#his flippancy was more the joke there ))

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

j word coded

TO BE CLEAR: I am NOT claiming that this other game (Ikemen Villains) is a "rip-off" of TWST; I'm pointing out parallels between them because I think it's entertaining to see how different games interpret the same or similar fairy tales.

Please also note that although nothing I say in this post is explicit, IkeVil itself is designated as 17+ and contains dark content. If you decide you want to try the game out for yourself, BE AWARE OF THE AGE RATING AND TRIGGER WARNINGS.

ARE THESE NOT JUST J WORD IN A BLACK WIG AND CONTACTS (the last one looks like a blend of Jade's sus face + Idia's sus face) 😭 His face looks so similar… and they're both "attendant" characters that act polite but are more manipulative than they appear at first glance... (although Alfons has Floyd's hedonism rather that Jade's restraint!)

More of my first impressions of the characters of IkeVil below the cut!! Again, there's nothing explicit, I just wanted to keep this post not too bulky.

And not just him (Alfons) either, ashldbiasydefpaei there's a Trey-lookalike and a Silver pre-hair color change in the same game! Roger has a rifle and is cursed by Snow White's huntsman, so I joke that he's Rook and Trey's test tube baby... and Elbert has Vil's keen eye and desire for what is beautiful!

There are also characters that don't look like an TWST ones, but definitely have personalities that remind me of a few! For example, Liam's laid-back affability is Che'nya and Chenya Cater-esque, Jude speaks in a gruff but aristocratic manner like Leona but is a tough businessman like Azul, and Ellis seems like a mix of Malleus's obsession with happy endings + Idia's gloomy demeanor…? No clue if he actually is gloomy or not, he just gives me gloomy vibes.

Victor is Crowley-adjacent! Like they're both overseeing this group of powerful men with magic so you'd think they're serious types--but they aren't. They're silly and use their own skills to do frivolous things like doing magic tricks or making cake fancier. They also both seem to be hiding a secret...

Harrison doesn't remind me of anyone in particular, though I do see little bits of our typical "lying" characters in him. He has the chill of a Che'nya but also Floyd's flippancy and lies as easily as like... I don't know, Cater?? Not sure on this one.

abfhbyoafvadpiadgo OKAY OKAY BUT THE FUNNIEST ONE TO ME IS WILLIAM BECAUSE HE'S "THE QUEEN OF HEARTS" CHARACTER... Most of the time when you have a character with this inspiration, they're controlling and easily angered (*stares at Riddle*), but William is NOTHING like that???? In fact, he's got a strong sense of justice and often encourages others to be honest and to act freely, even if it means disregarding the rules. Every time William opens his mouth... I picture Riddle shrieking and sobbing/j

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

Can I request Astarion reacting to GN Reader genuinely asking him why does he flirt with THEM of all people? Like they know everyone is attractive except them but the fact he flirts with them more than he does with everyone combined is a mystery to them!

Anon, I need to be so honest with you: Astarion is not going to stand for this, lol. Especially if you bring this up further into the relationship.

If you straight up try to tell him that you don't understand why he's flirting because you're not attractive enough for that, he's probably not going to take you seriously at first. It seems so outside the realm of possibility that you would actually think that- don't you know what you look like?- that he doesn't even consider you might be genuine. He'll probably respond with some sort of flippant joke (Oh, I tried everyone else in camp first. You were the only one who took the bait, or Flirting with you? You think that's what I've been doing? Darling, this is a seduction) and he'll only realize you're serious when you don't laugh.

He's not the sort of man who's naturally good at comfort, but he offers you his best form of it: aggressively attacking your false belief like he could physically tear it to shreds, using his flippancy as a weapon. He asks if you've gone to some other vampire behind his back and gotten yourself turned- how else could you be so unaware of your appearance? If you don't find yourself attractive, you have a serious fault in your taste. Either that, or you've developed incredible blinders to your own magnetism, and that exists regardless of how you look. (If you try to interrupt him here, he'll put a hand over your mouth (gently, so that you could pull away if you wanted) and keep talking as if you'd never interrupted). What, you haven't noticed? It's impossible to notice anyone else in any room you're in. Every expression on your face and every movement you make scream I am somebody you want to know. It's impossible not to want to be closer to you. To want you.

Now, he won't hear another insult aimed at the only person he's ever cared about. He would gut anyone who ever dared to talk about you the way you just talked about yourself.

You're beautiful, darling. Please don't forget it.

[ilikekidsshows]

The Totally Spies-ification of Adrien

Okay, it's been long enough that I can actually discuss how Adrien's slavery is depicted in the show without anger-fueled exaggerations and hyperbole. I want to discuss how Miraculous treats Adrien's slavery very flippantly and how it is, like everything in this show post-retool, all about Marinette. The show has a lot of stuff that hints that the writers intend for Adrien to be viewed a very certain way. I believe the writers made Adrien a slave for Marinette’s benefit and I will explain how I came to this conclusion.

I’ve joked before about how Astruc has worked on Totally Spies, “one of the kinkiest cartoons ever made”. I’d like to tackle this idea and how it relates to Miraculous more seriously. I’d like to tackle the topic of titillation and how it relates to how this show approaches slavery with such flippancy. My claim is that Adrien being a slave is not meant to be horrifying, which is why the story doesn't treat it as such; it's meant to be titillating.

I usually don't use Read Mores, since they can lead to broken links later, but this is really long. Strap in, folks.

Titillation for the context of this analysis means “content with the intention to excite romantically or sexually”, basically it’s about “kinky” stuff. The purpose of talking about sexuality in relation to Miraculous is not to paint the writers as some kind of fiends, but to present the fact that many teenagers are curious about romance and sex and will think about sex unprompted. This means titillating content in cartoons doesn’t even need to be related to sex to be titillating. And Astruc has a history of putting titillating stuff in his work, with Totally Spies being a very notable example of how you can include non-sexual titillating content in a kids’ show.

It all comes down to expected audience reactions. Adrien is meant to be sexy. I don’t mean that in a “the writers think this is sexy” way, but a “the writers think the projected audience of straight teenage girls will think this is sexy” way. He gets put into bondage three times in ‘Copycat’, ‘Anti-Bug’ and ‘Reverser’ and all three times the camera seems to like to show him off. He is meant to be an object of attraction for the audience. The people criticizing this show have been pointing out how Ladybug's costume accentuates her butt for years, but this is not something that occurs with just Ladybug. When he isn't posing for the viewers, Cat Noir gets whacked around by Akuma’s a lot, but a lot of the time it ends with him in a prone position that is also titillating, in ‘Pixelator’ it goes as far as having his butt jut out. However, the idea that Cat Noir is the one who gets hit when an Akuma needs to show off how dangerous they are is also part of the power dynamic where Marinette or Ladybug gets to show off, so it’s not purely for titillation, which is why other examples, like ‘Stormy Weather’ are more comedic.

It’s likely that Adrien-as-Adrien doesn’t get to participate in the show’s slapstick much, since that aspect of the character is presented as the perfect beauty, a role usually reserved for female characters who only ever get a little bit flustered or banged up to make sure they keep looking attractive. Marinette screams "waack" and runs face first into a wall in the same episode where the silliest thing Adrien gets to do is sneeze (Mr Pigeon). Adrien is meant to be attractive, sexy, titillating, in different ways in his different forms. As Cat Noir he is more active and more sexy, as Adrien he’s more passive and pretty, much like how female love interests can fall into these categories. It’s the Betty and Veronica dichotomy; in the Archie franchise Betty and Veronica are shown as the wholesome and sexy romance options and the reason the writers go out of their way not to resolve the love triangle is to keep the appeal of these both options going. People’s tastes differ, so it would alienate some audiences to pick one over the other. With Miraculous they solved the problem by having the two romance options be the different identities of a single character.

Frankly, as of the season five finale, Adrien is approaching “sexy lamp” levels of replicating sexist ways of writing a female character but just changing the gender. What else do you call him lying on the floor in despair while his love interest gets his superpowers and uses them to beat up his abusive father, while somehow being perfectly fine and happily kissing Marinette later after said father is dead and gone? Adrien’s trauma is debilitating when it serves the writers’ purposes, but stops being a problem as soon as they need him to smile and look pretty. The main reason Adrien’s trauma is so inconsistent is so that he can act as Marinette’s trophy so that Marinette has somebody to kiss in the final shot. If Adrien was despairing about not being good enough for her, or grossly crying about being an orphan, Marinette wouldn’t have a fun time kissing him. And if Marinette isn’t having fun, the members of the audience projecting onto her aren’t having fun either.

