loves it! He is the single most boring guy in the world, and loves what he loves; bottle caps, and pigeons named Bernice, and paper clips, and plain soda water. Bert celebrates his boringness to the hilt! I used to not get Bert at all when I was a kid. Bert?! You’re into boring....everything! But now that I’m older, I finally appreciate Bert, and his love of the mundane, cause he’s so into it. And frank and Jim, got it too, and they shared it with me, and all the other kids my age and beyond. Celebrate people not just for their similarities, but their differences too. And if you don’t celebrate their differences, at the very least accept the person, and love them anyway.

Ernie gives Bert a serious headache. So he cares for him, and makes sure he has his hot water bottle (still not quite sure what that does...) But no one can say Ernie doesn’t care, or they can, but they’d be wrong to me, because Ernie, in his own selfish jerk way to some, cares a lot. And I sometimes appreciate him for it. Bert resigns himself to it a lot too, cause after all, both of these characters come from a place of love, and devotion to one another.

But regardless of what I think of either, and much like gayle king of I dunno, and Oprah Winfrey, a Winfrey, they’re best friends. And isn’t it better to be friends, then not? Well, don’t ask me, cause I have none...

George Carlin: Kari, you, are seriously, one of the most ridiculous people I have ever not met personally. You have friends, you just walk away from everyone cause they don’t show up for you the way you’d like. I only know that, because you’re writing me, so I have an insight others don’t, because you cut everyone out. At least with Ernie and Bert, Bert gets pissed, and Ernie knows about it.

Bert in the year 2020: It’s been 50 plus years of ernie’s crazy behavior, and I feel the following: n for numb, b for beaten down, a for aggravated, and n again, for no more...

Ernie in the year 2020: bert, how many times do we have to go through this, Bert? I love you like a brother and friend, and I never want to upset you, ever, Bert. You’re special to me. I’ve learned that over time. You’re my best buddy, Bert! Just like rubber ducky, only you do all the shopping, and cleaning, and the dishes and laundry.

Bert: Er——niiie! That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You are not responsible for anything! We are both 7, 8, 9 or 10 years old! When are you going to chip in and do your share in this friendship?! All you do is give me grief, Ernie! Grief!

Oscar the grouch: sounds like my kind of guy!!!

Bert: um, youve known him for 50 plus years!

Oscar: well, I didn’t know that about him! I love hate it!

Bert: ok, anyway, Ernie, if you keep doing the same things that make me angry over and over again, how is that changing? I don’t trust you, or believe you. Your words do not match your actions. Aaaagh! I don’t know what to think...

Mr. hooper: maybe I can help. You see boys, this is a classic case of the bullshit that I don’t have to deal with anymore because I am dead.

Bert: um, mr. hooper, you’re not allowed to talk like that on Sesame Street. I’m only 10 years old and I live alone with Ernie, unsupervised, which is bad enough. I don’t think we’re supposed to hear such talk.

Mr. hooper: We’re not on Sesame Street right now, we’re in Kari’s blog, so it’s fine, cause she’s the one swearing, not me, as I, am dead, as I/she stated above. Alight, boys, what I’m trying to say is this; can you please, for once and for all, be more considerate of one another’s feelings and maybe just maybe get back to the love? I’m over all this bickering.

Ernie: yeah Bert, I was trying to tell you that...

Bert: yeah Ernie, but at some point you have to back up your words with the proper actions. How many times have I told you that?! And you ignore me!

The count von count: 7 zillion, 345 trillion, 8 million, 32 times Bert has told you, Ernie, about that! Ah ah ahhhhhhh! (Lightening strikes)

Ernie: you’ve got a point there, Bert. Ok, I’ll show you, by giving you, the bigger piece of pizza once and awhile, and leaving your seltzer, plain, and allowing you to read in peace. Cause I support you bert, and I care.

Bert: that’s great Ernie! I do too! And I’ll make time to play tag with you more, and spend time the way we like to do, together.

