#had to learn all through high school finally made sense because they were being used FOR something and now all of a sudden i am

[stellardeer]

Yeah I was kind of following both sides and willing to see where their argument was going until that shit, like do you really think most people in any of the fields listed wouldn't LOVE to dedicate their life to honing skills in multiple different fields of study?

Granted, as an engineering major I did often hear remarks from other students going into biology like "oh I could never do all that math" but I don't believe that they are genuinely incapable of learning and comprehending the material, but rather it's the given time frame and the way in which it is taught in some cases that bars people from exploring those topics. Not to mention, I've also heard enough physics and maths student griping about their gen chem or anatomy classes because it's "too much memorization," which just further exemplifies the point OP was trying to make about there possibly being different types of intelligence that we could theoretically measure but not "intelligence" as a whole. Just because someone is good at solving puzzles doesn't mean they have good recall and vice versa.

Also, I know anecdotal evidence doesn't mean much, but in my personal experience, everyone is capable of understanding mathematical concepts if they are taught in a way that actually makes sense to them. I have helped tutor so many people who just needed to have things explained in terms that made sense to them, which I think suggests there are social factors at play, like how you were educated in your formative years and what kind of language you're familiar with to describe certain concepts. But I haven't actually read studies that explore this kind of idea, so I can't make any actual arguments here, I just refuse to agree that a biologist could never be a mathematician purely due to lack of intellectual capability.

Not to mention the time and money factor, most people give up on subjects that they don't immediately excel at because they don't want to waste years and tens of thousands of dollars to keep trying until they get it right. And most working adults don't care to spend what little free time they have in their life going back and learning subjects they failed, they're too busy doing chores and raising kids and fucking relaxing in the few peaceful hours they get to themselves.

Can you explain in what what you think eugenics doesn't work? Does this basically boil down to skepticism about the accuracy of GWAS studies? My understanding is that academic consensus is "G probably exists, disentangling direct genetic inheritance vs genetic cultural inheritance is complicated but possible, we can identify a number of alleles which we're reasonably confident are directly causally involved in having a higher G factor"

when it comes to intelligence, its heritability, and its variation at the population level, my understanding of the science is:

highly adaptive traits don't, in fact, vary much at the genetic level between populations of a species because they are strongly selected for. in an environment where a trait is being strongly selected for, a population that failed to express that trait strongly will be rapidly outcompeted.

intelligence is probably the quintessential such trait for humans. we have sacrificed a great deal of other kinds of specialization in favor of our big brains. we spend an enormous amount of calories supporting those brains. tool use, the ability to plan for the future, the ability to navigate complex social situations and hierarchies in order to secure status, the ability to model the minds of others for the purposes of cooperation and deception means that we should expect intelligence to be strongly selected for for as long as our lineage has been social and tool-using, which is at least the last three million years or so.

so, at least as a matter of a priori assumptions, we should expect human populations not to vary greatly in their genetic predisposition to intelligence. it may nonetheless, but we'd need pretty strong evidence. i think i read this argument on PZ Myers' blog a million years ago, so credit where that's due.

complicating the picture is that we just don't have good evidence for how IQ does vary across populations, even before we get into the question of "how much of this variation is genetic and how much of it is not." the cross-national data on which a lot of IQ arguments have been based is really bad. and that would be assuming IQ tests are in fact good at capturing a notion of IQ that is independent of cultural context, which historically they're pretty bad at

this screed by nassim nicholas taleb (not a diss; AFAICT the guy only writes in screeds) makes a number of arguments, but one argument I find persuasive is that IQ is really only predictive of achievement in the sense that it does usefully discriminate between people with obvious intellectual disabilities and those without--but you do not actually need an IQ test for that sort of thing, any more than you need to use a height chart to figure out who is missing both their legs. in that sense, sure, IQ is predictive of a lot of things. but once you remove this group, the much-vaunted correlations between IQ and stuff like wealth just straight-up vanishes

heritability studies are a useful tool, but a tool which must be wielded carefully; they were developed for studying traits which were relatively easy to isolate in very specific populations, like a crop under study at an agricultural research site, and are more precarious when applied to, e.g., human populations

my understanding based on jonathan kaplan articles like this one is that twin studies are not actually that good at distinguishing heritable factors from environmental ones--they have serious limitations compared to heritability studies where you actually can rigorously control for environmental effects, like you can with plants or livestock.

as this post also points out, heritability studies also only examine heritability within groups, and are not really suited to examining large-scale population differences, *especially* in the realm of intelligence where there is a huge raft of confounding factors, and a lack of a really robust measurement tool.

(if we are worried about intelligence at the population level, it seems to me there are interventions we know are going to be effective and do not rely on deeply dubious scientific speculation, e.g., around nutrition and healthcare and serious wealth inequality and ofc education; and if what people actually want is to raise the average intelligence of the population rather than justify discrimination against minorities, then they might focus on those much more empirically grounded interventions. even if population differences in IQ are real and significant and point to big differences in intelligence, we know those things are worth a fair few IQ points. but most people who are or historically have been the biggest advocates for eugenics are, in my estimation, mostly interested in justifying discrimination.)

i think the claims/application of eugenics extend well beyond just intelligence, ftr. eugenics as an ideology is complex and historically pretty interesting, and many eugenicists have made much broader claims than just "population-level differences in intelligence exist due to genetic factors, and we should try to influence them with policy," but that is a useful point for them to fall back onto when pressed on those other claims. but i don't think even that claim is at all well-supported.

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a bit of drunk!reader and drunk!eddie, a lil angst

summary: steve is by your side at a last minute party 

CHAPTER FIVE | ❝𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒘, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔❞

Fall Semester 2015

Would either of us even remember any of this tomorrow? 

The music was too loud to outwardly verbalize that question, and it was forgotten after a second too, which probably only proved it to be true. 

Instead, your mind shifted into thinking about what led you and Eddie to this current moment— a last-second canceled date, your abrupt suggestion to go to a frat party to celebrate the end of finals and also to cheer Eddie up, and his immediate yes. 

The two of you drank cup after cup of some random mix of God knows what. It tasted absolutely horrible but it did its job— barely an hour into being at the party and you were effectively drunk, and so was Eddie; maybe even more than you. You had a feeling that had something to do with Chrissy and her canceling their date.

The number of people crammed into the house was probably a fire hazard at this point and it was starting to feel way too hot.

You were leaning back against a wall, because it was the only thing keeping you steady, and Eddie was in front of you. “We should leave.” 

The music blasting through the speakers in the huge living room was so loud that you could barely even hear the words leave your mouth. 

Eddie heard something, though, or attempted to read your lips in the shitty lighting, because he was shaking his head. “No, we should leave.”

You could only laugh in response at first. 

“That’s what I said,” You told him, that time making your voice louder, matching his.

“Oh,” He said and smiled, a perfect drunken smile that made you smile back at him. 

You wondered what he thought you had just said and you were about to ask him exactly that, but then someone was bumping into him from behind, which pushed him much closer to you, and the thought of saying anything was pushed away. His hands instinctively found your hips to steady himself as he let out a breath of a laugh and didn’t immediately step back away from you.  

There was no reason for you to lean in a little more, but you did. It was an impulsive decision that was made solely by your heart because your head was in an entirely different place. Your thoughts were cloudy and all rational thinking was tossed to the side. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, this actually felt like the right thing to do. And even if your best friend would’ve rejected you in that moment— pulled away and said that this wasn’t at all a good idea— you probably wouldn’t have been too fazed about it right then. 

But, Eddie wasn't pulling away. Instead, he was meeting you halfway and closing the final bit of space between you two. You didn’t even have time to be surprised about it before his lips were on yours and your already muddled mind became even more blank. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

“If either of you would like to suddenly become really good at Physics and explain this velocity formula to me, that would be awesome.”  

You looked up from the book you were reading, a biography about a random British author from the 1800s that was assigned for one of your classes, when you heard Robin’s words.

She pushed the textbook she had opened over to your and Eddie’s side of the table that the three of you were sitting at in the library.

Everything you learned in your high school Physics class had pretty much went in one ear and out the other, so looking at what she was pointing at in her textbook unsurprisingly made no sense to you. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Eddie took the quickest look at the opened page and shook his head before sliding the textbook back over to her. “I still don’t get why you decided to take that class.” 

“I have to finally get a science course out of the way and this was the only one available this semester,” Robin quickly explained and then sighed. “I truly, truly regret it now.”

She took another look at the page before simply closing the textbook and picking up her phone.

When you all studied or decided to collectively work on your respective assignments together it was always agreed that the first floor of the library was the perfect place to do it because of the idea that being in a library meant that you were being more productive. But, that really was just an idea because the first floor of the library was a free-for-all all for noise and you guys never went to any other floor, so your “study nights” almost always turned into you rarely doing any actual studying after the first hour. 

“Oh, anyway, look at this video I took of you and Steve during game night,” Robin abruptly said and handed her phone over to you. “I meant to show you yesterday, but it completely slipped my mind.” 

It was during the Mario Kart tournament; you were quickly able to tell that because the video started with the camera focused on the TV screen when you were seconds away from getting in first place for the final race. The camera turned to you and Steve sitting next to each other on the small loveseat when you won; you smiling in victory and him pulling you in for a celebratory hug and pressing a kiss against your cheek. You were glad to see that in the video you actually couldn’t tell how, even though the entire night you had tried your hardest to make everything seem believable and comfortable between you two, in that moment you were inwardly tensing up because of how unexpected the action was.

“The fanfare makes a lot of sense. That was the only game we won that night,” You said once the video ended and you passed the phone back over to Robin.

“I actually like him,” She told you with a smile. “I vote to keep bringing him around.” 

Eddie nodded. “Sure, keep bringing him around, but I need you back on my team for game night. We’re always killer at charades.” 

“Yeah, if you guys are a team again you won’t cheat at charades like you and Talia did,” Robin said. 

“That never happened,” He immediately responded, which made Robin roll her eyes and you only laughed. 

Your phone began vibrating on the table right as Eddie shifted the conversation and went into talking about band stuff; a gig that he and the guys had on Friday at a bar across town. 

Steve’s name popped up on your screen and when Robin noticed she let out a laugh. “Woah, did I kinda accidentally manifest him?” 

“Now you should try to manifest a good grade on your Physics test,” Eddie joked.

“Good idea!”

You grabbed your phone and then stood up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

You headed down a random empty aisle and then answered the call. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Steve started. “So I told my parents about us and they want to meet you, so a dinner is set up for Sunday.” 

You took a second to process everything he had just said— which wasn’t a lot but it also kind of was— and then you were nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “Oh. Oh, wow, okay.”

“I can change it to a different day if Sunday’s not good.” 

“No, Sunday’s fine,” You told him, which was technically true because you had nothing going on that night, but you didn’t expect this to happen so fast so things didn’t feel entirely fine. Even though the quickness made a lot of sense because things were meant to happen fast— you and Steve were only doing this whole fake dating thing for a month. ���Just please tell me it’s not gonna be at some way too fancy restaurant.”

“No, don’t worry, I convinced them to just do it at the house,” He said, which placated your worries just for a second, but then you weren't sure if meeting his family in his childhood home sounded much better either. However, it was only Wednesday, and you were quickly telling yourself not to stress about any of this until, at least, Friday.

“Okay,” You said instead of anything else. 

Things were quiet for a second and you were half-reading some of the spines of the books on the shelf in front of you before mindlessly speaking. 

“So, how’s your week been so far?”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

Both your and Steve’s words were said at the same time and then after the briefest of pauses with neither of you saying anything, it was as if you both wanted to immediately follow up and respond to each other. But as he was responding with, “Oh, it’s been good so far,” you were saying, “Okay, yeah, I’ll see you later.”

Another beat of silence hit and you kind of just wanted to end the call right there, but you stopped yourself. You hadn’t talked to him since game night and you were still trying to figure out what the dynamic between you two was aside from fake dating each other, and you were starting to think that maybe there really was nothing else to it. And maybe these kinds of moments only proved that. 

“How’s your week been?” Steve asked, and you were a little surprised that he actually wasn’t trying to end the conversation, and you honestly didn’t mind the mundane question being tossed onto you. 

“Good,” You answered, leaning back against the shelf behind you, and then started rambling a bit. “I had a test yesterday, which went fine, and Wednesdays are usually easy for me because that’s my least busy day so it’s been good so far too.”

“Nice.”

“Also, you got rave reviews from everyone after game night, by the way,” You said and then shook your head at yourself. “I don’t know why I randomly decided to mention that, but yeah.”

“I told you that I’m good at making people like me.”

“Even though that’s actually true, there’s something about you saying that statement that makes me want to hit you.” 

“Wow, ouch,” Steve said, but you could also hear him laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna hang up now.” 

“See you Sunday,” You responded. “We can talk about it more later.” 

“Yeah, see you Sunday.” 

You hung up then and pocketed your phone in the back of your jeans as you headed back over to Robin and Eddie. 

Robin looked up at you. “Are you ditching us to go hang with Steve?” 

“No,” You answered, shaking your head and sitting back in your seat next to Eddie. “He just called to ask about doing something Sunday, so I’m seeing him then.”

There was no way that you were going to explain further and tell them that you were actually going to be meeting Steve’s parents; you knew exactly how insane it would sound if you did. 

“Okay, good because we need your vote.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

“For what we should do tonight. Should we be boring and rot away on the couch, like we almost always do, or go to a party that Vickie just texted about that one of her Art major friends is throwing?” 

“It’s a Wednesday and you have a test tomorrow,” You reminded her.

“Yes, but this would be fun.”

“I think rotting away on the couch would be very fun too.”

Robin groaned at your words and Eddie smiled at you.

“Thank you for agreeing,” He said.

“Okay, don’t get too happy yet,” Robin said to both of you. “Talia still has to vote and now she’s the tiebreaker.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Apparently, this night was one of the rare moments where Talia was in the mood for a party, so you and Eddie were ultimately outvoted and by nine o’clock, you all were headed to a house that was on a completely different side of town. 

Robin and Vickie broke off from the group pretty much immediately, and Talia was pulled into a conversation with someone she knew from a class, and you and Eddie were left with each other; which was something that happened more often than not. You two usually always stuck together at parties, and then after the Chrissy breakup, that became even more of an always thing. 

This night, you first both grabbed a drink and then walked around the small and too-packed house before settling in a random spot. After an hour, you wouldn’t say that you were drunk, but you definitely were comfortably tipsy, and that made the game that you and Eddie were playing ten times better; which was a weird mix between rock, paper, scissors and a staring contest. It was entirely childish and dumb and barely made sense, but what else was there to do? 

“I still don’t fully understand the rules of this game,” Eddie said, laughing a bit. 

You nodded, laughing too. “Me neither, but I’m pretty sure I’m winning, though.” 

“Okay, I don’t think that’s true.” 

You could tell he was about to say something else but then his gaze was focusing on someone behind you who he waved at after a moment. You turned around and saw Steve maneuvering through the crowd and walking over to you and Eddie.

It was Robin's idea for you to ask Steve to come to the party; although it probably should’ve been yours because it was a perfect opportunity to play up your “relationship.” However, you did tell him that you knew exactly how short notice this party invite was, so if he didn’t want to come, you’d be completely okay with it. But, he said that he had no problem with coming and turning on the fake dating charm for the night. His exact words were, “If you’re going to have to suffer through a dinner with my parents, I can easily go to a party for you,” which didn’t help ease any of your worries about what Sunday would be like, but, at least, he was coming tonight. 

“Hey,” Steve said, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

You were suddenly glad for your slight tipsiness because it actually made it feel easy to lean into Steve’s touch and feel entirely okay about him kissing you. 

“Hi,” You looked up at him. “We’re currently in the middle of playing a game that doesn’t make any sense, but I’m winning.”

Eddie shook his head, laughing a little. “She’s definitely not winning. If anything, we’re tied.”

“If it makes you feel better to say that, fine,” You said with a shrug and only laughed when he rolled his eyes at you. 

“Can I know the rules of the game?” Steve asked. 

“It’s basically a mix between rock, paper, scissors and a staring contest,” Eddie started explaining and then stopped abruptly. “Hold on, Talia’s giving the signal. I’ll go help her out.” 

You nodded at his words as you looked at Talia and saw that she was, in fact, doing the very subtle wave in your guys’ direction. 

“Signal?” Steve asked you as Eddie walked away. He dropped his arm from your shoulders and went to simply holding your hand instead. 

“Talia is always hardcore flirted with at parties like this— Art majors are always so obsessed with her “vibe” for some reason. So we swoop in whenever she wants to get out of a conversation. It’s also something we all do, if needed,” You briefly explained. You looked over at her again and saw Eddie jumping into the conversation that she was having with some random guy. You had no idea what Eddie was saying, but he was moving his arms around excitedly, which made you smile. He always did something similar to that when saving someone from a conversation; an attempt to scare the random person away with his overdramatic antics. 

“Your friend group is so interesting,” Steve said and when you looked back at him, you noticed the amused smile on his face. “Also, you’re surprisingly chill right now. How much did you drink?”

“Only two cups of whatever punch was in the kitchen,” You answered, remembering just how bad it had tasted. “Did you just get here? I almost thought you weren’t coming anymore.”

“Yeah, the drive took a lot longer than I thought it would,” He said and you nodded. “I texted you.”

“Oh, I think my phone’s dead,” You responded, pulling it out of your jacket pocket to check, but it slipped out of your hand and hit the ground instead. You immediately reached down to grab it, and as you stood back up, you got hit with a wave of dizziness. “Woah, shit.”

Steve was grabbing your arm to steady you when you stumbled a bit. “I thought you said you only had two drinks.”

“Yeah, I did. I just stood back up too fast and got a little dizzy.”

“You wanna go outside for a second?” He asked, and suddenly the thought of getting some fresh air sounded really good to you. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

His hand found yours again and he led you to the backyard. There was nothing in the small yard aside from a rusty old lawn chair that was sitting under a tree in the farthest part of the backyard, but it was luckily just long enough to fit both of you.

“Be honest,” You started, turning to look at Steve. “How bad is Sunday night gonna be?”

He was quiet for a second and then shook his head. “Let’s not talk about it right now.”

“Oh, God. I’ll take that as very bad.” 

He bypassed your statement. “You want me to go grab you some water or something?”

“Nice job at changing the subject. I’m okay, though,” You said. “Do you want me to get you something? I can also be a chivalrous and considerate fake girlfriend.”

Steve laughed a little. “No, I’m fine.”

You noticed the sliding doors that led to the backyard open and then saw Eddie walk out. You let your hand slowly find Steve’s and then you pushed yourself closer to him, closing the final bit of distance between you two on the patio chair. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, and you realized how weird your previous actions probably seemed out of context. 

“Yeah, it’s just that Eddie’s walking over to us right now, so we should play it up,” You said and then gave Eddie a quick wave with your free hand.

“Oh, smart,” Steve said, seeing him and waving too. “You’re getting good at this.” 

You smiled at him. “I learned from the best serial dater.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” 

“You should,” You told him and then proceeded to say something that would’ve probably taken a lot more courage to say if you weren’t tipsy. “I wish I was more like you, I think. I wish I didn’t care about relationships and feelings because if I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be hopelessly in love with one of the most important people in my life.” 

“It’s not hopeless,” Steve said, making his voice lower because Eddie was only a few feet away. 

You didn’t get the chance to think about saying anything in response to that before your best friend was standing in front of you and Steve.

“Hey,” Eddie started, eyes on you. “Talia wants to leave, so I’m gonna head out with her too. Do you wanna come with us or are you staying?”

Any other time, the answer would’ve been an obvious yes— in fact, he wouldn’t have even asked the question because he already knew your answer— you’d always leave with him. But this case was different because of Steve sitting right next to you, and a girl that “really liked a guy” would stay at a party with him, right? Your slightly inebriated brain was assuming the answer was yes.