Speaking of how Adrien’s depiction relates to Marinette, here comes the controversial part of this post: while Marinette is not depicted as a literal slave owner in-story, narratively, she is very much treated as Adrien's owner from a meta perspective. We, the viewers, are meant to see Adrien as Marinette's property, and the twist of Adrien being a part of a slave race in a dynamic where Marinette holds all the cards is meant to be a good thing. We have been primed to view everything about Adrien to actually be about Marinette, because Marinette is the center of the universe of Miraculous and Adrien belongs to her because he’s the main character’s love interest. Adrien being revealed to be a slave that Marinette could control but then chooses to “merely” manipulate is meant to be glorifying to Marinette and titillating to the viewer. I will elaborate.

Marinette has been incredibly possessive of Adrien since day one and she is only occasionally depicted as being in the wrong about this, when she goes too far by the show’s standards. She stalks Lila and Adrien whenever she sees them hanging out together and she’s unreasonably jealous of Kagami. The only time she is depicted as being in the wrong is not when she's sniffing Adrien's pillow after breaking into his room, but when she actually bullies Kagami out of jealousy, and even that is depicted as more of an unfortunate misunderstanding than Marinette actively doing something wrong. Marinette is more sympathetic towards Kagami when she finds out she and Adrien aren't as close as she thought, that Kagami’s pursuit of Adrien is more hopeless than hers. Basically, Marinette is only in the wrong because Kagami isn't a threat, not because she was doing anything wrong by bullying her to defend her “territory”.

This gets flipped near the end of the season, though. When Adrien and Kagami do start dating, it's depicted as this big tragedy even more so than Master Fu losing his memories. Master Fu going missing is an afterthought, while Adrien choosing someone else over Marinette is the big “darkest hour” moment of the season three mid-finale, the cliffhanger moment of her crying in Luka’s arms while all hope is lost. Marinette isn’t directly crying about this, she is crying from “all the pressure”, but Marinette breaking down happens immediately after a scene of Kagami leaning in to kiss Adrien that has a somber dirge playing in the background. The first part of the finale has everything going wrong at the end; Master Fu is missing, Chloé gets willingly Akumatized, Marinette breaks down, and Kagami leans in to kiss Adrien. These scenes being put closely together is telling us that these are all bad things to happen.

Adrien ending up with Marinette is a given, but it's also taken for granted. Every girl with an interest in Adrien is depicted as an antagonist, while Marinette can do whatever she wants in pursuit of Adrien and will still be morally correct. Chloé and Lila, even Kagami to a degree, are villainized for their attraction to Adrien in a way Nathaniel, Luka or Zoé are not with their attraction to Marinette. Chloé and Lila are full-blown villains while Luka and Zoé are some of the most selfless members of the cast. Kagami is aggressive and socially awkward in a way that is used to justify Marinette's initial distrust and dislike of her (in ‘Ikari Gozen’ Alya voices her pity towards Marinette for having to spend time with her) while Nathaniel is just the pitiful bullied loner who’s still a liked member of the class friend group. Girls who want Adrien are bad for trespassing on Marinette’s territory and trying to “steal” something that “belongs” to Marinette.

The writers thinking Adrien belongs to Marinette is also not just subtext. Later in season five, when Marinette and Adrien finally start dating, Marinette even outright states that Adrien “kinda does a little” belong to her when she’s scared that Zoé has a crush on him. The fumbling of the line means that the writers are aware of how toxic it is to consider your partner your property, but they want to include that sentiment anyway, because that’s how they view the situation. Marinette’s boyfriend is her property and other people can’t even look at her property. ‘Emotion’ continues on this increased possessiveness by having the entire Marinette plot happen because she can’t conceive Adrien keeping things from her, because he isn’t allowed privacy from her while Marinette lying to Adrien (or Cat Noir) is a show staple.

This same attitude of Adrien not being allowed to have romantic options outside of Marinette has also been in the fandom for years. Every time a new female character was introduced, there was a worry that she’d “try to steal Adrien from Marinette”. Marinette and Adrien are endgame, the writers know this and the fandom knows this. The characters don't know this, but it doesn't matter because Adrien was already seen as Marinette's (future) boyfriend even back in season one when he barely knew her. And this attitude the writers and audience have is extended to the characters more and more as the show goes on, as almost every single character becomes an Adrinette shipper in support of Marinette in season five, while no one thinks to ask Adrien what he thinks about this. Only once, in ‘Desperada’ did Alya suggest that Adrien could make his own choice on who to date, but it was implied the choice should be Marinette specifically (Marinette smiles at this, while Kagami frowns). The cast is lucky the writers have decided Adrien already is Marinette's, or he’d be really uncomfortable.

Season five episode ‘Pretension’ goes as far with this as having Marinette basically ask Gabriel for permission to be with Adrien, convinced that she and Adrien can be together with no problems if she can just get him to approve of her. And then Gabriel tells her he’s promised Adrien to Kagami. You know, like a piece of property women were treated as before women were allowed to live without a man to control them. The finale then ultimately does have Gabriel agree to hand Adrien over to Marinette by dying and leaving her in charge of Adrien. Just because she uses the privilege to do some things for Adrien’s benefit doesn’t make what happened any less of a patriarchal transaction. In fact, the writers wrote it that way on purpose, with the knight and princess parallels they set up between Marinette and Adrien earlier in the show being something they are prominently proud of (the “reverse fairytale” as they put it). Adrien is the princess the dashing hero Marinette gets to earn with her feats of bravery; he’s handed to her like a piece of property and Marinette is too happy with her acquisition to even be outraged on Adrien’s behalf. And Adrien wasn’t even allowed to know about any of this, instead it gets handled solely between Marinette and Gabriel, like his opinion on the matter didn’t even matter. And why would his opinion matter, since he already is ready to promise himself to Marinette, even as the writers deny him the agency to actually make such a promise.

The goal of making it obvious that Adrien is cool with being objectified like this is probably why they make Adrien so obsessed with Marinette in season five, constantly repeating her name to himself and saying stuff like: “I can’t stop thinking about you” in ‘Pretension’. They need to drive it home to the audience exactly how okay Adrien is with everyone forcing him to be with Marinette. After all, you can’t force the willing. As of ‘Confrontation’, Adrien’s official goals for the future are: “I love Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” I guess, from the perspective of the writers, the childhood dream of wanting to be what his parents wanted from ‘Wishmaker’ wasn’t sad because of Adrien’s lack of agency; it was sad because he wasn’t forsaking all of his personal pursuits for Marinette specifically. As far as the writers are concerned, Adrien should only care about Marinette and nothing else.

This same entitlement is also present in Ladybug and Cat Noir's relationship. Every time Cat Noir is upset with Ladybug, like in Frozer, Glaciator, Syren, The New York Special or even Kuro Neko, they never talk about what caused it. This is especially blatant in cases where Ladybug has wronged Cat Noir personally, like Kuro Neko or the NY Special, where she never has to face up to what she did wrong because Cat Noir comes back because she “needs him”.  Cat Noir will always come back to her without her having to do anything because she is the main character and she says she needs him. He exists for her and her needs. He exists for her; it’s just another way he’s hers.

Speaking of how Adrien is treated affects Marinette, even Adrien’s trauma actually belongs to her in the writing.  I pointed out earlier that Adrien’s trauma shows up when the writers need to put him out of commission, but disappears as soon as he needs to be Marinette’s trophy, but it goes further than just inconsistency. The early seasons spend several episodes on how Adrien is being locked up by his father and unable to hang out with his friends and, between him and Marinette, Marinette is the one shown to be more upset and hurt by this. They don’t do this in every episode, as ‘The Bubbler’ actually does a phenomenal job of making Adrien’s upset actually about him, but the big point in ‘Glaciator’ is that Marinette is so upset that she can’t see Adrien that she accidentally leaves Cat Noir on read so he’s upset about that. Adrien is only upset because he didn’t get attention from Marinette, while Adrien’s literal abuse at the hands of his father is only important because it makes Marinette upset. Even Adrien himself gets in on this action in ‘Conformation’ when the writers go as far as having Adrien chastise himself of not being more worthy of Marinette’s love when his dad is once again busy ruining his life. Even Adrien himself makes his abuse about Marinette; him being abused is bad because it’s inconveniencing Marinette and inconveniencing Marinette makes him less worthy of her.

‘Cat Blanc’ is possibly the worst offender of all, though. This episode should be all about how Adrien is abused by Gabriel, culminating with Gabriel turning him into a monster that destroys the world. And yet, what is the episode actually about? It’s about Marinette. The worst thing that could happen to Adrien is about Marinette. Only Marinette gets to remember or even know about the possibility of Cat Noir getting Akumatized and only Marinette is traumatized by it happening. After all that the writers later dare to use this event that didn’t actually happen anymore, that Adrien doesn’t know about, to justify him giving his powers to Marinette, because he’s “scared of getting Akumatized” when something like that has never happened as far as he knows. But the writers had him reason this way anyway, because apparently the culmination of Marinette’s character development in the show means taking Adrien’s power as her own and then failing to win even with that at her disposal.