Mr. hooper: word(s).

Scene.

George Carlin: Kari, did you her all that?

Kari: yes. Oh man. I’ve been read by Ernie and Bert. Ok, my intention for writing on my blog is not to hurt anyone at all with my POV, but to be honest about my feelings, in love. I try not to be a mean passive aggressive person. I sometimes can be, but I’m trying to clean up my side of the street with that. And I do feel like I am friendless, but it’s because I’m hurt, and don’t feel loved or appreciated sometimes. That’s what it all comes down to, really.

Carlin: ok, clearly you need some time to sort this out. So I’ll leave us with this. I love you. You are a very kind, imaginative woman, who cares about people. I will allow you to sit in hurt as long as you need to. Just know that anytime you’re ready to join the world again, I’ll be there to support you. Some of these people are gone for good, and that’s ok, but some still care, and may want to work it out when the time comes. You’ll see when you’re ready.

Kari: thanks George. I love you too. And I will go and get a piece of almond Kringle now, cause I love O & H kringles (1) a lot, and give you the bigger piece!

Carlin: gee, thanks, as you will be the one ingesting it for the both of us. Better make it a sliver.

Kari: ok.

Scene.

Carlin: oh, and Kari, one more thing...

Kari: what?

Carlin: friends are better, when shared. And by cutting people out, you’re not sharing you. Just sayin...

Kari: no Kringle for you!

Carlin: fine. I’ll keep our girlish figure in tact...

Kari: fine! The whole Kringle for you!

Carlin: she’s maaaaddd...

Cookie Monster: this has been monster-piece theater... good bye! Me eat all the Kringle now, then all her cookies, cause she upset, and she won’t eat anything, so it no go to waste! I love her, so I help!

Kari: I ate ALL the Kringle!

Cookie Monster: noooooooooooo...... (shakes furry blue paw in the air)

Scene scene scene.

(1):,credit for my discovery of the o & h bakery and the Kringle itself goes to my friend Bonnie, who i believe now hates my guts. ❤️

[shizuu-chann]

while i love anders (both awakening and da2) with my whole heart, i can see how many gross, shitty things he does (even if i personally dont count the chantry thing as one), and my.... dislike of cullen doesnt come from my love of anders. the reason im not fond of cullen is that, from what i know, he never had to face the consequences of his own words and actions. anders gets killed and vilified for what hes done, but cullen doesnt even get a smack on the head. it pains me

Thank you for this. I appreciate your perspective, and I apologize because this response got rather long... But I hope that doesn’t deter you from reading or responding, if you feel the need or desire. 

I just want to preface that despite my criticism, I do very much love Anders. Even in DA2, even though I see some questionable actions and choice of words/phrases, I love Anders. I appreciate his concern for mage rights, and overall I agree with them. I don’t necessarily care about the Chantry, but from a story point, there were better ways to handle that situation that were not destroying a public building and killing everyone inside, etc. I also know that you can take the plot and his changes and blame it on the fact that he merged with a spirit, and that perhaps that changed his personality, but (to me) it didn’t seem like that was really the case. His base opinions and personality seemed drastically changed at their core, and not in a way that could be explained by merging with a spirit. Does that make sense? I mean, take Wynne. She merged with a spirit, but she stayed herself and her personality wasn’t perverted. I dunno.

As for Cullen’s lack of consequences, I get that. It makes sense that people would want him to see some negative consequences for some of the shit he did, and it’s completely valid. I’m also not excusing what he did. What did he actually do, though? I’m genuinely asking, because I don’t know. We know he said he did some things that were unworthy of him, but we don’t ever hear what they were exactly. It’s kind of just a blanket statement of “I admit I treated mages poorly, sometimes without cause,” but then he goes on to say, again, that this was unworthy of him and he’s updated his stances. I truly don’t mind if people hate Cullen, everyone has their own opinions, and a variety of opinions is what makes the world interesting (when those opinions aren’t actually morally terrible), but it seems like I never see anti-Cullen people in any way acknowledging that he is trying. (And when I have, they’re usually very cruel/harsh with that “people can’t/don’t change” opinion and discredit his efforts entirely.) But to my knowledge, you’re right: Cullen doesn’t face consequences for whatever terrible things he did before he left the Order and joined the Inquisition. 