“Staying with Steve,” You ultimately answered. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.”

“Okay,” He said to you with a nod, and then looked at Steve. “Get her home safe, Harrington.” 

It was such a subtle statement, but it still warmed your heart all the same. 

Steve nodded. “Of course.”

Eddie looked at you one more time, giving you a final small smile which you returned before heading off. 

“It’s not hopeless,” Steve told you again, and that time, you felt a little bit closer to believing him. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore

[anadrym]

Extended Author's Notes for Left Behind Ch9.

Spoilers!

Chapter title is from "Never Be The Same" by Red. One of my favorite love songs, and something I listened to a lot during my depressed high school years.

We are now in the second document I have for this fic (the first one got really slow after Ch8). Also, this is now the longest fic I've ever written. :)

Gotta say: I have so many emotions about this chapter that I hardly know where to even start.

Vi is taking such a leap of faith here. Her mind is absolutely scrambled. She's almost certain that she recognizes Caitlyn, but she can't remember more than that. She's risking everything in the hope that she's right about their connection, and she's trusting that Caitlyn won't betray her to the Baroness.

And Caitlyn... God, just imagine gathering up the courage to finally lay your loved one to rest and then they tell you that they're still alive. No wonder she completely breaks down. She's not even sure she believes it at first, which is why she stops short of touching Vi's face - she's terrified that it's not real.

And then Vi closes the gap. Even though no one has touched her with kindness for five years, Vi crosses those last few centimeters. I'm ill.

And as soon as Caitlyn realizes that she's not imagining this, that Vi is really in front of her and really Vi, she's all in. Both hands supporting her partner, catching her as she collapses, holding her as they both break. FUCK, I love this chapter.

One of the things that really got me hooked on these two was the way they touch each other, so I really try to focus on that in my fics. It works especially well here because they can't use words (at least, not from Vi's POV), so everything has to be communicated through touch. Also, I absolutely love how deadly these two can be, but they're still so soft around each other.

What was Caitlyn whispering over and over again? I actually never decided. I was leaning towards "You're alive/here" or just Vi's name, but one of you put forth "I'm sorry" and I like that too. Feel free to let me know what you thought, but it should be something incredibly heart-wrenching.

So. In terms of what words Vi can understand. I've been trying to think of it like when you're learning another language. When someone speaks at a regular pace, you might be able to pick out a few more distinct words, but have trouble with interpreting the whole sentence. However, if certain terms had been used around you for five years and you were punished for not obeying them, you'd learn very quickly to recognize them. That's why "get up" sends Vi into a panic.

Oh, Caitlyn. Always the detective. Realizing that Vi can't understand her words and switching to gestures. Realizing that the bruises on her arms and neck are from the injections. Trying to get as much information as she can about what's being done to her partner.

Vi is cold, but the injection sites are warm from swelling and irritation. Caitlyn reaches up to check if Vi has a fever, but stops short when she remembers to ask for permission to touch her. She's trying to give her partner as much autonomy as she can.

Vi realizes that Cait is trying to get information about the injection sites and guides her hands to the ones on her legs, which Cait didn't know about.

Also! Vi, even in this state, comforting Cait on instinct by rubbing her thumb over Caitlyn's knuckles. They're going to be the death of me, I swear.

Cait is about to tell Vi to "lie down" but stops herself when she realizes that saying "down" would probably be a very bad idea.

The ring triggers Vi to remember just as Cait kisses her forehead, that's how she recalls her name. It's still going to be a bit before Vi gets her own name back (though I personally think it'll be worth the wait).

Yeah, Caitlyn absolutely whispers, "I love you" as Vi drifts off. :')

Is Cait going to unreasonably blame herself for taking actions that made sense at the time with what information she had? Yes. Yes, she is.

The part about Cait realizing that she almost killed Vi and that Vi would've been aware during it was greatly influenced by your comments on Ch8. I hadn't really focused on it much before y'all pointed it out.

And again, always the detective. Putting the pieces together even when she doesn't want to, even when it makes her feel even more guilt. :(

Vi's malnourishment is important. It's the clue Caitlyn needs in the next chapter.

There's just something about two broken people who have been turned into weapons (whether by their own choice or not) finally becoming people again because they found each other.

When Vi wakes up and Caitlyn smiles (first time in how long?), Vi looks down at her parted lips and sees the gap between Caitlyn's front teeth, the same one she remembered right before the last Maintenance session.

Caitlyn trying not to overwhelm/overstimulate Vi by touching her, and then Vi immediately throwing herself into the touch? Vi is so physically affectionate, and she's been desperately craving this for years.

We will deal with Cait's guilt, but not for a bit. Right now the focus has to be on getting the fuck out of there.

God, it is so exciting when you guys speculate on future chapters and are right. It means I'm setting up the story well (take that, anti-spoiler culture)

Teaser for next week:

"I want her again tonight."

The Baroness leans back in her chair, a sly smile slowly curling her lips. "I'm inclined to grant you that. But first, you have to earn it."

[poly-pan-0118]

Age of Attraction

Bakugou/Fem!Reader WC: 9576

You hang out at ShouMic’s bar, where retired and washed-up Pro Heroes hang out to drink away their sorrows and regrets. You like it when they finally drink enough to share their stories. No, you don't gossip and write blogs about their business; you just like listening. But when a remarkably seasoned vet walks in and the whole bar goes quiet, you eventually learn that he is none other than the retired Pro Hero, Great Explosion Murder God DynaMight. Despite the age gap, there seems to be some unknown force pulling you together. An attraction that neither one of you can ignore.

You sat at your usual spot at the bar, playing with the straw of the fruity drink in your hand as you gazed over the other patrons. You’ve already talked to nearly all of them and were starting to get bored. ShouMic’s Bar was a little tavern on the outskirts of Musutafu. It’s where retired and, dare you say, ‘washed up’ pro heroes hung out. When everyone else in their life had abandoned them: their families, their spouses, the commission. ShouMic’s was now their home. The old heroes knew they could go there and drink in peace until all their troubles were forgotten, until the next day anyway. 

Your visit to ShouMic’s was a complete accident. Your car had broken down and you ran inside asking to use the bar's phone because you couldn't keep your cell charged. The bar owner, Mic, was friendly enough to let you use the phone and even gave you a drink on the house. While waiting for a tow, you looked around at the other patrons. You recognized several faces and soon realized older pro heroes surrounded you. 

These were the heroes you heard about growing up: Ken Ishiyama, better known as Cementoss, who was invaluable in rebuilding the city after the war, and Ryo Inui, Hound Dog. Thanks to his superior senses, he located many survivors buried underneath the rubble. It turns out he’s also a great counselor. 

Ryo was the first person you talked to. When he first saw you, his years of experience told him you needed someone to talk to. You spilled your guts to the retired counselor, telling him all your problems and fears, and he listened. What you didn't expect was for him to share his experiences. He talked about what it was like fighting with the other pros against some of the most brutal villains.

After returning home that night, you couldn't stop wondering what the other heroes had been through. Yeah, you've read the stories about the war and even covered an entire semester in high school learning about what happened, but the way Hound Dog told his story was entirely different. You craved to hear more stories straight from the source. That’s how you found yourself back at ShouMic’s the next day. 

When you first walked in, Mic quickly teased you, asking if you had car trouble. You asked him to start a tab, and you planned on being there for a while. After a bit, Mic announced that it was karaoke time. His loud, boisterous voice yelled out to the crowd with a wide smile. There were a few claps and only three people walked to the screen to select a song. You watched the enthusiastic look on Mic’s face drop as everyone else in the bar continued as if he had said nothing. Your eyes caught a picture of two men hanging on the wall behind you. The blonde you recognized was Mic, but there was also a man with long black hair and an eye patch. Was that man his partner or a lover, perhaps? Maybe you could get Mic to open up to you. Your heart ached for the bar owner, but you had a mission yourself. 

Slowly, you made your way around to the different tables where the pros sat. You would start with some idle chat, and before you knew it, they would tell you their life story. Weeks passed, and you started becoming a regular yourself; sometimes, people approached you first. They just needed someone to listen to them, someone who hadn't heard the same story repeatedly, and you were happy to oblige. 

A month had passed, and you were sitting at your usual spot at the bar, listening to Mic tell you a story about All Might and how he had himself as his ringtone. The man had slowly opened up to you over the weeks. At first, he wasn't sure about you. He wondered if you were working with some tabloid trying to rehash old gossip, but when he never read or heard anything about his bar or the patrons within, he realized you were truly there to listen. He would ask you the same question over and over again.

“Why is such a young and pretty lady hanging out with a bunch of old washed-up Pros? Aren't there any college parties you would want to attend rather than be here?” You, in return, would give the same answer every time. 

“Not really.”

It was true. You didn't want to be at some frat house watching drunken idiots get into fights as they argued about who could get the most girls to sleep with them or listen to fake girls pretend to be your friends as they talked behind your back. You had no interest in listening to them talk about how many likes they did or didn't get on a half-ass nude pic or how they missed a sale on a pair of shoes. You would rather listen to someone tell you about something they did in their life that made a difference. Something they did that had a purpose. 

You heard the familiar Swoosh sound from the front door opening, and the bar chatter was silenced. You turned in the barstool to see who had entered and a shiver ran down your spine. You could feel the excitement build up within you, along with a bit of fear, as you looked the man over. Like most others in the bar, he was most likely twice your age. He had Ash Blonde hair that undoubtedly hid the gray. He looked like he was still fit for his age. At least he is staying in shape, you thought . The massive scar on the right side of his face caught your eye the most. When he reached for the glass that Mic had sat down in front of him, you could see more scars on his right hand and wrist. You wondered just how beat up this man was.  

You fidgeted with the empty ashtray on the counter, spinning the glass tray in circles as you chewed on your bottom lip. You were curious to learn who this hero was and his story. Looking at him, you could tell he had been through a lot.  

“I’d leave that one alone, my little songbird,” Mic said as he recognized the look on your face. “Believe me. His bite can be way worse than his bark.”

Looking back at the new patron, you saw him staring at you. His red eyes almost seemed to glow in the dim lights hovering over the bar. You gave him a small wave and smiled. He rolled his eyes and looked at Mic. As you watched the two men converse, you heard Mic call him Bakugou. The name sounded familiar, and you racked your brain, trying to recall who this hero might be. Minutes ticked by and you hadn't realized you were staring so hard til the man slammed his shot glass on the table, making you jump. 

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? You gotta fucking staring problem or something?” The man snarled in your direction.

“I-I, no. I’m sorry. I didn't mean-” you stuttered.

“Relax Bakugou. The girl is harmless. She didn't mean nothing by it.” Mic interjected. You felt terrible and wanted to apologize, but the look on the man's face made you think twice before speaking. He probably thought you found him looking scary, or his scars made him look gross. He couldn't have been farther from the truth, though. You've always thought scars reminded us how we survived some of the most challenging battles. They were nothing to be ashamed of. You thought the man looked pretty handsome, to be honest. His scars matched his worn and rugged look for his age and you found yourself attracted to him. The blonde narrowed his eyes when he caught you, giving him a sideways glance.

“Tch,” the blonde abruptly stood as he pulled out his wallet and fished out some bills. He dropped the money on the counter and turned to leave, nonchalantly waving his hand before walking out the door. “Later, Mic.” He glanced over his shoulder one last time before leaving, catching your eye, and then he was gone. 

“Who was that?” You asked Mic as he returned to refill your drink. He paused for a moment and just stared at you. 

“That, my dear little one, was Bakugou Katsuki.” When you furrowed your eyebrows at the name, not recognizing it, he continued. “Your history books know him as Great Explosion Murder God DynaMight.”

That night, you couldn't sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, you found red ones staring back at you as if looking straight into your soul. You tossed and turned, imagining the things he must have seen, the things he’s done. You wanted to ask him what the most significant battle he fought was. Who was the most challenging villain to take down? 

You recognized the name when Mic said it and heard stories about the foul-tempered Pro Hero throughout your childhood. There has to be more to his story than just his brash attitude. You were tempted to use the internet to find more information about him, but you wanted to learn everything from the man himself. You wanted to hear what he had to say and know his thoughts. So, with that in mind, you made it your mission to seek him out and befriend him, even if it would be dangerous to your health. 

Another month went by and you've seen the ‘Great Explosion Murder God DynaMight’ only about four other times. Each time you tried to converse with him, he blew you off.  He would call you a “stupid little girl” who should “mind her own business.” Mic would shoo him away and redirect the conversation as you sulked in a chair. 

One particular night, you sat at the very end of the bar, and for the first time, you didn't feel like talking to anyone. You had a rough day trying to finish your thesis, only to have your roommate give you a guilt trip after you declined to join them for a party. You knew they had only asked because you had a car and could drive them. You tried to tell yourself that it didn't matter what they thought or would say behind your back. Still, it didn't remove the pain of feeling betrayed and used. 

So you joined everyone else in the bar that night and decided to drink your sorrows, starting with margaritas. You looked out over the crowd of heroes for Ryo. He was always good at helping you work through your feelings, but you couldn't find him. Another margarita it is. 

Bakugou had asked around about you. He wanted to know who you were and what you wanted. It was the same thing from everyone he had asked. You were harmless, just a curious college girl who wanted to hear their stories. He remembers going home and searching all over the internet for your face, looking for evidence that you had betrayed all the bar patrons and blabbed all their business on some gossip site. If it was one thing he hated almost as much as villains, it was the sleazy press. All they did was cause more harm than good with all their news. They would twist people's words around until they were backed into a corner and made to look like a villain. Bakugou eventually found a picture of you online. It was a picture of you at college. 

“Fucking hell,” he scoffed as he read the article below your image, “You really are a goodie goodie, aren't you?” He muttered as he read about how you organized and volunteered at a Pro Hero outreach center. His eyes lingered on your photo a little longer than he liked. You had a pretty smile and your lips looked soft. He often found himself staring at your lips when you didn't notice while you sat at the bar. They looked so soft and he enjoyed how they looked when you pouted when someone declined to talk with you. It had him feeling things he didn't want to. Even so, he came to the bar tonight hoping to see you. 

Bakugou sat at the end of the bar opposite of you. He stared at the mirror on the bar wall at your reflection. To anyone else, it would seem as if he was sulking like they were, but Bakugou was being stealthy. He watched you finish your second margarita and work on your third. Something was off about you tonight. You would typically drink one or two beers, sipping on them as the night went on. He guesses that you couldn't enjoy people's stories if wasted. Tonight, you didn't approach anyone and seemed to keep to yourself, but he noticed how your head would bob repeatedly as if you were looking for someone. Bakugou felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of you being interested in anyone other than him. 

All the nights he came to the bar and you were there, you would immediately seek his attention and try to get him to talk. It almost became a game, which he was starting to enjoy. You stirred old and new feelings inside him and he didn't know what to do about them. At first, he had hoped you would disappear so you'd stop returning to the bar so he wouldn't have to look at you and feel this way. Somewhere along the line, he started wishing you would show up, and on the nights you didn't, he left in a foul mood more than when he had arrived. Bakugou thought he was being clever, but Mic saw right through him. 

“Why don't you just go over there and talk to her, Bakugou?” He suggested. 

“Why don't you mind your own damn business?” Bakugou sneered back. Mic just laughed at the younger man as he mixed a drink. Bakugou realized he was making your fourth margarita and an idea struck him. Mic saw Bakugou looking back and forth between the drink and you. 

“Here,” he said, placing the drink before him. “Why don't you take this down to her.” Before Bakugou could argue, Mic rushed off. 

Bakugou didn't move for a moment. He asked himself why he was feeling so nervous. It’s not like you would be interested in him anyway. Well, other than to hear his story. Bakugou scolded himself at the thoughts he had of you. He was old enough to be your father and here he was thinking of your pouty lips and how your hips swayed as you walked. Bakugou shook his head as he stood up. He told himself he’s got to stop thinking of you that way. He caught Mic looking at him from down the bar, giving the younger man a thumbs up. Bakugou rolled his eyes and started walking towards you. 

Bakugou found you playing a bubble game on your phone as you picked up a piece of ice from your now-empty drink. You placed the ice between your lips and slowly sucked it into your mouth. Bakugou watched your tongue dart out and lick your lips and almost lost his composure right then and there. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. It was just barely above a whisper, but you had heard it. Turning your head, you found Bakugou standing beside you with a margarita in his hand. You gave him a questioning look as you peered up at him. “Figured you’d want another one, or whatever,” he said as he pushed the drink into your hand, nearly spilling it.

“Oh, um. Thanks, I guess,” you said haphazardly. You thought to yourself how strange this was. The hero never once initiated a conversation with anyone. So what is he doing bringing you a drink and sitting beside you? He didn't say anything else, so you continued playing your game.  

Bakugou sat quietly beside you. Occasionally, he would glance down at you and watch how your lips wrapped around the straw and he nearly lost it. He cleared his throat as he adjusted his pants. He looked back at the end of the bar to find Mic still there watching him. Bakugou narrowed his eyes and reminded himself to give him shit and call him a creep. Mic lifted his hands in a gesture for the young blonde to continue. Bakugou rolled his eyes and looked back at you. 

“So, um,” Bakugou cleared his throat again, “how was your day?” You turned your head to the blonde and blinked. 

What the hell was this?   You couldn't help the laughter that erupted. 

“Oi’, what the hell’s so funny?” 

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or because you'd been slowly crushing on the older man, but the way he seemed to pout as he glared at you, you thought he looked adorable.

Adorable, ha! The thought of such a rugged and ill-tempered man being adorable made you laugh even more. 

“Alright, alright. Get it out your system.” Bakugou huffed as he took the seat next to you. His shoulder barely grazed yours and you stilled, suddenly aware of his proximity. 

Bakugou continued to sit silently, pondering what he should say to you. What the hell were you into? What are the types of things you like? He wanted to learn everything he could about you. But to do that, he would need to talk to you, and small talk was not one of Bakugou’s strengths.

“So, uh.” Bakugou scratched at the peach fuzz growing on his chin. He needed to shave, he thought. “Do you wanna talk or something?” Bakugou glanced away from you, rolling his eyes and internally scolding himself for sounding stupid. When he looked back at you, your doe eyes blinked up at him with longing. It almost made his embarrassment worth it. 

“Finally wanna tell me your story, huh?” You asked as you caught Bakugou’s eyes staring at your lips as you licked them before taking another sip of your drink. It doesn't mean anything, you told yourself. He’s a man and you knew exactly what you were doing. You've caught the glances that he would give you. The blank stares almost as if he were in a trance before seeing you looking back and turning his head with a scoff. It made you sad that you couldn't stay and listen.

“Can't tonight,” you said as you fished out your cell. “Have to head home early. I've got finals in the morning.” Bakugou’s lips twitched as if he almost wanted to smile. It wasn't even 6 PM, and you wanted to head home to get some rest. It reminded him of his days back at UA. 

You huffed when you received no answer from the person you tried calling. No surprise, you thought. You grabbed your purse, stood up, and slid off the barstool. You would have face-planted on the bar floor if not for the strong hands grabbing your arm.

“Where the hell you going?” Bakugou asked, his hand still holding onto your arm as if you were gonna float away. And you may have with how weightless your legs felt. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest with the way he hovered over you. His broad shoulders caged you in as he stood you against the counter.

“My ride didn't answer, so I’ll  just walk to the train station.”

“You're not in any condition to be walking anywhere.” You stared at Bakugou as he returned to his original seat and grabbed his jacket. “Well, you coming or what?” For the third time that night, you blankly stared at the man. You looked over to where Mic stood, and he nudged his chin towards the blonde walking out the door. You blindly followed Bakugou to his car, and when you went to open the door, he smacked your hand. 

