#he probably will be horrified to know that some parts of his life story was broadcasted to everyone

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[tathrin]

The next story I am Definitely Not Writing: a fic where Legolas and Gimli make it all the way to the Undying Lands before they realize that in addition to loving each other more than anything else in all of Arda, they are also in love with one another (this is less a realization on their part and more an assumption that just about everyone else in Aman makes on sight, and eventually they hear about it and go oh...dang...maybe...? and Legolas's mom facepalms forever) and hey what if they got married, then...?

Only the thing is, while an elvish marriage is very simple and requires literally nothing but the folks involved deciding to do it (and no, Thranduil is not allowed to demand that Gimli fetch some priceless jewel from the Fëanorian section of Tirion in order to prove himself worthy of Legolas's hand, although he tried very very hard to convince everyone that it was a great idea) a dwarven marriage is an elaborate ceremony, requiring the participation of both a dwarven officiant and several members of one's kin to perform the various elements of the ceremony.

...all of which are in short supply in this land of elves and valar.

Except. well. there aren't any other dwarves in Aman...but what there is, is the guy who made the dwarves. And he is VERY fond of Gimli. So when he learns that Gimli is kind of moping about the fact that he can't marry Legolas in dwarven-fashion, Aulë ENTHUSIASTICALLY volunteers to be the officiant and to set everything up and arrange just the BEST DWARVEN WEDDING EVER...

Because, you know. he's never actually been to one?

Gimli is stricken with horrified shock to realize just how much his own Maker has missed out on interactions with his beloved dwarves over the years, and immediately agrees to this plan (even though he knows it won't be a real dwarven wedding without his family there; but he'll swim back to Middle-earth before he says one word about that anywhere that Mahal can hear! he is going to do everything in his power to make this the best wedding ever for the sake of his Maker, dammit!).

So he gets to work crafting all the necessary accoutrements (with enthusiastic help from Celebrimbor and all his other elf-smith friends that Gimli has acquired since coming to these shores which is, let's be honest, quite a few) and carefully teaching Legolas all the necessary Khuzdul phrases and ceremonial steps that they can do to mimic as much of a proper wedding as they can without anyone else to help...

And when the big day comes, Aulë is vibrating so hard he's on the verge of setting off seventeen different earthquakes across the island, and not even Yavanna can get him to relax. Gimli and Legolas arrive to the appointed place, and find that they aren't alone: Aulë has invited Celebrimbor, too, seeing as he's the only elf in Aman who has actually participated in a dwarven wedding before with makes him the local expert as well as the closest thing to "kin" that Gimli is going to find on these shores...except.

Well, Mandos might be in charge of elvish souls, but dwarves? They belong to their Maker. And if Mahal decides he wants to...well, who is going to stop him from waking some of them up early, before the breaking of the world? Especially if he doesn't ask permission first. So when Gimli and Legolas hesitantly walk into this foreboding stone chamber, eerily close to the Halls of Mandos, wondering wtf is going on and have they offended the valar somehow and are they in trouble and if so how bad is it...?

Well, turns out Gimli will have kin at his wedding after all.

Mahal can't bring any of them back to life, not without the intervention and permission of Eru and probably Mandos too; but as long as they're in his halls, he can wake anybody he wants. So soon there is a great crowd of bewildered but enthusiastic dwarves gathered around Gimli, as he tries to explain what the heck is going on to a whole passel of relatives and friends, some of whom died even before the Lonely Mountain was reclaimed and don't even know how the Battle of Five Armies ended, let alone the whole thing with the Ring and the Fellowship...

And Legolas and Celebrimbor are standing near the entrance watching fondly, Legolas weeping around a great big smile and Celebrimbor torn between joy for Gimli and his own ever-bitter sorrows and then...

"Khelebrrimbor?" calls a deep dwarven voice, in a thick Khuzdul accent, and Celebrimbor stiffens like he's just been shot.

Suddenly there's a ruckus as a very burly dwarf is shouldering through the crowd, and Celebrimbor stumbles forward and throws himself at Narvi with a wail, and it's at least ten minutes before anyone can get a coherent word out of either of them (although it takes considerably less time to catch the gist of Narvi's lecture about how dare you and lucky he's already dead, or I'd have a gift for him he wouldn't forget in a hurry and what were you thinking???).

Legolas gives Aulë a very pointed raise of his eyebrows, and Aulë shrugs around an unabashed grin. "Who in all the ages of the world is more of an expert on marriages between elves and dwarves than the two of them? I am a craftsman, Greenleaf; of course I would want to make use of their skills and experience in this endeavor. Nothing more to it than that."

Legolas hums noncommittally, but his eyes are dancing.

Mahal ignores him and steps forward to start the wedding. It takes even him three tries before he can shout loud enough to be heard over the tumult and get everyone's attention, but eventually he gets them all to quiet down enough for the ceremony to begin. Not everyone in attendance is entirely thrilled by the prospect of Gimli marrying an elf (that elf) but no one is so cross that they walk back into their dreams of stone to avoid it, which Gimli chalks up as a victory.

(Legolas's terrible Khuzdul pronunciation doesn't help, but the very enthusiastic way he praises Gimli when the ceremony reaches that point makes up for a lot. By the time he finally runs out of words, a few of the more recalcitrant attendees have changed their tune about him. The fact that he's so good at weaving the required braids doesn't hurt, either.)

There aren't nearly enough refreshments for a crowd that size afterwards, of course, since Gimli and Legolas weren't expecting anyone but themselves and Aulë to be there; but that doesn't much matter, because 90% of those in attendance don't have the sort of corporealness that would allow them to eat the dwarven delicacies that Gimli spent all morning fussing over anyway. (That doesn't stop some of his more elderly relatives from scolding him for not following their recipes better.) They're solid enough that you can hug them or kiss them, in the case of a certain former smithlord of Eregion or get half-knocked off your feet by their congratulatory backslaps, but they aren't alive. They're still the dreaming dead...it's just that for the moment, they're dreaming in a bit more wakefulness than usual.

In the end it's not what one would call an orthodox dwarven wedding, no; but it's a lot closer than Gimli thought he would get, and since he's hardly an orthodox dwarf, the small tweaks and oddities of their strange situation don't bother him in the slightest.

As for Aulë, he's never been happier.

And if it takes a long, long time for Celebrimbor to finally leave (and if he tries to devise a way to prop the door open on his way out)...well, Aulë is enjoying himself far too much to do anything but pretend not to notice. Even when Námo clears his throat at him very pointedly.

Twice.

And then again. And again.

"Aulë...!"

[nyonismywife]

RANFREN HEADCANONS:

Luther:

Was researching humans when he first decided he wanted to be one. Found out they're 60% water. Is now hellbent on making sure everyone is hydrated

Only formed a family because he thought it was what humans are supposed to do

Only reason he got Randal a pet human is because he was tired of Randal terrorising his catmen and wanted to teach him some responsibility

Has been around for so long that he's had at least one cult formed around him. The cult has long since disbanded, however

Used to be ALOT more evil in his 'youth'. Even more so than Randal. A truly horrifying entity. That was a long time ago, though. He's a nice young human man now

Sometimes Randal REALLY pisses him off. Like A LOT. But Luther reminds himself that this is just 'Randal's Rebellious Phase'. (Even though Randal's been in the same age range for years)

Randal:

I don't really have any for Randal. Let me think of some

Is incredibly good at biology, sucks at the other sciences

Otaku

Can't keep friends but somehow keeps making them

These were pretty weak. Sorry bout that. Anyways..

Nyen:

Doesn't feel a shred of embarrassment or shame about existing as a cat for Luther despite being a grown man (feels no shame about being pet, purring, making biscuits etc and thinks anyone that thinks he should feel that way is a weirdo)

Knows Luther usually likes his catmen's faces smooth but sometimes neglects shaving because he likes when Luther does it for him (drawn from a canon image)

Doesn't like smoking weed and sometimes judges Nyon for it but has no problem drinking beer and smoking tobacco

Thinks he's all that

Bullies Nyon but Nyon is literally one of his only friend besides Luther

His backstory is like the most simple thing ever with no trauma or anything. He was just a regular guy that got into a car crash or something and Luther revived him

His opinions about Kurt Cobain have always been the same even before he became a catman

Harasses Nyon whenever Nyon tries to do pushups or pullups or anything resembling arm workouts because he wants to be the only pet with beefy arms (he likes when Luther compliments his muscles (drawn from canon))

Inherited parts of Luther's violence

Nyon:

Epitome of nonchalance

Seems to have been around with Luther for a WHILE as well. (Guessing because he likes reading Fyodor novels for "nostalgic reasons" and Fyodor was around in the 1800s)

His life was better after he joined Luther's presence

Probably fought in at least one war

Remembers EVERYTHING from his past life but just doesn't talk about it. If you ask, he'll give you silence and go back to whatever he was doing. The conditions for hearing his backstory are so rare. You'd need to find him at 4:23am while he's greening out in a loaf position on the ground and even then there's only a 15% chance of him telling you. If he ever did tell you how he came to be what he is, it'd be the most bizarre, otherworldly and brilliant damn story you ever heard. Then you'd wake up the next day and, strangely, you wouldn't remember any of it anymore..? Like it was a snippet of a dream

He likes Nyen's abuse if he's in the mood for it (this is actually a little canon)

Has so many connections to so many different weed dealers it's actually ridiculous.

Inherited parts of Luther's timidity (yes, Luther is indeed shown to be a bit timid at times)

..bottom.

[sunflowerwizard]

I've seen enough people mischaracterizing Early Access Wyll, so here's the best breakdown of his original character I can give.

I'll start this off by plainly summarizing Wyll's EA backstory, some of his core personality traits, then do a bit of analysis.

BACKSTORY

EA Wyll mentions being "born and bred in the upper city" into nobility. It's unspecified what exact level of influence his family occupied.

In datamined voice lines from EA (take with a grain of salt) Wyll refers to being from House Eltan specifically. Eltan was the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate in the first Baldur's Gate Game, and the founder of the Flaming Fist. Forgotten Realms lore states that the Eltans are no longer in charge of the Fist and have somewhat diminished in power, but again. We don't know to exactly what level.

This also means that this iteration of Wyll was not Ulder Ravengard's son. While he still spoke about his father in EA, the descriptions and characterizations do not line up with Ulder at all. Additionally, he comments about "knowing of" Ravengard during the burning inn sequence, but otherwise makes no connection.

The most damning evidence of all that Wyll being a Ravengard was not originally intended, is Wyll wanting to be like his father and thus "going thieving in the wrong shadows".

Wyll gets caught stealing, presumably as a teenager, and his father uses latent connections within the Flaming Fist to get Wyll sent there. Effectively the fantasy equivalent of sending your unruly kid to boot camp.

Wyll mentions that he didn't adjust well to life as part of the Flaming Fist, was not a very good fighter, and was generally not well liked. The goblin at the windmill calling Wyll "Captain Failure" implies he might have been given higher status despite not earning it.

The way Wyll feels about goblins is a big change between EA and full release, and is explained as part of his backstory.

We didn't get the finer details, but we can assume Wyll in his time with the Fist bore witness to a group of goblins razing a village. Horrified and enraged, he tried fighting a goblin, was overwhelmed, and had his eye torn out.

This is when Mizora showed up and offered him a pact. Considering he was left for dead and probably going to bleed out, it's pretty understandable why he took the deal.

Mizora is not nearly as present in Early Access as she is in the current game. Karlach was not involved in Wyll's story at all, there's no devil transformation.

It's also more heavily insinuated there's a sexually coercive element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship, with him speaking to how every time he wanted to leave her, she found some way to pull him back.

Additionally, Wyll wants out of that contract. Unlike full release where Mizora is randomly captured in Act 2, she starts off kidnapped, and insists she'll let Wyll go if he frees her

It kind of ended up being a plot cul de sac, but Torturer Spike was the goblin that took Wyll's eye--which was a quest item you could pickpocket/loot off his body. Wyll had commentary on it and everything.

TL;DR: -Born to a noble family with Flaming Fist connections -Caught Stealing and sent to work for the Fist as punishment -Tried to fight back during a goblin attack and was gravely injured -Mizora offers a pact -Uses his pact to become a traveling monster hunter, presumably to make up for his past failure to protect people. Antagonistic towards goblins in particular -Ultimately wants out of the pact, but Mizora won't let him go -Wyll and Mizora get abducted by Mind Flayers -Mizora agrees to let Wyll go if he frees her from the cultists

PERSONALITY

This is a bit less concrete than changed story beats, but I can say this: a lot of Wyll's core traits stayed intact between EA and full release. He's still willing to put his life on the line for the Tiefling refugees, with a whole cut line about how the kids he's training deserve to have a carefree childhood. He wants to do good in the world, probably because he spent so much time in his youth feeling like a fuck up.

There's also a much clearer divide between "Wyll" and "The Blade of Frontiers". Notably, in EA he didn't introduce himself by name. Not even a "my friends call me Wyll" quip at Shadowheart like he has currently. During his old romance scene, he has a line about being used to being the hero, and not used to needing one. He's a symbol. An emblem of something bigger than himself. The fact he's so self-aggrandizing as The Blade makes it apparent he's not confident in himself as "just Wyll"

He's also decidedly more forward and flirty in EA, with no reservations about courtship. In fact, the main obstacle to your budding relationship is Mizora herself. Wyll's trauma from her treatment interrupts your first night together. Whether you have sex or just snuggle, Wyll has a line about how he doesn't want to start a relationship until he can "give himself completely" after being freed from his pact.

THOUGHTS & COMPARISONS

I'm also not entirely sure if I'd say EA Wyll is substantially angrier than current Wyll, so much as he had more opportunities to be angry during Early Access. I can understand why the goblin stuff was cut, because it did dip into "Let's make the one black guy fantasy racist" trope. However, it did very much feel like the narrative was pointing in bright, flashing colors that this is a trait Wyll would have to grapple with, learn, and grow from. The fact EA Wyll's most glaring character flaw was scrapped and didn't get much of a replacement in full release makes his story feel less realized.