Another separate, but relevant point, is Cullen has cause for his initial dislike/hatred of mages. It wasn’t a bias that he started his training as a Templar with, it was a well-earned fear that came from whatever psychological torture he suffered with the Circle fiasco. Now, that doesn’t give him the right to mistreat mages by any means, but it does give him the right to have emotions and have that fear. So, I guess my issue here is that people (not necessarily you) have no problem giving Anders the benefit of the doubt or forgiving his actions because of the societal/political/religious atmosphere of Kirkwall at the time, but they don’t extend that same courtesy to Cullen--who, while his personal traumas aren’t as big as the widespread abuse of mages in Thedas, does have his own reasons for the things he did that are valid to feel. They aren’t unimportant because they don’t affect the world at large. And he explains his change of heart and realizations, and acknowledges that he did some things he isn’t proud of and hopes his efforts with the Inquisition can atone for some of his crap.

I know this is all fictional, and none of this matters in the grand scheme of things, but it bothers me when people hate a character for actions/opinions that have understandable, if not excusable, explanations behind them. I’m not saying that everyone needs to like Cullen, but it would be nice to see more of that Cullen-critical content express that they see he is trying. It just seems that everyone has the idea that they need to take a black or white stance on everything, when most everything is a shade of grey. 

[luminescentlyricist]

🎲 Musings From The Hero of Light 🎲

Hi! This is just a simple drabble I did for an AU that Aaron and I established where we'd join a Sburb session together. It's written as if in a book, so it's essentially just one ramble of dialogue, and that's why there are no quotation marks.

~

Hello, there. The name's Lucy. It's not likely that anyone'll really see this stupid little book, but it's worth writing something down. I have no idea what's going on with myself, but I haven't slept in a few days, and I don't... really think that I have to, even though it makes no sense. Judging by the GameFAQ for this game, that isn't supposed to happen until God Tier. Are these delusions, then? Am I really dreaming, or am I just going nuts? I dunno, man.

My friend and sessionmate has just... disappeared, but I think I'll try and find him if the conditions become nicer. It's scary out here, even though my Land is relatively tame-seeming. At least the consorts are nice, though they don't talk to me. They seem scared of something, but I've been blasting music to drown out this awful whining echoing across the Land. Song and Fortune, huh? I could do with a little less Song - if you could call it that - and a little more Fortune, to be honest.

I don't want to sleep. The horrorterrors whisper at me, and I have a feeling they're trying to warn me about something, but all it achieves is giving me a headache. Does anyone around here have an eldritch dictionary? A translator? There's no wifi in this land, even though the crystals seem to emit some energies. I think we're slowly being driven insane, to be honest with you. Our session's already Void, provided that Skaia didn't change the Cardinal Aspects for us like we hoped it would.

Aaron... I haven't visited him or tried to contact him since he disappeared from his spire, but that's down in Derse. He's probably back there by now, and I hope he decides to let me know that he isn't dead some time soon. I'm sure not going into Derse to find him, due to my position as a human and not a sniffer dog. If he lets me know he's here, or at least somewhere in the physical world and not on the grape planet, I'll gladly search. Until then, I'm not moving. Plus, I can't even use my music to drown out the eldritch fucks yelling at me down there. It's like... their speech isn't broadcast in the actual world, but worms its way into your brain and vibrates in your skull cavity. It shakes me up physically and mentally.