“I got it,” he said before helping you inside. You watched from the seat as Bakugou walked around the car and wondered what the hell was happening. When you first met Bakugou, he would hardly look at you, and when he did, let's just say if looks could kill. Now he’s giving you a ride. “What's your address?” He asked after buckling and starting the car. 

“You can just drop me off at the sta-”

“You're not taking the train. Probably get off at the wrong stop knowing you.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he quickly cut you off. “Now, tell me what your address is, brat.”

All the fight left your body as Bakugou stared down at you. You wondered if his voice was always that husky and you just hadn't noticed. You told him your address and as he turned on the radio, you caught glimpses of the scars on his hands again. Not wanting to get caught staring again, you turned to look outside the window. 

“Nice Audi,” you said, trying to fill the awkward silence. 

“Thanks,” Bakugou grunted, “used to have a Porsche. Fucking villain trashed it when I was off duty.” It was just a tiny tidbit of the stories he had yet to tell, but you were excited to learn more about the retired pro. He had to be in his late thirties or early forties, and you wondered why he retired so young when older Heroes were active into their fifties. You noticed small devices in his ear, which you thought were earbuds at first glance, but now, sitting this close in the car, you can see that they must be hearing aids. You had so many questions you weren't sure where to start.

The car ride was quiet save for the classic rock music that played low. You felt yourself slowly starting to sober up and silently berating yourself for drinking the night before finals. You also became acutely aware of the cologne Bakugou was wearing. 

His scent had your head spinning more than the alcohol. Different aromas filled your senses: lavender, lemon, and something sugary and spicy. You wondered what smells were from the cologne and which were Bakugou's natural scent. You peered out the corner of your eye to watch his neck muscles twitch when he turned his head. You saw more scars and wondered if they covered the entirety of his right side. How you wished you could nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck. Suddenly, you found yourself choking on your saliva after that thought. 

“Let me know if you're gonna hack so I can pull over,” Bakugou said as he looked at you. You huffed and returned to looking out the window. The quicker you get home and sleep, the faster you forget these strange feelings. As you pulled in front of your shared apartment, you moved to open the door but thought twice about it. Before you knew it, Bakugou was at your side, helping you out.  

“Thank you. For the ride, I mean,” you said as you wrapped your arms around your body. It was much warmer earlier, but you shivered because of the dropped temps. 

“Tch,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he removed the hoodie and shoved it in your arms. “Remember to wear a decent coat tomorrow night, yeah.” You could feel your face flush as you pulled the hoodie over your head, pausing long enough to inhale his sweet smell. "I want that back, too."

You thanked Bakugou again and he shrugged and placed his hands in his pockets. As you started walking away, he gently grabbed your arm.

“Drink some water.” You nodded and went to turn when he stopped you again. “And take some aspirin.” 

“Yes, sir,” you joked, but Bakugou tugged on your arm again, pulling you closer. You found yourself mere inches from his face. 

“Careful, princess.” He peered down at you and your smile quickly dropped, swallowing hard as you stared at the man towering over you. “Now get your ass inside and get to bed.” His voice was lower this time, and you ached to hear him talk like that again. You wordlessly nodded and started up the stairs to your apartment. 

Bakugou watched you walk away until he couldn't see you anymore, then returned to his car. Before he drove away, he thought about what he was doing and what he was getting himself into. It was too late, he thought, too late to turn back now. You had awakened something profound inside him, something he hadn't felt in a very long time. When you held onto his arm at the bar, he wanted nothing more than to feel your touch again. Just moments ago, when he grabbed your arm, he pictured how his arms could envelop your entire body. 

“Fuck,” Bakugou muttered to himself before taking a deep breath and pulling away. He couldn't wait to see you tomorrow night. Never before has he been so willing and wanting to spill his guts about his past to someone. But for you, he would tell you all his secrets and his darkest desires. 

The next evening, Bakugou was standing outside the bar when Mic arrived to open up.

“What are you doing here so early?” Mic asked as he unlocked the door. 

“What? Can’t I hang out with my old mentor?” Bakugou shrugged as he followed the older man inside.

“Uh-huh,” Mic gave Bakugou an inquisitive look as he turned on all the lights. “Would a certain little lady have anything to do with you here?” 

Bakugou blushed but didn't respond as he sat at the bar. He watched as Mic took inventory and mumbled to himself about what he needed to order. Mic sat down the notebook he was writing in and looked at Bakugou with a raised eyebrow. He knew his former student like the back of his hand and could tell he had something on his mind. Bakugou sighed and leaned his elbows on the counter, placing his head in his hands and rubbing his temples. 

“What the hell am I doing, Mic? This girl,” Bakugou paused and took another sigh as he looked up at the man. “She's got me feeling things I thought I would never feel again.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, as you know, I am much older than her. She’s a college student, for fucks sake.” Mic listened intently as he poured the sulking blonde a drink. “I don't even know if she feels the same,” Bakugou said before taking a big drink. 

“You're both adults, so I don't see what the problem is with age.” Bakugou scoffed and took another drink. “You’ll never know until you try, and the Bakugou I know never gives up.” A small smile crept across Bakugou's face as he finished his drink. Mic was right, and Bakugou knew he had to try at least to see if there was something to pursue with you.

Within the next hour, the bar started to fill with its regular crowd. Surprisingly, it was busier than others. Mic was hosting karaoke, which has had an enormous turnout here lately. He asked himself if you had anything to do with that. Bakugou was always good at reading people, and he could tell that lately, everyone seemed to be in better spirits. Well, better than before. He wondered if it was because they found someone to finally listen to them without expecting anything in return. They weren't just another hero. You saw them for the person they were. Having a big crowd was good, Bakugou thought. People's attention would be elsewhere, and he wouldn't have to worry about others and their prying eyes all over his business.  

Another hour passed, and you were still nowhere to be found. Bakugou started to worry that he may have scared you off after taking you home. He hadn't meant to get so touchy and close. But when you called him ‘sir,’ his body went on autopilot. By the time he got home, he had to take a cold shower, but even that didn't satisfy his hunger, which was slowly building up inside. It had been a while since somebody called him sir and even longer since he had to tame a bratty nerd like you.

Bakugou ordered another drink and tried to calm himself down. His thoughts were all over the place. He hadn't even talked to you about how you felt or whether you would want to pursue anything with him, let alone be into the same things. Lost in his thoughts, he heard Mic clear his throat and saw the man nudging his chin towards the door. There you stood. 

Bakugou’s jaw nearly dropped when he saw the little dress you wore. It was a thin-shoulder strapped black dress that fell just above your knees. He’s never seen you show off so much skin before. You were usually dressed in jeans and an oversized shirt. Sometimes you even wore comfortable sweats. Bakugou’s eyes traced over your body slowly. Traveling from your exposed neck to your collarbone to the valley between your breasts. He dug his fingernails into his thigh, trying to calm himself as he thought how perfect you would look laying naked under him with his marks all over you. Bakugou was so lost in his head as he stared at your perfect tits he hadn't noticed you walking towards him.

“Bakugou,” he heard your sweet voice call him back to reality, snapping his eyes to yours. 

“Huh?” He asked dumbfoundedly. 

“I asked how you were doing.” You giggled as you climbed onto the barstool and pulled down your skirt the best you could. Bakugou continued to stare. He was at a loss for words. Luckily, Mic was there to save him. 

“What will it be, songbird?” You ordered your usual and looked at Bakugou. That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. He cleared his throat and looked out over the crowd as they looked through a book with different songs. 

“You, uh,” Bakugou said, taking a deep breath as he wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks. “You look nice, or whatever.” He heard Mic snicker from behind the bar and glared at the man. You noticed Bakugou acting strangely. He was usually quick to make snarky remarks and gave off a nonchalant attitude. You wondered if he would change his mind about talking to you. 

“Tell you what,” you said, turning to look at him, your knees bumping into his leg. “I will buy you a round of shots for a story.” You were hoping he wasn't going to back out. You desperately needed to know more about him. He wasn't just another story you wanted to hear. You wanted to get to know him not only as the Pro Hero DynaMight but also as Bakugou Katsuki, the man.  

“Deal.” Bakugou crooked his finger at Mic and placed an order of shots. 

“Head over to your seat and I’ll bring them over in a sec.” You and Bakugou slipped from your seats and he directed you to a small booth in the back. It was dimly lit and away from most of the crowd. You figured this is where he would go when he wanted to be alone. Bakugou’s hand lay on the small of your back as you walked through the crowd. Someone bumped into your side, causing you to push closer to him and his hand snaked around your waist. 

“Watch it!” Bakugou barked at the other patron. They turned around swiftly as if to argue with the blonde, but they apologized when they saw who it was.  “You okay?” His voice was low and his hot breath traveled down your neck, causing you to shiver. You were practically nose to nose when you turned your head to look at him. You couldn't utter a single word, only able to nod. “Are you cold?” He asked after seeing you shiver.

“No. I’m quite warm, actually.” You watched how his jaw tensed as he peered down at you with red eyes that seemed to burn through you. Bakugou’s grip around you loosened as you approached the table and by the time you sat, Mic was heading your way with the shots. You both sat at a cushioned bench seat with a round table before you. You were about an arm's length away, but you felt the pull to be closer.

“So-” 

“Nu-uh,” Bakugou said, cutting you off. “We’re gonna do this my way.” With the six shots Mic had brought, he sat three of them before you. “I’ll tell you a little ‘bout me. You tell me lil ‘bout you.” Bakugou couldn't help but grin as you pouted before agreeing. 

“Fine," you huffed, "You first.” You declared before he could add any more stipulations. 

Bakugou huffed and took his first shot. He started when he first got his quirk, explaining that as soon as it manifested, he knew that, beyond a doubt, he would grow up to become a great hero. You watched his cocky grin drop when he explained how much of an asshole he was when he was younger. 

“When you were younger?” You meant it as a joke, but Bakugou wasn't smiling.

“I’m being serious. Said some shit I can never take back to the only person that always stuck by my side. Treated him like dirt all because he was quirkless.” He wasn't yelling but raised his voice to get the point across. Bakugou didn't miss how your eyes widened and your throat bobbed when he mentioned the word quirkless, but he continued. “I was a bully. I felt that everyone was beneath me and nobody could beat me.” Bakugou slammed another shot and went quiet, staring into the crowd at nothing. 

“But you grew up. Lived and learned as they say, right,” you said, trying to say something to help him feel more at ease. Knowing briefly what Bakugou had been through, you knew his life story would be a hard pill to swallow, but you didn't know things would get so emotional so quickly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he huffed with a fake laugh, “thrown into a war as a teen and dying will have you growing up real fast.” Bakugou twirled the empty shot glass in front of him. 

“You died?” Bakugou looked at you to find your eyes wide. You looked worried and sad. He turned in his seat so his left knee was raised and bent.

“You really didn't look up anything about me, did you?” He asked, bewildered. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I mean, I  just remember hearing what was said on the news and talk shows and what others would say about you.” Bakugou continued to stare at you with a puzzled look. He would have bet that you went home that first night after discovering who he was and looked up everything you could. “I knew you were in the war while you attended UA and it was bad.” 

“Bad?” Bakugou scoffed. “You don't know the half of it.” Though that’s why you're here , he thought. Bakugou went into detail, though not too much to scare you off, about how his classmates and teachers, many of whom he had looked up to, fell at the hands of villain scum.  Maybe he will go into more detail with you one day, but tonight, he wants to get to know you. His stories were depressing and he saw your eyes watering. He didn't like that. He wanted to hear you laugh again. To see you smile and know it was because of him. 

He moved a shot glass closer to you and raised an eyebrow. You threw the shot back and winced at the burn in your throat. Bakugou grinned as he watched you wipe your mouth. “Sorry, I don't do fruity drinks.” He smirked as he watched your tongue poke out and lick your lips again and felt himself leaning in closer to you. Like a moth to a flame, he couldn't help the pull you had on him. 

You explained how you were homeschooled until you left for college. Your parents were strict, so you didn't get out much or experience many things until adulthood. That explained why you only knew limited information about the war. Your parents must have kept the horrors of war from their child, and he couldn't blame them one bit.

“I've been meaning to ask you,” Bakugou slammed another shot. “What’s your quirk?” He carefully eyed you as your hands went under the table and your head lowered. He was waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“I um,” you picked at your nails, “I was born without a quirk.” You looked back up at Bakugou, expecting a disgusted look on his face, but there wasn't. 

“That's rare for this day and age.” His face looked, dare you say, soft. It wasn't pity. Maybe it was an understanding. You told him about your studies and how you are almost finished with your schooling. You told him you wanted to open a community center for retired pros. Somewhere, they can feel wanted and needed again, other than a bar. Personal facts kept falling from your lips and Bakugou soaked up every bit of information he could about you. 

“I knew you were a fucking nerd.” He laughed after you explained how you collected specific anime figures. Bakugou was smiling. It was a sight you thought you would never see when you first had. The alcohol in your veins gave you the courage to shove at his shoulder as you laughed, telling him to stop teasing you. As you did, you noticed more scars peeking out under his collar and from his chest. 

“Sorry,” you said and quickly turned your head without meaning to stare. 

“S’okay,” Bakugou said as he looked down at the empty shot glasses. Neither of you was particularly drunk, but he could tell you were more buzzed than he was. He called Mic over, ordered two water bottles, and asked if you wanted anything to eat. 

“Is this a date, Bakugou?” You teased. He didn't answer and you began to laugh again at how much this grown man could blush. As the hours passed, you found yourself having a hot wing contest, the spice of the wing growing hotter with each one. Bakugou won after you backed out after the third wing sauce left your tongue numb.

Bakugou found himself laughing and enjoying himself more than he had in years. The atmosphere all changed when you wiped some sauce from the corner of his mouth with your thumb. Bakugou’s eyes turned a darker shade of red as he watched you lick the sauce off your thumb. He couldn't decipher if you knew for sure what you were doing because you acted so casually about the entire situation. It made him want to drag you into the back room and leave marks all over your body with his mouth. 

You stared at his chest again and Bakugou caught the inquisitive look in your eyes. As if under a spell, you slowly reached out to touch the scar on his chest but stopped yourself. Before you could apologize for your actions, Bakugou grabbed your wrist and held it to his chest. His other hand opened another button before placing your hand against his bare skin.

“This what you've been wanting?” You looked into his eyes, then back at his hand, holding yours and pressing until your hand flat against his chest. His skin was warm, and you hadn't noticed how much closer you had gotten until your nose bumped his. You were both breathing heavily and when you moved your hand just an inch lower over his scar, he sighed deeply. “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?” He asked softly, rubbing his nose along yours. 

You looked into Bakugou’s eyes and wondered if this was really happening. You nudged his nose and felt his lips graze yours like a feather. His breath smelled like hot sauce, but you didn't care; somehow, it made you crave him even more. You laid your other hand on his thigh, and you heard him hiss. You watched the muscles in his arms ripple, knowing he was holding back. But you didn't want him to. You wanted to climb in his lap right there in the booth.

“Bakugou,” your voice trembled.

“Yeah?” He whispered against your ear as his nose roamed your jawline.

“Can we-” you paused, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't need to say anything, though. Bakugou saw right through you. Bakugou sat up straight to look you in the eyes. His hand gently tilted your head so that you could see him.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked. “What we do can't be undone.” You eagerly nodded your head. Bakugou looked you over again as if he was trying to find a reason to tell you no. But he couldn't fool himself. He wanted this just as much as you did. “Come on,” he said, pulling you to stand with him and headed towards the bar. He stopped at a door at the far end of the bar and told you to wait there. You watched him as he walked over to Mic. 

“Need my room key,” Bakugou said quickly. Mic raised an eyebrow before turning to the cabinet behind him that held keys. The second floor of the building had several rooms that Mic would rent out to his fellow pros if they needed a place to stay. There was a time that Bakugou stayed there for days on end, but Mic always had that room reserved just for him. 

“I take it things are going well?” Mic asked with a smile and handed Bakugou the key. Bakugou held the key in his hand, staring at it. The small piece of metal felt like it was burning his palm. 

“She reminds me of him so much,” Bakugou said quietly. Mic’s smile dropped and he turned to look at you. You stood by the stairs, watching the two men talk. Your arms were crossed as you felt exposed just standing there alone. 

“Yeah, she reminds me of the kid, too,” Mic said as he huffed and looked back at Bakugou. “Well, why are you still standing here talking to me? She’s waiting for you.” 

“Thank you,” Bakugou said, making Mic choke on his spit at his surprise. 

Bakugou grabbed your hand and you followed him up the stairs to a room marked number one. You filed that away to tease him later. Bakugou closed the door and you heard the soft click of the lock as you walked over to the window. You peered out to the street below and noticed a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. New beginnings, you thought .

You caught Bakugou’s reflection in the window as he stood behind you. His arms snaked around your waist as he buried his head in your neck and inhaled. He planted small kisses there as he slowly turned you to face him. 

“If you don't want this, tell me now. I will drive you home, and we can for-.” You lunged forward and pressed your lips to his. Bakugou’s arms tightened around you, pulling you unbelievably closer and neither of you broke away from the kiss until you needed to breathe.

“No more second guessing. No more doubting. I want this. I want you, Bakugou.”  

Faster than lightning, Bakugou’s lips were back on yours. One of his hands moved to the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. The other gripped your hip tightly before roaming over your ass and pulling you with him as he walked backward toward the bed. Bakugou swiftly turned and within a flash, you found yourself lying on the bed with him hovering just above you. 

“Katsuki,” he said before leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing at your collarbone long enough to suckle, leaving a dark mark in its wake. A hand roamed along your side and cupped one of your breasts, but that wouldn't do with your dress in the way. “Can I take this off?” He asked, tugging at your straps.

You nodded, and he helped you sit up and unzip the dress. Katsuki was on his knees between your legs and you carefully watched him as you slipped the straps off your shoulders, exposing your naked chest.

“You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He said as he gently pressed on you, urging you to lay back down. His mouth found yours again before roaming down your chest and his tongue finding a nipple. As the wet appendage flicked at the pert bud, a hand gently massaged the other. You whimpered and spread your legs more to accommodate the man's large frame. 

After giving each breast the same amount of attention, his tongue left a wet trail down your tummy. He stopped and looked up at you with pleading eyes. 

“Can I?” He asked, tugging at your panty's waistline. 

“Please!” You begged. Katsuki slowly dragged the garment down your legs and inhaled the fabric before stuffing them into the pocket of his slacks. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he said gruffly as he pulled your knees apart. You turned your head and blushed, embarrassed at how exposed you were. “Hey, look at me,” he said softly. When your eyes met him, he kissed your inner thigh and slowly crept higher. The closer he moved to your core, the more your legs shook with anticipation. “That’s it. Keep your eyes on me, princess.” Katsuki used his fingers to spread your lips apart and his tongue slowly licked up your slit. His nose grazed your clit gently as his tongue prodded at your clenching hole. 

“Keep making those noises, baby. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” His muffled voice blended with the wet sounds of him slurping up all your juices. 

“Katsuki, ahh,” you whined as his tongue paid extra attention to your swollen nub. “Please, wanna feel more.” Katsuki hummed, and the vibrations made you gush more.

“Fuck princess, you're drowning me down here.” Katsuki pushed your legs further apart so his shoulders could fit between your legs and he laid flat against the bed, rutting his hips for some friction. He wanted to be inside you so bad, but he couldn't stop tasting you. “Gonna put a finger in, okay?” Katsuki groaned at you as you pleaded for him to touch you more.

Slowly, he pushed his middle digit in you and he could instantly feel how tight you were just around his finger. His moans mixed with yours as he slid in another, feeling your hole clenching around his fingers. He couldn't wait to feel how tightly you gripped his cock. 