Another note about ‘The Bubbler’ that has to be pointed out is that it’s also the first example of Marinette being presented as good for Adrien simply because she treats him better than Gabriel. The final scene of Marinette giving Adrien his best birthday present yet and letting him think it comes from Gabriel is done to show how selfless Marinette is by letting Adrien keep thinking good things about his abuser. This idea that Marinette is morally good simply because she’s better than pond scum Gabriel is also present in the season five finale, where Marinette manipulates, gaslights and keeps important information from her abused slave boyfriend. Marinette is presented as being in the right because at least she didn’t literally control him with a magical geas like Gabriel did and gave him the object with which to do so (while notably not telling him what it does). Marinette will do the bare minimum of not taking literal ownership of Adrien and we’re meant to see her as a paragon of goodness for it, while she still has no respect for Adrien’s autonomy and hasn’t had any since the show started.

The way the Sentimonster “reveal” is handled shows this utter lack of respect for Adrien’s autonomy that the writers, and Marinette by extension, have. The reveal is not for Adrien, but for Marinette, just like every other piece of Adrien has been made to be about Marinette. Marinette gets to know and she gets to decide if Adrien gets to know, and she decides “no”. She will manipulate him and lie to him to keep him happy for herself, she will keep important information about him to herself that he might never find out if anything happens to her, because Adrien is hers and no one else’s and she has the right to make that decision because the world revolves around her because the world of Miraculous was created to be her playground. “Adrien” is just a toy on that playground for Marinette to play with as the writers see fit.

Now we’re coming back to Adrien’s role as the sexy, titillating love interest character that I talked about at the start of this essay. If Marinette granting Adrien the bare minimum of freedoms as a slave while manipulating him “for his own good” is meant to be a good thing, why is Adrien even a slave? Well, outside of the writers wanting to add a plot twist that doesn’t come with any messy plot they’d have to write about characters other than Marinette, Adrien being a slave is also meant to be titillating. What really is magical super slavery than very, very off the wall bondage and power play stuff? The idea that Marinette could rob her love interest of his free will with ease but won’t because she cares about him so much is very empowering in two different ways. It gives Marinette all the power in the relationship and it makes her out to be such a good person that even having ultimate power over another person won’t corrupt her. Adding to that, we have Adrien’s people pleaser abuse victim personality, which makes him fawn over the people he loves. If Marinette ever wanted to have control over Adrien, Adrien would give it to her of his own volition, no need for magical super slavery or unbreakable geases.

As I stated earlier, Marinette is meant to be the point of view main character the audience of teen girls projects themselves onto. So, really, Adrien’s slavery and abuse responses are all about that fantasy of having a cute boy you have all the power over but not needing to use it because the boy is so nice and devoted to you anyway. Adrien really is “perfect”, the perfect object of attraction, a being who technically has free will but whose free will you never have to take into account because he’s been designed and trained to value other people’s wants and needs over his own.

Marinette doesn't literally own Adrien within the story, but the writers make it very clear that they think she should. In fact, in all ways except the literal, she already does.

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑-𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — counselor!JACK HUGHES x counselor!reader word count — 1.4k

note — i was (and still am) super proud of how i executed this concept, and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy re-reading it!

recommended viewing — friday the 13th (1980), fear street: 1978 (2021)

bingo squares and additional content warnings below the cut.

bingo squares — sex in water, risky location/exhibitionism, and fear play additional content warnings — a few jokes about death/dying and murder, rather short n tame ("vanilla") barely-there spice from me???, jack being a little shithead (and a little switchy omg), a smidge of angst, and spoopy ending... (kevin heimbach hive rise!)

“Y’know, for someone who is so paranoid about being caught, you sure scream like you aren’t.”

The lake smacks Jack Hughes’ chest just moments before the true expulsion of annoyance. The succinct burst of emotion is pre-packaged into a lame wave. One that only stokes his predisposition for button-pushing—hers being a personal favorite target of his.

“Y'know, for someone so desperate to get laid, you sure do everything to guarantee the only thing you'll be fucking is your hand."

Jack's jaw unhinges as if making ample room for whatever semi-clever perverted retort is bound to manifest, but it slams shut prematurely. His only response is a strained whimper accompanying an audible gulp.

Wide eyes bulging, his gaze never leaves the woody shore at your back.

"J-Jack, I'm serious. Cut it out. Right now."

Your blunt, conduct code-mandated nails slice their way through the sunburnt skin of his shoulders—the much-deserved consequence of brushing off the sunscreen you offered him prior to his afternoon shift at the canoes.

He hisses, mostly out of irritation, but keeps otherwise mum.

Unwittingly, further panic stirs in your gut at that, sending your tense face into his waiting chest.

"I-It's not funny—it never was. And it's absolutely not now, e-either. Please, Jack. Just, just knock it off, o-okay?"

"Or what, babe?"

His husky voice carries across the water and the trees rustle in response.

You loathe the way that innocuous noise shoves you deeper into his embrace, clutching onto his lithe, toned form like he isn't the instigator of your palpable distress.

"Stop pretending you see him, or I'll... I'll... —"

Any threat you could've come up with would've been hollow at best, you both know it. Even if you weren't strung out from a full day of covert teasing and stolen glances, your fear of what might lurk in the shadowy depths between you and the dock would be more than enough to keep you firmly planted.

Jack set himself up with yet another perfectly easy jump-scare, but as you helplessly cling to him like a soggy kitten at the mere implication of danger, he's presented with a better, more delicious opportunity to burrow under your thin skin.

Oh, how he lives to make you squirm.

Soft lips lower to your ear, "Is that really what you want? Because I don't think the lake's the only reason my dick is soaked."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Hughes."

You try and avoid his X-ray vision, but it doesn't matter. It hardly ever does.

"Really? Well, allow me to enlighten you, hm?"

His tone has you rolling your eyes even though he can't see them.

Jack holds you tighter, sharply bucking his hips until you whine, before he whispers, "I think you like when I scare you—or, at least, your pussy does. The poor thing, gushin' and squeezin' whenever you jump for me. Every damn time, babe. I damn near thought you'd squirted last time I got ya that good."

You grumble because he's right. Only about your physical reaction, of course. Definitely not the other things.

You definitely did not enjoy being scared shitless, and you definitely did not squirt when he pretended something—or someone—was pulling him under. You'd be damned if your first time doing that came at the hand of such juvenile flippancy.

"Quit talking and fuck me, Hughes. We don't have all night; Alice still isn't over the nightmares."

Every year, there was always one of those campers, and, this year, Alice was that one. A kid so freaked out by local legend that you have to wonder how their parent or guardian managed to get them up here in the first place. Or, why anyone thought sending them up into the mountains for the summer was a good idea to begin with.

It never takes long for the nightmares to start. Especially once the inaugural midnight bonfire passes and the sightings start making the rounds. Wind-carried screams, a flash of metal, the too-thick drip off of the leaves, torn flesh...

Everything in graphic detail, and every detail insomnia fodder at its peak.

If a camper lucked out, they had a counselor they could attach themselves to in the wee hours of the morning as they shook through waves of fear. Alice weaseled her way into your bunk every night this past week, bottom lip trembling as tears streamed down her face, always rambling about the same thing: a silent killer in a cheap mask wielding long, menacing blade.

Nightly, while you've donned a brave face, it's been as genuine as the plastic allegedly worn by the personified cautionary tale. Because, once upon a time, you had been that camper, too—and Jack had a front-row seat to your adolescent terror.

To this day, he finds your ardent belief in the legend a point of amusement.

He won't be laughing, though, when Alice finds your bunk empty and runs crying to the supervisor cabin, thinking you'd been the latest victim—the first in thirty years.

If you're going down, you're dragging jack hughes down with you. He can explain to your parents why you're home two months early—and unemployed.

His forehead falls to your shoulder, wafts of damp hair tickling the bare skin as he groans. Jack never bothers masking his ire. "That snot-nosed third grader is the last thing I want to think about when I'm balls-deep. Total boner-killer, babe."

"Jason Vorhees is the last thing I want to think about right now, but you never seem to care about that, do you?" you growl.

Your ankles tighten around his waist at just the thought of the camp's very own boogeyman.

If you were smart, you'd stop hooking up with the one person dead-set on sending you to an early grave all for a laugh.

The apparent inevitability of your trysts wasn't for a lack of options. No, every year there was plenty. But every year, Jack Hughes was the only peer you snuck out for.

After that many midnights, you would think his recycled material would lose its edge. Unfortunately for you, that's yet to happen.

You tug on a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck. He nips at your throat in retaliation; you don't have the confidence to tell him you like that, too.

"Fine, fine," he laments, eyes pinched shut and wincing. "Truce?"

"Truce," you nod and relinquish your tight grip. "Now, make me cum."