Aaron's a bit more strong than I am in a psychological sense, so I think he'll be fine if he doesn't go Howard Hughes-y neurotic on my ass and loses his already fragile sanity. In that case, I'd be truly screwed over. Sure, I have some logic, but that mostly goes out the door real quick when I'm stressed out. And these conditions are pretty fucking stressful... Nothing to do but wait, wait with my own thoughts. My dice haven't been giving me any decent rolls, although I think I got Mindfang's Journal at some point a few days ago. It would have been a fascinating read, had it not been written in the true Alternian script and untranslated.

What a pain in the ass this all is.

In a Land to do with Fortune, and yet not one fortunate thing has happened since I've accessed here. Can someone please just... I dunno, man. Is there an intergalactic equivalent of Uber? I need to get the Hell out of this Land before I cave in to my thoughts and do something especially stupid. It's lonely, more than anything. The consorts are supposed to be guides, aren't they? They're hiding from me, I know they are. I've only seen a couple of little axolotl buddies scattered here and there, but they aren't willing to give me any information. The noise is distracting them, but I have no idea how to stop that. The crystals vibrate from it enough to shake me up, echoing the buzzing voices of the horrorterrors. It's more than a little disconcerting, but it doesn't seem like I'm going to be able to change anything for a long while.

It's boring and lonely and I want to get away, but I bought this upon myself. I was the one who convinced Aaron that he should enter a risky two-player session, and I don't think I'm going to make it. He should be able to, and that's really all I want. For my stupid actions not to wound someone who doesn't deserve it. With each roll of the dice, I feel like my luck is worse and worse. I didn't realise that the dice rolls could affect someone so negatively, let alone their own user. In the Beta session, the only other recorded use of Dicekind, it only buffed [her] physically and never wounded. I guess [she] had a stronger 'positive' connection to Light - if you could call a Thief a positive thing - but that's a useless theory because I don't even know my God Tier yet.

I don't have bandages, which is a pain, and I'm aching all over. It's bizarre how bad my luck has been since I entered the session. I've tripped more times than I can count, and I haven't been able to locate my Denizen, even though they should be pretty visible from a player's Land as far as I've read. It's been about a week here in this place, and I'm already sick of it. I can't figure out what my Quest will be like, despite the fact the others always had some kinda clue in their Land name. All there are in here are these cliff-gorges and spooky crystal caves that I can't access yet. Well, I can, but - like most things in this game - I really don't want to, especially not without Aaron here.

I wonder which Denizen I'll have. Yaldabaoth is off the table, since my pal seems to think that he's reserved for the strongest players. Probably Aaron's, then. He's remarkable, even though I'll probably die before I get to say that to his face. He's smart and logical, and I bet he'd be able to help me if he found me. I'd pin myself as either having one of three: Cetus, the perceived Light denizen, Nix, the perceived Void denizen, or Abraxas. Abraxas is the weakest Denizen, so I think they're the best fit for me. That's not just me being self-deprecating, either. I know I'm too weak for this game, and it was a mistake coming here. My physical health and mental health alike suck. I can't know for sure who I have until I find the damn snake, though it might be possible that I don't even need to meet them in a place like this. There could very well be something wrong with the session or my Land in general preventing my Denizen's rise.

Skaia seems to really, really enjoy fucking around with us. Come to think of it, I can't even remember what Aaron's Land is called. Land of Musings and Angels, I think... My recollection is fuzzy, though, and I can't seem to remember what I did five minutes ago, let alone a week ago. I think he has such a good, borderline-photographic memory that mine's just given up in its stead. 'Oh, you don't need to retain any more information. Aaron can handle it all.' So. I'm just sitting here, at the edge of one of the gorges, trying not to lose my fucking mind. It's always daytime here, as far as I can tell. I wonder what's up with that. At least the weather seems to be nice and staying that way. The wind's a bit cold, but I'm glad for it. Maybe this insistent wind is the reason why the whining's going on? I can't be sure whether or not there are some hollow crystals here, but that could change the tone of the 'song'. That's the only thing I can think of that could explain it, anyway. Some kinda disruption.