While I appreciate the overtly sexual element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship was removed, I feel like the final version is somehow even more creepy. During Early Access she existed in the background as a vague villain you only experience via Wyll. And if you do his romance scene and see the way he panics at the mere memory of her, you get the impression of oh shit. This broad is bad news and I've gotta get my boy out of there. The same principle behind not showing the big scary monster too early in the horror movie. Once you've seen it, you can't let your mind fill in the blanks. Mizora went from this intimidating figure whose motives you couldn't fully ascertain, to a mean girl that thinks she's smarter than everyone else but is really just the bumbling lackey of a bigger fish. Who pulls Wyll around with an actual metaphysical leash like a dog. And you're meant to find this sexy.

My final point, and I've said this before: current Wyll's personality seemed more suited to being a scion of house Eltan, while EA Wyll seemed more suited to being Ulder Ravengard's dissapointment son. Current Wyll speaks and carries him like someone raised in nobility despite only being elevated to such status as a teenager. Perhaps this is cynical and maybe even a bit of a conspiracy theory, but I genuinely think he's only Ravengard's son to save on time and assets. Why give Wyll a whole unique family with its own story when we can just tie him in to the "rescue the grand duke" plot, regardless of how much sense it makes!

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 25

Part 25:

Patrick stood with a cigarette outside the building where Liana worked. He knew it wasn't ideal, but he'd been debating for half an hour whether to go in and say he had an appointment with her. He wondered if there were people who knew him, who had heard stories about him, who knew who he had been in her life. Maybe there were people who would recognize him from tennis, who would recognize him as the one who beat her fiancé.

He threw the cigarette away, not bothering to pick up the butt, and went inside after popping a gum in his mouth. "Hey, love, I'm looking for Liana Levy's office," he said to the girl sitting at the reception. She looked at him for a moment, probably trying to figure out where she knew him from. "At the end on the left," she muttered and smiled at him. He nodded and smiled back, walking confidently.

Patrick knocked on the door and heard Liana's gentle voice telling him to come in while she continued talking to someone who was already inside. "Hey," he muttered. He suddenly felt stupid. Not understanding why he came at all. She looked so confused when she saw him that he regretted the decision the moment he saw her face, but there was nowhere to run. "Can we continue this later, Paul?" she asked the guy she was talking to, and he nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Well?" Liana looked at him after a few seconds of silence. Patrick didn't say anything, leaning on one of the cabinets in her office and shifting his weight from his heels to his toes. He felt like a lost four-year-old seeking attention from his mom. "Patrick, why are you here?" she asked after he didn't say a word. "It's been a while since we talked." He tried to sound determined. "It's been two weeks since France. Before that, we didn't talk for a year, and you didn't show up here. Did something happen?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Always so practical. Always looking to solve a problem. "No," he chuckled.

"Do you need something?" she added another question. Liana didn't understand what was happening. Her heart was racing, and Patrick refused to explain himself. But when did he ever explain himself? When did he ever bother to answer one of her questions? "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you to build me a house, I'm not an Asshole" he indirectly jabbed at Art, about that time he practically demanded Liana build his house, which over time became her house (just like Patrick told her it would, but he wasn't petty). She sat down in her chair and sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.

He sat in the chair opposite her and examined her and her office in general. Her degree was framed on one of the walls, there were some letters of appreciation, a strange frog toy standing on a shelf, and Patrick swore it was looking back at him. "That's a gift I got from a client," she said quickly, almost justifying the creepy frog Patrick was staring at. "Was it a real frog once?" he asked, almost horrified. "No. Why are you here, Patrick?" she answered, and he returned his gaze to her. "To invite you to dinner," he said quickly, and she raised an eyebrow, the horrified look seemingly taking turns between them. "Both of you, of course, I have boundaries." he added quickly. "You're at my workplace, and you're talking about boundaries?" she chuckled. "I see the irony, yes." The familiar smirk appeared on his face. "It's not appropriate, you know it's not appropriate," Liana said, still looking at him as if he was the craziest man she had ever encountered, maybe he really was the craziest.

"Why not?" he asked, "You're getting married, and I'm in a stable relationship. We were all friends once, I don't see why it can't happen again," he tried to sound convincing. "What's the catch?" Liana asked, raising an eyebrow. "A man can stop being in love with you and miss his best friend." he said, looking at the picture of her and Art on the desk. "You two haven't been friends for a long time, Patrick." Liana sighed. "Whose fault is that?" he asked. And it came out with a lot more venom than he intended. "I'm sorry, Li, it's lonely. Okay? You have each other, and I don't. I'm not allowed to miss you, but I'm allowed to miss him." He sounded so vulnerable that all Liana could do was nod. Even though there was no way it would work.

"He won't like it." Liana muttered, trying to make Patrick give up. "You're good at ultimatums. I'm worth an ultimatum, Liana. Waste one on me." he moved towards the exit. "Still the same number?" he asked, and Liana nodded quietly, looking at him with almost pity. "I'll text you the address. This Friday," he didn't say an arrogant 'see you later' before he left because he wasn't sure if they would really see each other. And it was sad and exciting at the same time.

When Liana came home, Art was lying on the couch, flipping through TV channels, looking either bored or completely exhausted, one of the two. He smiled at her and glanced at the clock. "This isn't a reasonable time to come home, Ms. Donaldson," he said, and she heard the sarcasm. "I'm not married to you yet. I can still call the whole thing off, you know," she leaned against the doorframe, looking at him amused. "You won't do that." He smiled. "You're very confident for someone who didn't wait for me with takeout and flowers in a vase," she replied with a half-chuckle and moved towards the kitchen, hearing him stand up and follow her.

"Hey," his large, rough hands from holding a racket most of his life, wrapped around her from behind as he kissed her neck. "Hey." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting herself sink into his warmth, the security that only he could provide. "It really is late, Lia, you're working too hard." He murmured and bit her earlobe before she could respond. "It was a long day. And two hours of it, I sat with your mom and picked out napkins. It was really fun." She replied, feeling his chuckle against her neck.

Art gently turned her to face him, examining her and seeing the dark circles forming under her eyes. She was exhausted. "Oh no, you look worried," Liana said suddenly, and his smile was partial. Because he would never get used to how well she knew him. It always caught him off guard. "You're putting too much on your shoulders, Lia, and I love those shoulders too much for them to collapse." He gave her shoulder a small squeeze, not taking his eyes off her. "I can handle your mom, Art, she loves me more than she loves you anyway." Liana rolled her eyes in response. "Christine needs to stop telling you things like that, I can't handle your ego anymore." He said, amused.

"Do you love me?" Liana suddenly asked. Art couldn't help but chuckle and take a step back. "A bit of a weird question to ask in the middle of the kitchen in our house, a month and a half before you become my wife," the amused look didn't leave his face until he realized how serious she looked. "Art." She said, demanding he say it. "Of course I love you. How is that a real question right now, Lia?" He would have rolled his eyes if she didn't look so shaken in front of him. "Hey, what's with this talk all of a sudden?" He added, standing close to her again and hugging her as tightly as he could. If he could, he would have absorbed her into himself. To be part of him every moment.

"Patrick came to my work today," Art recoiled from her in a second. How did Patrick always show up in his life like an ambush? How did he always manage to surprise him? Why was Art never ready for the attack? Why did he always have to defend what was his? He looked at Liana with a look she probably couldn't read because he couldn't organize what was going through his head, he just felt his heart start to beat rapidly and his mind racing with all the worst thoughts forward. "Son of a bitch." Art muttered with a chuckle that came out more bitter than he planned, but it was all he had. "Art-" Liana sighed. "What is it this time? What does he want?" Art asked. His fingers danced uncontrollably. He felt how he couldn't stop his level of anger, how his tension was increasing, how he wasn't the person he wanted to be.

"He invited us to dinner. He wants to leave the past in the past." She sounded confident in what she was saying. Art chuckled. "He can shove his dinner up his ass and let it come out of his nose," Art said and started pacing back and forth in the kitchen. "Art." She sighed again. "Don't talk to me like I'm a 12-year-old, Liana, I know that tone," he interrupted her again. "Not what I wanted to do." She clarified. "My head is starting to hurt; can you stop?" She added, referring to his pacing. "Are you serious?" He looked at her after he stopped, "You want to go? Unbelievable." He muttered. "How did he convince you, Liana?" He asked.

"He didn't convince me of anything." She muttered and looked at Art. "He convinced you of something if you're even bringing it up." Art leaned on the table in front of her. He looked like a man ready for an attack. One who wasn't willing to let go until the other side surrendered, and Liana didn't plan to surrender anytime soon. "Would you prefer I hadn't told you?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'd prefer if you were smart enough to know he doesn't want to have dinner with us, not with me at least." Art said with disdain that didn't characterize him, not when he talked to Liana. "Call me stupid again and see what happens, I dare you," her jaw clenched after she said that, her anger evident in every syllable that came out of her mouth.

Art sighed, looking at the love of his life standing in front of him, furious. "I don't think you're stupid, Lia," he sighed in frustration, feeling all his anger leaving him. He couldn't be angry when she was angry too, one of them had to compromise, and after how he treated her in college, he swore to himself he would always be the one to compromise. That he would never let his anger be what led his words when he was with her. "So what do you think?" She asked, her gaze piercing, and luckily for him, couldn't actually kill. "I think you're naive," he said, searching for the right way to say it, "and that you'll always have a soft spot for Patrick," he added, examining her. "And you don't?" She asked, "You don't care about him? You won't care about him ever again? Wasn't he part of your life too?" She added the questions that hovered over them for years.

Of course, Patrick would always be part of Art's life. Sometimes Art dreams about him. Distant dreams, about the academy, about games they played together, about competitions they won together. There are entire conversations Art has with Patrick in his head, they're never about what really matters. They come up when Art eats a date before a workout and manages to imagine Patrick laughing at him. He sometimes knows in what intonation Patrick would say things or what would be the crudest joke to think of so Patrick could say it in the middle of a bar full of potential sponsors. Art misses the moments they smuggled beer when they were minors. The talks about their hot math teacher. Tennis.

"I've come to terms with him not being in my life anymore, Liana, I came to terms with it a long time ago," Art said, his eyebrows furrowing for a second. No one in the world besides Liana would have noticed it, but he stood in front of her, and she recognized the lie. "Okay." She surrendered and heard him chuckle, "What? You've come to terms with it, what can I do about it?" She added. "Clearly, you have something to say, so say it." He said. "I'm tired of fighting with Patrick and about Patrick, it exhausts me. I'm too old to carry this anger. I think you are too. I love you, and I don't think I can keep trying to convince you that nothing and no one can change that."

"You're quite convincing, Ms. Donaldson," he started moving closer to her until he finally stopped in front of her, moving his hand to her back pocket while hugging her possessively. Even though no one was around. "I'm not married to you yet. I can still call the whole thing off," She muttered into him what she told him every night from the moment he proposed and started calling her that. He just nodded and pulled her even closer to him.

"I can't believe he lives here," Art muttered as they stood at the entrance to Patrick's apartment. The suburb was uncharacteristic. None of them imagined Patrick would live in such a... quiet neighborhood. Liana ran her hand over Art's collar, straightening his sweater as she always did before they entered places together. "Behave. It's just one evening, and we can leave after half an hour if we want." Liana told him, seeing his eye roll.

Casey, Patrick's perfectly blond girlfriend, who wasn't actually a million years younger than him as Liana initially thought, enthusiastically opened the door. "You came," she smiled. It seemed genuine. Genuine enough for Liana to find it hard to be mad at her. "We brought wine and flowers," Liana handed her the wine, and Art handed over the flowers he was holding. Patrick stood behind her, looking amused but not saying a word. "Good to see you," he smiled at them. Liana nodded as Patrick extended his hand to Art, who took his time but eventually shook it. "Do you want a tour of the house? That's what adults do when they invite someone over, right?" he added, trying to lighten the mood, knowing Liana wouldn't refuse to see a house she had never been to. It was one of her favorite things to do. When they lived in London, she would drag him to various open houses, and they would pretend they were about to buy homes they couldn't really afford, just so she could see them.

"We'd love to," Liana said with a smile. Patrick's house looked like it was taken from a magazine. Like a catalog of how a home should look. She saw his mother's touch in the pictures he hung in the living room, in the candlesticks she saw on one of the shelves. "This is a good neighborhood to live in. My dad is big in real estate, and he recommended the area," Casey didn't stop talking, and secretly, Liana wanted to thank her for it because otherwise, they would have been walking around in awkward silence, moving from room to room as if they were on one of those London tours, surrounded by strangers.

"Who wants something to drink?" Patrick suddenly asked, and everyone raised their hands. Thank God. In the dining room, more people had already gathered, some of their mutual friends from the tennis academy. Liana thanked every god she knew that it wasn't just the four of them. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, and Liana couldn't help but wonder if she was the reason Art didn't spend enough time with his friends. If he was wasting too much time keeping her company. She would have to ask him about it when they got home.

Casey was sweet. It was infuriating how friendly she was and how she tried to include Liana in a conversation about Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. It was almost infuriating when she asked her how the wedding preparations were going and made everyone interested in her and Art's wedding arrangements.

Art and Patrick went out to the balcony with beer. It was inevitable; after all, that's why Patrick organized all this, to put the past behind, to lie to Art's face, to find the right moment to return to the lives of the two people who were once his greatest motivation. "You're getting married," Patrick said suddenly, and Art swallowed, looking at who was once his best friend. "You won't be able to stop it, Patrick," Art said. "I'm here because she needed this, but I know what you're doing." He continued, not taking his eyes off the guy in front of him, who was once so close but today, when Art looked at him, all he saw was ruin. He saw Patrick destroying his life without blinking, without thinking twice. He had already done it once. Art wouldn't let it happen again; he was more prepared this time.