"Yes, ma'am."

"See? I told you it was fine. No wandering campers, no prying Visors," Jack hums, an arm looped around your shoulders. "And no hockey masks or machetes, either."

Your soft, grudging giggle harmonizes with the cicadas.

When you reach your cabin, he pecks your damp temple. "You should trust me more often."

You knew once you caved to the lake idea, he'd never let it go, but you'd be remiss if you said it didn't turn you on just as much as it did him. That, however, doesn't mean you're eager for an encore any time soon.

Next summer, perhaps. If he played his cards right.

"Yeah, right," you snort while eclipsing the two meager steps with him on your heels.

His ego is beginning to rub you the wrong way as your post-orgasm bliss fades. Still, you can't resist pulling him closer now that no one else is around.

Kiss-swollen lips ghosting over his, you whisper, "Over my dead body."

His eyes go dark; a rare flicker of concern. "Don't say shit like that, babe, you'll jinx it... And i've still got so much planned for your body."

"Well, it's a good thing you've got an entire summer, isn't it?"

"Only because you won't let me touch you outside of Camp Nightwing," jack huffs, mostly under his breath. His jaw is too tight, but his voice is louder, "Just think of what i could do with the other nine months."

He doesn't bother disguising the bitterness weighing on his voice or his conscience, and that alone is enough to make you skittish. It hurts to swallow, and the mounting nausea certainly isn't helping, but it's a necessary evil to rid yourself of the lump clawing up your throat.

Jack Hughes talks a big game, but that's all it'll ever be. A game.

You won't make the same mistake twice.

"Get lost before you wake my campers, Hughes." You wave your hand dismissively as you take a step back—and out of his magnetic field. "We've got a big day tomorrow."

He drops the complaint as easily as he championed it.

"I'm going, I'm going." Jack raises his hands in surrender, laughing as he backs away from the porch. "Wouldn't want to rob the little boogers of their last moments of peace before my reigning Color War champs kick their asses—for the fifth consecutive year."

Your reluctant affection glimmers in the moonlight as you shake your head. "I hate you so much."

"No, you don't!" Jack calls over his towel-clad shoulder.

You're still smiling when the screen door smacks the dilapidated wooden frame.

As his jubilant footsteps fade down the path and you settle in your bunk, a large shadow slips between the moon and the cabin's front window.

patrons gained access to this work on OCT 13, 2023 as one of their benefits. learn how you can acquire early bird privileges and access to another 200+ posts HERE! 

⤑ to my inbox 💌

⬸ to the catalog  

⬸ to the event masterlist 🕷️

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2023 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[therealslimshakespeare]

WIP teaser

I got myself a lovely little request over a week ago for a Nurse!xBuck fic. Well, hi, it’s me, can’t not take that and run with it straight off the edge of the known world. I don’t even have a fixed name for it yet but I’ve been enjoying AU-ing our familiar faves to death with it

MOTA Pacific Theatre AU: yeah, you heard that right. Maybe it’s the anniversary of Iwo Jima currently happening or maybe it’s my ongoing crush on Ensign Jane Kendeigh, or -more likely- my subconscious awareness that nurse OC’s are a pretty favorited bunch for fandom writers, so I’ve found myself mixing it up entirely.

We’ve got Navy Flight Nurses and we’ve got Lt. Commander Doc Egan and co-pilots Cleven and Demarco who aren’t too fond of having to fly cargo planes full of wounded out of war zones all due to flight surgeon John Egan’s special request to have Cleven chauffeur him around. Oh yeah, and somehere in here there’s a developing thing between Cleven x oc Nurse!Ensign Maureen Kendeigh

TW: blood? Use of the word “Jap”

…

“You got it, commander.”

More than a little sure her mission was more provoking than necessary, Maureen still obeyed and followed Brady up the length of the plane and towards his station, then past it to poke her head between the pilots’ seats.

“Well, well, this is a pleasant surprise, getting car sick, kiddo?” Demarco joked, “Hey, I get it, I’d find it hell back there with no windows to look out.”

“Those mortars obligingly made a few.” Maureen joked back.

“Anybody hurt?” Cleven asked, and to her surprise, he turned from his panel to look at her with unmasked concern.

A joke was ready made there about everyone quite literally being shot to hell but she sensed he’d not appreciate it and following some uninterpreted impulse of desiring his good opinion, she hardly wished to repay his earnestness with flippancy. “Only one.”

“How bad?”

“He looked -dead.” Maureen admitted, she hadn’t gotten a good look at the man moving past him but she’d seen Egan’s treatment of the body and it wasn’t promising.

Cleven’s jaw worked overtime at the news and something snapped in his mouth, followed by a soft curse from lips too full and soft to always be so stern. Maureen thought he may have broken a tooth with all that tension but he spit out two halves of a bloodied toothpick instead. It fell to his pant leg.

“Major Cleven, sir, you’re bleeding.” It had drawn Maureen’s attention to his wet lap.

“That’s what I said.” Demarco agreed.

“It’s somebody else’s.” Cleven shook his head.

“You know if you pass out on me-“ Demarco warned, completely ignoring Cleven’s denial.

“-that’s why we’ve got co-pilots.” Cleven finished for him with a maddening smirk that made Benny Demarco throw his hands up.

“Can you check him?” he asked, “I mean -you are a nurse!”

“What? Hell no!” Major Cleven spooked for the first time all day at the suggestion, glancing quickly from his reddened trousers, behind him to Maureen Kendeigh, and back again. “I’m fine.” he declared in a firm tone that dettered her almost as much as the challenge of getting over the instruments and a steering column to pull down his pants and look. “Ensign Kendeigh, was there a purpose to your visit?” He redirected, resolutely ignoring Demarco’s unabated concerns.

“Yes sir,” she replied, meekly as she could, “Doc Egan asked me to remind you that you’re not flying a bomber. To mind the oxygen, sir. And that it’s cold.”

Cleven let out a mirthless little laugh. “We’re full of holes Ensign, of course it’s cold.”

“I know sir.”

“Yeah, ‘course you know,” his eyes lightened for a moment and Maureen almost deluded herself he was being chummy when he murmured next, “you’re smart like that. Tell the Lieutenant Commander I’ll keep her nice and low, so low the Jap navy gunners can blow the floor out without a sweat.”

“Thank you, Major.” Maureen chirped, pleased to have been trusted with a bit of morbid humor -it was the truest test of being taken seriously a woman could hope for in the service.

“Thank you, Ensign.” And with that she was dismissed.

[cosmicjoke]

See, this conversation really highlights everything that's wrong with not just the Loki show, but the MCU in general now.

What they highlight here, about Loki's conversation with Mobius, and how dismissive and flippant he is while talking about what he did he New York, like it's all some silly joke that shouldn't be taken seriously, like it wasn't a big deal, like what he was feeling while he did what he did wasn't a big deal, is really the heart of the problem. Nobody takes anything seriously in universe, so how the hell is the audience supposed to take anything they do, think or feel seriously?

They've reduced Loki's entire character to a joke. They've reduced what he went through in the first Thor film into to a joke, what he went through when he fell through space and landed in Thanos' clutches into a joke, what happened during the first Avengers film into a joke. Everything's a big, fucking joke now. How can anybody like this? Don't they see what the writers of this trash are doing? They're shitting all over you by shitting all over the thing you love. By making fun of it and undercutting it, they're telling you you were stupid to ever take any of it seriously. It's the ultimate form of disrespect to the fans. It's a blunt insult.

This kind of shit drives me absolutely up a wall. It's so awful. And what they say in this video is so spot on. Loki started out having such depth and gravitas and presence. He started off as such a commanding, attention grabbing, complex character. And now, he's just some guy who eats pie and talks about his feelings, but with a flippancy which tells you that he doesn't actually have any feelings at all. He's just a hollow cut out that's full of shit. It's such a god damn joke.

People shouldn't settle for this. They shouldn't praise it because 'well, it's not as bad as the first season'. Because that's such a high bar to clear? Loki getting kneed in the nuts over and over by Sif. That's the bar you're clearing. Loki falling in love with a variant of himself after knowing her for five whole minutes, for no discernible reason, because who the fuck would love Sylvie, the most obnoxious bitch in the universe ? Loki getting man-handled and getting his ass handed to him by a bunch of humans with taser sticks. Loki being made a fool of every other scene. Loki losing every fight he gets into. Loki being tricked and outsmarted at every turn. Loki being so narcissistic and brain dead, that he can't see when he's being manipulated. This guy is supposed to be a genius. He's supposed to be terrifyingly smart. Anyone who knows anything about this character knows that. But reverse psychology works on him, I guess.

So Loki does a little magic which, more than anything, just highlights the utter void of creativity in these writers minds, and we're supposed to cheer and clap? Loki is a god. Loki is the most powerful sorcerer in Asgard. He can do pretty much anything you can imagine. And this is the best they can come up with? He holds someone down with shadows on the wall. Wow. So impressive. Get the fuck out of here.