Can I sleep, do you think?

I'm not so sure I even can.

What am I kidding, writing this for someone who'll never read it. It's like having a conversation with yourself, which is pretty depressing. I suppose It's normal, but not written out in ink like this. This is all that I have left, this little documentation, to keep me tethered to this world. Ah, jeez... never realised how dramatic I was getting. I guess it's true to an extent, though, because there're no other humans to converse with except for Aaron.

Speaking of Aaron, I suppose it's due time I go and find the man.

See you.

~ Lucy H

Resident Derse-Dreaming Asshole

LoSaF

[archtroop]

So just binged Titans (2018) on Netflix and -

I want to say stuff. Lets start with the basics. I’m not a hardcore DC comics fan. I’m your occasional TV viewer who watched Teen Titans, and loved the Batman cartoons. I’m your ordinary Joe. That would mean, for me, this show is my introduction into these characters. I’m viewing these stories as manifestations of archetypes, I am not familiar with “classic” characterizations, or “the right way of this one to talk” and so on.

I enjoyed the show a lot. Like, I literally binged the whole two seasons in the expense of some very cherished sleep time. It sucked me in.

And I became very curious about the backgrounds of the characters, and I looked some of it up (fucked up stuff! good!) and I was interested in maybe some reviews or hardcore fans sating their... say.

And. Guys. Guys.

So much negativity? Over... it being too violent?... Too dark...? Too... new?

I watched this show right now with virgin eyes. And I have to say that, 

A. Dick Grayson of this Titans is the definition of “Dick Move”, and is literally trope co founder. And I love it. GO GRAY MORALITY GO. Also his introduction was. GOOD STUFF. I am rooting for this broken brain. His choices and inner struggles were very intriguing to watch, also his choices, morals and oh overall, a beautiful rendition of an adult, a grownup person that comes to terms with some very fucked up implicaitons.

B. For all the reviewers trashing Raven, calling her OOC and HotTopicRaven, guys, F U I loved her, I loved Teen Titans Raven as a kid, and this one is 16 and goddammit she is allowed to be emo and rock her style. And that she does. The “possession” thing she has is creepy cringe AWESOME STUFF. She rocks it, The actress ROCKS IT. Her whole journey was so engaging. TEAM RAVEN!

C. I was not familiar with Hawk and Dove, but I’m here rooting for them. Like full on SHIP THAT SHIP. I want them to be together, and I don’t care they broke my heart and then patched it up and I’m here for this couple.

D. Gar. OH PRECIOUS GAR, thanQ for righting the wrongs of decades of werepeople by transforming in and out while naked. I’m just so so grateful for this, but also, SO SO likable and the amount of empathy that was dragged out of me for the poor dude, I just want more screen time of him doing whatever he wants to do. I will literally watch an episode of Gar making various veggie shakes. I would. But also I want him to have more plot. Like, yesterday.

E. Kory/Starfire. Whoever trashes her costumes, go sleep on some legos. She rocks it, the actress rocks it, SHE ROCKS THAT RING ON HER LONG BEAUTIFUL FINGERS, and if anyone even dares to oink anything about her being black as apologetic, I say F U, she literally ABSORBS SUN POWER in this version, that melanin is rightfully hers. Also if you want to call me racist have fun, but I love the idea that genetics are applied with scientific purposes rather then, just, um, representation fodder launching pad. Fuck this shit, SHE IS THE SUN, GORGEOUS SUN. I love her discovery of self, maybe a hasty one. but damn poignant. I enjoyed her way of going around not remembering who she is. I root for her and her upcoming clash with her sister.

D. Donna. I kinda felt she will be in and then out and I didn’t really get attached to her BUT she was introduced as this very independent and firmly grounded person, and I was so happy to see her keeping her ground, good for her.