"I'm not trying to ruin things for you, man. I'm happy for you. For you both. Isn't this what you wanted?" Patrick asked Art while the latter took another sip of beer, leaning on the balcony and watching Patrick light a cigarette. "Want one?" he offered Art the pack. "I don't smoke," Art muttered, almost ashamed of the fact that he didn't live his rebellious youth like Patrick clearly still did, almost ashamed of the fact that their achievements were starting to look similar, but Art was doing everything by the book while even Patrick's expressions were smug. "Of course not," Patrick nodded his head, talking half to Art and half to himself, causing Art to roll his eyes.

"I'm not trying to ruin things for you," he repeated. "So what are you trying to do?" Art asked. "You don't care about Casey; I can see that. I know you." He continued, trying to press, trying to find weak spots. He couldn't leave this house without understanding the endgame of his most important competitor. "She's nice. It's fun with her," Patrick shrugged in response, and Art nodded. "It feels strange that you're getting married and I'm not part of either of your lives. Isn't that strange, Art?" Patrick sighed. "You haven't been part of our lives for a long time, Patrick," Art stated a fact. "I know," Patrick muttered. "Do you remember when you came to ask me for her key?" Art suddenly asked, and Patrick looked at him confused. "She and I had the fight, and about a week later, you asked me to give you the spare key to her room," he reminded him, and Patrick nodded slowly. "I told you not to do it. You made your choice that day," Art shrugged as if it no longer mattered to him. "Are you going to hold that over my head forever, Art? That was almost seven years ago," Patrick looked at him from the chair he was sitting on. "It was a pretty defining moment, Patrick," Art explained. "Look, man, she wants us to be okay, so we can be civil to each other." He continued, "I'm not at a stage where I'm looking for friends. I have everything I need."

"I didn't do it to ruin things for you, Art. It was never to ruin things for you," Patrick said suddenly, laughing in frustration and taking another drag from his almost finished cigarette. "So what was it?" Art asked. He looked at Patrick as if he were dirt he needed to scrape off his shoe. A problem he needed to solve. An obstacle to overcome. "It wasn't about you. It was for her. I would do anything for her. You're about to marry her; you surely know how that feels," Patrick sighed, feeling defeated.

"So that's why you cheated on her?" Art suddenly asked. It bothered him. Because for years, he managed to find logic in Patrick's behavior. He knew he loved Liana. He knew he cared for her in London. He imagined their relationship in his head as ideal. They were always closer than he and Liana were. They never fought just to fight; she never looked at him like she hated him because he ordered ice cream she didn't like or forced her to watch tennis or said something that made her parents laugh at her expense. She and Patrick were always ideal in Art's mind, and he envied that quite a bit when they were young. He regretted more than once that he introduced them, that he didn't keep his worlds separate. He envied them before he even realized how much he loved Liana. Then he found out Patrick cheated on her. And more than he hated him for how he made Liana feel, he hated the fact that all those years he believed she was in a relationship with someone more deserving than him. With someone who loved her more than Art knew how to love her, while Patrick was lazy, cruel, and unfaithful. And for that, he couldn't forgive him. For the time he took from them. For the illusion he shattered for both of them. "That's between Liana and me, Art," Patrick muttered. "You're saying choosing her all those years ago was inevitable because you loved her, and I would have accepted that two years ago. I would have, really. I would be sitting here thinking it made sense and that I would also choose Liana without hesitation because, it's Liana, and I love her, and I thought you loved her like that too. But then I saw you cheat on her and found out it wasn't the first time." Art stopped to catch his breath, his hand clenching into a fist irrationally. "I would never do that, Patrick. You ruined our friendship and didn't really choose her. Why? Was it worth it?" He didn't take his eyes off him. "You don't know how it was, Art. When it was just me and her. You don't know the level of expectations and disappointments. You don't know anything," Patrick felt the need to defend himself. Because if there was one thing that couldn't be taken from him, it was his love for Liana. "Poor Patrick, someone loves him and expects him to fulfill his potential. How could anyone not sympathize?" Art spoke in a mocking tone.

"Do you want to know what I think, Patrick?" Art approached him after a few seconds of silence. "Go on," Patrick's jaw clenched. "I think you don't love her. I think you love the idea that you can take what's mine. But you can't. You can beat me in tennis. But that's not what's important. It's a means to an end. The end will always be a good life for Liana and me. I think you're still sure you're hot shit, that without effort, you can keep taking what's not yours. That without looking people in the eye, you can hurt them, and they'll keep letting you off." Art stopped to breathe as they both didn't blink for a moment. "That's not the case. I'm not buying what you're selling here. Do you want to be invited to our wedding? Fine, I don't care. It's up to Liana, but you're not part of our lives, and you won't be." He finished, and Patrick let out a laugh that sounded like a deep breath.

"If you go to her workplace again, I'll make sure your next sponsor is painkillers." Art said as he moved toward the balcony door, feeling done with this conversation and the evening in general, wondering if it was too early to leave. "Good talk, pal," Patrick said sarcastically. "Yeah, good talk." Art muttered and left, leaving Patrick in a house full of people yet completely alone on the balcony.

When Art sat next to Liana on the couch, she was in the middle of a conversation with Brody's girlfriend. Art wasn't paying enough attention to remember her name. "Everything okay?" she whispered in his ear a few minutes later. "Everything's great." He felt her lips brush against his cheek for a moment. "We need to use our excuse?" she asked, and he looked at her for a moment, seeing her feel more comfortable with the people and not wanting to take that away from her. "Soon, it's all good." He smiled and nodded, watching her return to the conversation. He could endure another half hour in the hell called Patrick Zweig's apartment. He could do it for Liana.

Come to think of it, he could do almost anything for Liana.

Hey guys!!! It's been so long and I'm sorry. As you know, my computer was dead for a while, and then I was kinda taken aback by those hate comments. But we're back! What do we think? What does Patrick want? What about Art's reaction? Any thoughts at all? Hope you are still enjoying it. Talk to me and feel free to send more ideas for blurbs as well <3

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[kitasgloves]

Every Breath You Take

tracklist

— ♬ "Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you"

— ♬ Jouno Saigiku x Reader, SFW, gender-neutral reader, depictions of stalking, obsessive behavior, SA, and assault, 3.4k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE NOR ROMANTISIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

Despite his composed demeanor, Jouno Saigiku held a fierce temper. Jouno has mastered perfecting his mask to conceal his true emotions. He was calculative and strict with his job as a Hunting Dog. In his perception, holding the title of a Hunting Dog means the authority of justice over everything else. Justice reigns all and is supreme. As a Hunting Dog, you must ensure that justice prevails, one way or another.

Jouno knew that being a Hunting Dog doesn't mean you're supposed to be a goody-two-shoes. Hunting Dogs were the most flawed organization keepers of justice. In other words, corrupt. He accepted that long ago when he took this job. He was the prime example of public evil. No matter how many criminals he torments, he knows society will only give him praise and success for it. And for that, Jouno believed he was the best amongst the Hunting Dogs, not that there was a competition. It was only for his ego to believe he was the best.

He had no comment when it comes to his methods on ensuring justice as a Hunting Dog. Admittedly, he enjoys tormenting criminals and civilians alike to get his way in enforcing justice in society. A sadistic side within him revels with pleasure at the despair of others. He does not care if he comes across as cruel if it's necessary to his occupation. And he did find pride in his job as a Hunting Dog, he did get along with the rest of the Hunting Dogs, and even the leader. He does his job strictly and he has nothing to worry.

Jouno lived a solitary life and did only what he thinks is fit. There are instances where he makes attempts to get along with other members of society but only results in failure. It's either they irk him, or he makes them frightened. It's probably because of his superhuman capabilities required as a Hunting Dog. Jouno possessed an impressive sense of perceptiveness that filled in for his blindness. He had an accurate sense of touch, smell, hearing, and even taste. He can hear heartbeats clear as day and sense emotions without even seeing a person's face. That paired with his intimidating behavior wasn't favorable to some.

It's logical to accept that he can't please everybody, and he won't break his back trying to win someone's favor. If Jouno was disliked, so be it. If he was hated, he didn't care. If he was a second option or the last choice, he'd just smile it off and walk away. It was ideal to not lead a life to be someone he's not to be accepted. He recalled all the people he had saved before in his job. He was praised and admired for it. As he would put it, Fukuchi Ochi made the mistake of teaching him the joy of protecting someone.

Although Jouno has cruel tactics and enjoys the anguish of others, he has learned to long for the joy of being a protector of society. To think people, depend on him for protection strokes his ego. He must do whatever is necessary for the safety of all, even if it means hurting or cornering others and hearing the sounds of their destruction, he'll do it in the name of the law.

Now, Jouno was not new to civilians who despised the law, who thought the government was exploiting them, and thought the system was rigged. He'd scoffed and thought how incredibly stupid those people were. For the most part, those types of people were deranged, and careless, and enjoyed protesting and demanding their 'rights'. Jouno never paid them no mind and sometimes enjoyed laughing at their foolishness. Until he has encountered you.

You were caught up in a conflict when a mentally unwell man decided to make a bomb threat at a public establishment. Naturally, people were horrified and tried to contact the police. Jouno was notified to take care of the situation. It was effortless, he has captured the man and reassured everyone. He did his usual fashion of ridiculing and tormenting the perceived criminal before making an official arrest. You witnessed everything with an unamused brow. Jouno could sense your annoyance when you looked at him.

"You're torturing a clearly mentally challenged man for the bomb threat instead of arresting him peacefully. God, you law enforcement have no regard for a person's well-being"

You have genuinely surprised Jouno with your remark that he stopped dead on his tracks. He turns around and realizes that there wasn't an ounce of regret for your statement. His smile twitches as he marches over to you, prepared to put you in your place. But he notices how you stood unshaken by his presence as you crossed your arms.

"What? Are you going to arrest me too? Oh please, that's all you guys ever do. You 'punish' people who have the right to say whatever they like"

Jouno furrowed his eyebrows when he hears you scoff, he was thinking of his brutal rebuttal, but you continued.

"If you're going to say what I said isn't true, but why do you seem affected?"

He can feel your smirk, and his heart skips a beat. He has never encountered someone as cheeky and confident as you, ready to stand up against a powerful figure like himself. Jouno clenched his fists as if he's about to hit you, but he holds himself back as he gives you a tight smile.

"Be careful what you say next time or it's not going to end well for you"

You laughed and rolled your eyes before strolling away. Jouno gritted his teeth and tried to calm his nerves. People like you have never learned the consequences of their actions, and he would love to teach you a lesson. Jouno keeps you in mind as he takes care of the remainder of his work. He decided to keep a tab on you. Given his position and capabilities, it wasn't difficult to find out who you were.

As suspected, you were a civilian. A decent member of the society who happened to be aware of the affairs involving the government. Jouno found records about you being an outstanding citizen. Oh please, you've got to have some sort of filth on you that he can exploit. Searching deeper, he unexpectedly falls into a rabbit hole. He collected information about your family, education, and job. He has found where you live and the places you frequent. He made copies of your important documents listed in the government such as your birth certificate and others. Jouno needed incriminating details about you, so he decided to follow you around disguised out of his uniform.

He followed you to work where you performed your job diligently, you got along with your co-workers and was well-liked by your superiors. On your day off, you would stroll around the city and even helping a few people along the way. Like helping an old lady crossing the street or getting a ball stuck on a tree for a group of children. Jouno grimaced at your benevolent exterior, you were too kind that it seems natural. He's convinced that the nicer you were, the more dirt you were hiding.

However, Jouno was only met with disappointment. He has followed you everywhere even to your home and he hasn't found anything to incriminate you with. Sure, there was an option to fabricate evidence to destroy you, but the idea leaves a bad taste on his tongue. He wanted something raw that would bring you to your knees and beg him for mercy. As ironic as it was, you were a law-abiding citizen despite your distaste for the government. Jouno found your criminal record free of filth, this further fueled his frustration.

For the rest of his days, you occupied Jouno's thoughts. They were filled with contempt and interest that it was puzzling to describe it. You looked upon others with kindness and yet you reserved detest for him. There must be a reason for it and he's eager to find it. Jouno continues to follow you until you have accidentally bumped against him in public. His breath hitched at the moment, afraid that you'd recognize him. You staggered back as he reaches out to keep you from falling ungracefully on the concrete. You regained your balance and awkwardly laughed at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't see where I was looking. Are you okay, sir?"

You apologized to him, and he was momentarily taken aback. Jouno realizes that he is still disguised in casual clothes as he gives you a tiny smile.

".... It's okay. I'm good, thank you"

"Okay, have a good day, sir!"

You wished him well as you crossed the street. Jouno was left perplexed. He has experienced a sweet side of you, and he didn't know what to think of it. You probably only treated him differently because he was out of uniform. However, he can't cease his racing heartbeat. He imprinted your kind voice in his memory and the pattern of your heartbeat. You held no contempt in that interaction that it seems so unbelievable. This only encouraged him to follow you even more.

He gathered more things about you regarding your personality and habits. Jouno took note of your favorite flavors, your preferred piece of music, what type of jokes make you laugh, and your pet peeves. He knows about your guilty pleasures, your strange interests, and your fascinating ideals. What initially began as a quest for revenge evolved into unexplainable attraction.

It seemed as though his dislike for you dissipated the longer he observed you from afar. Jouno has learned to memorize your scent, your heartbeat, and your voice so that he can instantly recognize you within a crowd by instinct. He has kept multiple tabs on you. And he begins to slowly slack off on his job as a Hunting Dog. Nothing seems to interest him more but you.