“Katsuki, I’m- I’m gonna,” He could feel your walls begin to spasm and groaned louder as you pulled at his hair. “Gonna cum. Ooh, fuck. Katsuki.” 

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my mouth. Make a mess for me, sweetheart.” Katsuki pleaded. He pushed against your spongy sweet spot, and that was all it took, and you were loudly crying out his name. Your legs closed against his head as if you were trying to suffocate him, yet he didn't stop licking up all your essence until you begged and yelled at him to stop. 

Katsuki crawled up the bed, giving you kisses up your body until his mouth landed on yours. You moaned at the taste of yourself as his tongue fought with yours. He kept kissing you slowly and sensually until your breathing evened out. It wasn't until Katsuki pulled back a little to look down at you that you realized he was still wearing his clothes. 

“I wanna see you too,” you said as you tugged on his shirt. As Katsuki sat up, your hands roamed under his shirt against his hot skin. You could feel the muscles underneath ripple and your mouth began to water. Katsuki pulled at the bottom hem of his shirt and then paused. He was never a person to feel insecure, but he panicked for a second, worrying what you would think of the scars on his chest. 

With a deep breath, he pulled the shirt over his head. He gulped as he watched your eyes roam over his chest. Katsuki was about to call everything off when you didn't say anything, but before he could panic further, you leaned up and kissed the huge scar covering his heart. Katsuki sighed as your mouth traced over every scar it could find. His hands brushed away the stray hairs on your face as you looked up at him. Your eyes never left him as you started to undo his belt and zipper.

Kneeling before you in nothing but his boxers now, Katsuki hissed as you palmed his erection and you took note of how your fingers barely managed to fit around his girth. Your mouth made its way down his blonde happy trail and over his adonis belt. You then ran your nose along his length, taking in his heady smell, and you knew his natural scent was something sweet. You let your tongue lick at the already wet spot from his leaking head and Katsuki moaned, his fingers carding through your hair.

You pulled down his boxers and his cock sprung from its confines. Your breath hitched at the site. You could tell he was big from the bulge in his pants, but seeing it in the flesh was something else. The mushroom head was a dark pink and his slit was dripping wet. A huge vein ran the underside of his cock and you couldn't wait to feel how it rubbed against your walls. Your hand gave him a pump as you peered up into his eyes. 

“Ahh, fuck!” Katsuki moaned loudly as your mouth wrapped around his head. You let your tongue swirl around the tip and flick at the ridge underneath as your lips tightened around him, hollowing your cheeks. Katsuki’s eyes rolled to the back as his head fell back. His hands tightened their hold on your hair as he praised how good you made him feel. He wanted nothing more than to skull fuck you like this, but he knew he would be done for, and he wanted to be inside you before he busts. 

“Baby,” Katsuki rasped, “Can I put it in? Wanna feel you strangle my cock with that tight pussy of yours.” You became a sopping wet mess again as you listened to his soft voice pleading. You didn't answer as your head bobbed faster. “Fuck baby, please.” You pulled away and Katsuki almost came right there as he watched the string of drool linger on your lips to his cock before snapping.

You leaned back and adjusted yourself further up in the bed. You spread your legs wide and ran a finger along your wet slit, no longer feeling shy. You were now filled with a hunger you'd never felt before. A need to be split open by this gorgeous man above you. You were about to get fucked raw by the legend himself. The more reality hit you that you were about to have sex with former Pro Hero DynaMight, the more you began to whimper and beg for him.

“You ready for me, baby?’ Katsuki asked as he situated himself between your legs. He leaned down to kiss you again, stifling your pleads. Katsuki sat up and bent your knees back to your chest. Running his thick cock along your folds, gathering your wetness, he let the tip tease your clit. Smirking, he finally stopped when you pouted up at him. 

“Oh, fuck. Damn, baby.” Katsuki groaned as he watched your pussy lips slowly suck him in. He bit his bottom lip until it bled, trying to stop himself from cummimg as your walls tightened around him like a vice grip. ”Baby, you gotta relax.” He gritted his teeth. 

“Kats, you're so big.” You whimpered. Fuck, you were making it so hard for him to stay in control. Finally bottoming out, he let go of your legs and his head fell into the crook of your neck as he leaned over you. He gave you a few tender kisses before he raised himself to look at you. He saw tears in your eyes and worriedly asked how you were doing. You told him to go slow and he hadn't planned on doing it any other way. He wanted to savor this moment for as long as he could. He wasn't sure where this would lead afterward, but right here, right now, he had you.

Katsuki set a slow pace, reading your body language like a road map to your pleasure. Only when you finally wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him into a passionate kiss did he start moving faster. As the kiss became more sloppy, so did his thrusts and soon you were moaning his name, pleading for him not to stop. 

“Harder Kats, please,” Katsuki growled and placed a hand under your thigh to push your leg up, hitting deeper, right where you needed him to. As you listened to Katsuki moan and heard the slaps of his balls smacking your ass, your eyes rolled and your toes curled. You saw sparks behind your eyelids before your vision blackened for a quick second. All the things you heard girls at your college talk about when they described 'the best sex they ever had' were coming true. “I’m so close, so close.” You cried. Katsuki was close as well, but there was no way in hell he was going to cum before you did and he knew just the push you needed. 

He let a hand travel down your chest, stopping to pinch your nipple and enjoying the way you tightened around him even more. When his hand roamed further down to your mound and started rubbing circles over your clit with his thumb, he knew it wouldn't be much longer. You were a perfect work of art in his eyes as he watched you writhe and squirm beneath him. Your face was flushed with a spaced-out look and your back arched perfectly, leaving you a blubbering, non-coherent mess.

“Cum for me again, baby,” Katsuki begged, “Cum for me again so I can fill this sweet cunt up.” You nearly blacked out from the powerful orgasm that ripped through your body. Katsuki continued to fuck you through your orgasm, only to fall on top of you moments later, growling into your neck as he sputtered into you. “Fuck, feels s’good, baby.” 

He laid his forehead against your collarbone, slowly catching his breath, arms shaking as he held himself up so he wouldn't crush you. Katsuki rolled over to his back, pulling you on top of him as his softening cock fell out of you. He could feel his spent trickle down from your thighs and over his balls. He wanted to spread you open and watch his cum slowly leak from you, but he was enjoying your naked warm body lying against his. 

You raised your head to give him a kiss and his arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming up and down your backside. Katsuki slid you to your side and told you not to move as he left the bed. You listened to the water running and watched as he walked back to the bed in all his naked glory with a warm hand towel. He softly wiped you down, careful not to overstimulate you. After discarding the towel into a hamper, he climbed back into bed and pulled you close so you were again wrapped in his arms. He pulled the covers over you both and buried your head in his chest. You were almost to dreamland when you heard Katsuki speak.

“Hey,” he said, tilting your chin up to look at him. "I’m not sure what your plans are after this, but" you saw Katsuki’s jaw clench and his eyes bounce back and forth between yours as if searching for something. "I’m willing to put in the effort to make this work.” When you didn't immediately answer, he started to backtrack. “If you want to be with an old man, that is.” He smiled.

“More than anything.” You answered before leaning up to kiss him. “You just want me to call you daddy.” You teased. Katsuki pushed you over and rolled on top of you, giving small pecks down your neck. 

“You can call whatever you'd like, darling.” He rasped into the crook of your neck before pulling away to look at you like you were his world. “Long as I can call you mine.” 

“And you're mine.” You said, running your hands through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp. Katsuki hummed as his eyes fluttered. He bent to give you another kiss. Pulling away, he watched your soft expression and doe eyes peer up at him fondly. He thought to himself, For all the bullshit he’s been through in his life, he finally scored the jackpot with you.  

“Always…” Katsuki answered, and within minutes, you were both sleeping comfortably, dreaming of what the future could hold.

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[jovialmoonprincess]

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 10)

Death By a Thousand Cuts - Part I

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems / Frost and Thorns / The Storm Within / In Silence, We Crumble / Loving him was Red / Paired Again / During the Storm / Death By a Thousand Cuts - Part I

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Summary: Clemensia's plan

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

It was on a cold morning that Clemensia was summoned to Dr. Gaul's office. She was worried about what would happen, as the woman had attempted to assassinate her some time ago. She sat quietly and waited for Dr. Gaul to start the conversation, holding her breath.

"Rest easy, Miss Dovecote, today's matter has nothing to do with you." Clemensia settled into her seat with interest and some relief.

"Actually, I brought you here to learn a little more about Coriolanus's state. I've been very concerned about young Mr. Snow." Clemensia looked away, confused.

"You see, I've noticed some movement between him and Y/N lately. Something that didn't happen before, especially since I remember them competing fiercely during high school," Dr. Gaul continued, rising and gesturing calmly. "And the academic environment is made of this. After all, only one can be in first place. I confess I saw potential in the girl for a moment, but Mr. Snow was born to lead and won my affection from the first moment. This makes me feel responsible for ensuring that no external influence hinders him on this journey." Clemensia wondered if Dr. Gaul saw her as a threat as she saw Y/N, but she probably wouldn't be in this room if that were the case.

"Do you understand? Coriolanus never paid much attention to the ideological nonsense that Sejanus expressed," she changed to an expression of disgust. "But now, that girl. She might take advantage of a boy's feelings in adolescence to rise to power." Clemensia was finally understanding. Dr. Gaul feared that Y/N might create a strong bond with Snow with an interest in his future position.

"She's using him," the girl finally spoke with a weak voice. The doctor nodded. The girl was already excited about the idea that Dr. Gaul might be giving her permission to end Y/N. In fact, she saw the ideological sense in the doctor's words. She wanted Coriolanus not to get involved with Y/N because she was a revolutionary like Sejanus. Not as explicitly as him, but it was clear from afar that someone like her would be a danger to the Capital.

"The impudence of Y/N and Sejanus irritates me, and as the person responsible for the Hunger Games, I cannot let either of them get close to Coriolanus and influence him negatively." "I need a girl who is not afraid to take the lead in the games. One who is not weak and who understands the real meaning of all this," Dr. Gaul was now very close to Clemensia.

"And this is where you come in, my dear."

"How can I help?"

"Separate the two immediately, and who knows, one day you might be the First Lady of Panem," the tone was now more serious and cold. "Or watch the country's decline at the hands of people who advocate the overthrow of the districts," the doctor finished.

Clemensia walked through the school corridors, her mind working frantically as she tried to devise a plan to separate Y/N from Coriolanus. She knew it wouldn't be easy to manipulate the boy's feelings, but she was determined to do whatever was necessary to win him over. As she pondered her options, Clemensia remembered all the moments she had observed Coriolanus from afar, admiring his intelligence, determination, and beauty. She had always considered him a role model, both as a human being and as a student. Now, she saw an opportunity to turn that admiration into something more.

Upon leaving Dr. Gaul's room, Clemensia already had an initial outline of her plan. She knew she needed to get Coriolanus to collaborate with her in the scene she was going to set up for Y/N, but how to convince him to participate? The answer came to her when she thought about how to manipulate Coriolanus's emotions. She knew that Coriolanus cared deeply for Y/N and that it would be difficult to convince him to believe that Y/N no longer cared for him. But then, an idea emerged in her cunning mind: she could create a situation where Coriolanus would misinterpret Y/N's signals, leading him to believe that she was not who he thought she was.

Clemensia watched Y/N and Sejanus talking in the school cafeteria, but she knew that just a simple conversation would not be enough to arouse the jealousy she desired in Coriolanus. She needed something more dramatic, something that would leave an indelible mark on his mind. She knew that Y/N did not usually approach Coriolanus unless they were forced to, as in pair assignments. Now, this was normal. With a false smile, Clemensia broke the silence at the table,

"Coryo, you should see how close Y/N and Sejanus are now. It seems like they're having a lot of fun together. Maybe you're losing your place." Coriolanus, confused by the girl's statement, looked around for Y/N and Sejanus. The girl was laughing and chatting animatedly with the boy. He tried to dismiss the thought and just shrugged.

"I don't see anything different, the two are friends."

"Oh, I don't know, I think they would make a good couple. The two are kind of revolutionary, you know, they have a very similar history, right?" She ended by asking the other boys at the table. Everyone agreed, and the topic of the table became Sejanus and Y/N. Just as Clemensia wanted. When class started, Clemensia hurried to Dr. Gaul's room. She would ask for her help to continue her plan.

Y/N went to the bathroom, and when she returned to the classroom, she found a note in her place. It read: "Y/N, meet me in the auditorium immediately, it's important. - Sejanus." Confused but concerned about the urgent tone of the message, she headed to the indicated location, only to encounter Sejanus, as perplexed as she was about the situation.

"Y/N! What happened? Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine. But what about you? Why did you call me here?" Y/N was lost.

"I didn't call you, you called me. You wrote this note here," Sejanus showed in his hand, the small note, identical to the one in her pocket. The only difference was his signature underneath. The revelation that neither of them had written the note left them perplexed and uneasy, not understanding what was happening.

"Let's go back to the classroom, it must have been just some bad taste joke," Sejanus concluded. Y/N was too confused, she had a bad feeling about this. But she followed the boy back to the classroom in silence.

They arrived in time for Dr. Gaul's class. They sat down, but before they could think more about the matter, they were surprised by a message from the principal over the loudspeakers: "Urgent: All students and teachers gather in the hall of the teachers' room." The tension in the air was palpable as everyone gathered at the indicated location. The principal, accompanied by some staff, had a somber expression as he revealed to everyone the terrible message, written in red ink in large letters, on the teachers' lockers:

"LIVE THE REVOLUTION AGAINST THE CAPITAL!! DOWN WITH THE GAMES!!"

The silence that followed was deafening, each gaze seeking answers amid the growing chaos.

----------

The silence that followed was deafening, each gaze seeking answers amid the growing chaos.

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[richincolor]

Book Review: Where Was Goodbye

Title: Where Was Goodbye?

Author:  Janice Lynn Mather

Genres:  Contemporary

Pages: 304

Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

Review Copy: ARC by publisher

Availability: Available April 30th

Summary: Karmen is about to start her last year of high school, but it’s only been six weeks since her brother, Julian, died by suicide. How is she supposed to focus on school when huge questions loom: Why is Julian gone? How could she have missed seeing his pain? Could she have helped him?

When a blowup at school gets Karmen sent home for a few weeks, life gets more things between her parents are tenser than ever, her best friend’s acting like a stranger, and her search to understand why Julian died keeps coming up empty.

New friend Pru both baffles and comforts Karmen, and there might finally be something happening with her crush, Isaiah, but does she have time for either, or are they just more distractions? Will she ever understand Julian’s struggle and tragedy? If not, can she love—and live—again?

Review: “Where Was Goodbye” is the first novel I’ve read by Janice Lynn Mather and based on how much I enjoyed this novel, I want to go back and read her first two novels. Where Was Goodbye is a rich story that is full of so many meaningful themes as we journey with Karmen who is trying to make sense of her brother’s suicide. What I feel like this novel does best is show how the variety of ways people respond to grief and how relationships can grow and change based on that grief. 

The bulk of the story takes over a short span of time, about a week and a half, and boy does Karmen go through a lot. Her family is still deeply grieving her brother Julian’s death, but her father has decided that with her senior year of school starting, the family should be working towards normal. Unfortunately Karmen is clearly not ready and on her second day of school has an incident that sends her home. This sends Karmen on a journey to attempt to get into her brother’s head and figure out why he chose to end his life. I actually felt for Karmen because she was clearly feeling guilty about not figuring out something was wrong with her brother, and this guilt was displayed by decisions that were probably not very healthy. Her relationship with her best friend, Layla, becomes strained as Karmen desperately wants to be treated normally but Layla is that “well-meaning” person whose attempts at comfort actually hurt more. She’s at odds with her father because he thinks she should be back to normal, not realizing how Karmen is forever changed by the death. Karmen’s mother is so mired in her own grief that she is missing the grief of her daughter. All of the usual supports that Karmen would have had fail her and she is left to find her own, and her idea is to learn more about her brother’s inner thoughts. I actually liked this part of the story as I understand how sometimes what you need to heal is answers and even though you may never get the answer you need, the journey itself is healing. Through looking for her brother she learns how much he was loved at the History department he belong to at his university; she learned he had written an article and was published; and learned about who he was to his friends. This search for her brother, knowing him, and accepting the secret parts of him that she didn’t know helped her find her voice to ask for the help she really needed. 

In addition to traveling with Karmen in her journey to find her brother, Mather includes flashbacks throughout the story to moments with Karmen and her brother. I absolutely loved most of those moments because it fleshed out Karmen’s relationship with her brother for the reader, rather than the relationship being told to us. They little jokes they had, the way they mischievously worked together at times, really showed how much Karmen is hurting and made me really connect with her. 

“Where Was Goodbye” is a beautiful novel that is all about relationships and how one act can change everything. It deals with the ones who are left behind and how they move to heal. 

[xtrablak674]

Finding Your Tribe

Initially I had come across the image during my morning Tumblr'ing, and as I was wont to do I was doing a reverse image search to find a higher quality version of the image. I mean if I am going to download smut, better have a good-looking version of said smut. During my search I had come across the young man's Twitter account and prayed to my goddess that I wouldn't have to scroll long to get to the image I was looking for.

The thing about scrolling through someone's social media is you get a sense of the person, even if it's a highly curated and polished version. Its the version that they would like the world to see. One thing that became immediately apparent to me is that this curly-haired light-eyed sort of middling looking young man had found his tribe.

His "friends", because I am not sure what the kids are calling them these days, especially when the lines between plutonic and sexual were so clearly blurred, were clearly of the same tribe. Young people and others who had similar sexual interest and also loved documenting their merry-making in photographs, gifs and videos. Celebrating their lust and loves in a very public fashion. It had me very curious what these misfits did for work, because clearly they didn't care that their faces with dick in mouth were on very open display for all to see.

I could map the similar aesthetic between them, artsy but alternative, definitely not the main-stream gays that colour places like Chelsea but the on-the-edge queers who would exist in places like Bushwick barely boarding on being hipsters but divergent enough to be their own sub-genre of gay. Whereas a Manhattan gay may brag about wearing Prada and Louis Vuitton these ones would thrive in a new piece thrifted at L Train Vintage, never caring for those luxury brands but finding solace in their grandfather's old boots or jacket, paired with their grandma's pearls.

After watching the twelfth episode of Tracker last night where Colter finally met up with his wayward and possibly murderous older brother Russell, this made me think of the last time I had a tribe to speak of. And it would be back when my mom was still alive and I lived with my two younger siblings. It was the only time in my life I had a true connection to someone else around me, and albeit after her passing and our separation I would never truly find anything remotely the same.

In college I had a "crew" of sort largely based around the terraces where I lived my freshman year at this private college in upstate New York. They were gay, like I was at the time, some were lower-class like I thought I was, and would only later find out I was actually middle-class. None were of color, which then made me a novelty of sorts. I recall quite often being quizzed about how to use the language these upper-class queers had just learned from Jennie Livingston's infamous documentary Paris is Burning.

Ms. Trevor how do I say FIERCE? And what exactly is shade? Girl, teach me how to vogue! I mean I did my best to hobble together bits an pieces from my short-lived foray in the queer culture of New York City, which I had only really begin to explore the peaks of in my last two years in high school right in the middle of Manhattan. But this didn't feel exactly like my tribe, I seemed to be torn between allegiance to the HEOP Black kids on campus and the LGBT queer kids, not totally fitting in with either because of either class, orientation, how I preformed gender or how I performed race.

Post-college I continued the activism I had started moving into HIV/AIDS education through GMHC. Joining their youth program which was made up of primarily of other post-college kids but unlike upstate was more diverse having more woman, Black and people of color in its ranks. I can say I felt a connection to these young people as we tried our best to educate others our age and younger about how to navigate the complexities of trying to stay safe while being a young queer.