E. Jason Todd. Now here is a surprise. What a bomb of character that one. Now after doing minimal research about the fucked up origins of that one, I wasn’t surprised to see how he is probably the most twist and broken mess of them all. And he is the embodiment of DC’s wrongs, so it seems. This one is the ghost that Corp couldn’t get rid of or something. This one carries so so much nuance. But what really got me is how ensemble DarkHorse this one is. The actor is amazing. It reminds me how Dylan O’Brien of Teen Wolf out-shined the ever-living crap out of his co-stars cast back in the day. This one has similar energy. I literally squeezed on my couch into a little bulb of fright and pity when he had his outburst in front of Rose. His violence is so spot on brutal - I mean, while Dick’s violence is vicious, this one is brutal and I’m here for this. Also, his very introduction? Shivers down my spine and that feeling of “shit he had it REAL BAD as a kid. THE WORST”.

E.02 I... don’t care for Rose. Right now anyway. Maybe later on with her half brother as her copilot in S3? We’ll see. For now...? meh Sorry. 

F. Conner. From the very moment the name Superman was dropped I was like, there is going to be a supersomething. Now I am not familiar with all the comics and I barely remember Teen Titans, but I am on tumblr, so. OK his origins are creepy AF, also intriguing, and Lex, you obsessed fucker. GOOD. But then Jason was falling of the building and it was literally 2+2 “oh Conner is gonna save the poor soul”, but oh no they had to go full-on “catch you as you fall Lois Lane style” but except no flying up - instead crashing on a car. This character, just broke out of a laboratory, had a random journey, and was alive for like two days in total just to be at the right time at the right place to save Jason falling from that building? ?? What am I suppose to do with this information??? I mean, Someone DID THIS.  And I mean, that is kinda spot on.  The writers should be VERY CAREFUL NOW with that, coz it can be either beautiful stuff or a very gruesome publicity fodder. 

G. THEME. This Titans is. HORRIFICALLY IN YOUR FACE OOZES DARK TRAUMA AND CHILD ABUSE. While watching it I lost count of either abused/used children and crappy fathers. Dick is introduced while investigating a child abuse case. Raven was literally conceived so her demonic father could pass through her into this world. AND SO ON. And that literally includes Bruce and Dick themselves under that category, as the bad fathers. GOOD STUFF. You should really meditate on that. The amount of usage of children under the hands of adults in all the verity of forms, from sexual assault and rape and whatever violence to selling for profit (Conner is brainwashed and has a bid put on him, as a soldier for sale. He is a few weeks old.) is shockingly overwhelming. Like, this is THE THEME. Obviously this is a Found Family Trope kind of show, but oh my GOD they all are running from is just like, I dunno a mass of horny catholic priests? 

IN CONCLUSION

Titans may have a messy output with many plots but it is not that hard to follow. It’s not just darker and edgier, it’s just NOT THAT COMIC. This seems to be a show that might tackle some of the darkest stuff media doesn’t outright... tackles. It’s more then just “oh crap daddy issues”. It has the actual feeling of  “I will not be avenged. How do I move forward. Who needs me, who do I need to heal?” If it plays it right, it can be a thing of beauty. Or, if it will hear to all those negative shallow reviews, it will go crashing down in shamble. 

Signed, a satisfied, average viewer. 

[pajama-nerd]

Reading my way through Fazbears Frights, thinking about how none of these protagonists have ever interacted with any kind of horror media.

Reader Beware: Spoilers Ahead

Into the Pit didn’t read like time travel to me. It read more like a particular kind of haunting where the negative energy of all of the bad shit that happened at that location was locked into the one remaining 'feature' of the location: the ball pit. And Pit-Bonnie isn't the ghost of Afton, but rather the entity that was created from the memories of all that bad energy.