Jouno has followed you to a point in your life where you went on blind dates, he took it as an advantage to figure out what was your type. Although nobody was successful in gaining your romantic interest, Jouno has learned something new about you: he wasn't your ideal lover. Not one bit. No matter how handsome, intelligent, or strong he was, you weren't going to fall for someone like him. He should've seen this coming and yet he's standing here with an ache in his chest.

Why the hell did it matter if he wasn't your type? Unless... oh god. Jouno took a step back and gulped. Was he seriously seeking a romantic relationship with you? That's fucking pathetic! He laughs. He laughs and he laughs. After the laughter, he's stuck to wonder, has he seriously developed feelings for you? No, it can't be. You hated him! It should be enough to stop pursuing you. However, Jouno finds himself unable to stop.

Every breath you take. And every move you make. Every bond you break, every step you take, he'll be watching you. Every single day. Every word you say. Every game you play, every night you stay, he'll be watching you.

Jouno couldn't fathom how you've captured his interest. Jouno could hurt you, make you cry, and you'd wish him dead. And it didn't draw him away. He would stay close with excitement in his spirit. He wanted to have you; it didn't matter if you hated him. He can be the only one who will tolerate you and he had already known so much about you.

Oh, can't you see? You belong to him. How his poor heart aches with every step you take. Every move you make. Every vow you break. Every smile you fake, every claim you stake, he'll be watching you.

Unfortunately, Jouno becomes inevitably busy with his duties as a Hunting Dog. With the new case involving the Armed Detective Agency, he needed to focus on his priorities. He hesitated but ultimately decided to stop following you. He thought it was for the best so he could diligently get back to his work without distractions. Oh god, he was wrong. Because you seem to plague his mind more now that he ceased pursuing you.

Each moment, no matter what he did, Jouno's mind trails back to you. He kept thinking about your adorable mannerisms and sweet voice. How are you? Did you water your plants? He hoped you were because he used to water them for you when you were too busy. He hopes your work wasn't stressing you out and that you'll resort to stress eating, he'll have to get rid of the unhealthy snacks in your cupboards soon. Have you folded your laundry yet? He remembers how piled up it was the last time he snuck into your home. He hopes you don't notice your missing t-shirt. And the missing pillow from your bed. Or the missing pair of used underwear.

Jouno sighs as he rests his chin on the palm of his hand. His finger kept tracing the photograph of you that he printed. He smiles to himself as he makes out your features in his mind. The curve of your face, the shape of your eyes, the bridge of your nose, the plush of your lips, and the texture of your hair. Fuck, you looked so pretty. He wished he could see you even for a quick second despite his blindness. He wished he could feel the touch of your skin, bathe in the warmth of your body, or drown himself in your scent. Jouno feels restless while yearning.

Since you've gone, he's been lost without a trace. He dreams at night, and he can only see your face. He looks around and it's you he can't replace. He feels so cold, and he longs for your embrace. Jouno can't help but keep crying.

[Name], [Name], please

Can't you see? You belong to him. How his poor heart breaks, with every step you take. Every move you make. And every vow you break. Every smile you fake, every claim you stake, he'll be watching you.

You were experiencing a weird phenomenon. First, it began at home. You thought you were misplacing things around your home but then some of your personal items started to go missing. You were dumbfounded to find your plants watered but the snacks in your cupboard gone. Secondly, you feel like you're being watched. It makes you shudder out of nowhere especially when you're all by yourself. When you're traveling to work you feel like you're being followed, and it's the same after your shift. You made sure to double-check your locks before you went to sleep every night, but it doesn't get rid of the feeling.

Jouno thinks he can never go back. He can't reverse whatever he has done. The moment there was a window of opportunity to get off work early, he took it without any second thought. It was so unlike him, to think irrationally. Without even changing out of his uniform, he sneaks into your home effortlessly. It was the dead of night when he found you asleep in your bed. Jouno can hear your steady heartbeat and breathing and it brings relief to his senses.

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt the mattress dip from behind you. Suddenly, your body turns cold. Your eyes go wide as your throat goes dry. You went still lying on your side as you felt something shuffling under the sheets from behind you. This must be some sort of dream, or nightmare! Someone was crawling into bed with you! And they're shuffling closer, and closer, and closer. Sheer terror grips your heart when you feel a pair of hands envelope your figure from behind.

Jouno senses your fear with ease, and it brings a wicked smile to his features. His hands shamelessly traced the shape of your body before resting them right below your breast. He presses his torso against your back as he pulls your rigid body close. He takes a sniff of your washed hair, and he moans in satisfaction.

"I know you're awake, dear"

He speaks. You were beyond petrified to answer. Your lip wobbles as you mind scrambles around trying to think of an escape plan.

"How cute. You were quick to speak in our first encounter but now you're quiet as mouse"

Jouno chuckles. He feels you shivering in his hold and it only makes him pull you closer. As your eyes turn wet, you swallow anxiously.

"Wh—Who are you?"

He doesn't answer and instead starts to place kisses along your neckline making you shudder in horror and disgust. Jouno has longed for this, and he deserves to have a taste of you.

"Please st—stop! No! Please—"

You frantically start peeling yourself away from his strong embrace as he continues to plant wet kisses on your exposed skin. You groaned as you tore yourself away from Jouno making him frown. The darkness of your room made it hard to see his face, the moonlight from your window provided a faint outline of him. You scowled at him and forcefully tried to shove him off the bed, he clicked his tongue as he swiftly grabbed your arms.

"Stop that or you'll regret it"

"No! Let me go! What the hell do you want from me?!"

Jouno feels you struggle against him in your bed. He growls as he keeps you in place by crawling on top of you. The sound of you whining and groaning fills the room.

"Keep still!

"No! Get away from me!"

You screamed but you were silenced when he smacks you across the cheek with the back of his hand. Jouno sighs as he hears you whimper afterward. You start to hiccup as he senses your stuttering breath.

"Please, don't kill me..."

You pleaded. Usually, the sound of tears brought him joy. However, your crying made his chest constrict. He contemplates for a moment with your sobbing echoing in the room. You gasped and sighed in relief when Jouno releases his hold on you. His hand reaches to caress your cheek.

"I won't kill you, unless you decide to test me, darling. Try reporting this to the authorities and I would guarantee you that nobody would believe you"

Jouno threatened and you nodded vigorously through tears. He smiles at your submission, and he presses a kiss on your forehead.

"If you try anything funny, I will have to reprimand you. I'll be watching you"

Your tears blurred your vision as your immense fear made you unable to fight back or recognize the stranger who seemed to have some sort of sick obsession of you.

"Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you"

I'll be watching you

His voice filled your heart with pure dread. He must be the one who's been following you around! God, you feel sick. To imagine him stalking you and watching your every move solidifies the terror that you will be experiencing for the rest of your days. He chuckles cruelly at your fear-stricken face.

I'll be watching you

Every breath you make, every move you make, every bond you break, every step you take, Jouno will be watching you. His blindness won't hinder him from following you around and finding out what you will be doing.

I'll be watching you

You feel him step back and get off the bed. You sniffed as you watch him ominously walk out of your bedroom door with that horrifying grin on his dark face.

I'll be watching you

Every game you play, every night you stay, Jouno will be watching you. Even as he leaves you tonight, petrified beyond belief, he will make sure to never leave permanently in the future.

I'll be watching you

You couldn't catch up to your breath as you heart raced. All you could think about is his horrifying voice, leaving you helpless with fear knowing this might not be the last encounter with him.

I'll be watching you

Jouno will hold his word. He shall forever torment you this way for being tormented by the fact that you'll fall for him. If he can't get you to love him, then he'll make you fear him. That way, you'll be thinking of him always.

I'll be watching you

Every single day, every word you say, every game you play, every night you stay, he'll be watching you. And you are unable to reach out for help because he will kill you. Struggling to breathe within the sheets, you sobbed uncontrollably at the fact that you'll never be free from him.

I'll be watching you

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[lowkeyrobin]

hiii :з can i request domestic hcs with quackity x reader where they just moved in with each other and basically figuring stuff out about living together

idk what domestic means in this context but I don't think I wanna know

QUACKITY ; living together

summary ; you and alex finally moved in with each other and you're figuring out your new way of life

warnings ; language

genre ; fluff

word count ; 687

masterlist

At last, you and Alex were finally living under the same roof in Los Angeles. You were living in a studio apartment for a while, but finally upgraded to a two story house just outside the main city with your boyfriend.

Money was the first problem that you tackled beforehand, which you got sorted nice and easily. The next was unpacking and buying new furniture.

You'd already took out some loans for new furniture since both of you either didn't have some furniture, or needed to scrap the old stuff you found off eBay for a scarily low price. The trip to the closest furniture store, about three miles away, was horrifying.

You'd never been a stickler with money, but coming up not having much of it sometimes taught you a great amount about fair pricing. However, when you saw a large number, you stood there awkwardly, wondering if you could afford it or if it was even worth it. Alex was the same, but he was more comfortable spending larger amounts of money on bigger things because he understood the expenses a bit better than you did.

All in all, you probably spent about two thousand dollars at that place. You'd ended up finding some good furniture off of eBay that you could go pick up that afternoon, and found a nice and free dresser set out by the road from someone who didn't want it anymore.

The house, now a month later, was finally furnished and you were in charge of decorations while he organized the kitchen and set up the PC's and other electronics. You two hadn't been doing much other than get used to sharing a room and a bed 24/7. You ended up deciding it'd be better to save that room for something else and have your bedrooms and office combined into one. If anyone wanted to snuggle in the night, they'd go to the other person's room.

It was mostly for privacy, and so you wouldn't end up fighting or beating the shit out of each other. You both needed downtime away from each other, a perfectly normal and healthy aspect of a relationship.

The next part, after setting your desktops up and decorating your rooms and whatnot, was getting into the routine of living together and not doing everything independently. Both of you were independent and didn't need to rely on each other, a good thing, but when it came to getting groceries or going out or streaming, talking about it and making decisions together would be the next step in moving forward.

Tiger was a whole conversation in herself. Alex decided he'd take care of her litter box and you decided you'd take care of her food and water. He felt bad making you take care of his cat, but you found no problem with it considering Tiger was like your child already.

The final steps were just getting used to living with each other and boundaries that came with it.

But, over time, everything would go great.

༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚༘⋆₊ ⊹★🔭๋࣭ ⭑⋆｡˚

Quackity appreciated you bringing him food, water, or a hoodie on stream, and you did as well

Tiger walking into your streams >>>

even streaming side by side was a reoccurring thing

often times you'd play uno and have the handcam on in the corner

you'd give each other advice when editing videos and writing scripts

making dinner together with music in the background >>>

especially when he sings along/to you, good lord

you can't go a single day without cackling at each other

fighting and arguments are healthy for a relationship, but with you guys it's never serious, it's either over dumb shit you couldn't care about or you play fight with each other for laughs

sometimes he'll shout at you in Spanish to mess around and you'll stare at him like "tf are you saying"

if you do understand Spanish though, it's war

arts and crafts together go crazy

you start a little vlog channel together as well

it's run by you and he's only there sometimes but still

insta pictures of you two doing dumb shit 24/7

[yaut-jaknowit]

How about a human womans gets pregnant with a yautja (They are probably in a lab). The male escapes and takes her back to his clan and hands her off to the females of the clan. And instead of falling in love with the male, the sire of the unborn pup. the human womans gets together with another female who is teaching the ways of the yautja. Maybe the male stops by here n there...

Lose Yourself

Pairings: Male Yautja x AFAB!Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 4039

Summary: Four concrete walls have been your sight for the last year. Caregivers and doctors see you every day to ensure your heath. Then three months ago, they introduced you to him. A creature not from this world that you can tell. He does not speak but the two of you have an understanding and one another.

Author Note: When this popped up in my feed, I started to bounce off of the walls like a crazed animal. I love this idea so much. In the future, I would love to write out a whole story like this. For now, I'm just going to do at least two parts, maybe three for this.

Part 2

Masterlist

Ao3

Blaring sirens jolt you back into reality. Your heart instantly leaps into your throat and lodges itself there. The whites of your eyes clear even in the limited light of the dingy cell you dared to call home.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around your knees and carefully watched the only entrance and exit to this singular, minute room. The alarm meant something. Terrible things. Nothing ever good came from it. Your head was plastered to the tops of your knees as you observed for any incoming threat.

This wasn’t a horrible life. Three meals a day; seen by doctors – or at least what looked to be doctors – practically every day; clothing on your body. But the fact you weren’t allowed to leave the room unless they wanted you or you didn’t have anything to stimulate your brain. Just an animal on the verge of insanity, forced to be driven there with no relief.

The people who keep you locked in here are the only people you are able to interact with. It’s one sided. You lost your will to try and gain any words besides the casual ‘how are you feeling today?’ from them. They might mix it up after some time but it was always the same doctor-patient relationship.

Out of everything here though, what caught your attention was the thing they brought you to a few times before. Everything about him is locked down and sealed tight from both sides. Not even a name from the lumbering giant.

From the limited times you’ve got to interact with him, you’ve learned he wasn’t a nice character. At first, he had nearly torn you apart before he had jerked to a stop. Akin to a horrified look passed over his alien features and he backed away. After that day, he’s been reasonable to be around. For some reason, your ‘caregivers’ love to know how you interact with him or what he’ll do if… you were some sort of danger.

Not the most protective creature, he’ll snarl and growl if the guards are too rough with you. His chains prevent him from doing anything physical. Once you are completely alone with him though, the chains that keep him locked to the wall are slackened. He’s now allowed to move about the vicinity as he seems fit.

Move he does. He stalks, prowls around the room, searching for any way for escape. They way he moves gives you the hint he’s this predator, like a lion hunting its prey. When you watch him, you admire him and prowess.

Wishful thinking makes you pray for him to find a weakness and escape from this horrid place. The chains on his wrists are more than tight. It’s daily occurrence blood drips from cuts. He tries to hide it, obscure it from sight but the eyes are the window to the soul. You are able to read his pain, every wince when the chains rub just a hair too much. You worry about him, this creature that was no human.