But that's really the problem. They've reduced Loki into such a shadow of what he once was, that even the barest crumbs of it that we get now, we get excited about. We praise and point to as proof that things are "better". They're not better, though. This Loki is still a clown and an idiot and acts and conducts himself in ways nothing like what was originally established with this character. This Loki still has nothing to do with the original character's story or history in the MCU. They make passing references to that history, and play it off for laughs, instead of actually delving deep into it and exploring it and helping the audience to really understand and sympathize with Loki as a character.

Loki talks here about being "angry" with Thor and Odin. Okay. That would be great, except he says it like it's a joke. Imagine if instead of that, it was actually treated seriously, and we finally, finally, got an examination of what Loki was going through emotionally during the first Thor film? Imagine if Loki actually got to acknowledge the devastation he felt when he found out he was a frost giant? If he got to really acknowledge the alienation and rejection he felt upon discovering he was the very thing that his own people, the Asgardians, had always considered to be lesser beings, and not only that, but literal monsters? Imagine if he got to really express the turmoil of that? Of finding out you come from a race of beings you were raised to believe were inferior, in all ways. If he was allowed to process why he had such an overwhelming emotional and mental breakdown, that he tried to destroy Jotunheim and then take over Midgard. Imagine if we got an actual acknowledgement of what lead up to all of that, with Loki feeling like an outcast, a reject among Thor's friends, among the Asgardians in general, always seen as lesser than Thor in everyone's eyes. Does nobody remember how disrespectful practically everyone was to Loki in the first Thor film? From servants to the Warriors 3 and Sif, to Heimdall. They all treated him like shit. Fucking Christ, there's a literal world of ideas and character depth to explore there, and they just... don't. They could have devoted the whole show to this and it would have been riveting. Imagine, imagine, imagine. But nope. Instead, we get a passing reference to it, written and delivered as if it was all some big comedic skit, and the rest of the show is about finding Kang so they can set up Avengers 5. Holy shit. People should not accept this as good. People should not praise or even give positive commentary on this because it's "better" than the first season. It's not better. It's more of the god damn same.

People shouldn't accept mediocrity. They should demand better. Because if they don't, Marvel and Disney will just keep putting this same shit out and think they can get away with it.

[neonscandal]

The "Honored One"

Genre: Angst, Reflection

Tags: Satoru Gojo-centric, Angst, Canon-Compliant, Character Study, Student Gojo & Geto

Chapter Word Count: 5.4K

Status: Completed

Summary: Gojo spent his life alone until he didn't. The time burns bright in his memory despite how short lived it was because the bookends of his youth were marked with burdens known only to the Honored One.

A/N: I'm squeezing your cheeks and demanding that you humanize Gojo more.

EXCERPT

Gojo was ill-equipped to deal with such friction, especially in a social environment. It scratched at his pride and riled something with him. He'd always been prepared to fight for his stake in life but he'd never really been challenged to do so. Every conversation with Geto, however, felt like a fight that he was soundly losing. Desperate, he yelled after Geto's retreating back. "Maybe we should settle this all in a fight!" Geto threw a smug look over his shoulder. "Are you sure about that? I'm a special grade, after all," he purred knowingly.

Silence was a common bedfellow for Satoru Gojo. It wasn't so much a matter of preference as it was a simply a reasonable occurrence. That's not to say his life was without chaos or complication. Bounties, curses, threats on his life; all cause for irritation but seldom got close enough to disturb his peace.

Not a lot of people joked around Gojo. Rumors that he could see through any lie and pierce through facts at lightning speed took the fun out of any hyperbole or turn of phrase. Still, whispers followed everywhere he went. Talk of being spared from the judgement of the "infamous Six Eyes". Even those unfamiliar with the technique knew it wasn't one to trifle with as who could hold a candle to the sorcerer who tipped the scales?

The Gojo clan was small but its influence was mighty with the birth of the Limitless and Six Eyes user. One would think that'd create a lot of noise and hub-bub but, in truth, that seemed to only be in the wake of the clan heir. Heavy was the head that wore the crown and that often meant navigating and inhabiting narrow political spaces. For a long time that meant that anywhere Gojo went, he went alone. Even in the company of others, he found that he always had to lead the charge, be the first to speak decisively. The guiding voices ahead of such meetings tended to blend with the pleading voices within them, so Gojo tuned them all out in equal measure. They were merely muffled white noise so his flippancy therein caused quite the stir. Never before him, fearing what such an unruly child might do.

He couldn't quite understand such cowardice. He'd always just said and done as he felt, braced to take the consequences head on. Finding there seldom were any, he got more brazen, bolder. In a head that's constantly going a mile a minute, he churned out the rationalization that those who are strong could always say and do as they pleased. It was sound logic with evidence from every interaction he'd had. So the boundless wall between him and the people in those private rooms seemed to grow exponentially. He tolerated the stuffiness of them less and less and found himself inadvertently creating space between him and anyone else for that matter.

Gojo spent time chasing his sweet tooth, or rather, one of his very few delights. For some time, there was lore about how the sugar kept him in peak condition to bear the weight of his curse techniques. But that was more an observation in jest that simply found traction among the small population who still held curiosity for the loose cannon. By now he was a teenager, his perspective of the world cemented around where he fit into it as "The Strongest".

He spent more days in his head than trying to fit in with those who failed to keep up with his long strides forward. The crowds of people seemed to part any time he left the clan estate which reinforced the idea that he had a greater stake in the world than they did. After all, he was prepared to defend his rightful place where they seemed to lack resolve to even defend theirs. Subsequently, their faces bled together in a haze. There was never anyone who captured his interest until-

Jujutsu High promised more people his age and an education that wasn't provided by private tutors. He wasn't a stranger to the institution but was finally old enough to attend. He didn't bother setting any hope that there'd be anyone even remotely like him. Afterall, if there were, wouldn't he already know them? Wouldn't people who changed the natural order of things tend to run in the same social circles? He prepared for indistinct voices and blurry faces but hoped the environment would be less stifling than the manor were everyone seemed to walk on eggshells around him.

His first introduction was to a sorcerer who could manipulate Reverse Cursed Energy. Gojo's eyes widened at the prospect. He'd heard of it but could never manage to execute it and here he was faced with someone who mastered it. Puckishly, his interest was piqued.

"Now we're talking! Tell me something I don't know. What's it like? How do you do it?" he rubbed his hands together in speculation.

"You just kind of... 'fwoo, hyoi,'" she drawled while moving a lollipop from one side of her mouth to another to speak clearly and waving a pointed finger aimlessly in the air.

Gojo tilted his head unimpressed and pouted, dramatically. "Clearly, I'm not gonna be able to use that nonsense any time soon..." he thought dryly as he cut his eyes at her. "Are you messin' with me or somethin'?" he asked, one eye focused on the young girl. He'd heard of hazing when he prepared for leaving his life of homeschooling but hardly believed it would happen so soon and, least of all, to him.

"As if she'd have a reason," another student laughed cooly.

Gojo turned to get eyes on the offending party and was struck immediately by their tonsorial choices. "Bangs."

"Bangs." In a rare occurrence, his thoughts seemed to spill out of his mouth simultaneously.

The student snorted, mildly annoyed at the jab. "I prefer 'Suguru', actually," he sneered. "... but you? Can call me 'Geto'."

The attitude, the audacity. Gojo locked in, mercilessly. This was a new kind of excitement, a new kind of curiosity. "Heh, I didn't mean anything by it! Just couldn't help but notice!" his eyes narrowed as his lips curled upward.

"Typically, one would extend their own introduction but I suppose that's aiming a bit too high for someone so crass," Geto quipped, unamused.

Gojo's eye seemed to twitch in disbelief. He tried to recall whether there had ever been a time that his name or reputation hadn't preceded him. Maybe not the girl before but surely this guy was messing with him, he was certain. "Am I being Punk'd?"

Barely allowing time to process, Geto took an ushering step toward the girl with a confident, "I think we're meant to gather in the classroom for the opening ceremony." while casually dismissing Gojo.

It was enough to make Gojo's jaw drop. He sputtered in this newfound dynamic but not for long. "Just who are you, anyway?" he called after, confoundedly.

Geto's stride was unbroken and he didn't even make an attempt to respond to Gojo as he continued his path forward, interested to meet his new teacher.

--

Whatever misconceptions Gojo may have had about high school life were dashed by the fact that his class consisted only of the girl who never once offered him one of her many lollipops and the boy who, while interesting, seemed to only speak derisively toward him after their initial conversation. Even with low expectations, he still hoped that he'd find... something more than what he'd found. The first few days dragged on without incident or interest and Gojo was largely of the mind to begin tuning everything out again. The missions, the routine, everything felt negligible. Except he seemed to be grated by every negative interaction he had with Bangs. He seemed hell bent on disliking him on principle which was incredibly uncommon and not at all the experience he'd had growing up. He was well liked, beloved even. Right?