And the interesting thing to me about Pit-Bonnie is that - aside from the inherent creepiness of the situation and the fact that he had literally one facial expression (he can’t even blink for cryin’ out loud) - he didn't attempt to harm Oswald until Oswald went back to rescue his dad. Once Pit-Bonnie was away from the negative energy that had spawned him, he did Dad Things™. He did them in the creepiest way possible, granted, but we don't actually know how he feels because of his inability to express.

Maybe he wanted to stay. Maybe he just wanted a break from that place. Maybe that place has a hold on him, and being away from it allowed him a measure of free will.

And the fandom that I’ve seen about the Dashboard has locked onto Pit-Dad-Bonnie because the general attitude of the fandom - as far as I've witnessed - has been 'Oh. A scary thing! Well, now it's friend-shaped.' (or, in this case, Dad shaped) so of course my immediate question is, 'how would the story have changed if Oswald had made a more serious attempt to communicate with Pit-Bonnie?'

The immediate, cynical response is 'well it would have slaughtered him' but that's infinitely less interesting than the possible alternatives.

Perhaps he takes in the fact that Pit-Bonnie can't talk, and proposes an alternate method of communication. I'm talkin construction paper and crayons. And he gets Pit-Bonnie to tell his story a la Nephrite from Steven Universe. About how one day he just was. And how sometime after that, that version of Fazbear's formed around him. And how there were happy, smiling kids laughing in the pizzeria and he was happy, but how every time he tried to be friends with the kids something would happen.

The world would flicker and they would just be in that back room, like that. How he was desperate for some kind of a connection and could never have one because those kids – those memories – were doomed to die by the memory of his hands. How he noticed Oswald because Oswald didn’t fit – he was real – and how he’d wanted Oswald to help him figure out how to change what had happened (or to make it stop), but Oswald had run away. About how he’d tried to fish Oswald out of the ballpit and gotten his dad instead. About deciding to take his dad’s place so that he could get away from that place and how being here with Oswald was nice. Driving him to school was nice. Making him dinner was nice. Cleaning the house with him was nice.

(Imagine Oswald getting less and less afraid as he interprets the story, checking in with PB occasionally to make sure he's getting it right. Getting slightly annoyed tho, because he's not getting rid of this rabbit, is he? But he still needs to rescue his dad, so now what?)

Oswald eventually tells PB that he can stay, which surprises but elates the rabbit. Then Oswald tells him they have to get his dad back.

There's a negotiation. Obviously, they have to get his dad back. Has Pit-Bonnie been going to his dad's job? What about taxes? Things his dad knows how to do? What about Oswald's mom? Is Pit-Bonnie just going to pretend to be his dad around her forever? What if she wants to do...like...parent stuff? With her husband? If you catch my drift (PB does not, in fact).

Eventually PB agrees, and even drives Oswald back to the same block as the pizza place. He doesn't get close to it - definitely doesn't park in the lot - but Oswald just tells him to wait in the car and goes and wakes his dad up from the ball pit. His dad is confused. Disoriented. Way out of it. Let's Oswald lead him back to the car and sits in the back, too out of it to comment on the yellow bunny mascot in the front seat. They return to the house without incident, and his dad passes out on the couch.

Oswald eventually figures out that PB is the one making his dad so loopy - that the connection PB formed so that he could know how to drive the car, how to work the vacuum cleaner, how to make Oswald's meals, is also keeping Oswald's dad borderline comatose. It takes some convincing to get PB to give that up. PB is afraid to give that up - afraid that if he doesn't have an anchor, he'll go back to being an aimless product of rage and murder.

Oswald's solution is to spread the bond out. He'll take part of it. If PB splits his focus, it'll be less of a strain on his dad, and PB will have more than one anchor. This has the added property of giving his dad the ability to see the seven-foot-tall grinning plush rabbit (he doesn't react well. Neither does mom. Oswald has never had to talk so much in his life)

So now Pit-Bonnie is a part of Oswald’s life, and it’s hella weird at first, but everyone gets over it, because eventually you just get numb to weirdness. Except Oswald becomes obsessed with Freddy Fazbears, in an Unsolved Mysteries kind of way. Starts researching the place wherever and however he can.