I have always had very mixed feelings about work relationships and albeit there are some people I met at my first advertising agency job that I would connect with an be friends with years after I left that company. I am not sure any of those relationship had a tribal feel to them.

My next significant connections would be to small or micro-business owners I had associated with through a non-profit that was out to help us with micro-loans. I was never really interested in the loans having long had an aversion to debt, but I did like the fellowship with the mostly Black business owners and using my own brand design business to help these folks out, at least with the visual aspects of their own brands.

But like all things that passed too.

The last fifteen years I have been a loner, most of my friendships drifting a part for one reason or another. I even stopped dating and then sexual relations too. It is a popular platitude to say to young people that you will find your tribe, I just haven't found that to be true. It has felt like all throughout my life I have had to partition pieces of myself to be accepted in certain areas. Even my fifteen year stay on Flickr seemed to be primarily based on folks sexual desires towards me, not really seeing me as a whole but just parts of a whole.

At this point I have let it all go, and find solace and comfort in my own company or in having parasocial relationships with the characters in my comics, books or television shows. If a tribe is a thing, its a thing that has always eluded me, maybe my not being able to compromise my values to 'group think' and allow folks to make me feel less than I am has not allowed me to assimilate into a group dynamic. Maybe my strong sense of self and moral aptitude and not ever being one to succumb to peer pressure or other ill-conceived notions has left me adrift. I am not sure I will ever understand how to be a part of a group.

My nephew was talking to me last week about this group chat, and I thought I have never been in anyone group anything. Even my attempts to start them have failed, like the group I created on Facebook for my fellow grand jury members. I thought we had an amazing eighteen month together, but I think afterwards we became the strangers that we were before. This has been the rhythm of my life since my mom died and I truly don't think it will ever change, and curiously I am okay with that.

Albeit our society loves to preach about how important relationships with others are I have found I think the most important relationship you can have is one with yourself, one unbound by pretense, pretensions and falsehoods. One unencumbered by expectations, animosity and aggression. One that lies in seeing who you are and appreciating all aspect of whom that person is and what they bring to the table never asking them to select which pieces are the most suitable for acceptance. But embracing, loving and encouraging them to come as they are and be welcomed.

[Photo by Brown Estate]

[ciaossu-imagines]

So, as mentioned, I'm doing both the personalized prompts from the reader appreciation day of the event! Still continuing on with the second prompt, this time for the lovely Nix, who has been exceptionally supportive of this blog for a long time now and who I appreciate so much!

BLACK: what face claim from an anime, comic book, or cartoon do I associate with you?

Okay, I’m not going to lie. For the longest time, whenever I thought of you, I automatically pictured you as your icon picture. But given that it’s a very fancy cat, when I started pairing you with Shoichi in my head, I had to actually think of sort of an anime (or at least human) face to put with you, and the one that automatically came to mind and made sense to me was Sawako Kuronuma – it just fit the vibes you give off in my head!

WHITE: what flame type and box weapon do I think you’d have in the khr!verse?

No hesitation, pure out, you’re a Rain Flame to me. You have been since shortly after I got to know you through your constant support of the blog; again, it’s just something about the vibes you give off and after reading your full match-up description, that was just something that really solidified the flame type for me. As for your box weapon, it might disappoint because we do have a cat box weapon already, but I really do think it would be a Rain attribute feline for a box weapon, particularly an Abyssinian because of their reputation as being the most intelligent of the different cat breeds.

RED: what aesthetics do I associate with you?

Hot cups of tea in hand while rain pours down. Oversized cardigans. Fingers against instrument strings. Lo-fi. Studying. Bullet journals. Pretty stationery and fancy pens. Holding hands under the stars, walking home together. Close friends. Shared laughter in empty streets. Family, always having a place to come home to, no matter how old you get.

BLUE: what are three songs I’d put on a playlist for you?

ASTURIAS - issac albeniz guitar version

PIANO SONATA NO. 5 IN F-SHARP MINOR, OP. 81: III. FINALE. VIVACE - antonio pompa-baldi

THE PEOPLE WHO RAISED ME - gregory and the hawk

YELLOW: what fictional world out of all my fandoms would I picture you in?

The answer is pretty obvious, but of course it's Katekyo Hitman Reborn given that is the fandom we share, the one you request for and such! So it's the one I've thought of the most for you and the one where I have the most developed headcanons for you!

GREEN: who would I pair you with out of all my fandoms?

So, of course, the obvious KHR answer is Shoichi! Though I also self-ship with him, the ship of Nix/Shoichi lives so firmly in my mind that if I find myself self-shipping too much with him, I’m like ‘nope, veer off into one of your other self-ships because ya gotta leave Sho enough time to spend with Nix as well’, hahaha! In K, it’s Fujishima! In Nanbaka, it’s Musashi! In Iruma-kun, it’s Balam! In Bungou Stray Dogs, it’s Poe! In Servamp, it’s Syuhei Tsyuki! In Saiyuki, it’s Hakkai! In Eyeshield 21, it’s Taka Honjo! In Ronin Warriors, it's Rowen! In GetBackers, it’s Juubei! In Black Cat, it’s Train! In Gangsta., it’s Theo! In Bleach, it’s Hisagi! In Mystic Messenger, it’s Saeyoung! In Ikemen Revolution, it’s Sirius!

PURPLE: what gif reminds me of you?

PINK: if you were an AU, what type of AU would you be?

It would have to be a musical AU, haha! Either everyone's cursed to have to sing like they were in a musical until something solves the curse, everyone's in a theatre troop or club and are doing a musical, or it's just plain out a high-school musical/disney film situation where nobody seems to realize they're actively in a musical but musical numbers and dance routines just happen and everyone reacts like they're perfectly normal, haha.

RAINBOW: if i were to write a khr sequel, following Tsuna’s demise, and could only use my reader’s as characters, who would you be?

I see you making good use of all that medical learning by being part of the Vongola's medical staff!! Either you're a medical doctor who helps everyone out with their physical injuries or you're serving as a therapist, helping everyone with their mental health and finding family, friends, and love along your journey!

[goosefeather]

finished riverstar's home which is uhh the first super edition i actually finished since graystripe's vow?? i wanna say??

anway! final review: not enough death!!!

(actual, long review under the cut)

riverstar's home is Good. granted i had no expectations for it and kind of forgot it was a thing until it came out. but for a super edition that most people were like "huh? riverstar? really?" it really knocked it out of the park

and i just really think that the erins had a theme in mind (finding home and what that means to our guy riverstar) and the text actually supports that. and i know, most books do this and it is something we all had to learn in high school english. however, warriors has a thing where the messaging is telling us one thing but the actual text is saying something completely different (think of like... everything to do with bramblestar)

that being said, i liked reading about a young riverstar (yes, my character tag for him is river ripple and i prefer that but y'know riverstar is shorter) and his struggle to find a place in the forest territory. it's actually a really good coming of age story that really resonates with anyone who has like moved out of their hometown and has felt incredibly isolated because of that (like me!)

also as a dotc Enjoyer i really liked seeing the events from riverstar's perspective. unlike uhh the last two super editions where the new viewpoint didn't add anything (or it retconned something to make it worse!) or added in things that were just kinda... bad (still dont like brushpaw), riverstar was just enough of an enigma that it worked. like from gray wing's pov, riverstar is an Established Cat on the river and he plays it well. but in actuality he's just a lonely guy trying desperately to maintain his friendships while trying to carve out some space for himself. it's interesting and fun and even the one eye and slash bits that i didn't care for in dotc were fun to read about from his pov

unfortunately, this is dotc so the last half Drags. like it makes sense, obviously, after riverstar feels settled into his life and home and new role as leader, someone from his past comes back and makes him question all of it. love it, really. the problem is once they leave and make it a journey! idk what it is but the minute these cats start wandering off territory it turns into a snoozefest. tell me one book where a journey to some place was Fun to Read and you cant say TNP cuz we both know it wasnt

also, im so sorry, i know we love women here and we have to cuz the erins don't but i dont like finch. like the most she shows up to help with fighting slash's rogues and riverstar was like "she was feisty!" or whatever i knew it was So Over. im sick of this thing where they introduce a she-cat just for the purpose of giving our main male lead kits. it was bad with gray wing and slate and it's bad with finch. remember when she almost stayed behind? i was hoping so hard that it would stick

and like compare finch and riverstar to say night and riverstar (im not pitting two bad bitches against each other give me a sec). before riverstar leaves to go back to help the park cats, night is nervous, her and riverstar have been through a lot together and they lean on each other. so she's vulnerable with him and he's like "oh im sorry i dont think of you that way??" and she's like "no!!! you idiot!! as a Friend" and yeah it made sense cuz we've seen them grow together in real time. finch got None of that because she is not meant to be a character and it bugs me

however, clear sky came in to save the day and cause problems on purpose at the end so the book ended on a high note (for me)

and uhh yeah, this is already pretty long and i actually have More Shit to say cuz i genuinely did like this book a lot i just wanted to get my thoughts out while they were still rattling around in my brain

god i didnt even talk about how i wanted more cats to die

[thathalloweengal]

Her Blood Yearned for Jennifer's Body

To celebrate Halloween, I've written a fan fiction sequel to one of my favorite movies of all time, Jennifer's Body and I'd love the fandom to read it and give it some love, but before I add it, I have to include some content warnings because... Well I'd feel wrong if I didn't

Content warnings: Self harm, graphic depictions of gore, graphic depictions of violence, Suicide attempt, mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts and feelings, violence against a pregnant person, toxic behaviour, Smoking, Vaping, Unhealthy coping mechinisms.

Anita Lesnicki hated the trees. Don't get her wrong, she loathed the long, unmown grass and the gravestones too, but she really, really hated the trees. A midnight stroll through a cemetery wouldn't be most folks idea of a good time, well not unless you were a goth, she cast a glance in the direction of her old friend Colin Gray's final resting place, before quickly snapping back away. Anita had returned to Devil's Kettle after a decade of running, and she didn't have moonlight to burn.

 The waning moon above was essential for the ritual but so too were the skulls carried safely in her duffle bag. Two fools who actually believed that they could run from the Beast. Both used his terrible power for their own ends, but like all the others, forgot to check the small print on their ritual sacrifice and ended up on the Devil's shit list, and ultimately as Anita's offering to him.

The past ten years had not been kind to Anita, she felt broken in every sense of the word, but of course being constantly hunted by Feds would do that to you. They believed that she was a serial killer, and hell they were right, well sort of. She did murder the two scumbags in her literal bag, and the entirety of the indie rock band Low Shoulder, but nobody gave a shit about them anymore, not since their pact with Satan ended. No, the Feds hunted her for brutally murdering five teenagers that attended her High School, including her boyfriend Chip and her best friend, Jennifer.

It was true that Anita killed Jennifer, but she had to. Low Shoulder had inadvertently fused her soul with something evil, something primal, something that only cared about sating the emptiness inside it. Heh, maybe that's why Jennifer and the demon worked so well together, but no, Jen killed Chip and the others. Anita had no choice but to end her life, she had to stop the bloodshed. Shame that she was caught in the act by Jennifer's mom.

During the last decade while Anita was busy trying to find a warm meal and a job that wouldn't alert the authorities, Jennifer's mother Erica had packed up and left Devil's Kettle in an effort to outrun her heartache and move forward. Anita always tried to keep tabs on her, especially as she, herself began to learn more about the occult, magic, and demons. Blood was a very powerful thing indeed, and a mother could, in theory at least hold the most important key to her daughter's return. Still, Anita lacked the raw power and knowledge to exploit such a connection back then.

The nightmares didn't help but they did make her more desperate. Every night, Anita would dream that she was confined to the inside of a wooden box and trapped under six feet of soil, just like Jennifer was. She'd try to scream but all that would come out of her mouth was spiky, putrid gore that would end up boiling through her skin and seeping back into her internal organs again.

Anita yearned for her best friend back, not the demon that took her away but the absolute bitchy hoe bag that made Anita feel alive. At the end of it all, the worst part of the last ten years wasn't the cold, or the hunger, or even the time she stole a book from a blood sorcerer, who then tried to sacrifice her to his ancient blood god. The worst part was not having Jen there with her, giving her shit and making her laugh, like she had throughout their entire lives. Anita didn't even try to hide the emptiness anymore, she acknowledged her loss with the same sorrow that she usually reserved for Chip.

So when Anita heard that Erica was exhuming Jennifer's coffin to have it brought out to the West Coast and be closer to her and her new baby son, Anita knew the timing was as good as it would ever be. She hauled ass back to Devil's Kettle, picked up her sacrifices on the way, and even finished reading the blood sorcery book for the fourth time. Anita knew she had to get this right. Anita knew she had to make this right.

The grave was exposed now, its former soil and dirt now ruining the resting places of others. Well, that was very Jennifer.

A sleep deprived young cemetery worker sucked on a vape pen as he leaned comfortably on Jennifer's casket.

"Can I help you, Miss?" he asked curtly, before adding "We closed up hours ago"

There was no point in lying at this stage so Anita simply pointed at the coffin.

"She was my friend... I just wanted to see her one more time"

Probably realizing how disrespectful he was being, the cemetery worker removed his ass from the lid of the box and cast his eyes down in shame.

"I... can't leave her until my supervisor gets here... but you could take a moment, if you like" 

Anita nodded gratefully before moving closer, she glanced down at the vape pen dangling from a chain on the man's neck. Was that? It couldn't be...

"Is that the blueberry muffin Toast'em Vape?"

"Uh yeah, you wanna hit?"

He held out the vape pen for Anita. She approached him slowly, she was going to enjoy this. At the last second though, he yanked it away from her with a dirtbag smile on his lips.

"You'll have to pay the titty tax first though"

Of course. Of fucking course she couldn't just have something nice with no bullshit.

Anita lunged at the man, taking him completely off guard, he fell over like a sack of potatoes, and she immediately struck his head hard against a nearby gravestone. Maybe he would live, maybe, but it would be a long time before his titty tax would be reinstated. Anita snapped the chain from the man's neck and took the longest drag from the vape. Ah Toast'ems, her childhood rolled back behind her eyes and took her brain on a journey to happier times.

Sandbox love. That's how her and Jen started. Sandbox love never dies. Neither do Toast'ems. Needy... Anita remembered sharing her Toast'ems with Jennifer when Erica forgot to pack little Jen a snack for school. Jennifer was so polite back then, so small and sad. She could easily twist Anita around her little finger from day one.

Enough stalling, Anita shoved the vape pen into her jeans for later, and then focused on the task at hand. Using what would probably be the last of her unnatural strength, she tore the lid off of Jennifer's coffin.

Anita retched at what remained of Jennifer Check. She, of course knew that bodies decomposed but it seemed that, this time she wasn't as prepared to smell it... To see the girl she knew from the sandbox, to see her broken skeleton, her rotted flesh, and the congealed fat that she was lying in. It all just made her feel sick. Anita had put Jennifer in that box, she had to, had to puncture her heart, destroying the demon inside, but she still murdered her best friend, and she couldn't forgive herself for that.

There would be time to hate herself later, there always was. For now, Anita opened her duffle bag and removed the freshly flayed skulls, placing them gently beside Jennifer. She then lifted out her stolen blood sorcery book and opened it to the relevant chapter, the page entitled 'For when the Dead walk the Earth'

With a waned moon watching her from afar, Anita produced her shitty little ripoff Swiss Army Knife, she opened the blade and pledged allegiance to the Lord of Hell.

"Samael, thee who art of the Morningstar, cast out by the False God... Ye who giveth power to the powerless in exchange for a mere boon... I bring you offerings, the earthly remains of two mortals who broke your terms and spread the most heinous lies, boasting that they had bested you"

Ugh, Lucifer must've been such a little fuck boy, needing constant boot licking to settle his tiny dick disorder.

"I beg of you, my Lord!" Anita cried "As my reward, let the soul of Jennifer Check return to her body, and let that body return to me!"

Anita mumbled another additional enchantment before finally slicing through her own wrist. Her blood poured out from the fountain that was now her veins, splattering Jennifer's decomposing corpse. What was left of Jen's skin drank it up like an old lady drinking cold orange juice on a hot day, but Jennifer didn't move. She was supposed to move and make noises, the rite had stated that pretty clearly.

This was the only shot Anita had at this, so either Jen was going to come to her, or she was going to go to Jen. She opened up her other wrist and let the dead body bathe in even more blood.

Was it just Anita or was the skeleton growing new flesh?

Everything felt like it was slipping away from her. Anita was so tired, she needed... needed... needed... 

The world swallowed her whole, the moon stood in judgment of her sins, the wind bit at her face, and the trees, well they just pointed and laughed at her desperation. Fuck, Anita really hated the trees.

"Jennifer" she whimpered before finally letting everything fade away and accepting her sleep.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

"It's not that big of a deal, Needy"

"It's a huge deal, Jen, you want me to..." Needy conspiratorially lowered her voice "Take your virginity"

Jennifer gently took Needy's hand and looked down at her with those beautiful, soothing blue eyes.

"I'd rather my first time be with someone I actually give a shit about, instead of Roman, or Jonas, or Craig, or any of those other itchy dicked, ass pickers"

Needy couldn't help but giggle, she was so afraid but Jen always knew what to say to make her laugh. The truth was that she actually wanted to be Jennifer's first, but was terrified of what that meant, of what it would do to their friendship. Would Jennifer even like her afterward? But on the other hand, what if she liked her too much? What if they became gay? Needy's mom would go completely ape crap crazy if that happened.

All of her anxiety faded away instantly with a surprise kiss from Jennifer, Needy couldn't stop her own lips from responding in kind. It just felt so right. She always loved kissing Jen when they were practicing and playing girlfriend boyfriend. The taller girl always made her feel like a Princess from one of those old Disney movies, and for just a few minutes, Needy felt like she was the most important person in the world.

This felt completely different though. Jennifer was intense, almost aching with hunger. Deep lustful hunger, all just for Needy.

Needy's arms eased around Jen's waist, she pulled Jen closer to her, so close that Needy could feel her best friend's heartbeat racing against her own.

Oh, her mother and God could both go screw each other. Jennifer's Body was the only religion that Needy wanted.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Coming to, weak as shit, in the tall grass and dirt. Anita felt like a fucking idiot. Blood Sorcery, really? She actually tried to use Blood Sorcery to resurrect her bully best friend/ first time. What a fucking cliche.

Well if it was going to work, she would've known about it by now. At least her mom and the rest of the Sisters of Saint Rose could sleep easy tonight. Shame Anita wouldn't. She lifted herself unsteadily to her feet, bandaging up her wrists with some old cotton gauze from her bag.

Well, with resurrection out of the question, Anita supposed that the only thing left to her was closure. She forced herself to look at the open coffin, at her dead best friend, and accept that there was no miracle fix to their tragedy.

Jennifer's remains were gone from the casket.

"Oh fuck" were the only words Anita could rationally think before descending into blind panic.

From behind, Anita heard a guttural, animal-like roar, right before something barrelled into her, knocking her into the exposed grave.

Looking up in pure fear, she saw Jennifer's decayed corpse staring back at her in furious lucidity, her jaw had become dislodged and her eyes were gooey pink blobs, trying so hard to heal, but Anita could sense that they could already see her.

Jennifer leapt into the grave, falling directly on top of Anita, and started to paw at the still living girl's face.

"Jen?" Anita tried

Surprisingly, Jennifer actually cradled Anita in her arms and stroked at her face with the back of one boney hand. It was bizarre and macabre, and the smell of death did nothing to reassure Anita but at the same time, this was Jen, back with her, so Anita held her right back.

"It's me, Jen, it's okay, it's me" Anita sighed, contentedly

Jen tried to talk but all that would come out was painful sounding, gruesome, raw throat noises, like her larynx had been mauled by a Wolf.