Geto was as quick-witted as Gojo and openly opinionated, even announcing his thoughts on Gojo's lack of respect or just general disposition. The observations were as unsolicited as they were bold and no one seemed to have half a mind to correct him. Gojo himself didn't fear the idea of doing so, moreso the occasions when it would happen would leave him faltering in shock. Until one day, leaving the classroom with the promise of a joint mission with both of his classmates, Geto seemed to blow a raspberry at the idea of partnering up.

"Hey, you gotta problem with me?" Gojo scrunched his face up in accusation as he pulled Geto's shoulder to look at him.

Geto dusted his grip off forcefully while rolling his eyes as if the question was a bother. "A problem? Several, in fact. From your seeming inability to consider collaborating cohesively with others on missions to the way you speak to Yaga-sensei, Ieri-san and myse-"

"Ieri-san?? Who's that?" Gojo interrupted, incredulously.

Geto sighed, belabored, "Exactly."

Gojo was ill-equipped to deal with such friction, especially in a social environment. It scratched at his pride and riled something with him. He'd always been prepared to fight for his stake in life but he'd never really been challenged to do so. Every conversation with Geto, however, felt like a fight that he was soundly losing. Desperate, he yelled after Geto's retreating back. "Maybe we should settle this all in a fight!"

Geto threw a smug look over his shoulder. "Are you sure about that? I'm a special grade, after all," he purred knowingly.

"I-I'm a special grade!" Gojo countered defiantly. He did not fear Geto's assertion, he simply hadn't fathomed it. To his knowledge, he was one of only three special-grade sorcerers. What were the odds that one of the others was the one giving him so much grief? Moreover, how dare he act as though he didn't already know that Gojo was a special grade in the first place. Did he really not know!?

"Hm, might be an even fight then. Meet you outside by the track," Geto shrugged, pleased with Gojo's stammering reaction. Geto's pace seemed to pick up toward the exit before Gojo could even realize it was a race.

"Oh, hell no," he gritted as an unexpected mischievous smile spread across his face. "You're not gonna know what hit you," he threatened as he caught up to Geto with a jog.

"No running in the halls," Geto chided, dismayed that he had to explain the unspoken rules of the competition. He threw a long arm ahead of Gojo to slow him down as they both fought to remain in the lead. They were a mess of limbs and suppressed laughter, speed shuffling down the long, empty hall. "You're supposed to say 'going to', by the way. Would it kill you to not speak so casually?"

Gojo scoffed as they each threw open one of the double doors leading to the track and field. Both shot daggers at one another having not had a clear winner in the race outside. "Who's gonna-" Gojo felt the weight of a judgmental eye cast upon him. He tensed his shoulders and corrected his speech, mockingly. "Who's going to be the judge of the fight?" he stuck his tongue out for good measure, his eyes dangerously close to bringing his brain into focus with how far back they rolled.

"Ieri-san," Geto answered matter-of-factly as he pointed across the field to where their other classmate rest against a tree reading a book, a cigarette tucked behind her ear.

"Ohhhhhh, that's Ieri."

Geto pushed out a deliberate breath of annoyance before walking over to the young woman sitting by herself.

Gojo, uncertain what to do with himself while he waited primed for a fight, watched as Geto nimbly dropped into a squat and began explaining the situation. He appeared to tilt his head to rest on his shoulder as he listened intently to her, a soft laugh and smile breaking across his face which Gojo noticed for its sincerity. He certainly hadn't seen this side of his rival. The girl seemed to huff while Geto continued to bargain. Just when it looked like negotiations were breaking down, Geto stretched his hand out and plucked the cigarette from behind her ear with his index finger and thumb while using his pinky, ring and middle finger to tuck the hair that had been tousled back into place. "They seem... close." Gojo surmised, watching curiously.

Geto's smile broke even wider at Ieri's indignation, teeth gleaming in what was left of the afternoon light. His laughter carried over to where Gojo stood which prompted him to walk over and figure out what could inspire such a laugh from such a serious stick in the mud.

Geto lightly pressed the cigarette between Ieri's pouting lips before reaching into his pocket for a lighter. From Gojo's vantage point, her eyes still looked unimpressed but, as he got closer, he could hear her half-hearted groan as Geto begged for her objective opinion. Even his pleas seemed to be too dramatic to be authentic which made Gojo chuckle... a little.

Realizing they were no longer alone, Geto glanced up at Gojo, the look in his eyes burning confidently. "Thank you for joining us. It seems, Ieri-san has agreed to be an unbiased judge."

"Are you polite when you're talking shit, too?" Gojo inquired, offering a hand to help his opponent to his feet.

"Mmm, maybe in front of Ieri-san." Geto hummed, popping up unassisted. He lowered both hands to Ieri who took them daintily as she rose.

"Tch." It felt like Gojo had closed some ground between them only to be rudely dismissed again.

Ieri looked from one classmate to the other as she took her cigarette between two fingers. She pointed at each of them, mildly threatening, as she acted out the caricature of a boxing ref. "I want a good, clean fight."

--

At first, Gojo was curious why most of Geto's attacks were short range and hand-to-hand in nature. Nothing his Limitless couldn't stop but only as he timed it correctly and, as the fight pressed on, he didn't want to remain on the defensive against his onslaught. Even so, why wasn't Geto using his curse technique and what was it, anyway?

There weren't many people Gojo had had a reason to use the Six Eyes on. He'd take the extrasensory capability any day but, in a dangerous fight or one for his pride, as it were, there were some risks to activating them. He was still working on developing his stamina for long term use as they actively burned out his cursed energy reserves. Limitless was already a draw on resources so it seemed like quite the gamble to whip out the big guns before he truly knew what he was fighting. Plus, he hadn't quite worked out how to control how much information he'd let in when activated. What people never seemed to understand about Six Eyes was the fact that, in use, they were much like opening the aperture in a camera.

To let in too little "light" or information was a waste of the film, too much "light" and the entire shot is ruined plus he's left standing there like an idiot processing everything in a limbo state. Gojo hadn't quite honed in on controlling the aperture speed just yet, though he'd been actively working on it, but who could he really train against? Inversely, to contradict all that logic, to not use them would prevent him from seeing Geto's cursed energy or, ultimately, to read and understand his cursed technique.

If Geto wasn't going to show his technique, this fight could drag on and a war of attrition against his physical attacks would wear Gojo down eventually. He cursed the fact that he'd never bothered a cursory glance at his classmate, even once, with the Six Eyes.

"Are you going to take the offensive or am I just meant to keep swinging at you, Gojo-san?" Geto smirked, rebounding after another blocked punch. "You're surprisingly quiet during this exchange. I could have sworn we'd hear a lot more talk out of you."

Gojo, realizing he'd been burrowed in his thoughts since the fight began, felt something unfamiliar bubble up in his stomach. He decided, finally, to take the initiative for a decisive win. "Yea, yea, try and hide from these." Gojo's eyes gleamed menacingly as his Six Eyes activated.

Raw, unfiltered information presented itself as he began plotting the flow of Geto's cursed energy. Originating in his stomach, as all cursed energy did, it seemed to be densely concentrated in a way that he hadn't seen before. Was this because he was a special grade or was this specific to his technique? Time passed slowly as he parsed through all the reasonable applications of such cursed energy. He considered countless permutations, dispelling them one by one as he, outwardly, stood cockily before his opponent.

Geto, not realizing what was happening, witnessed this brazen opening which didn't seem off brand with Gojo's ego and took it. He closed the distance between them drawing his arm back for a punch just as some recognizance came back to Gojo's eyes.

"Cursed Manipulation!?" Gojo yelled just as the punch connected with his chin. He activated Limitless a sliver too late which sent him stumbling off balance from the surprise hit. His eyes were wild as he caught himself from falling.

"You got it! Wow, that's really something. Sounds like you're ready to go toe to toe now," Geto grinned, briefly relishing in the minute break he'd caused in Gojo's impenetrable defenses. Wordlessly, he summoned a second grade curse from his arsenal, it's dark cursed energy rolling across the space that separated them.

Gojo was awed by the technique he'd only heard about sprinkled throughout history. Even in the Big Three families, no one had the ability to subjugate curses, at least not like this. Further, he was still shocked by the smarting pain on his chin from his assailant's well placed punch, grateful Six Eyes had made relatively quick work of the situation. Not before getting him hit but at least he was still standing. The appearance of a curse excited him as he could freely attack without worry of killing his adversary and he hadn't been able to use his Reversed Limitless Technique... at least not successfully.