The first time he allowed you to touch him was a miracle. When the session was over, you were immediately yanked from the premises and shoved into a different room. Your caregivers began to berate and demand answers on why he was allowing you such contact. As the clueless person you are, you just shrugged your shoulders.

That night, they left you with a few more bruises than usual.

The door swung open and revealed a guard and a caregiver. Same protocols as always. You were taken from your room and swiftly led further down to what you believed to be the lowest level of this complex. The entire way there, you were compliant and willing. You’ve done your fair share of fighting, everything in your power to leave this place.

But it never worked. It wasn’t truly accepting your fate but going along the motions. Your mind has long grown numb, completely stale to everything. It needed stimulation but no one offered that.

A quick shove had you toppling onto your hands and knees. A loud snarl and rattling chains, metal creaking from tremendous amount of weight thrown against echoed in the limited space. You hissed at the new wounds on your knees and whipped your head up.

Though weakened from lack of food and proper exercise, the alien was straining against the shortened chains. His blazing eyes were on you, taking in everything your caregivers did to you.

With a click, the thick steel door latched shut and trapped you in here with him. You sighed and stood back up while taking a glance behind you. The only entrance to the room sealed off until they choose to retrieve you. Until then, you calmly walked over to the ashen, grey alien and sat down close by. A respectful amount of space placed between the two of you.

Two more clicks entered the air. The chains that once locked him to the wall slackened and allowed the predator free range.

He instantly stalked over to you and knelt down. You picked up your head to find his eyes still on your sitting form. His gaze flicked down to your scrapped knees.

Those strange mandibles of his, or fangs could be a better word, didn’t offer any lips to form words. Not English at least. He seems to speak in his own but neither of you could truly understand one another in words. Instead, gestures got you farther in this strange friendship you’ve created with him. He was the only being in this forsaken place to offer niceties.

You reached to the fresh wound. Blood already dotted the scrapped skin. Nothing that cried for a bandage. Not that you would get in the end. “It’s alright,” you reassured him and threw a thumbs up at him. A sign he’s learned meant everything was fine.

He hovered still and stayed sat on his haunches at your side. A little unusual for the predator always on the move. When he was with you, ninety percent of the time he is prowling the given space and observing the door. You didn’t need to be told he was searching for his escape.

One animal, spirit lost to the solidarity. 

Another animal, always moving, always searching.

It didn’t take further than five more seconds for your gaze to drop and head to lean against the cool wall. It was colder in this room than even the halls that lead to here. You’ve pondered the reasons but have never come up with something concrete.

Warmth cupped your cheek and tilted your head back up to the only figure in this room. Your jaw dropped at the touch, eyes widening while you could only stare at the alien.

Once he found your eyes, he leaned in, diverted slightly to the side, and placed his alien mouth next to your ear. “I will get us out of here,” he whispered barely a fraction over his breath. You gasped in reaction, ready to spew questions when his thumb pressed against your lips. The words died in your throat before they could become sound.

Then, he nuzzled his mandibles to the crook of your neck and pulled back. The whole interaction had you puzzled but slightly scared shitless. Thise sharp fangs so close to your throat, knowing they could rip it out if he wanted. But instead, he promised your escape.

Escape.

It was like he offered you a sack of gold as a peasant.

“Please,” you murmured back and against the pad of his thumb. He grunted then stood up. The chains rattled at the movement and clacked against the ground. You saw the way his hands twitched at his sides when the sharp edge dug into his already sore flesh. Thick, raised scars would be left in its wake. That, you were sure of.

The alien moved away from you and began his pacing. It was the same pathing he always took. He looked high and low. You stayed there on the ground despite it hurting your lower back and watched him. As he moved, the hope that bubbled inside of your chest began to dwindle. Maybe he didn’t have a plan just yet or even the start of one.

You missed the feeling of the sun on your skin, the smell of fresh air. Freedom. That’s the base core you craved the most while in the pits of this place. You had no plans for escape. It didn’t look like he did either.

A hand ran through your knotted locks and started to work out the small rats' nests growing. He had spoken to you. Spoke English. After all the times you’ve been in contact with him, he finally speaks up and says that. But why did he say it so quietly?

Your eyes darted around the room, hiding behind your lashes. Four cameras. They left no space unseen. Did he not want anyone to know he could speak your language? I huffed and drew your knees while resting your chin on them.

Another click drew you from well of your thoughts. A sound you’ve heard before. The chains began to sucked back into the wall and dragged the struggling alien back to his original place. You watched with a sorrowful gaze, knowing every pull cut deeper into his forever bleeding cuts.

Before he could officially trapped back to the wall, he lunged at you and trapped your now quiver form to him. His body was a few degrees warmer than the room itself. The textured scales that covered him from head to toe rubbed against your back. You gave a yelp and struggled at first but stopped, hoping he wouldn’t harm you after all this time.

The first time you met flashing in your mind. What had stopped him?

His grasp on you wasn’t harsh or demanding, but firm, not allowing you slip away from him. The claws that tipped his fingers looked they could gut you like a fish. Yet, he ensured they didn’t dig into your skin.

The chains stopped once he was pulled to the wall but with you still in grasp. The door was ripped open and in poured seven heavily armed soldiers, guns directed at the two of you. You screamed and tucked into his chest and seek protection from the only friendly figure here. His arms tightened around in a secure manner. A deep rumbled beginning to grow from the depths of his chest.

In walked the main caregiver for you and him. You submissively bowed your head, afraid to look her in the eye and feel her wrath; or be knocked out and wake up in pain again.

The woman wearing a white coat looked down her nose at your meek form then gazed up at the predator trapping you. “You won’t hurt her,” she stated with a voice honeyed and sweet. How could she be so sure of something unknown? Even you didn’t know what his intentions were.

Warm, callused finger ensnared your throat. Your heart jumping and thumping against the digits holding your life. A whimper breaking free of your cracked, cry lips. The arm still wrapped around your torso  tightened but the hand rubbed the area behind your back. You inhaled sharply and slackened in his hold.

She marched forward and only left a space between her and you that dared him to take the lunge. “It’s against your honor code, isn’t it?” Your brows furrowed at the new information, unsure of what this ‘honor code’ entailed but hoped it truly meant he won’t kill you.

He growled and sent vibrations up your spine. Goosebumps were left in its wake. You shuttered and pressed yourself more into him.

Harsh, vile clicks and snarls sounded from his alien throat as he spat alien words at the doctor. An unamused gaze fell on her face while the grey creature said his piece.

When the sounds ceased and he breathed heavily, she used a finger to wipe spit off of her face and flicked back at him. “Are you done?” she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Your kind is so predictable. Quick to surge with rage and believe themselves to be high and mighty. Not for much longer.” You wanted to somehow shrink even more against him but there was not even a molecule of space to take up.

“Now, hand over the subject and we’ll still feed you tonight. And if you don’t… well, that’s for me know and you to find out.” You shuttered at her words, hand finding his arm and squeezing it. He returned the action with his arm still wrapped around your torso.

An action she saw. Her posture sagged then she spun around and walked behind the seven soldiers. They were used as a wall of protection.

“Retrieve the subject. Don’t kill either of them. Harm is okay,” she gave the order you knew was about to occur. Your eyes instinctively shut as you prepare for bullets to begin flying.

A deafening roar rattled your brain. Metal snapped. The heat you were once pressed against was gone. The pure instinct to search it out strong before your brain could register the scene unfolding in front of your trembling form. Your feet glued to the spot.

Even though he’s lost some of his muscular physique, this lethal giant showed off his strength and prowess. He had already thrown one of the soldiers into a wall, a dent left in its wake. Another was meeting the business end of this predator… and loosing not only the fight but their life as well.

Blood sprayed across the ground in a terrifying arch. The ruby red a sight you weren’t prepared to see. His claws causing the damage to be dealt and valuable life essence to be spilled at your feet. The same claws that had been wrapped around neck so softly moments before.

Bright pops of light and ear-bleeding claps left you dizzy in where you stood. You stumbled back and rested your shoulder against the cool concrete wall. The scene before you continuing to unfold as if you didn’t even exist.

It swiftly became a blood bath. The seven soldiers she brought into here were desecration into nothing more than piles of shredded meat and bleeding blood bags on the ground.

The horror that morphed over her usually neutral face was satisfying to say in the least. The fact she wasn’t going to be able to step out of this room dawned upon her. You watched as the color drained from her face with each step backwards.

Unlike you, she was trapped and at the will of the alien that bore his gaze down on her. You may be pressed against the wall like her, but you were safe, not afraid of him spinning around and mistaking you as one of them. You knew it in your heart he was following through with his promise. You’ll see the light of day again, breathe the fresh air of the day. Strangely enough, you felt giddy.

“You can’t do this! I’m unarmed!” she screamed at him and pointed a trembling finger at the grey alien. What’s with that? Does it have to do with this ‘honor code’ she spoke about before?

Oh, but he could. In a terrifying millisecond, your eyes couldn’t register what had truly happened. Her body laid motionless at the feet of the lumbering alien. Her back faced you, her head was turned towards you. The cold, lifeless blue eyes of hers stared blankly, unfocused.

Dead.

You released a shuttering breath and timidly looked at him. Said creature stood back to his full height and rolled his dense shoulders. The muscles that lined his shoulders and back rippling at the motion.

Then, the alien spun on his heel and marched over to you. For a scared shitless moment, you best believed you were about to receive the same treatment. What stopped him from doing so?

He came to a stop before you and offered you a hand. “We are getting out.” Words of English were rumbled at you. Your eyes flicked down to the open palm. The freedom you begged for since the day you arrived here was standing before you. Not in a form you were expecting.

You took his hand.

One moment, the ground was touching the bottom of your feet. The very next, your legs had to wrap around a wide frame, arms snug around his throat. His back to your chest. He patted your forearm. “Hold on tight. Do not let go,” he ordered then marched towards the door.

It was closed, still sealed. What was he going to do about that?

That had to a be stupid thought after watching him massacre the entire room. Clearly he had an idea, some plan to get you two out of here. As much as you hated to this, it gutted you, you trusted him fully to release you from this prison.

Carefully, he crouched down and grabbed a key card from a pocket of the doctor. Red from his hands smeared onto the thin piece of plastic. He held it up to a small area next to the door.

With a whoosh, the door opened. The moment it did. All the white lights suddenly flashed to red. A horrifying screech entered the air before going into a low pitch then back up. It continued to do this while he carried him and you into the hall.

His head whipped side to side, thoughts determining which way to go. You perked up at this and motioned for him to go left. “The stairs are next to the elevator,” you reasoned with him. He grunted and began to full on sprint in the given direction. This hundreds of pound of flesh barreled down the hallway like a semi-truck. Nothing could stop him unless he wanted to stop.

A ninety degree came up. The alien just slid and used an arm to keep himself from slamming into the wall. He continued on. You buried your face into his neck, ignoring the strange rubbery dreads that slapped against your head and face with each of his steps.

The hallway led him to the necessary door. He didn’t even try the handle when he full on kicked it down. The metal screeched as it was torn from the hinges and laid to rest at the bottom of the stairs. With that out of the way, he leaped easily over it and took three steps at a time.

The alarm still blared its horrible tune and forced a headache to pound inside of your skull. You whined and scrunched your nose, unable to relieve yourself of the noise.

Over the noise, you heard the tall tell sign of thundering footsteps. You tensed up, breath shuddering and catching in your throat. In reaction, you go to open your mouth and speak of the discovery. A single finger was held up in your line of sight. You closed your trap and hunkered back down.

He launched himself up a flight of stairs and crashed into something hard. Gunfire sounded less than ten feet away. A bullet never hits you as he powered through a sea of bodies. You kept yourself locked onto his back like a monkey for dear life. You don’t know if he would come back for you if you were to fall off. Or if a soldier may just kill you to solve half of their problems.

Warm, slightly substance latched onto your arms. You shuttered, already coming to the conclusion of what it is.

Dying, horrified screams echoed off the halls. They decreased in amount and volume until the last one was silenced.

A new quiet filled the air besides the heavy breathing from the beast you clung to. Ringing echoed inside of your ears and worsened your headache. You groaned and clenched your hands into a tight fist.

He moved on.

You were brought back to reality as the warmth tinglingly the back of your neck and arms. Confused, you picked up your head and opened your eyes.

Bright light first had you flinching but powering through the pain. Sunlight greeted you. Its light painful at first but warmth more than welcomed. Your jaw dropped at the sight now before you.

A vessel… No. A space craft. A UFO. And it had to be his.

The alien didn’t stop moving across the short field that took him less than ten seconds to clear reach the feet of the ship. He slammed his fist against the belly of it. A screeching hiss entered the air.

A slab of metal began to peel itself away from the belly of the craft and angle one end towards the ground. The sight something you would see from Star Wars. You could only watch in amazement as the alien marched up the ramp. He rushed his way through the insides and took expert turns until he reached the cockpit. His feet skidded to a stop at a console and hands flying across the panels.

You pulled yourself up higher and watched. He pressed buttons and started the engines.

They rumbled to life under his feet. The ship waking up from an unknown amount of rest.

Hanging off of his back, you spotted movement through the glass window before you. A hoard of soldiers poured from the facility you had broken out of. A cold sweat dripped down the length of your spine at the sight. You tapped rapidly on his shoulder to gain his attention. “We’ve got company,” you warned, voice wavering.

The creature scoffed and turned his head enough to meet your eyes. “Not for long,” he answered. A smirk that you didn’t need to see was evident in his voice. He reached over and grabbed a throttle. Pressure was added to the stick.

Power was fed into the engines. Their sounds gaining in volume. You felt it before you noticed the fact the craft was starting to lift off the ground. The people rushing towards the two of you doubled their efforts as they began to grow smaller.