"It's Needy, don't worry" Anita softly reassured her

"Neeeeedeeeee?" The dead woman's voice scraped out like fingernails on a chalkboard

"Yeah" Anita smiled, she had Jen again, admittedly she was more than a little fucked up, but hey that could be said for the both of them. The important thing was that Jennifer was alive again, er, undead again

Jen raised one skeletal finger to Anita's lips. Anita shivered as it slipped inside her mouth.

Jennifer, much too quickly for Anita's taste, took her finger back, raised that hand far behind her own head, and before Anita could even put two and two together, made a fist.

The first punch felt like being hit with a slab of concrete, powerful and uncaring. The second, she could feel bits of Jennifer's skin start to grow back around the knuckles, only to come off again upon impact. The third, hit her in the throat and she started to choke. Jen didn't care, maybe Jen never cared, maybe Anita was right all those years ago, and her longing for a nostalgic fantasy would end in Jennifer's grave... Their grave.

"You! Stupid! Fucking! Cunt!" Jennifer's voice was coming back to her as she continued to beat the living hell out of Anita

"You! Killed! Me! Dead!"

Anita was starting to lose consciousness again, she had lost so much blood already, now it was impossible for her to breathe. She wasn't surprised that she was going to die, she was actually kind of looking forward to it, after so many shitty ass years on the road. She knew it was time to rest. Maybe Jennifer could forgive her if Anita took her place in death.

Darkness briefly took over before Anita felt herself being propelled upward and hitting the grass, hard.

"One! Two! Three! Four! Staying alive! Staying alive!" Jennifer screamed, while giving Anita chest compressions

Mister Wroblewski, their old biology teacher, taught them that one for resuscitation. Anita didn't think Jen ever paid attention in that class, well in any classes. Anita felt Jennifer's decomposed lips touch hers, breathing foul, stale air into her lungs and clearing them.

Anita coughed so hard that she felt something twist inside her and she hurled blood and coffee all over the disturbed ground. She wouldn't last much longer without a transfusion, but she was still alive for now. Anita looked up, bleary-eyed at her ironic savior.

Jennifer Check was slumped next to her own coffin. She was still mostly skeleton but Anita could see flesh knitting back together and internal organs fighting to work underneath.

Jen found her jaw and painfully reattached it to the rest of her face. She still looked like hell.

"First you betray me, stab me, kill me... Now you bring me back like this" Jennifer raised her skeletal hand as an example of her current state of post life "You must've really fucking hated me"

"Oh screw you, Jen" Anita croaked out "I had to kill you to destroy your demon... I brought you back... Because... Because I give a shit about you"

"Oh, really?" Jen scoffed "Because to the best of my motherfucking knowledge, you left me in the ground for years!"

Dread rushed through Anita's mind. Had Jennifer been conscious all this time? All ten years of her death?

"Yeah! I could feel everything!" Jennifer answered the question that Anita hadn't asked "I felt my body rot away, my tits and ass leaking out, and I couldn't even fucking scream!"

"Jen... I'm sorry"

"Save it!" Jen yelled, before limping away

"Please..." Anita moaned, struggling to get to her feet again, before faceplanting once more, back into the dirt. She didn't have the energy to run after Jennifer.

At the very least, her old friend didn't have her demon anymore, so she wasn't a threat to Devil's Kettle. Anita wondered if she would see Chip again in an afterlife, before quickly coming to her senses. Her Chip was in Heaven, she was headed to Hell... That would never work out.

To her great surprise, Anita found herself being moved onto her back by a somewhat embarrassed zombie Jen.

"You were super vile and I still don't forgive you... but I am a better friend than you ever were, so... Ugh, let me take you to the hospital"

Well that was unexpected. Anita felt so dizzy but shook her head anyway.

"I've got some blood in my car... Would you help me to it?"

Jen nodded, her anger simmering just below the surface. She hauled Anita back to her feet and helped her walk in the direction that Anita pointed.

"Jennifer and Needy, yes indeedy, gonna get some blood but let's be greedy, let's down Needy, oh that's seedy" Jennifer cheered, half heartedly

"I go by Anita now" Anita mumbled, feeling light headed

Anita felt Jennifer pull her closer, almost protectively, before whispering, bitterly "You'll always be hella needy to me"

Jennifer did, in fact help Anita back to her piece of shit station wagon. She had stolen it a few days ago from a sweet elderly couple who pulled over to give her directions. They were headed cross country to Knott's Scary Farm, Anita still hoped that they had found some way to make it.

Inside the station wagon, Anita hooked herself up to two bags of AB negative, and sighed happily as it flowed into her veins. When she opened her eyes again, she could see that Jen was staring at the bags like she used to stare at big greasy burgers when they were young and she was forced onto another new experimental diet by her asshole aunt. It was time for a distraction.

"So... you were awake the entire time?"

Jennifer sighed and actually rolled her eyes. Jen unwilling to gossip? What was the world coming to?  Anita opened the glove box and scavenged around for some cigarettes. Only finding one, she handed it over to Jen as a peace offering. The ex demon looked quite bemused. Anita lit her up, and Jen took a slow and steady drag.

"I was awake until my eyes turned to mush, after that everything was dark but I still knew where I was, everything felt so fucking claustrophobic... I could feel bugs and rats crawling over me, ripping off pieces of me to feed their babies... I could feel those tiny bits of myself in their little stomachs, being digested and shat out"

"You must've been marked by the demon that took your body" Anita explained, as best as she could "When it died, Hell didn't want you because it already had demon Jen, but the other twenty two after lives could still see its mark staining your soul"

"Twenty two?"

"Yeah, turns out Hell is exclusively for demons, almost everybody else just kind of gets placed in a restful afterlife tailored to who they were in this life"

"How do you know that?"

Anita felt herself start to blush and she knew that she needed to claw back some semblance of restraint... Oh fuck it, fuck it all.

"Because I've spent so very long trying to get you back"

Jen's eyes widened for a moment in surprise before finally returning to a more cynical glare.  She took a shorter puff of her cigarette before pausing, considering, and finally coming to the possibility.

"I guess... You regretted killing me?

"Every day, Jen! Every day for the last ten years!"

"Ten years!" Jennifer cried "I've been dead for ten years!"

Oh shit, Anita didn't mention that, and it's not like Jennifer had a fucking calender underground.

Jen went silent for several minutes, long enough for Anita to finish up her amateur blood transfusion. She felt awake but still very weak and so very hungry. She had never sacrificed her blood before, making it incredibly potent and desirable... Virgin blood by ancient tradition. This would hurt for a while yet as the Great Beast licked his lips.

Human/Demon Hybrid blood was a delicacy in some parts of the world, Anita wondered if it was the same in Hell.

"Is my mom okay?" Jen eventually asked

Anita had never heard Jennifer worry about her mother before, but her voice was shaking now.

"Yeah Jen, that's actually why you were being dug up, your mom wanted to move you out to California to be closer to her and her..." Maybe Anita shouldn't say any more, Jen never liked to share, in life or death.

"Her new family" Jen guessed, tears running down her still skeletal eye holes.

Anita wanted to wrap her arms around Jen and tell her that she wasn't so easy to replace, but coming from her literal murderer, maybe that wasn't such a great idea, so she simply settled for "You have a little baby brother"

Jen wiped her tears away on the sleeve of the dress she was buried in. A dress that was probably once the height of fashion but was now as torn and decayed as its owner.

"Yay" Jennifer murmured, before coughing up some dirt "Needy... Anita, whatever the fuck, can we just... Can we just go... Maybe get something to eat, I'm starving"

Anita nodded, Jen was in worse shape than she was, shaking off a decade of being dead would do that to you. Anita tried to hold Jennifer's hand but Jen pulled away from her touch like it was sheer pain.

With no other option left open to her, Anita put the key into the ignition and turned. The car engine shook to life, the final resurrection of the night.

Pulling out of the graveyard and driving back into town, Anita noticed just how much Devil's Kettle had changed in ten years. It had two malls for shit's sake, a few trendy restaurants, an arcade, a proper swimming pool that wasn't a safety risk. New houses, New people. Bland as all fuck but ultimately thriving.

Anita noticed Jen staring disdainfully at the progress outside. The living dead girl probably believed that the town would collapse without her. To see it doing well for itself most likely hurt more than the boxcutter that punctured her heart.

Not wanting to draw more attention to their presence than a strange, rusty ass station wagon in a nice town already would, Anita pulled into a roadside diner, just outside of town. She threw Jennifer a hoodie from the back seat.

"You'll need to cover up your..."

"Don't rub it in, Lesnicki" Jen snapped, before pulling the garment on and putting the hood up, partially obscuring her face from view.

The two, slowly and painfully left the station wagon and shambled toward the diner. Like most of the new editions to Devil's Kettle, the small building looked shiny and boring. Devoid of any personality or history. A corporate chain from the big city, the truest agents of Satan.

Inside, everything seemed to be normal enough. Truckers drinking coffee, a couple of students cramming math and blueberry pie into their bodies, and a lone biker, just sitting by himself, toasting a mug of hot cocoa to someone on a video call.

All of these people immediately stopped when they caught sight of Anita and Jennifer. They suddenly turned hostile, agitated, and even a little scared. They couldn't have recognized them, could they? Anita didn't know any of their faces. Unless maybe the cops had circulated her photo. She did steal the car in Wisconsin, maybe they put her journey together and worked out that she was coming home. Maybe Anita hadn't been as careful as she thought she was.

The heavily pregnant waitress behind the counter huffed.

"You can come in but you'll have to pay up front... And don't you dare use any of your poison here... Or try to sell any of it!"

Oh yeah, Anita forgot that they were as pale as ghosts, frail and disheveled... The waitress thought they were drug addicts. Everyone just thought they were drug addicts, that was good, fucked up, but good.

Anita nodded and handed over some bills.

"Can we get a pot of coffee, two burgers and some fries?" She asked as politely as she could manage with her head still spinning

"And a strawberry milkshake" Jennifer added

The waitress counted out the bills, then recounted them, held them up to the light, and then finally went into the back, leaving them to pick their table.

"Fucking bitch" Jennifer grumbled, and found a booth in the back, next to a broken jukebox.

"I can't exactly blame her" Anita defended, weakly "I mean, would you trust us?"

"Ugh, trust has nothing to do with this shit, Needy, these fuckers are up on their high horses, looking down on us, they get wasted like the rest of us, but when they see two people that are a little bit more raggedy than they are, they judge and hate and fear... What does that tell you?"

Anita shrugged, she wasn't ready for one of Jennifer's patented lectures.

"They judge us because we look poor as fuck, hoe" Jennifer concluded "They judge us because we look homeless, because we represent what they know they're just three mistakes away from becoming"

"In fairness, we also look half dead, Jen"

Jennifer slammed her fist against the jukebox "That's not the fucking point, damnit!"

Looking down at her hand, Jennifer paid close attention to the still healing tissue she just destroyed, and the skeleton hand underneath, which looked broken in two places.

"It doesn't even hurt" Jen mumbled, before limping off to the bathroom.

"You better not use in there!" the waitress warned

"Eat shit, you goddamn Sow" Jen cursed, under her breath

Jen always did have a way with words. Fuck, this was ridiculous. Anita pulled out her newly acquired blueberry muffin Toast'em vape and took a hit.

If Anita was being completely honest with herself, she had to admit that she never really expected this to work... The reason she left the blood bags in the car before the sacrifice was because a part of her wanted to die of blood loss and be reunited with her Jen in one of the afterlives. Jen would forgive her, tell her that she was right to kill that thing in her body because it wasn't actually her but instead was 'Balthazar: The Great Scourge of Hell' and that she's been safe and sound, drinking red wine and banging cuties for ten years.

Instead Jen was back to life and hated Anita more than ever. She and the demon were one, because of course they were, and when Anita killed that demon, she also killed her friend, her Jennifer, the girl she fell in love with all those years ago. Ugh, Anita had no idea what to do now. Jen must've spent every second in her grave dreaming about killing Anita, hating her with every fiber of her being... But then why did she stop beating her? Why did Jen help her back to the station wagon? Why didn't she snap Anita's neck and leave her in that open grave?

Hell is a teenage girl... That's what Needy used to say... But Anita was starting to wonder if Hell is just being left alone, by yourself, for years on end. Maybe Jennifer just didn't want to be on her own any more.

Speak of the former Succubus, Anita spotted Jennifer chatting up a trucker by the bathroom. It looked like she was saying all the right things, and hiding her face, just well enough. The trucker was interested, real interested. Anita had to shut this down.

Remembering a side effect of her little enchantment from earlier, Anita willed the plasma in her body to make contact with the plasma in Jennifer's and force her to come back to the table.

Nothing happened. Jennifer ran her now bandaged hands carefully up the trucker's neck and softly across his face. Anita slammed her own hand down on the sharp, exposed metal edge of the table. Blood burst forth from her palm and across the booth.

Jennifer immediately stopped caressing the trucker, and almost like someone flipped a switch in her head, she walked, sort of robotically, back to the table. Her face gaining fear with every step that wasn't truly her own.

"What the shit was that!?"

"You're connected to me... by blood" Anita explained "My blood flows through you, it gives you strength... You don't need to kill to feed anymore, and if you try to, I can stop you with that same life blood"

Jen stared daggers through Anita's skull. "I just wanted a fuck"

"Oh..."

"Don't 'Oh' me bitch, it's not easy convincing someone to screw you when you look like George Bush's wrinkled asshole"

Another wave of uncomfortable silence washed over them.

"When was the last time you got laid?" Jennifer suddenly asked

Nope, no way was Anita talking about this with Jennifer.

"Uh, awhile ago" Anita dismissed, nonchalantly

"Oh come on, Needy, if you're gonna sabotage my sexual misadventure, you should at least tell me about your own... Let's start with his name?"

God Damn It!

"... Marta... Her name was Marta"

"Hot damn!" Jennifer beamed "I knew there was a little bit of a dyke in you... Especially after our first time..."

"I like men and women" Anita replied, awkwardly

Jennifer raised what was left of her eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Wow, we have so much in common, who'd have thunk it... Oh yeah, me"

Before Anita could unpack that, a young african american man, one of the students, maybe? Wandered up to their booth, and made small talk for a few minutes before telling Anita that he would love to take her out to a new club that just opened up in Devil's Kettle. Jen found that hilarious, though Anita couldn't work out if that was because he had chosen her over Jen, or because Devil's Kettle had an actual club now. In either case, Anita politely declined and the beautiful young man went back to his friends.

"No love for Chocolate Chip?" Jennifer giggled

Oh that hurt. Perhaps seeing the look on Anita's face, Jen relented.

"Okay, okay, no mentioning your first love... sorry"

"Do you know what I miss most about Chip?"

"Oh God, it's going to be something terribly cliche" Jennifer groaned "His smile, his eyes, how the toilet smelt after he took a dump"

"I don't miss anything"

Nothing. Jennifer Check was speechless once again, it seemed miracles would never cease tonight.

"I barely remember his voice" Anita continued "I feel like such a bitch"

"Because you can't remember your childhood sweetheart?"

"No... I definitely remember you"

There. Might as well drop all of the bombshells tonight. Who knew if Anita would ever have another chance to say it.

"What?" Jennifer still had the cutest look of absolute confusion, even with her face looking like a patchwork blanket knitted by George A. Romero. Anita had always assumed that Jen knew how she felt.

"It was you Jen... It was always you... I loved Chip so very, very much... But I only loved him because he looked at me the way I wanted you to look at me... And after our first time, you never did"

"Is... Is that why you killed me?"

Fucking Jennifer, always making everyone else the villain of her story.

"No" Anita sighed "I killed you because you were butchering our classmates... I hated that thing you became, I was tired of burying my friends, and tired of wondering which one would be next"

Jennifer nodded absently for a moment, mentally digesting all of that, before eventually shaking her head.

"Probably doesn't matter anyway" Jen exhaled "Low Shoulder have probably made like a million demon bitches by now"

"Well, no"

"How would you know?"

"Because one night" Anita confided, voice low "I tracked them down and murdered them all"

Jennifer's mouth fell open, Anita was worried that her jaw was going to detach again, but it held firm.

"You did that for me...?"

All Anita could do was nod. Sure, she could make up some bullshit about doing it for Devil's Kettle, or the victims of the demon... or even Chip, her poor Chip... But it would be a lie. She massacred those bastards because of what they did to Jen. Because they took Jen away from her. Because it felt good to make them suffer like they made her best friend suffer.

"Shit..." Jen whispered "I'm kinda touched you went all Painkiller Jane for me"

The sound of smashing plates cut through their conversation, Anita turned in her seat and saw some old guy with a scraggly beard harassing the pregnant waitress.

"Oh fuck" Jen laughed "It's Wroblewski"

Holy shitsucker from hell, Jen was right, the old man was their former biology teacher Mister Wroblewski, even though he looked like ass, Anita could still see his prosthetic hook shining at his side. It looked different, somehow, almost sharp.

"Look!" The old man practically screamed "I can't afford the child support, and my wife said that if I made love to another girl, she'd leave me... So please, do me a solid and just get it out"

Anita had heard that Wroblewski was fired for getting two students pregnant. He had always seemed so nice, but Anita knew that nice didn't naturally translate to good, and under it all he was just a fucking asshole who used his position and all the tragedy around Devil's Kettle to abuse teens. Trauma makes it easier to manipulate vulnerable people after all.

"You think I wanted her, Ralph!? I asked you for the money to get it done months ago, and what did you tell me?"

"I..."

"You said you didn't believe in abortion! That you wanted us to be a family together, that you'd divorce your wife and use the money to buy us a nice big house to raise our kid!"

"Yes, but..." Wroblewski stuttered

"It's too late, Ralph! I'm too far across the line because of your bullshit... I can't get one now... I wish I could! But I can't!"

Wroblewski looked pissed, his face was all red and blotchy like an embarrassed Warthog that just fell into its own pile of shit.

"Fine..." he accepted "... I guess I'll just have to do it myself"

Before the waitress could even process what the elderly teacher had said, Wroblewski lifted his gleeming prosthetic, holy fuck it was a machete, and he ran her through the stomach with it.

"Pig on a spit" Jennifer laughed

Something inside Anita snapped. No one deserved to die like that. She took her Swiss Army Knife from a compartment in her boot, opened up the pointy end and ran toward Wroblewski. Anita caught him off guard and stabbed him in the back, wrenching the blade up to his shoulder, and then finally burying it in his neck. Wroblewski stiffly turned toward her, she tried to kick him in the balls but he caught her leg, and smashed her in the face with a nearby tip jar.

Anita fell to the ground, reeling and spitting out glass, as Wroblewski slowly and excruciatingly raised the machete above his head.

Wroblewski stopped, suddenly paying close attention to Anita's face.

"Needy?"

Jennifer plowed into him, knocking the former biology teacher into a kids size plastic statue of Scooby-Doo, it broke his fall and his two front teeth.

Jennifer lowered her hoodie to give Wroblewski a good look at her. He backed away in fear.

"Jennifer..." he choked on his own teeth "This isn't at all possible..."

Jen didn't give Wroblewski the chance to say anything else, she simply strutted up to him, ripped off his prosthetic machete, and buried it in his head.

"And that, Lesnicki..." Jennifer winked at Anita "Is how you kill a cunt... Aren't you glad you brought me back?"

Anita couldn't answer, the waitress was still gurgling on her own blood. Anita hobbled over to her side. A tiny hand was poking out of the woman's baby bump, it was moving.

"Get her out of me, please..." the waitress begged

Anita grabbed her Swiss Army Knife again and tried to cut methodically around the wound in the baby bump.

"No time!" Jen interrupted and mercilessly ripped the wound open by hand, freeing the baby and lifting her out of the waitress's corpse. The waitress had died with a smile on her lips, her body finally free of the thing she didn't want.