Just as a puckish grin broke across his face, he could hear the bounding of several teachers closing in all around them as if an alarm had been sounded. Only one seemed to ease up as soon as they saw who was at the center of the fray.

As the teachers gathered warily around the fight, Yaga parted through them with his apologies. "False alarm. It was my student, my apologies, our apologies." Yaga grabbed both students by the scruff of their collars and forced their heads in a bow to those assembled having been put on high alert unnecessarily. As his colleagues slowly departed, he eyed his careless students sharply. "What on earth were you think-"

Gojo crossed his arms, bored and impudent, still hanging by his collar, "I'm sorry."

"-ing, Geto!?" Yaga finished, shaking Geto's collar sternly.

"That was careless, sensei. I apologize, it won't happen again without your knowledge. Gojo-san and I just thought it valuable to train," Geto explained calmly.

"I expected better from you! And you!" Yaga, short for words for the embarrassment his two students had brought upon him, settled with dropping them and clobbering both over the head. "I don't get paid enough for this..." he muttered as he retreated back to the school. "Ieri, put that cigarette out!" he hissed over his shoulder as an afterthought.

Ieri, who tried to make herself scarce once she saw teachers coming out of the woodwork, begrudgingly removed her cigarette and ashed it directly on the tree she'd hidden behind while her classmates laid with large knots forming on their heads. "Congratulations, I declare you both... idiots," she sighed as she triumphantly gestured with her hands. She walked back to her dorm room leaving Gojo and Geto in her wake, neither of whom could stifle their laughter at the situation.

"Why'd he blame you!? Like I wasn't even there!" Gojo questioned, arms sprawling on the plush green lawn of the school grounds. So used to being the center of attention and ire, he was delighted and bemused.

"... I was told before coming here that I have to clear my training with the faculty as unknown cursed energy raises some sort of signal to all personnel that there's a threat. Since I subjugate curses, I don't have a specific cursed energy signature. But I went and pulled one out with you anyway."

"HUH!? You were going to try to fight me without using your cursed technique?" Gojo shot upright to round on his classmate.

"Almost worked, too. Kinda got a hit in!" Geto grinned, his eyes forming crescents as he folded his hands behind his head.

For a moment, Gojo considered whether anyone had ever landed a hit on him while tempering an inexplicable rage having been somewhat bested. His eyebrows furrowed as he forcefully blew air from his nose. "'Kinda', huh? What happened to that 'polite speech' speech, huh? Hmph! As a matter of fact, why do you have a lighter? You don't follow rules at all!"

Geto paused to consider the question before breaking out into a full on guffaw while clutching at his stomach. "You look stupid when you're upset," he huffed between giggles.

So thoroughly caught off guard by the whole situation, Gojo couldn't help when his souring mood melted into laughter. He fell backward, sprawling his arms back out. Almost close enough to touch Geto with his finger tips. "Yea, well you look stupid all the time, Bangs."

"You're still on that? By the way, Shoko wasn't messing with you before, either... that's exactly how she explained it to me when I asked her, too. 'Fwoo, hyoi'... I still don't get it either." A large tanned hand blotted tears from his fit of laughter as Geto relaxed into the conversation. "Surprised your old Six Eyes didn't pick up on that," he teased.

"Wait, so you did know who I was!"

"Hardly. Since coming here, a little. I mean, after all, we're the strongest. Yaga-sensei had to explain everything when I was recruited."

"The strongest, huh? I like the sound of that..." For the first time in a while, Gojo's smile was sincere having been properly spun up by this new classmate of his. Hearing someone else echo a title he'd carried unilaterally for so long created a unique sense of understanding between them. Moreover, it felt like there was someone else who had a place in the world not unlike his own and he'd seen the brazen way he'd defend that place, too. While not a full on fight, he wondered, had they had enough time and Geto were to unabashedly apply his technique, who would have actually won. A small voice deep, deep down knew it'd be him but he'd rather stoke the excitement of not knowing.

"Are you ready to play nice on missions, now? Shoko wasn't particularly impressed by your performance during your last one. Now that this will be the three of us, perhaps you'll consider working together this time," Geto lightheartedly chastised, offering Gojo a red lollipop from his pocket.

Gojo practically squealed as he stretched to receive it. "You're where the lollipops come from? No wonder she never had any left to give. She could have just said that."

"She probably did but you're always talking over people and going a mile a minute, at that. I wouldn't be surprised if you missed it."

"'Fwoo, hyoi', huh?" Gojo waved the candy in the air like a conductor, thoughtlessly, before greedily opening it. "I look forward to working with you, I'll be in your care from now on."

A light blush warmed Geto's cheeks at the out of context concession but he supposed this was better than the negative silence between them.

--

Noise seemed a common byproduct of being surrounded by people who understood Satoru Gojo. Mostly, noise from him as he was much more apt to laugh and tease, needy for the attention of those he spent the most time with. Eyes always fell heavy on him growing up but now he found that it didn't quite feel the same as the comfort of whatever he, Suguru and Shoko had created.

Suguru wasn't quite as mercurial as Gojo had once thought. He could still be stern when it came to issues he felt were important and required Gojo's observance but would occasionally, and quite puckishly, wind him up for the fun of it. Just as he had when they first met. Gojo was still a bit awkward and unable to tell the difference but Suguru couldn't help but break character in the face of Gojo's earnestness to which Gojo would pout and glower, also in jest.

Still, there were times where they didn't quite see eye to eye. Both too headstrong, both too set in their ways. But if it meant enough that they would have it out, it was enough for both of them to consider the other's opinion. Even though much of Gojo's experience with others was a bit on the muffled and blurry side, Suguru starkly changed his outlook on glossing over others. In a world of monotony, he'd found someone so vibrant and textured, he could not possibly be ignored.

They trained relentlessly, Gojo getting the hang of his inherited techniques and assisting Suguru in amassing his arsenal of curses while out on missions. Perfecting Gojo's training at school and Suguru's training in the field. They'd come back to the dorms to rinse and repeat. They worked symbiotically to refine one another and they fervently backed one another up. When facing threats of varying degrees, they were all they had with Shoko in reserves to patch them up if the occasion called for it. They developed a confidence as The Strongest that went unchecked as the only special grade sorcerers as far as they were concerned.

Outside of training, they traded their most intimate secrets: the drawbacks of Gojo's techniques, Suguru's strained homelife that he hoped to one day remediate by being someone his parents could be proud of. Their insecurities were no longer their burden alone when shared and no longer felt like a weakness with the reassurance the other could offer.

Gojo still spent a lot of time in his head but it was to tinker. To solution how to optimize his own technique, how to better help Shoko cheat her way through a medical degree eventually (while hopefully also picking her brain for RCT mastery), what nicknames suited Suguru's latest curse acquisition and their subsequent battle application, what prank to pull on Yaga-sensei, the only reasonable end for Digimon, etc. He'd spend a prolonged period of time quiet and pensive, turning problems over in his head like a Rubik's cube, until he would suddenly come back to himself with some off the wall output of his deliberations. More often than not, he'd be strewn about Suguru's room locked in contemplation and, with a decisive break in the silence, Suguru would beam and welcome him back warmly, "I see you've found your way back to us." Moreover, he'd try to pick up wherever Gojo's thoughts left off even if the subject matter was completely out of his wheelhouse. The simple attempt of understanding and having a place that felt so safe to simply... drift warmed something within him that didn't have a name yet, until -

There would come a time where even The Strongest could fly too close to the sun. Perhaps there would always be a reckoning for the scales to one day tip out of Gojo's favor. Never one to stay down, Gojo's temporary failure saw a massive power up, finally getting the hang of the "fyoo, hwoi" that had stymied him for so long. Such was the fate of The Strongest, to shatter the ceiling of his limits but only after a devastating loss.

He picked up the pieces of their failed mission, avenging his initial loss, reclaiming the body of their slain charge and came face to face with Suguru. He'd never seen Suguru so downtrodden and, for whatever reason, when asked if Shoko had patched him up, he felt to answer honestly would break his confidence irreparably.

He'd experienced his own foundational upset with his inability to defeat Toji in the first place. It was the first time his Six Eyes had failed him. This failure, which he continually tried to diminish in his mind, shattered the assumption that he was the strongest, that he was infallible. Years would pass where he'd avoid ruminating too long on his own passing which, only by miraculous happenstance, he was able to revive himself from. But in that moment, locked eye to eye with his best friend, he tried to lessen the burden as he always had. As a kindness, he lied, not knowing that one didn't need Six Eyes to spot a lie or that even white lies can cause more harm than good when you intrinsically trust someone.