Something hit the roof and prevented the vessel from gaining anymore height. The creature just scoffed and added extra power to the engines.

Metal groaned and gave way. The ship returned to its form ascent into the sky. You release a sob of relief while the two of you continued to climb into the sky. The prison left behind as everyone could only watch your escape.

Once blue skies transitioned to black and sparkles shining through, he released the tension in his shoulders then patted your forearm. “You can get down now,” he said and knelt down. The warm metal floor touching the bottom of your bare feet. You finally relented your hold on him and stretched out your muscles. Soreness sunk into your muscles after clinging to him for so long.

He turned around to look at you fully. The two of you taking the other in without the constant pressure of being under watch and locked into a room.

A smile broke across your dirtied features. It was slow, a small dribble of happiness filling your veins before it became a rush. You pumped your fists into the air and gave a lungful cheer that echoed back at you. Damn that headache, you could care less about it when freedom was returned to you at last.

Close to the end of your excitement, an ear-piercing roar sounded with your call. You stopped abruptly and looked at the alien. His head was tipped back, fangs fully widened. You let the smile return and gave a hearty call again. You deserved it after all the shit you’ve endured while at the prison.

The roar died off. You cut yours as well and returned to studying him again. Despite not knowing who or what he was, you could trust him completely. He had fought off the advances of the soldiers and kept you safe. It was impossible in the moment to wipe off the smile on your face. You didn’t even dare to try and knew it would be futile.

Freedom at last.

[yeen-meteor]

I want to take a moment to try to express why i appreciate Haru's sadism as an actual serious part of her characterization and not just a funny contrast joke and 'yay girl violence!' don't get me wrong i love me some yay girl violence for the sake of it, but like. i think there's a lot to work with there for genuine drama writing, too, not just comic relief and i want to talk about it! (cw sugimura)

for all of haru's backstory and her life with her father, sure she's rich and has a lot of privileges, but the one thing she completely lacks is any sort of control. Everything about her life is being decided for her, her father has decided on the shape of her entire future, and she can't do anything to change it - she's being raised just for the sake of being outright sold as a sex slave trophy wife to a perverted creep who is certainly too rich and powerful to ever face legal trouble for marital rape. She's going through the motions, enjoying what she can of the life she has while she still has it, completely hopeless in the face of this horrifying future that other people are forcing her into. Her will means nothing, what she wants means nothing.

And then the Phantom Thieves come along, and they give her the power to make her will matter, to fight for her own freedom and happiness. And that power comes in the shape of violence, physically fighting images of all the things and people standing in her way.

But more than that, she starts to feel 'shivers of excitement' when she hears shadows begging and pleading beneath her. She feels what it's like to have something absolutely, pathetically desperate to make her stop, to deny her what she wants - and to bask in the feeling that she doesn't have to listen, she's the strong one, she can shut them the fuck up with an axe through the skull because their will, their selfish desire, their plan for her doesn't matter anymore, her will, Haru's will matters. It's catharsis, it's intoxicating, it's a rich and indulgent feeling of real actual control and the freedom that comes with it, something she's been denied all her life, and it's probably an unhealthy way to get that feeling but who cares? these are just shadows!

And that catharsis and relief and self-assured confidence she gets from that just makes her better able to be her sweetest, kindest, purest self around the people she loves! It doesn't undermine the sweet person she is, it helps it!

And then, she makes the choice to try to cure her father's brain-rotting greed and see if there's anything worth salvaging in his heart. It might not be the best choice, it could certainly be argued about, but it's her choice, it's her will, and she finally, finally feels like she's able to make that mean something-

and Akechi takes the choice away from her, and forces her to live in the future he decided for her.

I think when people write the dynamic between Akechi and Haru, they can sometimes miss the forest for the trees - 'you killed my father', without the underlying 'this was the first time i believed i ever had a choice in my own life, and you took it away from me and fucking crushed it before my eyes'. I've also seen it done very well too, and I love it! but i think a lot of writers are sleeping on the potential a bit, of haru & akechi focused stories, or even of haru as a source of drama and an interesting supporting character in shuake stories. In general, haru's potential for anger, frustration, violent desires and just a need to feel in control of her own life has a lot of potential in drama writing!

Atlus certainly dropped the ball on the akechi and haru dynamic, and kept the sadism thing as mostly comic relief, but Persona canons are all half-realized outlines of good ideas just begging for fic writers to come and actually flesh them out, anyway, so ah well!

all i hope for is that if you're a persona writer that doesn't know what to do with haru or how to use her, or doesn't pay her much mind, maybe this might inspire you or give you a clearer idea of how to write her dramatic side!

[wolfisblank]

I don't think I've seen anyone else talk about anything like this in regards to Reese's writing, so I wanted to throw my thoughts into the void. I'm a bit nervous to post this tbh, but here goes.

!! Full spoilers for Scarlet Hollow episode 4 !!

Part of the reason I like Reese as a character a lot, why he really clicked with me, is that we have a lot in common. "Chronically ill depressed artist who rarely leaves his house and has a difficult relationship with a parent who thinks they know better" could describe us both. But that's not why he clicked with me. He, and the mystery around him, intrigued me. But I didn't really become so attached to him until episode four.

And I think the reason why is that I have a heavily stigmatized mental illness. And because of that, the chapter 4 story really resonated with me.

Everyone around him panics, seeing him as a monster who's dangerous to everyone around him. In reality, despite his heightened emotions and his overreacting (perhaps even paranoid) state of mind, his mind is not monstrous. He's perfectly aware and coherent. He's able to clearly articulate that he's not dangerous, he doesn't want to hurt anyone else, and this is just about his mother. And he's not a threat to the main character, who he also views as someone in need of protection. He says it stops with her. We really don't have any reason to not believe him beyond being a monster. Especially considering that he's right, it does stop with her; the only other person he attacks is Wayne (in self-defense), and he immediately de-transforms after killing Dr. Kelly if it's done in front of the player. Even in the basement obedience route, where he's still transformed and in a much less regretful state of mind, he still calmly talks to the player about what he did, and leaves when Wayne shows up. But no one believes him. No one listens. Because of what he is, he's "inherently dangerous". And because of that he can't be trusted and has to be locked away for everyone else's safety. Or even killed, depending on the route. It resonated with me.

My main playthrough, my self-insert character, has Book Smart + Talk to Animals, so there is no Hot trait to save me here. When I first played chapter 4, I called Tabitha, as I am prone to do. And I was horrified that when the time came, it took away my choice to let Reese go free. It is the only tough choice in the game where I rewound and changed the outcome. Because I couldn't do that to him. I love Joan. She's a very interesting character, she's thoroughly humanized, and though what she did to her son was horrible and traumatic and life-ruining, I understand her. She's probably in my top 3 or top 5 favorite characters. But when I saw what Reese's situation was, what she had done to him, and what she was planning on continuing to do to him, I couldn't let her. Despite how much I liked her, I couldn't do that to him.

I'm lucky for my real life situation. But there's a world out there where that is me. There's a world out there where my parent found out about my "dangerous" (see: stigmatized) mental illness early on, when I was less good at hiding it, when they were my primary (and practically only) caregiver, and panicked. There's a world out there where some tough choices would have been made as a parent. Not to that extreme, but still, some real and potentially damaging choices. I stared into the maw of a creature who everyone called a monster for just being himself, who wanted to free himself from the person who planned to continue keeping him prisoner, and I thought who am I, of all people, to do that to him? Maybe one day she'll let him go free. She doesn't like keeping him there. I'd like to think she would. But if she has the right to make the tough call, then so do I, so does he. It's his life.

Anyway on a slightly lighter note... if Reese's situation is intended to be mental illness-coded, then I'm gonna throw my hat in the ring and say it's something schizo-spec. I'm not schizo-spec myself but I noticed some things in him that could be read that way and chatted about it a bit with a friend who is, who said she can see the angle. I'd list my reasons as to why I think that but this post is already long enough as-is. This is more a rumination on my own feelings than exploring my thoughts on the interpretation. I might make a post about that later if anyone is interested in reading it.

And I can also see why someone who is mentally ill wouldn't like this angle for his character. Like oh yeah, the potentially mentally ill-coded character turns into a giant monster that either eats his mother or is tranquilized and locked away or fucking shot and burned to death while half-alive. I see why that wouldn't be a fun way to read the situation for some. An interpretation that resonates for me may not resonate for everyone, and that's fine.

One final thing: I obviously don't know, or even necessarily think, that this was the intention behind his writing. If Black Tabby said anything about that, I haven't seen it. I don't like to assume author intent behind stuff like this, especially considering that Scarlet Hollow isn't even finished yet. This is just one interpretation, one mentally-ill guy's reflection on why a game made him feel a certain way. I got thinking about that recent comment about how there was something people were overlooking about Reese, and that lead me to thinking about why it is that I felt the way I did when I played that chapter, and why made the choice I did in the end, despite my feelings about the characters. And this is the result.

[loveandlegacy]

evolution's destination

so i have seen a few posts about how viktor's "evolution has a destination" line either doesn't make sense or is just a throwaway setup for him to say the fanbaity line of "the final, glorious evolution" – but i wanted to try to give viktor and by extension the writers some credit (however mad some of their choices made me) that that line isnt just incoherent nonsense.

part of my motivation for this is that i think the reading that all of viktor's actions in s2 are the result of him being a quasi-lobotomized shell for the hexcore's "will" is among the least interesting ways to interpret what was going on with his arc and probably does the greatest disservice to viktor as a character. i think we are supposed to understand him saying this as an important part of the broader context of his life and that he believes it for truly horrifying reasons.

so anyway. getting into this comes with the warning that the forthcoming reception requires me to take the overarching ableism of the metatext (not viktor's internalized ableism but the attitudes of the show itself) for what it is. i don't especially like it, but it is what it is and there's not much to say about it.

given that, i think it's better to receive the "evolution" scene as part of that deliberate choice to enable the narrative to lead up to and make possible viktor and jayce's love confession at the end.

so here we go.

viktor asserts that evolution has a destination in a philosophical debate with singed, and i would argue this is intended to make viktor's actual worldview as clear as possible to the audience before he decides to pop off and fembotify the world at large.

taking the argument with singed at face value: viktor opens the debate by asking if singed believes in fate and in their lives being guided by an invisible hand. it seems like a kind of weird question to ask considering they were at no point talking about destiny prior in the conversation – but i think on examination it makes sense.

viktor's encounter with singed begins with singed immediately violating viktor's personal space, which reveals to viktor the existence (or non-existence) of orianna.

entombed as she is in a glass sarcophagus, this dead little girl's stasis state recalls viktor's much beloved rio in her chemical tank. the blocking is interesting here – viktor and singed are on the same side of orianna's sarcophagus. for a moment, he and singed occupy a similar place in the universe: men of science. but in the present world, he and singed stand opposite each other.

they may both be men of science but they disagree about what ends science should be used towards and how it even works. viktor makes this clear when he tells singed "knowledge is a paradox. the more one understands, the more one realizes the vastness of his ignorance" as a rebuttal to singed saying he wishes he could know the world through viktor's eyes.

they then go on to disagree about even more. singed calls warwick a specimen, viktor says he's a man. singed wants to use warwick to save viktor from the deleterious effects of being connected to the arcane and viktor refuses, saying that it would be a pointless waste of warwick's life in service of ambessa's warmongering. singed refutes this and argues that the point of this blood sacrifice is to enable viktor to continue his work – "to save us from ourselves."

we are invited to doubt this motivation, viktor's visions showing us singed caressing not warwick but orianna's sarcophagus. there is no 'us' in this situation, there is only one particular person singed is interested in saving and it's orianna.

immediately following this vision, and immediately before viktor asks if singed believes in fate, singed says "you must survive, viktor". as many people before me have pointed out, this is a callback to his s1 statement that "the mutation must survive". this doesn't only tie viktor to rio, it also connects his story to orianna. singed does not want viktor to survive for his own good or for his work any more than he wanted rio to survive for her own good. viktor is another subject in question – another specimen in the long line of singed's various biomedical crimes, the same as rio.

genetic experimentation and selective breeding (and necromancy lol) aren't the same things as fate, but humans forcing a particular evolutionary direction onto other creatures can be read as a kind of 'invisible hand' if you think about it from the perspective of the test subjects in question.

given that viktor is the presumed 'mutation' in this conversation, we can understand him to also be the subject whose fate is guided or reoriented by this invisible hand via piltover's pollution of zaun, his own attempts at capturing magic through science being thwarted by powers greater than him, and eventually the hexcore yanking him back from death at the beginning of the season.

he even asks his question about fate while staring at the fractal patterns of the greenhouse glass! presenting us with ever-repeating patterns and cycles with no end.

in this light, viktor is asking singed if humans are in fact fated by forces outside of their control or if at least some humans can overcome those forces to reorient the total forward trajectory of the species.

singed says no and asserts that the only ruling force in nature is evolution, which is always in flux. this reveals something kind of interesting about singed imo and his relationship to death and his thoughts about orianna but that's a different post. for the purposes of this analysis he's saying what is true, which is that even genetic modification/manipulation and scientific interrogation – both things he has mastered in his own way – are still subject to engine of evolution well beyond whatever interventions humans are capable of.

this is the moment when viktor comes back with, "no, evolution has a destination – not to combat nature, but to supersede it. the final, glorious evolution".

much as i enjoy the funny dunks on this statement for its scientific incorrectness, i think there is something to the fact that viktor basically rejects singed's description of evolution and then turns around and treats evolution as the same thing as fate. he makes the 'evolution has a destination' statement while studying his hexcore-transformed hand.

i am struggling to remember the post that initially made this point click for me (i think it might have been this gifset but i will edit if i find something that made the argument more explicitly), but by studying his hand in this way, the visual language of the moment is telling us that viktor has come to see his own body as the evolutionary destination in question and the thing that supersedes nature/its unpredictable flux.