Jen looked down at the little baby with such affection and care, so fearful that the little thing would stop breathing. In that moment, there was no callousness, no bitchiness, no gross douchebaggery. Only Jen, her Jen... The one she fell in love with.

Jen reluctantly gave the baby over to Anita.

"She deserves someone pretty to look at when she opens her eyes" Jen breathed, pulling her hood back up

"You are so beautiful, Jen"

Jennifer grimaced and shook her head, sadly.

"... Needy, I think... I think you have Stockholm Syndrome or something" she replied, before taking a regretful look at the dead waitress, and then her baby, and finally leaving the diner.

Anita quickly wrapped the baby up in her jacket, found a mirror compact behind the counter, and rushed off after Jen. This had to be said, Jennifer had earned it.

Anita found Jen lying on the roof of an old van in the parking lot. It was starting to rain. Jennifer looked like an Angel.

"Going nowhere fast?" Anita teased

Jennifer chuckled that sweet chuckle of hers.

"Feeling lost..." she admitted "I'm back to life after ten years and... I have no idea what to fucking do... And all these stupid motherfucking feelings just won't stop, why can't I turn them off any more?"

"Because you're a human not a demon?"

"Oh be real, Needy, I don't resemble anything close to a human being anymore"

Anita handed her the compact. Jennifer raised her eyebrows, sarcastically, like she was so done with this entire situation, but then caught a glimpse of her reflection. Zombie Jen was long gone, all that was left was exactly how Jennifer's body looked ten years ago, the exact night they had met Low Shoulder. She was beautiful, young, and alive again.

"How?!" Jen cried

"Before I brought you back, I cast an enchantment" Anita softly told her "It took a while to kick in but basically it means that you and I share a soul... My soul, and as long as I'm alive, Death can't have you... You won't decay... You can have your life back"

"And you?" Jen looked worried

"My lifespan... Our lifespan is halved, but it is so worth it"

"No" Jen shook her head "Not after all the shit I put you through... Needy, you deserve to live a full life"

Anita took Jennifer's hand gently in hers, Jen actually let her.

"The last ten years without you have been so empty" Anita explained "Don't make me go back to that"

Jennifer stroked the back of Anita's hand, comforting her old sandbox love. Her touch was so warm, even in the rain.

"I won't" she promised "Thank you... Anita"

"Oh, I think I'm still Needy"

"Oh, really?" Jennifer smirked "What are you Needy for?"

Anita showed Jennifer exactly what she was Needy for. Jen's lips tasted so sweet, so right, as they welcomed her back home.

The baby yelled, excited to hear her own voice. Jennifer and Needy used that moment to break apart and take a look down at the girl. The endless possibilities of a new life, a new beginning. Needy smiled at the rare spark of hope in Jennifer's eyes. She knew exactly what they were going to do.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Seventeen Years Later

A bizarre, freakishly sharp wind traveled through the sleepy city of Diablo, California, it might've heralded the middle of Winter, though it was about six months too early and in entirely the wrong State. Nevertheless, It chilled the people on the streets to their very cores, it gnawed, angrily at the trees, and then it finally came to rest on the fashionable little suburb of Cody. Though, why it settled down there was anyone's guess. Most of the houses were pretentious, trendy little things, used mostly for renting out as AirBnBs or the sets of interactive VR music videos. One house, however, believe it or not, was an original Erica Check creation... It reeked of her. It had never been filmed or leased out in all its fifteen years of existence, its only role, to provide safety and comfort for the small family of three that owned it. The thing lurking in the wind pressed a hand to the window and drew itself closer to see what tasty morsels were inside.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Jennifer Check was brushing up on slang terms for her new clients. She was a fitness guru and dietitian, but all of her customers were like half her age and she could barely understand their bullshit made up language.

"Okay, so 'Crash' is good and 'Mode' is bad, and 'Schway' means cool... but then what the fuckcicle does 'Well Schway, Jen, you just Crashed the Mode' mean?'

"Um, maybe it means 'Cool, you just fucked shit up?' I was never very good at slang" her wife, Needy admitted

"Heh, yeah, I remember when you thought Mani Pedi was an Italian stud on Myspace... Fuck I miss Myspace"

Needy was packing for one of her hideously expensive 'Rich Customers Only' tours of haunted towns. As the owner of the business, she accompanied the rich dips and made sure they didn't get eaten by Werewolves or barbecued by the locals.

Jennifer held out her arms, asking wordlessly for a cuddle. Needy happily embraced her.

"Am I getting old, Needy?" Jennifer whimpered

"Yes" Needy smirked, before Jennifer swatted her with a pillow

"Bitch" 

The front door was thrown wide open and in wandered their daughter Sahara. She was a little trouble maker and so god damn frustrating, but they loved her so hella much. She was almost as good at manipulating as Jennifer was.

"Hey moms!" she greeted, trying to obscure their view of the area between the open front door and the stairs

"Hey sweetie, did you have a good day?" Needy asked, pretending not to see her daughter's boyfriend and girlfriend ascending the stairs

"Ugh, High School, you know? I have so much homework, it's barfing Mode... I think I'm just gonna get right to it" Sahara noticed Needy's suitcase "Have fun in Springwood, Momma"

"Thanks baby"

"Oh hon?" Jennifer asked, just as Sahara was leaving to go upstairs

"Yeah, Mom?" she asked, nervously

"What does 'Crash the Mode' mean?"

Sahara burst out laughing, it seemed as if she just couldn't help herself.

"Let me guess, Uncle James told you that one?"

Jennifer nodded, reluctantly, embarrassed to have to ask her teenage daughter.

"It means that your rizz game is zero and you've made everything so whoring jinxxtastic, zoom motherfucker" Sahara answered, before laughing all the way upstairs to her bedroom

"I miss calling things salty" Jen mentioned with a sigh.

Needy nibbled at Jennifer's earlobe for a moment before deciding "You are so super salty"

"You know salty means semen, right?" Jennifer grinned

"I've changed my mind, you're clearly a ten year old"

Upstairs, they heard Sahara's boyfriend warn her that he didn't have a condom.

"Oh shit no, we are not ready to be grandmas right now"

Jennifer leapt off the sofa and bounded up the stairs, before breaking down their daughter's door with her unnatural strength and screaming in her best facsimile of a demonic voice.

"Always use condoms or I will fucking eviscerate your soul and take a god damn shit on your face!"

"I'm on the pill!"

"Contraceptives aren't always effective! Double up!"

Moments later, Jen sauntered downstairs with Sahara and her two lovers behind her. The two other teenagers looked like they had just seen the Great Beast himself, they were trembling, but Sahara just looked pissed.

"Again!? Why do you have to be so fucking embarrassing! At least my birth mom had the common decency to fucking die and leave me to it! When are you going to follow her example!" Sahara screamed and then ran upstairs after her friends had left

"We don't mind you fucking!" Jen yelled as she cuddled up next to Needy "Just leave pregnancy until that magic moment in a womb-havers life when you're rich and successful and your parents are in an old folks home and don't even have to change their own diapers!"

"I HATE YOU!" Sahara screamed

"We love you too!" 

Jen supposed Needy was right after all, Hell was a teenage girl, but Jennifer wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Was all of that really necessary?" Needy pouted, mockingly

"With the amount of Plan B this household goes through? Absolutely"

Jen softly kissed the fake pout off of her wife's face, she basked in the warmth of her truest love, her Needy, and admired their new matching wedding rings, engraved with the letters 'BFF'

To Jen this was better than any stupid afterlife. She was so glad that she stuck around for this.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

The Exile from Hell inked a heart on the window with its own putrid blood. It was glad that its former host was well, they had both come so far since Devil's Kettle. A single bloody tear ran down its face. It was actually happy... It had never felt happiness before, not like this.

The Exile smiled thoughtfully at Jennifer, there was still a connection there between them... An ache... A belonging...  Sure, it was weak but it had been enough to help free the Exile from Lord Lucifer's grasp. The Demon knew that no matter how much they both wanted it though, they could never go back to the way things were... Back to their glory days... They had both changed too much, but it would make a point to keep an eye on it's old friend's family... Offer them a, heh, helping hand if needed... It was the least it could do... And hey if they wanted to reward it by giving it a new home to live in, well fair was fair. 

Noticing young Sahara sneaking out of the house from the balcony next to her bedroom, the Exile licked its lips before shifting its shape into a much more desirable form, and striving out to make a brand new friend. She smelt so sweet, like virgin blood... It was too late when the Exile realized the error of it's ways. Sahara's wrist opened and forced the Demon into her veins, stripping its power away and harnessing it for herself. The Exile realized in it’s last moments that it had been played, it's connection with Jennifer was too weak to help it escape from Hell, Sahara had exploited it, probably sacrificed the blood from one of her little friends to enhance the connection, but why? What was she going to do with it's power? The Exile's last thought was of Jennifer, truly afraid for whatever Sahara had planned for her and Needy... Fear, heh, today was a day for firsts. 

The End

[asmusdiary]

August 7th 2023, 03:14 in the morning

Hello everyone. This is a place where I will talk about the progress of my band. I’m doing this because there possibly are some people that will find it interesting to follow the progress of some small band, but I’m mostly doing this as like a diary for myself. This is inspired Ed’s Diary. Ed being Ed O’Brien from Radiohead. I apologise if these blogs are hard and annoying to read through.

I am 18, turning 19 on the 10th, and I am from Denmark. I’m on summer vacation right now but will return to school, also on the 10th, for my third and final year of gymnasium. I am very much into music. Ever since I was little I really liked it. I started having piano lessons when I was 6 years old - that was in 2010. Now I play piano, bass, guitar, drums and I try to sing.

At school I have a lot of friends that are into music. In fact, I am in a ‘music class’, where all my classmates have chosen music on a high level as a main-topic. It’s a lot of fun. I was aware that there were a lot of music people at my gymnasium before I even started. I was really hoping to meet some people that I could start a band with, and make music that I really enjoy, since music is what I want to do with my life. Though there were definitely cool talented people at my gymnasium, there weren’t anybody that I could see myself starting a band with unfortunately. Some people liked the same music as me, but I didn’t like their approach to music. At all. I found a lot of people’s approaches to music to be regressive and unauthentic, and I wouldn’t wanna be in a band with those kind of people, because they would ruin the authenticity.

Now two years later after starting at the gymnasium, I have found some people. They’re not all from my gymnasium, in fact only one of them is, and he’s a year above me. It doesn’t really matter where I know these people from, and it would take forever to explain where I know them from but they’re all perfect, and exactly what I’m looking for. Here’s a quick rundown

Daniel - bass, guitar, clarinet, keyboards, lyrics. Daniel is one of my best friends. I’ve known him for almost 3 years, and he is the sole reason that I know the music I know and love today, because he always shows me stuff. Rate Your Music guy hehe. Daniel has a really good sense of the abstract and is comfortable being experimental. He is also comfortable in lyrics, which is a skill don’t see myself learning anytime soon. Me and Daniel have actually played together in a band before called Musik 3. It was alright, but tensions were bad between the members so we broke it up. Don’t miss very much lol. But me and Daniel still wanted to do music together.

Romeo - Guitar, Piano, Synth. I haven’t even known Romeo for a year yet. I met him last fall. I met him at a music camp thing (which, fun fact, all of us went to at the same time). We were split into groups with people that we didn’t know, and we had to write a song together. I was in group with Romeo. He played guitar and I played bass. The song we made was really bad, but we enjoyed making it. I was just so amazed at Romeo’s ability to come with tasteful guitar lines on the spot. He is the only person I’ve met that has had as great relative pitch as me.

This was the song we made

And this is us playing it live

Theodor - bass, guitar, piano, synth, drums, singing, rapping, producing, lyrics. Theodor is a genius to me. I am amazed every time I see him play. He just finished his last year at the same gymnasium as me, so that’s where I know him from. I’m pretty shy, so it took me me some time to really get friends with Theodor. I’ve always thought he was a cool guy, but I was still scared to connect with him, because he was one of the older students - and because he was GOOD at music. He’s in a rap group from Roskilde which are seeing some success right now in the underground rap scene in Denmark. Other rappers are talking about them and mentioning them. But some months ago I finally got friends with him, and I asked if he wanted to make a band, and he said yes. What a blessing.

Robin - drums, synth, rapping, producing, lyrics. Robin is the one I know least well. Solely because I haven’t spoken to him as much as the other guys. But we’ve had some laughs where you really could tell we thought each other were cool, so I’m pretty sure it’ll work out. Robin is very very close friends with Theodor. He’s also part of the rap group which Theo is in. And inside the rap group, they are the ones that work together the most. They’re like me and Daniel. Theo and Robin have a lot experience, and they are so good at making really good stuff really fast, which me and Daniel can be pretty slow at. I asked Robin to join, because I heard he was a good drummer, and I really wanted a good drummer. When I asked Theo if Robin was a good drummer he said “Eh, he’s probably as good as me” and that was good enough, because Theo is a pretty alright drummer. I’m looking forward to work with Robin.

Now, the band is finally starting up, and we have our first session on the 20th. We are all 5 really excited. We are all sending pictures of our pedals, and writing demos, and fantasising about how the concerts will play out, so we’re all very excited. I will probably do another blog post before the 20th. Don’t know that it will be about.

This is all very new and exciting. It seems like us 5 guys will work out perfectly, but it’s still hard to know how it all is gonna play out..

Until next post - here’s a song I’m listening to a lot:

[goron-king-darunia]

Story time! I thought writing and essays especially were stupid for most of grade school. Teachers would "correct" deliberate choices I made for creative writing and spelling was my absolute nemesis because we didn't exactly have dictionaries in class let alone the internet so I couldn't figure out how to spell words I'd heard and got marked down for using them.

When it came to essays on reading comprehension the questions seemed... How do I put this. I understood solving equations in math. They put a bunch of similar questions to make sure you could get consistent results so they knew you knew the process and not just that you memorized that 2+2 was 4 but weren't grasping somehow that 2 was a unit of two ones each so that 1+1+1+1 also equaled 4. But with reading questions they always seemed... like they weren't testing consistent things? Some questions would make sense like "Why do you think character did X? (Though my ass would get so mad if I got marked down on those because like "You're asking my opinion? You're asking me to interpret the text, the answer should vary?!" Even though I didn't have the language for that.) And then the other half of the questions were the questions I also hated on history tests where it was just memorizing pointless trivia that no human being would need to know like "what color were the curtains in the MC's bedroom?" which is the same shit as like "what happened on the 4th Thursday of May in 1411?" Like bitch, why would I know that? The date isn't as important to history as the actual events so ask me "what was X historical event about?" instead. I can tell you what the Boston Tea Party was about but why the fuck would I memorize the date? "What happened on page 12?" JUST ASK ME WHAT THE INCITING INCIDENT IS INSTEAD, I CAN GIVE YOU THAT ANSWER!

So I grew up putting minimal effort into English class for a while because a lot of the questions were some form of "what is the title of the book" levels of dumb, "give us your pre-approved opinion" frustration questions or the goddamn trap questions of "what was the MC's cousin's name that gets mentioned once in the entire book?" type questions. So I just phoned a lot of stuff in. Made my essays the bare minimum so I could move on to stuff I liked more.

Until about 7th grade when my English teacher made us do daily writing exercises. You had to write 5 paragraphs at least on any topic you wanted and it had to be 5 good paragraphs every day, around 5 sentences per paragraph. And I HATED it. "What do you MEAN I have to write an ESSAY every day?! This sucks!"

But the more I had to do it, the easier it was. Especially when the teacher realized that my handwriting was just not going to improve so I was allowed to write my entries during class but then type them at home and paste them into the book. So then I could actually look up words I wanted to use and learn to spell them correctly instead of having to guess or flip through a big ass book that at best the class had to share during school hours. (Electronic Pocket dictionaries of the 2000s my beloved. I carried mine everywhere when I finally got one.)

And for once I wasn't being graded on if my opinions on fucking Sonic the Hedgehog were valid or not. I wasn't being graded on whether Sonic being blue is actually deep symbolism or if blue is just a neat color. I was being graded on tangible qualitative skills like whether I could construct a good argument and whether my sentences were full sentences and whether all 5 paragraphs related to each other.

And suddenly writing was fun. And when we had free reading periods and could read for pleasure instead of "Okay, pick one of these pre-selected books so you can do a report on it later" I started to enjoy reading too. Enough that by the time I reached high school, I'd picked up Dante's Inferno at the nearby public library and read it on my own only to get excited when the next year it was required reading and I was ahead of the curve because I'd read it once before.

I get it. School is fucking terrible and the measures they use to test when you're "good" at something or not are fucked.

But if I decided to phone it in forever, I wouldn't be able to read through a full news article today or read through contracts and insurance benefits. I would have to trust strangers to tell me the truth on current events and business things. I could be fed easy-to-read lies and swallow them hook, line, and sinker because lies can be as short as you want but the truth is rarely brief.

If I kept phoning things in, I wouldn't have enjoyed half the stories and games that I do, met the friends that I've met, or made the art that I've made.

Having to write 5 paragraphs every day for a year taught me that... 5 paragraphs isn't much at all. Nowadays when I write a "short" story, it's 5,000 words or more. For fun.

I wouldn't know the things I know or how to find out the things I've learned if I just gave up and let the Liar Box with the Fake Answers write all my papers.

I get why it's tempting. School is awful if you're a normal kid, let alone a special needs kid like my ADHD ass. But not only will you not learn very useful and necessary skills by asking the liar box to write your papers, but you're setting yourself up to trust and rely on the liar box, and by direct extension, setting yourself up to forever rely on and trust strangers to give you "correct" information without having any of the skills to learn for yourself if their information is correct.

600 words is not that much. It's a chunk to be sure. But it's not that much.

This is already 1000 words. It doesn't take that long and I promise it's so worth it to be able to express your thoughts in your own words and learn things with your own power instead of having to trust a machine and the strangers that lie for fun to give you the stuff you want to know.

[halcyon-digest]

2019

Art Klaudt: Visiting my girlfriend (now wife) for the first time

Anonymous 1: choosing name

ava: every weekend in the spring taking the train downtown by myself and going to the record store and eating at the local pizza place and feeling very happy enjoying the independence

kate: I did acid for the second time in my life on the 4th of July as part of my partner's friend's tradition. It started off nice, out in a park by a lake, but then everyone decided to go to Wegman's for some reason RIGHT as we were all peaking. Let me tell you, do NOT go into a Wegman's on acid. It was so overstimulating. I remember needing to go to the bathroom and passing a rack of magazines and the repeating faces freaking me out. And just telling myself "I'm not gonna freak out, I'm not gonna freak out" while I did my business and got out. Then everyone wanted to ORDER FOOD for SOME FUCKING REASON which required TALKING TO PEOPLE and REMEMBERING WHAT TO SAY and I was like man I cannot do this. I tried to calm down outside and my partner ended up walking me back to the friend's house to chill out. (I learned later that the other two guys were also freaking out at this time but trying not to show it. lmao) When I closed my eyes I was seeing like a hyperrealistic hyperbolic burger bulging towards me and folding back in on itself. At a certain point though I looked at my partner's eyes glowing in the light coming through a dingy window and realized how gorgeous he would look in a brown suit. I told him this repeatedly and I stan by it. He needs  a brown suit. He would totally rock a brown suit.

Anonymous 2: my final for one of the few classes i hadnt dropped out of yet  in college consisted of going to a bar in the north end and playing the songs we had practiced together in front of a bunch of uninterested drunk people. it was cold and wet out but the most fun i had had in years

Lucas: I remember being in debate club, going to practices, and my debate partner

Anonymous 3: Watching a photobooth video recording of myself recounting a story of a pigeon I'd seen on the day that I made the video on, the story being my sense or feeling of the pigeon's subjective experience of her life while I sat on a bench and watched her. In the video as I told the story I started crying. In the memory I am watching that video impassively.