Pit-Bonnie helps, in his way, after they figure out a way to communicate efficiently (modified Sign Language, because being bonded to Oswald means that Pit-Bonnie knows how to do all the things that Oswald knows how to do. So Oswald learns sign language. Which means that Pit-Bonnie knows how to sign now. He still only has the one facial expression, which makes asking questions a little complicated, but they work it out).

I imagine that Pit-Bonnie is very tuned in to the weirdness/darkness vibe that Freddy’s and its remnants (ha) give off. He starts reading local and then state, and then national newspapers, and whenever he gets the Fazbear vibe, he sets the article aside for Oswald to look at. Also he doesn’t sleep, so in the first week of Oswald’s obsession, he generates a lot of leads for Oswald by going through back issues of...everything.

This is a rambly thing, but my point is that most horror has a solution and most of the time this solution is subverted by having it happen to people who have no experience with horror movies, books, comics, or other mediums, which is…I dunno. Kinda cheap.

‘What if they ever saw Frankenstein and sympathized with the monster enough to have empathy for this thing?’

‘They’re not horror fans. And the ones that are have never seen or read the stories where empathy solves the problem.’

To Be Beautiful (a terrible, one dimensional story with a terrible message about self-image told the way that high school stories in the 80's-90's were told, which wasn't even accurate to how highs schools were in the 80's-90's) could have been solved by literally anyone being more than passively curious about the drastic changes that Sarah was undergoing. (Puberty doesn't work that fast. Her whole freaking face changed). Or by her mom going into her room at some point and asking about the 5 foot robot doll.

Count the Ways has many solutions, although, really? She shoulda chosen starvation. More time to escape or be rescued is always, always, always going to be better than a 'maybe I won't be bifurcated’ any way you slice it (I’m not sorry), but I'm fond of the idea of Oswald coming across an article about ‘theft of proprietary animatronics from a Fazbear Entertainment property’ and it leading him to Milly’s grandfather’s house in time to save her. Along with his seven-foot-tall grinning plush friend who can alter people's perception.

Fetch could have been solved by treating Fetch like a dog. Seriously. He is dog shaped. He is therefore a dog, first and foremost. Dog first, killer animatronic second. Which Greg didn't fundamentally understand (he strikes me as a cat person anyway). But Fetch spent that entire story trying to do what he thought his master wanted, and never got so much as a 'good boy' out of it. He didn't even try to defend himself when Greg went to town on him with a baseball bat because he just wanted to be a good dog for his boy. And even after that, when Greg expressed a desire to see Kimberly, Fetch still wanted to do something to get his master to call him a good boy. Honestly, if - after being warned about Fetch - Kimberly had planted her feet and said 'Sit!' I would bet actual Faz-dollars that Fetch's haunches would have dropped to the pavement out of surprise alone, because it would have been the first time in the story someone treated him like a dog.

Alec was doomed to be a teddy-bear from the moment his parents picked up a ‘how to raise my kids’ book, but he’s still alive. There’s no reason he couldn’t be rescued (by Oswald, who’s on the trail of all the weirdness related to Freddy Fazbear. I’d read that story. I’d write that story. I will probably write that story)

The Plushtrap story...had no flaws. That was the only solution, and good on those boys for making all the right choices except for the initial choices that put them in that situation to begin with. A+. Those teeth, Jesus.

1:35 am could have been solved with an apology. Come on. For a character that was supposedly in the Foster Care system being bounced from home to home, you’d think she could empathize with an entity that didn’t appreciate being thrown away. A sincere apology, a promise to never do it again, and Ella would probably have forgiven her.

I don’t remember where I was going with this. I started writing it before I clocked on for work, but that was eleven hours ago. Who can remember where a train of thought that far back?