now comes the part where we dive into the idea that all of viktor's choices from the very beginning were shaped by having always been ashamed of his disability and that this shame is what guided him to his beautifying* eugenics project specifically. binomech has a thorough post explaining this reading of the text in depth and i recommend reading it through because it provides the foundation for what i'm about to say.

in the context of studying his own, violently transformed body – a process that required a traumatic death (or near-death, depending) and then the one man he loved and trusted most in all of piltover using the technology they created together to save his life despite viktor asking him to destroy the hexcore with the full knowledge that he was going to die anyway, even without the bombing – we can understand that the hexcore has granted viktor a kind of supremacy over his own former-fate. something horrible happened to him, but because of that horror, he was reborn not only free of the damage from the bombing, but also free of the things that fated him to an early death from birth.

exposure to toxic waste, piltover's ethnic discrimination against and industrial exploitation of zaun, the terminal illness for which he is repeatedly punished in season 1 for wanting to escape, his lifelong disability that marks him as even more of an outsider in piltover – these are all things completely outside of his control, all factors that determined how his life would be before he was even born. these things are the 'invisible hand' guiding the trajectory his life would follow, up to and including being in the council room when jinx's bomb hit. even jayce using the hexcore to save him could arguably be seen as part of this fate in which he had no say.

but the hexcore also "liberates" him.

it gives him a body he didn't ask for but it extends his life. it dissolves his disability and it gives him literal supernatural powers in its place. it allows him to build a commune verdant and overflowing with life in the basin of his home where people were thrown away like human trash. he was fated, but his fate also gave him a destination.

if we understand that viktor has, from his childhood, developed a particular sense of internalized ableism and come to see his body as a weakness that he needs to overcome or reject, that he agrees with piltover's view of him, then it makes sense why he talks about 'superseding' nature. it's not a scientific concept or even a fact of nature that he's after now that he's been forcibly transformed.

he's talking specifically about the supernatural, about what the arcane has offered him as a way out of his circumstances. he not only gets the able body that presumably the whole world reminded him at every turn was the better body to the point that he'd be ashamed of his own, he gets to go beyond this assimilationist idea of becoming what piltover wanted. he forces a fullblown eugenics project on the world at large in which no one is ever disabled or sick or capable of exploitation because they just they are hollowed out expressions of his vision of perfection, made of porcelain and gold, the dazzling colors of piltover's wealth and prosperity otherwise known as the colors of progress. this vision he has of painlessness and perfection has been shaped in part by a lifetime of punishment for having the "wrong" kind of body and for experiencing any amount of grief or rage over having been treated unfairly by piltover's hegemonic culture.

he was remade by magic and magic in turn enables him to guide evolution beyond what nature would allow. a world remade as he was into something unbreakable because it's perfect and empty.

as binomech says, i don't especially like the metatextual politics of this storyline, but it's the story they chose to tell. it follows through on its thematic promises for viktor, who spends the whole season on a runway up to what singed told him in s1. love and legacy are worth sacrificing for progress. his evolution has its destination. because of his many violent collisions with death, he was, however briefly and grotesquely, the mutation that survived.

*i say 'beautifying' because there are other kinds of eugenics projects that one could undertake since 'eugenics' itself is a movable target/fallible concept that hinges entirely on what one person or one culture thinks counts as 'desirable' traits. viktor's eugenics project is very particular to him, where his cultists-and-eventual-pretty-borgbots are all flawless, elegant, and eventually completely featureless, non-reproductive, entities

[anonzentimes]

zen am i just projecting or am i cooking when i say komahina are both soooo incredibly anxiety disorder coded

like i’ll start with nagito bc to me that one’s more obvious. this guy has ocd. holy SHIT nagito has ocd. and it’s completely reasonable for him to have developed it! his luck means that things go wrong for very little reason all the time, he knows the luck has Rules to it, of course he’d develop little “rituals” (read: compulsions) to try to minimize bad luck. plus, frontotemporal dementia often causes symptoms of ocd as well (though i’d argue he very well could have developed the disorder before his diagnosis). nagito is always so convinced that Something Bad is going to happen Because Of Him even if he has nothing to do with the situation. “xyz thing happened earlier so something awful will happen now” that is obsessive-compulsive thinking!!! i just know he counts every step and Has to close doors 8 Times “just in case.” he probably has some form of moral ocd as well considering how convinced he is that he’s a terrible person who isn’t worth anything. oh and of course he doomspirals like no fucking other

as for hajime. i might really be projecting with this one but also i’m Right. generalized anxiety disorder. his primary fear response is fight. hajime is so stressed out about everything all the time and this is why he’s kind of bitchy. he’s Anxious. you see this a lot in the prologue where even before monokuma shows up hajime Is Not Trusting Of This Situation bc what the fuck!!! where is he!! what do you MEAN just enjoy it how did he get here!!! he’s surrounded by strange people on a strange island with a fucking stuffed rabbit and you expect him to NOT freak out??? hello??? he passed out for sure bc his adrenaline response got so intense that his blood pressure got weird and oh down he goes. but it also shows in subtler ways. his thought patterns and constant questioning of things— he overthinks a LOT, from monokuma’s plans to why his classmates are Like That to I Must Be So Normal to his mystery talent to What Is Nagito’s Deal Actually. in the prologue and chapter one, nagito gets hajime to calm down by distracting him— specifically, he teases hajime and riles him up. this gives him a healthy outlet to put that fight response energy into, and thus the anxiety recedes. hajime calls himself a “coward” in nagito’s 5th (? maybe 4th) fte— before i got my gad diagnosis, i thought of myself as being overly sensitive and nervous— hajime, who isn’t very good at deciphering emotions in general (likely due to not being able to talk about them at home but that’s a different story), would probably see his anxiety and identify it as cowardice. he also just… worries. constantly. about everything. whenever a classmate goes missing, whenever nagito goes missing (he proceeds to question WHY he’s worrying with nagito a lot which ties back to the overthinking), whenever anything new happens on the island, etc. mainly though i think hajime’s gad shows in his insecurities. he is deeply afraid of mediocrity, of his best not being enough. i think a lot of his fears stem from the idea of being forgettable or unremarkable— he wants to make an impact on the world, and the thought of dying before he can, whether it be in the killing game or just the rat race of life, horrifies him. but he doesn’t know who he is, he doesn’t know how to make that impact. he’s terrified that he, hajime hinata, is not enough. that he’s boring, unremarkable, destined to be just another salaryman, part of the mob. that’s why he worries about his talent so much, that’s why it hurts so much when nagito starts treating him worse in chapter 4 (someone who was once his biggest source of comfort is now affirming his worst fears), and that’s why he was such a good target for the kamukura project. hpa saw his insecurity and fear and preyed on it. most people wouldn’t sacrifice themselves for some experimental project. but when you’ve fought to get to a place that you pray will be able to make you special, and they tell you “we can make you special, but it will change who you are,” and you Don’t Like who you are because you feel deep down that who you are will never be enough, well. why wouldn’t you take the offer? you get to Be Something. you get to make an impact. who cares if you lose yourself? that guy was boring.

ANYWAYS that got away from me a little bit. i could keep going (like abt hajime’s fight response and nagito’s fawn response) but this ask is long enough lmao. point it they both have undiagnosed anxiety disorders i know it i Know It please tell me you see what i see

Hii!!! Sorry it’s taken me so long to get around to answering this! I was waiting for a good moment to type up a response since I think such a long ask, especially from an oomf, deserves a thought out reply. To be straightforward and simple: yes, absolutely yes! I think the interpretations that Hajime has anxiety disorder and Nagito has ocd is very fitting. I don’t know as much about ocd as I do about anxiety, so I don’t really talk about it in fear that I may be rude or inaccurate, but I definitely so heavily agree every time I see it. As for the anxiety disorder I’m not sure if I really have it but my anxiety is a pain and I am taking supplements and have started taking meds for it recently (fingers crossed those actually do anything helpful), but this is to say that I relate to Hajime a lot in those sort of moments and when you phrase it like that I realize it is probably because of the anxiety he experiences alongside his character beats. For Nagito I can say, “Yeah! Everybody makes such great points about him having Ocd! I really like that interpretation even if I don’t know about it as much,” and then with Hajime it’s like “Yes! This is canon to me I know about this and I say so and relate to him and it fits incredibly well!” :D

also lowkey I’ve been having that weird feeling where I miss them,,, and reading this has made me miss them less so thank you very much hehe I love Hajime and Nagito very much and agree with your points heavily, appreciate you sending this!

[coffeefiction]

Megatron's "Not So Interesting' Life

So, I have this thought of an au for a while, where the war never happened but the world is littered with anomalies, entities and all that jazz, right? And Megatron, is just a normal mech, with a normal life, being friends with "normal" people and finding their newly crowned Prime off. Oh! He also gets these cool abilities that I have yet to properly set down-

If you have any ideas on what I should do with this story! Or questions! Let me know! Have fun!

_______________________

Megatron knows that he special he has always  known this. How could he not? From a young age, he could instinctively distinguish between a walking glitch of a fake and an actual mecha. It was as if his optics had been calibrated to detect the unseen threads of the universe. Shadows danced at the edges of his vision, and he always had the gnawing sense that something lurked just beyond his peripheral awareness. Not that he cared. In fact, he barely gave it a second thought.

Megatron has always known that he has abilities, that he has a gift. He knew this. He could see what others couldn’t. Yet, for the longest time, he refused to acknowledge it, treating it as little more than an inconvenient quirk. That was, until he befriended a few of those shadowy entities that liked to pass themselves off as part of the mortal world. He never really minded—they weren’t doing him any harm, again, he barely cared.

They are attracted to Megatron's gift, I mean, who wouldn't? Having the ability to sniff out someone's bull is pretty helpful.

You see, Megatron grew up in Kaon, and growing up in Kaon, which was and is a place dripping with superstition, Megatron had heard his share of horror stories: the dark, Unicron’s spawns, Primus’ Youngs, and the whispers of what prowled in the shadows. These tales were used to scare younglings into good behavior.

Megatron himself had his fair share of those stories, although, some of the elders do love to exaggerate those stories.

He likes it, not because it makes it creepy. He didn’t find them scary—he found them funny, mostly because of his friends. For reasons he still couldn’t quite fathom, his closest companions growing up were a spark eater, a ghoul, and a demon. Hearing their outrage over the inaccuracies in these tales was endlessly entertaining.

“You can’t eat a spark like that,” Starscream, the spark eater, would hiss in annoyance whenever he hears these ridiculous stories  . “Why do they always describe it like I’m slurping energon soup? There’s nuance!”

“Ghouls: do not hide under berths: waiting to snatch younglings” deadpanned Soundwave, the ghoul, glaring at Megatron. “Soundwave: not a sterotype: Stories; exaggerated”

And Shockwave, the demon of the group would just simply twitch in annoyance.

And unlike Iacon, who rarely has anything to do with superstitions and such beliefs were dismissed as primitive nonsense. (or as media likes to portray it). Kaon has plenty, it thrived on superstition, unlike Iacon,  If Kaon had a museum for the supernatural, it would probably need its own skyscraper.

Megatron can attest to it, as stated before, he is friends with some of the horrifying entities that the tales always tell. Not only that, He’d had his share of encounters with those dark forces, not all of them pleasant. Most of the time, it ended in one of three ways: a fight, a frantic escape, or an unsettling brush with death. The only reason Megatron was still functioning was thanks to his friends, who often bailed him out of tight spots to save his arf.

Yet despite all of this, Megatron barely cares.

He doesn't do much, than work at his boring office job, visit his friends and reassure them that he is well, one of the literally lives in Vos! But at least his trip is always payed, courtesy to his friend. Outside of that? His life is completely barren and uneventful.

That is, until he met the new Prime that goes by the name Optimus Prime. Not, met met him, more like saw him in the holos and the streets during the coronation parade. He didn't wanna be there to be honest, but Starscream wanted to be there, he was in town for royal duties as the Prince of Vos and he wanted to Megatron to hang out with him, that isn't the mech's lonely apartment or Soundwave's house, or Shockwave's lab.

And Megatron, is a friend, so Megatron decided to go with Starscream, begrudgingly of course. 

When Megatron first laid his optics on the New Prime, he immediately sensed something was off, and he can tell that Starscream noticed too, yet he seem calm, which was odd. Normally, Starscream would have been on high alert, his predatory instincts kicking in. But this time? He wasn’t reacting defensively. That wasn’t exactly a good sign, isn't a bad one either.

Spark eaters tend to have heightened senses, they have the ability to sniff out their pray, and they have the ability to semi manipulate the perception of others, making it easy for them to blend in. If Starscream wasn’t threatened, that meant whatever this “off” thing was, it wasn’t something Starscream recognized as dangerous—or perhaps it was something he couldn’t categorize at all.

Megatron looks at the Prime, observing him closely. Their newly crowned Prime seems nice, he speaks very confidently yet softly, a leader with stern yet does not weild his fist to cage those around him. He spoke to the crowd with warmth, crouched to address younglings optic-to-optic, and carried himself with an air of calm authority.

Megatron….he knows there is something wrong, something off with the Prime. Megatron could feel it, like static in his circuits. He wanted to dig deeper, to pull at the threads of this mystery. But before he could, Starscream interrupted.

Megatron has to put those thoughts into a file and store it for later to entertain his friend. A bored Starscream always never ends well.

Soundwave can attest to that.

So Megatron talks to Starscream as they watch the parade from the distance in the balcony of Starscream's  fancy hotel. They watch as the Prime mingle with the civilian, as he interacts with the younglings with such care.

“Ugh. Look at that pompous mech!” Starscream sneered, slumping dramatically in his chair.

Megatron arched an optic ridge. “What are you talking about? He seems fine.”