Anonymous 4: Chemistry I, connecting with a good friend Logan

superswag: cool vibes

v0w0v: My friend's funeral. He died the night I got back from a road trip. I remember the day of the funeral, the people I was with, "friends", left the funeral early. I had to leave too, because I gave one of them a ride. Back at their apartment, they said they wanted to watch a movie. I put on his favorite movie. They said to turn it off because it was too sad. Nobody there knew it was his favorite movie. Then we watched "Megamind". My eyes felt like golf balls.

Anonymous 6: Welding together a broken art exhibit and feeling a searing pain on my arm as I accidentally burnt myself.

Anonymous 7: starting a tumblr with instruction from my new pepik friend.

binnie: getting to give a go at living with prior mentioned LDR and not long after experiencing psychosis and not being allowed to live with her anymore.

Anonymous 8: Having a short but intense and emotionally abusive relationship

April M. Mildew: Happy Easter. You ruined it for us because you hate us. When they are done yelling I am lying in bed and drawing a picture of a cartoon deer. I think that this new idealized self will finally make me feel whole. I don't know if I've already stopped going to high school or if that's yet to fully fall apart.

[iamnotdame]

Building A Music School In The LA Music Industry (Vision)

In 2015, Monster Sessions was created with a unique vision - I created it with TEAM in mind. I did not create Monster Sessions for myself, I created it out of necessity.

What I thought: I thought with all of the dope people I know in music, people I have a high level of respect for, with how detailed my vision and passion level were, I thought it would be easy to get others on board with my plans & ideas…. but in return, everyone kept saying, “You know Larrance is doing something like that too…”.

Everyone was so counter-productive. Everyone was suggesting things that I had already done, tried, thought of, tried to fit into the vision but logistically didn’t make sense, but no one believed in the vision how it was… honestly, my respect for these people had me thinking it was me and not them.

Another common response I got was, “Yeah, I was thinking about doing something like that too… something similar.” Once again, my respect for that person had me thinking that, maybe my ideas weren’t as cool as I thought they were?

Fast forward, 9 years later, not one of those people are working with Larrance, they aren’t a part of what he’s doing, and not one of those people who said they were thinking of doing this, has done it, or anything remotely close to what I’ve done.

At the time, I had only known about 1500 Sound Academy being built because people in LA would share this news in response to the news I just shared with them about my vision to create a unique school… I hadn’t heard or honestly cared about what anyone else was doing because I had my own vision, that required every ounce of my own research, commitment, dedication, self-funded investments, sacrifices, patience & obsession.

I’ve always felt like Larrance was the Young King of the city (LA) - figuratively, and expected nothing more than for him (and his team) to be doing something remarkable for the city… he’s doing what he’s supposed to do.

Yes, I know 1500 or nothin is not just Larrance, but if you ask anyone about that name, and they will say Larrance, so we’ll just use his name…

Larrance, to me is 20+ years of hard work, respect from his peers, consistency, bringing people together through music, nurturing relationships with the dopest acts in music and more. He’s one of the dopest niggas I know. When I got into music in 2004, 1500 or nothin was already on records… I think we all grew up watching them put on in the city.

This journey has taught me that, if you talk to 100 people about a unique vision, don’t be surprised if all 100 of those people are too dumb, too busy being followers, too slow, jealous, envious, busy, too busy thinking you’re not the right person for this or lazy to see your vision.

Once I finally did look into what 1500 had planned with the Sound Academy, around 2017, it was a 30-second glance and confirmation that what they were doing was completely different than my vision… I’m still confused as to why literally everyone was so adamant about responding with what someone else was doing before even asking one question to better understand what I was doing…

I asked Seige to be a part of Monster Sessions back in 2017 and he literally laughed at me… I didn’t even take it personal, because I’ve always felt like he had a like/dislike/respect towards me since I’ve known him.

———————

What did I want for Monster Sessions?

I didn’t want credit for the entire idea. All I cared about was making sure that music creatives/my students were properly educated & influenced, the rest could come from anyone else that came on to work on Monster Sessions with me.

Example: If a talented music creative/producer who was “industry-ready” came to me to learn, and I taught them, I didn’t care to get their music placed. I didn’t care to sign them or take credit for anything they did after learning from me. But, I thought it made sense for someone to team up with me, to be a bridge for these creatives, in the event they wanted to help them get placements, sign them, and even take credit for helping them, or their success, since that’s what happens politically in the industry anyway.

Vision: My vision was to bring in the talent, properly, help, advise, mentor & develop them, then pass them on to a trusted partner that could help them with the second part of their music journeys; kind of how a university educated a student, they graduate, then the Career Center helps them to transition to a career, then that student moves on in life. That’s what I wanted for Monster Sessions, until I realized that respect for a person doesn’t always translate to trust for a person.

In 2016, I talked to my brother about helping on the A&R side of things with Monster Sessions. At the time I had around 50 producers in my development community. His immediate response to my invitation to have him help was, “If I help, I want 50%”… I said “50% of what?”, he said, “Everything… I’m doing all of the work, this would not have happened without me, so I want a part of it.”

Makes sense, but…

Myself as a producer, I’ve always turned down any opportunities where a person offered me something but was requesting a part of my publishing, or a percentage of anything, so at the time, I felt as if I would have been a hypocrite to set any of my students/members up for that.

FYI, my brother is not wrong for what he asked for, that’s his price, that’s what he wants to help, and I respect that.

We didn’t see eye to eye on a partnership, and went as far as calling a well known entertainment lawyer to mediate between us on the topic of, what is someone entitled to if they help someone with a music opportunity, deals, placements, etc.? The way he broke everything down supported both sides, why someone should get 50% and why students should be protected from things like this.

After about a month of conversations about entitlements from the help for music creatives who needed help, I decided to hold off on a bridge and just focused on the creative development side of my platform, the stuff I naturally wanted to do… this was 8 years ago.

Not even 4 months later I realized:

- the majority of students/members in my community weren’t even ready for professional opportunities.

- I was in over my head and was being taken advantage of by the same students/members I was serving, for only $25 a month.

…

If I am to move forward with helping, I need to unload what I’ve already done.

[vvatchword]

Why I Swear

I had someone actually comment on a video telling me that they wished i would stop cursing. Now, the video was for me 100%, and it was just asking a question: help me organize hierarchically for worldbuilding purposes, and I was pissy at the time because it seemed like it should be easy, and also I am intensely depressed right now and swearing makes me happy.

In any case, the comment really made me stop and do a think.

Do I want to stop swearing? Why do I swear in the first place? Am I swearing incorrectly? Because you really can start throwing in too many f-bombs. I have done it before. And I will

DO IT AGAIN

So here's the thing about swearing, in case you've ever wondered, or if you have known me from my Distant Past:

Once, I never swore at all. I was so clean, in fact, that other people in high school consistently noted it as one of my personal traits. This was mostly from a sense of propriety and intense religiousness. See, I lived my whole childhood idolizing adults and an Ideal Adulthood--an Ideal Human Experience, if you will. I was merely an adult-in-training, and ideally, Adults Do Not Swear.

When I finally left the faith, I was very disturbed by how complete strangers would just ASSUME I was religious. Specifically, they seemed to clock me as evangelical Christian every time. I couldn't figure it out, and I hated it. I wanted people to KNOW I wasn't religious, and being "identified" as religious just... well, it re-traumatized me. There's no easy way of putting that.

I had some options. Dress specifically? Wear specific merchandise that clearly tied me to anti- or areligious groups? Well, no. I lived in the middle of bass-ackwards Texas and that was just asking for trouble, and it would probably go the opposite way and CREATE antagonism. If you've ever had an ACLU card pop out during a transaction in a store playing Christian music you might pick up on some of the spine-tingling terror that inspires. Oh, and it wasn't a store, it was a dental office, and I hadn't had my procedure done yet. So that's a cool feeling.

You know what you can do?

Pick up "god" instead of "gosh." "Hell" instead of "heck." Eventually, grow brave enough to mention crudities off-hand, and learn how to employ swears and imply filth strategically. And, finally, pepper your speech with "fucks."

The outcome is fucking magical. For one thing, then people can't assume that you are expressing any political belief at all. They can just assume you are ignorant. Hilariously, yes, that is what intensely religious people in Texas will think. You're swearing! You haven't heard the Good News yet!! You might just be a casual Christian!!! THERE IS HOPE FOR YOU YET, GRASSHOPPER!!!!!! ACCEPT CHRIST INTO YOUR HEARRRT

Approbation for swearing is mild, too. You can just not swear on the clock, but swear after it. It's off-putting to older and more proper people, but you don't have to use it much, or as strongly, to get yourself across. And because normal people make for absolutely wretched missionaries, they will KNOW you aren't quite "right" but they also have to wait for very specific points in time to start selling some Jesus.

What is more, something about picking up the act of swearing itself alters you a little. I have no idea what it is. Confidence? The congealing of your belief system, which starts to express itself through your behaviors without you even noticing? I don't know. But it does make a difference in your carriage and body language somehow.

Swearing also made me realize something really special about communication and the kinds of people who are put off by it. To illustrate this, let me tell you a story.

So back in the mid-2010s, I took a job at a Wells Fargo call center, during that period they were (ab)using their help line as sales opportunities. My boss was fucking mental. He would attack me constantly and wasn't beneath name-calling. He would shriek at me about nothing and whisper insults only I could hear. He was exceedingly cruel.

So one day I went back to my old workplace--Walmart--and saw a good friend/coworker smoking outside. I stopped to talk to him and told him my story, which was full of swearing, because holy fucking shit it was an awful experience. His eyes filled with tears for me, and he began swearing back in equal strength about this fucking asshole who was very truly mistreating me.

We started to walk back inside of the store as his break was nearing its end. A man in nice jeans and a business-casual long-sleeved shirt was just ahead of us. He stopped in front of us and said, "You know that kids are in this store, right?"

There's a face I like to call a "church smile." It's this oily, holier-than-thou, "I-am-praying-for-you", "you should know better", pitying expression, complete with a toothless up-turn of the lips and brows lifted and eyes slightly watery (preferable but not necessary). I assure you that any time someone gives it to you, they are about to try and drop what they think is a Truth Bomb. And, because it was a Wednesday night, and given the way the man was groomed and dressed, I could smell church all over him.

Remember. This whole time, my friend and I had been discussing in great detail how my boss had been mistreating me in some of the worst ways possible, including psychological abuse. And what bothered Mr. Church Man was the fact we used the word "fuck." Not that I was abused: "fuck." A kid might hear the word "fuck." MIGHT hear. Hadn't heard it, most assuredly--not from us, it was fuckin 9 PM. (Have they heard it on the bus and at school? Oh yes, at least 300,000 times. But we're not going to talk about that.)

He wasn't worried about ME at all. He was worried about theoretical people,* but he wasn't worried about the real flesh-and-blood person standing in front of him.

I realized at that moment that swearing was also a tool: how wrapped up is someone in how things LOOK over what they ARE? If you're upset about people being hurt, why aren't you upset about me actually being hurt? An appearance can absolutely instruct us in the identity of a thing, but it can also be used as shorthand to ignore complex multi-faceted issues.

And that's why I use profanity--and in my stories, other horrifying elements--to pinpoint exactly how clear a person's comprehension is. Are you worried about the hearts of real problems--that real people, complicated people who can be terrible, are being hurt? Or are you hurt that the world is not as perfect as you would like?

Are you worried about the right things?

So yeah, I'll keep swearing. Like all forms of communication, it's about where and how it's employed. But I will absolutely use it, and I love it. Sometimes it's a relief that civilized language can't provide.

And sometimes it's not just a personal expression.

Sometimes... just sometimes... it's a tool.

*We can argue that he wasn't upset about anyone, but rather for the sake of an ideal moral world that can never exist, but that's another discussion for another time.

[tookishcombeferre]

Thanks for the tag @shychick-52

So, this, I've thought a lot about actually.

The whole Protector sublot both does and does not make sense to me. I've watched it all the way through twice now, and I really, really don't like it. (Personally.)

My personal issues with the Protector subplot are as follows:

I dislike the fact that it encourages secret keeping from trusted adults (Mom, Dad, Aunt Tilly, Mr. Cedric, etc.) which is something that the show actively states is wrong in the previous episode about Gnarly and the Fliegel. ("The Fliegel has Landed" is one of my top 5 episodes, right up there with "Substitute Cedric" in terms of life lessons taught and their importance.)

I dislike the fact that it makes all the adult characters feel really stupid and flat as characters. They have absolutely no, to use a DnD term, passive perception - apparently - because they never notice Sofia is missing. They're all completely incompetent, and it makes no sense.

I just have an absolute personal disdain for the way Sofia is treated by the Protectors. She is *not* a teenager. She is not a mini-adult. Sofia is 11 ... 11 and 1/2 at the most, and Chrysta treats her like she's a minimum of 15 or 16 and I hate it.

However, my primary issues, as a parent, are with points one and three.

Someone. I do not care who. From Sofia's initial trusted circle should be with her in the Mystic Isles. Mom. Dad. Cedric. Tilly. SOMEONE. (Who is not an animal.) Should be with her to supervise.

I know the show spends a lot of time establishing Minimus as a guardian of sorts. He's really protective. He's safety conscious ... HE'S A HORSE. A smart horse. But, he's a horse.

I cannot describe to you how WITH Miranda I am with every. single. word. that comes out of her mouth in the finale I am. But, I am. I am with Miranda 3,000%.

Trust me when I say Squish and I will be having a long talk in the next couple months about how Sofia made some BAD choices about not telling her family about Prisma AS SOON as she was encountered. Prisma should have been the FIRST thing Amber and Sofia were talking about at the dinner table, the first thing Sofia was talking to Cedric about the next time she visited the tower, and Baileywick should have been on HIGH ALERT for any sign of her. Period.

There is no way Sofia should have been keeping her Protector status from her parents and trusted inner circle. Nope! Nope, nope! Bad writing. Terrible writing! No thanks. Don't like it.

And, I suppose, if the Protectors actually treated Sofia like a child in school, someone who was *learning* how to adventure and not actively putting her in danger, it might not be so bad. But, the first thing Chrysta does is like basically feed Sofia to polar bears ... so like ... I don't exactly trust these people's judgement. Nor do I trust them with the life and emotional well being of an 11 to 12 year old kid.

(Again, I am speaking as a parent. Y'all are free to feel however you want about the Protectors, I just ... I hate them. I'm sorry. Maybe that has something to do with the fact that I also had a lot of responsibility heaped on me by adults who I was supposed to trust at a young age so it just hits me in a sore spot? But, oooo I just cannot *stand* them. "Get this by sunset." "Save us Sofia, you're our only hope!" "You have to help us!" "We're basically minor gods, but we're helpless!" ICK! Major ick!)

And, before anyone asks the difference between the Protectors (specifically Chrysta) and Cedric?

He's actually useful! He actually teaches Sofia useful skills! What does Chrysta do other than complain about stuff and tell Sofia to do better without showing Sofia anything? SOFIA HAS TO TEACH CHRYSTA HOW TO TEACH!??! Like, what? Excuse me???? Huh??? What are we doing here? This is a show for children! Please, please, I am begging you! Let the adults have at least one competent bone in their body. It will not detract from having the child as your main character. I promise.

Meanwhile, Cedric taught Sofia and the rest of her classmates better in one class period than the Good Fairies did in like 2 whole years! And that's while he was still "evil!" (And strapped to a chair.) Like, hello?? (Maybe the real lesson is just that fairies are just notoriously bad teachers? I dunno.)

So, like, yes, Chrysta improves as a mentor. Fine. I'll give you that. But, she still treats Sofia WELL more like a peer than a mentee. And, I'm not super comfortable with that? I don't like the dialogue between them. I don't exactly know how old Chrysta is supposed to be, but she's definitely older than Sofia is. Maybe she's supposed like an older teen? I'm not sure. But, I do not like the way that they're coded as equals. There was a clear and distinctive barrier between Cedric as Mentor and Sofia as Apprentice literally from the episode in which she was called that onward. And, while Sofia is CALLED a trainee by Chrysta. That is NOT coded into their relationship in the same way it is in other relationships Sofia has in the show.

And, I. Do. Not. Like. That.

Chrysta is dismissive. She's arrogant. She's mean. She's not likeable. She actively blames Sofia for stuff that isn't her fault. I mean, dang, I wouldn't blame Cedric for getting into a fist fight with Chrysta just for putting Sofia though more than half the crap people put him through his whole life.

And, yes. These are all things that Cedric also can be and was throughout his redemption arc, but he is also shown over and over again to be equal parts protective and caring as well as being a mean and arrogant. Chrysta is just ... not protective or helpful.

Sofia ends up saving Chrysta well more than Chrysta ever saves Sofia. For being on the side of good, Chrysta is not very willing or able to care for Sofia, emotionally OR physically, and that's something that I just ... I can't stand. If they were going for mentor foils? They failed. Epically.

Chrysta as a character is cool. I just can't stand her as someone who is supposed to look out for Sofia because she doesn't. Like, the whole episode they're in Wei Ling? Chrysta is basically gaslighting Sofia about not asking for help until Sofia tells her off! UGH! I just ... I'm sorry! This is a sore spot for me. You stepped right into one of my pet peeves in writing for children.

It all boils down to that I just don't like what message it enforces. What the writers set up with Cedric is that he's crotchety but there is good in him, and when push comes to shove, he's going to stand up and protect the people he loves. He deeply cares about Sofia. He really wants to be good more than bad. He's just a little turned around about how to get the respect he deserves as human being. Sofia is helping him get there through her child-like hope and, really, just being around him. Truly, he's kind of like Carl from Up. He just needs another human being to bring life back into his life. Cedric likes mentoring Sofia, and there's a well established distance and boundary between them. In many ways, Cedric is doing a lot of his own development behind the scenes, Sofia is just there accompanying him on the journey. (Honestly, the Carl and Russell metaphor isn't a bad one for the two of them.)

With the Protectors, by contrast? From the moment Sofia appears, that boundary just isn't there. They immediately are willing to take her on as a near adult trainee. They put her with a trainer who clearly expresses contempt for her IN FRONT of them. This trainer is actively prejudiced against Sofia as a person, and this trainer treats Sofia, not as a child, but as a peer. In many ways, Sofia acts as an ACTIVE, not passive, catalyst for Chrysta's development.

And, I'm just NOT down for that. I'm not about it. It's not in my spirit.

There is a big difference between using life experiences and wisdom to help someone process what they're living through - what Cedric does for the class with "The Sorcerer's Secret" song - and what Sofia ends up helping Chrysta to do in getting her Fairy Wand. Big Difference. HUGE.

So, again, Squish and I will be having LONG chats about why it's important to evaluate these kinds of relationships. Healthy relationships and boundaries with adults. Because, the Protectors? That's NOT it.

There should be a firm line with all the adults involved in Sofia's life telling her "NOPE. Sorry. No more. Not because of anything you did, but because this never should have happened in the first place. This is not your circus. Not your monkey. Not your problem. You are done in the cupcake war. The end."

Sorry if this was rambly and disjointed. But, darn. This hit in a place for me. I do not like this arc. I like it less each time I watch it.

If Cedric hadn't saved her in 'In Cedric We Trust', Sofia would have been seriously hurt or worse by Prisma! That's proof that she has no business being a Protector at her age, let alone the ONLY Protector of the EverRealm!! What if such a thing were to happen again post-series- bested by an enemy or even just getting injured by pure accident, with nobody around to help (well, I mean, normally she'd usually have Minimus or Skye with her, but still)??

That's why I totally think Cedric should have been her magical bodyguard, like I discussed in this post.

@tookishcombeferre @bettathanyou @fantadym