“Fine? Look at him, so pristine, so proper!” Starscream gestured wildly at the balcony railing. “He’s too sweet. It’s disgusting. He’s practically dripping syrup on those younglings!” 

"Shouldn't I be the one making complaints here? I'm the one who's gonna get affected if his rule is slag" Megatron quipped dryly, already dreading the new rules and laws that will be set if this Prime is like the other ones before him.

“Oh, please.” Starscream waved him off. “If it were up to you, you’d just brood in silence and not say a word.”

“I would, actually,” Megatron muttered. “Besides, you’re the one verbally attacking your own kind right now.” He pointed out, wanting to immediately change the topic, for all that is stands in this world, Starscream is right, he would probably just brood in silence, rules kept him safe after all.

Starscream makes a disgruntled noise. "That thing down there, is far from being my kin."

Megatron grows confuse, he looks at Starscream. "What do you mean?"

Starscream’s wings twitched irritably as he leaned back in his chair. “That thing down there is not my kin.”

That got Megatron’s attention. He turned to Starscream, optics narrowing.

Starscream huffed, clearly annoyed he had to explain. “Look at him! He’s too…off. Too stiff to be a spark eater, too mellow to be a ghoul. His frame doesn’t match anything I recognize. And his voice?” Starscream shuddered theatrically. “It’s wrong. It’s too nice. No one’s voice is that…perfect.”

Megatron frowned, glancing back at the Prime. Now that Starscream mentioned it, he can see more of the odd things about him. The balance of his movements, the precision of his words, the faint flicker of something beneath the surface—it didn’t quite add up.

Huh… Yeah, he can kinda see that now.

[theflagscene]

Don’t know if this is legit or not, but…

Firstly, how would that even work? If this is legit it’s probably more about the idea of mpreg than anything else, like the author is saying: lower your expectations, ain’t no butt babies happening.

Which, fine, cool, don’t wanna slap a fake belly on Pavel, don’t. But removing the whole idea of characters being able to be impregnated leaves a massive plot hole in the second season, more so than bringing back characters that have died. Which is the fact that Tony’s entire human trafficking story was built about the idea of breeding more special alphas, omegas and enigmas to sell. Which is why he wanted Way to get Babe pregnant, that was laid out plain and simple, full stop, period. Massive part of the plot, really the only plot if you think about it. It was the driving force behind everything, behind most of the character’s story arcs.

But beyond that! If this is true and not just some rumor—please be a rumor—I’ll be disappointed because I truly enjoyed seeing a non gendered stance to the idea of genetic childbearing. Not for the A/B/O elements but just for the fact that it’s so rarely seen in media and when it is, it’s usually played off for laughs. In the 1990’s there were quite a few big budget comedies about cis males being pregnant, but it was always show in a really rude and occasionally misogynistic way. I personally liked how Pit Babe treated male pregnancies like it was just a normal thing, it wasn’t some odd kink or whatnot, it was just a part of the universe the series was set in.

When Charlie asks Babe if he wants children and Babe laughs about it because they’re both Alphas and not because they were both cis males, that scene felt really important. Yes, I know the series had omegaverse elements but it never felt that way really—at least to me—besides the use of the fanfic subgendered terminology, what was truly unique was seeing male characters facing threats that are so commonplace (and often fetishized) for female characters.

The threat of various sex crimes, human trafficking, date rape (Way using his powers on Babe was very GHB coded), forced impregnation, forced marriages, basically being seen as nothing more than childbearing chattel.

Whilst some of those things males do face in real life situations, obviously, I’m speaking about specifically in media. In television and movies those things are rarely shown as something that happens to anyone that isn’t a woman, typically younger women and little girls. So yeah, the silly gay racing show actually held some serious weight to it. And those actors worked their butts off to make it all seem genuine, to make the horrors their characters were facing seem real. And as men, probably half of the things their characters faced had never even crossed their minds in real life. But they made it real, they didn’t act stupid about the idea of Babe getting pregnant, they were properly horrified at the idea of Tony wanting him to be a breedmare for a trafficking ring, and Babe was absolutely heartbroken and terrified to find that someone who claimed to be his friend just wanted into his pants!

I know I make jokes, talk about slick sliding around and butt babies, etc. But you gotta understand, I spent nearly 20 years in the Supernatural fandom, I was there when A/B/O basically became mainstream and no longer something barely remembered from a monster of the week episode of Star Trek. So yeah, I make jokes about that shit, because I’m a grizzled old fandom veteran who was there when the magic was written.

But on a deeper level, on a human level, on a queer level—and as someone with absolutely amazing transgendered life partners, I found Pit Babe’s non gendered stance on pregnancy really beautiful.

[starleska]

Omg I've been wanting to ask you if you've seen Heretic! I became obsessed as soon as I saw it, recommending it to all my friends like a missionary 😅 I've seen it twice and it gives you so much to think about; the three main performances are brilliant, the story is unpredictable and the psychological horror is so well done! Sister Paxton is also one of my new favourite characters from anything; I just think she's wonderful. I have so many thoughts I should probably make my own post b/c I could go on and on 😅

On a more superficial note, I must ask... Do you have a crush on Mr Reed? (Should I be embarrassed to admit that it's the first time I've ever found Hugh Grant hot, after a lifetime of having no opinion on him and barely registering his presence in films? I feel like I've finally awoken)

hell YEAHHHH all the love for Heretic, i was completely blown away!!!! what a masterpiece of a movie, holy shit - i couldn't agree with you more. Hugh Grant, Sophie Thatcher AND Chloe East all gave such tremendous performances - those first thirty minutes were some of the most tense and uncomfortable exchanges i've ever seen!!! so tightly written and had as many twists and turns as Mr Reed's fortress-like home...you keep on recommending this movie to everyone, i certainly will be too 🙈💖 BEFORE I GO INTO SPOILERS AND HEAVY RELIGIOUS/ATHEISTIC/PERSONAL DISCUSSION UNDER THE CUT: although i am not presently blorboing Mr Reed, my partner is down so astronomically bad i thought they were going to explode in the theatre 😂💖 i totally understand where y'all are coming from, and if spreading the 'gorgeous old man Hugh Grant appeals to your religious trauma and daddy kinks at the same time' propaganda, then so be it!!! here, hot grandpa be upon ye!! (come back to me in 3-5 business days, maybe my opinion will have evolved 😉)

so for context: when i was a child, like. ages 7-14, i was a militant atheist. i was raised in a very lax Christian household, but i fell down the rabbit hole of Richard Dawkins-esque 'reasonable' takes on religion via books and online circles that i equated with being intellectually superior. in retrospect i'm horrified by what a nasty, ignorant person it made me, and am very lucky to have had good religious figures in my life to gently ease me out of that (ironically) cult-like mentality. i'd argue that atheism, theism, theological debates and scientific ideas about the nature of reality constituted a special interest for me for a good chunk of my life...so this movie really scratched a long-forgotten itch 🙈🙈🙈 the thing about Heretic was how equal its messaging was. going in, you'd assume Mr Reed could've been some spurned apostate punishing missionaries for daring to have unshaken, unproven faith. but instead, we see something else: Mr Reed, Sister Barnes and Sister Paxton battling and even collaborating in trying to discover the truth of their respective (including lack of) faiths. that final scene with Sister Paxton hallucinating the butterfly rammed it home: does it really matter whether religion is correct or not? isn't it enough that faith provides comfort and meaning, even if we're wrong when we leave this mortal coil? i think as an ex-militant atheist i find Mr Reed horribly relatable. the way he made himself into this self-styled god by deeming 'control' to be the structure of all religion and using it to act on his own selfish desires reminds me so much of the figureheads of the atheism movement...i know that Heretic was in part inspired by Contact (1997), based on the book by Carl Sagan, which explores the implications for humanity if we made contact with extraterrestial life. the scientific language which people in the atheism community used to dress up intolerance and personal biases is just as flawed as the religion they were criticising. Mr Reed dazzles as an "intellectual", but he's no more informed than either of the Sisters. the way this movie skilfully portrays all parties as reasonable, informed, relatable people all trying to seek meaning is magnificent. it would have been so easy to make either side into a scapegoat: to make an anti-religious movie, or an anti-atheism movie, or even to turn around and call us all idiots for thinking about religion, but it doesn't. it leaves us with this off-kilter but honest message: we don't know, and that's okay, as long as it matters to you. that's why i agree with you on Sister Paxton being such an amazing character: regardless of Mr Reed's theories (or hypotheses 😉) he was unable to subjugate her. what a fucking champ

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - DD - May 8th

That’s right, I’m deciding to give my thoughts a cheesy name because why not (also it’s late oops).

So this may be one of my favorite entires of the entire book. My first go-around it was for the mirror-yeet scene (because that’s iconic) and Dracula being The Housekeeper of all timeTM, but now it’s also one of my favorites because of how much we learn about Jonathan.

They say you learn the most about a person when they’re in crisis mode, and while I don’t always think that’s true, Stoker definitely wanted to let Jonathan’s personality shine through here.

From the first passage, he’s literally guessed that Dracula is undead. “I fear I am the only living soul here.” Sure, he might mean that he’s the only present soul, if Dracula’s left the building, but since he describes the mirror yeeting scene right after…idk, I’d like to think he knows way more than we ever gave him credit for. “Clueless Jonathan” who? Is the clueless in the room with us?

Also going back to the first sentence where he describes worrying he was getting too wordy, but now being glad he did…oof. I feel for him here. If my theory is correct that he was initially writing in a more detailed way for Mina so he could remember his travels for later…I’m sure it’s hitting him now that while it may be saving his life that he’s more detailed, it’s so twisted that something he did as a note of affection has soured. I wonder if he’s thinking about how he may never get out of this, or if that hasn’t fully hit him yet.

Moving on to everyone’s favorite mirror-yeet scene, think about how Jonathan reacts when he’s caught off guard by Dracula because he didn’t see his reflection. How would most protagonists react? Probably laugh nervously and brush it off. Attribute it to some mistake on his part, which is exactly what Jonathan does *at first*. But after, he looks at Dracula and then looks back at the mirror to confirm his suspicions are correct, which they are. It’s an interesting moment and not one I think we see often at the beginning of a horror story (I don’t consume much horror though, so correct me if I’m wrong!). Usually, a character won’t get to this level of observation until towards the middle/end, when more supernatural elements have occurred. Jonathan may have second guessed his instincts, but checking them again is what makes him more likely to survive Castle Dracula.

Plus, when Dracula makes a move to attack him, his first instinct is to dodge the attack, showing that he’s not just going to freeze up at the first sign of trouble (which I want to emphasize isn’t a problem normally, but he is dealing with a thousands-of-years-old vampire…so, he has to be quick on his feet to survive).

Afterwards, he says he is annoyed at losing his mirror rather than disturbed, but I saw another post saying he’s repressing his panic as annoying (I’ll link it if I find it again) and I definitely think that’s true!! I can totally see that as his coping mechanism. Plus, compared to the rest of what happens for him today, it really is more of an annoyance than anything else. Would you rather your host throw away your mirror or lock you in a castle?

So after that horrific scene of terror, Jonathan is proactive in searching the castle. After finding a beautiful — but slightly horrifying landscape (you know it’s bad when he doesn’t stop to describe the view) — he decides to explore further, which leads him to figure out almost every other door is locked, including the front one to find, yep you guessed it…he’s a prisoner in the castle.

As I imagine most people would, at first he reacts by frantically running around trying to open locked doors like “a rat does in a trap.” The fact that he admits this in his diary (and, by extension to Mina/us) is admirable because it already shows he’s not afraid to be open about his emotions, even if it makes him look weak (which — unfortunately, he would, considering the time period). Most heroes of this period were expected to accept their fates with stoic determination, but that’s not human and that’s not how Jonathan is, either. We’ve already seen that he’s more open-minded than most English men by accepting the crucifix even if he doesn’t understand it and of course the way he shows his love for Mina is atypical for Victorian men as well. Most men wouldn’t go to the trouble of writing down descriptive notes just to recount it for the benefit of his fiancée later. It’s sad, but true.

Once he’s able to regulate himself a bit, it’s time for thinking and strategy, determining that he needs all of his wits to get through this! Once he sees that the Count does the cooking AND the cleaning, though, is when my love for Jonathan reaches an all-time high. He comes to a series of conclusions most protagonists don’t figure out until the end of a novel after way more obvious clues have been laid out for him and it’s only his 3rd day of being in the castle!! They go as follows:

A) Dracula = servants

B) Dracula = driver

C) Dracula = control wolves

D) Villager’s concern/gifts = this is worse than I thought

E) Crucifix = actual help?

F) Get Dracula to talk about himself (not hard) = find more information, but not in an obvious way

I also love that he questions his own biases about the crucifix he was given!!!! When else do you see an Englishman do that in the 1890s of his own volition (aka without someone snarkily telling him to - see BBC’s Dracula if you want an example). I certainly haven’t!

He also noticed that Drac talked about his “ancestors” as if he had been present for their battles (hmm wonder why that is). Hasn’t quite figured it out yet, but there’s evidence that he doesn’t write something down as a fact until he knows it is a fact, so perhaps we’ll see him write more on this later.

Final thought - his reference to Arabian Nights and Hamlet is significant and tragic, but also relatable. I too like to relate my life to my favorite blorbos, Jonathan!

All in all, we learned that Jonathan is very good in a crisis. He’s not stoic like most protagonists of his time period, but he is instead strategic and observant, willing to play the part of oblivious to keep himself alive another day and keep Dracula’s trust. This is likely what’s keeping him alive right now, as an aggressive approach would get him killed. Dracula is all about playing with his prey and keeping the illusion of benevolent host and willing guest — it’s a game of control for him. Breaking this game would mean it’s no fun and no fun would mean Jonathan is no longer needed….

While I know how this story goes, I’m as excited as first time readers to see how Jonathan plays what is, essentially, 4D chess with Dracula!