It wasn't necessarily resilience that inspired Gojo's determination to circumvent the vulnerability Toji was able to exploit. The Invisible Man managed to instill a fear previously unrealized into Gojo's spirit. Stubbornly, he refused to concede to such language but that's what would explain his night terrors following the events of that fight. How, on the few nights he was able to sleep, his rest would be punctuated by cold sweats and waking up to the sound of his own screams or cries. This was not the behavior of The Strongest, it couldn't be. Every breakdown felt like a betrayal to everything he and Suguru had built their identities upon. So, like a coward, he hid what he could and worked relentlessly to never be caught unawares again as, he feared, the next time it would cost him or Suguru their lives and not just their confidence.

It didn't matter, the means nor the motivation, sometimes a small voice would still tell him he was losing something in the process though he could never comprehend what until the day came that everything finally shifted into focus. As curses spawning became relentless, he and Suguru could no longer afford to be a two man team. There were just too many curses to exorcise though the separation felt more and more like a punishment for their failure. Gojo came back from his mission to find that Suguru hadn't returned from his. Fearing the worst when Yaga approached him, he was relieved then horrified to learn of what transpired.

Suguru, Fearless in the Face of the Strong. Suguru, Defender of the Weak. Suguru, Moral Voice of Reason. Suguru, His One and Only Best Friend.

Suguru had committed too great a transgression to be an accident. Soundly broken laws too sacred to be ignored and disappeared into the night leaving Gojo without so much as a word. How long had he been struggling before the dam within him finally broke? Why hadn't he said anything? How did Gojo miss this? To add insult to injury, as the only other special grade sorcerer, Gojo bore the burden of carrying out his execution.

His life had been defined by the burdens he'd had to carry because of his strength and the blessing of his birth. Never before had they all felt so heavy, though. Suguru's departure created a vacuum within him that never quite found peace.

Years would pass and Gojo would still wordlessly carry the bitter turmoil of his childhood, how unfair it all was. To have felt the warmth of companionship after so long alone only to feel a greater frigidity in its absence. He now found the silence unbearably loud compared to the self imposed quiet before knowing Suguru.

On yet another day marked by nondescript loneliness, he found his thoughts drifting once again to the better days of his youth. Classes long since dismissed, he sat in the desk he'd once occupied as a student.

“You still haunt the dark corners of this high school, Suguru. Not your body but your soul. How your laugh would bounce off of every wall before reverberating through us. Maybe it's because I can't leave the place where I continue to mourn you. But what can I do, you left me alone first,” he murmurs to no one. For a moment he holds onto the quiet. As if protecting it would allow Suguru himself to respond, regardless of the dirty work that had, without a doubt, seen to his end. "But... that's ridiculous, isn't it?" he added. He stood up abruptly, the scratch of his chair inflicting violence on the peace before he strode out of the classroom, determined to fill his time with chaos to avoid his lingering thoughts.

"Yes, but that doesn't make it feel any less true," Shoko mused aloud, leaning against the external wall of the classroom, bypassed by Gojo's departure. "But you were never alone... were you?" she pondered reaching for the cigarette behind her ear as Gojo disappeared from sight.

--

A/N: They were a trio but Geto was the glue. I also didn't say Gojo wasn't still an oblivious idiot. This story was just as much about Shoko regardless of her seeming absence in it and that breaks my heart too? So I hope that was adequately conveyed. But really this was just in defense of my silly, goofy lil guy who was just as ill-equipped to deal with everything that happened. Excuse the self indulgence.

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

you hinted towards it: cptsd vs autism. welcome to exemplify it with The Best Couple if you like. i just want (more) answers to this confusion and maybe to be psychoanalysed myself too but like one?? both?? neither?? what do those scenarios look like, and as a bonus have you heard of the pda profile and how it looks almost exactly like cptsd??

So you sent me another ask asking for a deep dive, and instead of answering that one it prompted me to actually take the leap and answer this one, LOL. Thanks, I've been meaning to for a while.

ALASTAIR AND cPTSD.

Okay, so Alastair has cPTSD. It's canon. Cassie confirmed it in March 2020 at an event in St. Louis. I don't know if it's online anywhere, but I was in attendance and she said that [regarding Alastair] the children of alcoholics have "as much PTSD as war veterans."

One example of this is from his PoV scene in ChoI:

Alastair stood in the parlor, staring blankly out the window at the house next door. He had been watching two little boys playing on the floor of their living room while their mother worked at her embroidery and their father read the newspaper. He could not help but hear his mother’s words as she’d wept, The child will never know his father. Lucky child, he’d said to Cordelia, but under the flippancy, there was a hard, cold sorrow, a sorrow that felt like a blade of ice cutting through him. It was hard to breathe around the loss.

In this scene alone he experiences multiple symptoms of PTSD from the diagnostic criteria sheet. However, this is far from the only place we see his symptoms - his insecurities in talking about Charles, his explicit statement that seeing Charles makes him feel sick, and the "rough around the edges" demeanor also qualify.

THOMAS AND AUTISM.

Okay, now this is probably going to be the harder one to get into because, unlike Alastair's cPTSD, it is not canon. It is a headcanon. That being said, I believe it to be a strong one.

Some autism symptoms Thomas shows in canon include:

Taking things literally (like, he doesn't realize when Alastair is joking until they know each other really well)

Having his own unique phrases and descriptive words

Sometimes having trouble reading cues

Having increased empathy/immense care (her name was Filomena)

Physical clumsiness

Difficulty expressing emotions, even when the emotions are strong

Rash and impulsive behaviours

I will concede that these things do not always mean autism is present, and the clumsiness is probably just because he grew 2 feet overnight. But still, I think Thomas is probably autistic having read his internal poetic monologue as well as how genuinely awkward he feels in most social settings.

I also will post a few photos of TLH passages that scream AUTISTIC to me:

Immediate trust in James despite his odd speech and movements, to the point that he still felt betrayed/hurt after hearing him speak completely differently than usual. A cue-reading difficulty.

Unsure of how to define interpersonal relationships

Unique ways of looking at things, executing plans that are a poor idea for practical reasons despite being good in theory. Also, the emotional awkwardness of asking James whether he minds being punched is gold.

And, a personal favorite,

Getting locked into a plan and being inflexible lol. Also interrupting! I feel that!

INTERPLAY.

I think one of the most fascinating things about TLH is the way that characters' neurodivergences interact with one another. Thomas and Alastair who are, yes, Best Couple, are no exception.

This is another passage that I think Thomas's possible autism shines through, and it's one that I think is relevant for unpacking their relationship development. Alastair's PTSD shines through here as well:

In this passage, we have Alastair (someone with cPTSD):

Try to connect with strange, socially-awkward humor

Alastair probably genuinely seeing the travel year as a vacation because it's an escape from his home life

Alastair naturally self-sabotaging/pushing Thomas away despite his efforts to connect

A sincere apology, but one that seems somewhat awkward - like, he knows he upset Thomas, but still is "startled"

And we have Thomas:

Taking Alastair's statement literally rather than as a joke

Defining what he believes the "travel year" to be (as fact)

Giving Alastair a goodbye handshake (bb no ily but no)

I think that this awkward neurodivergence intersection does keep Thomas and Alastair apart at first. This is one example way. There are other examples, though, too - Alastair pushing Thomas away because he doesn't think he deserves love, assuming he's bad for people. Thomas being petty and struggling to communicate, sending iconic but weird fire messages. An inability to DTR for a long time.

This brings us the Comedy of Errors that I adore in ChoT.

But I think that their respective neurodivergence is what makes their relationship so special, too.

Both of them are extremely empathetic. Both of them are also extremely reckless in some situations, but they can help each other navigate these situations. Alastair following Thomas on solo patrol is a good example of this.

I also think that they are capable of understanding each other extremely well.

Alastair knows how Thomas is feeling and offers a hand to him.

We have the opposite true as well. Thomas is the only person to consistently and stubbornly believe in Alastair. He is also the person that Alastair is consistently vulnerable with. He cries in all 3 TLH books, twice when he is being vulnerable with Thomas and once when he thinks he lost Thomas. And Thomas is always reminding Alastair that he loveable, and easy to love.

I also want to talk about the scene after Thomas and Alastair have sex. He at his point unequivocally has Thomas. Their relationship is defined, and it is serious. But the next day, Alastair still doubts that Thomas might love him because of his Bad Charles Experience.

Thomas can empathize and intuit what Alastair needs here.

It's great.

This is what I love about their relationship.

I'll close this post with a couple paragraphs I wrote in my fic that serves as a love letter to the ship, because it's why they hit so well:

“[W]e just fit together, don’t we?” He looked thoughtful to Alastair, who looked up at him through one open eye. “We are each exactly what the other needs.” “Yes,” Alastair agreed. “We are.” And they laid there for hours, Thomas stroking Alastair’s hair as he told him about Elias Carstairs, the whole truth of him. Some good, most bad, all ugly and broken and raw and real. And while they couldn’t save each other, while they couldn’t cure each other, they helped each other heal.

Without the intersection of neurodivergence, this would not be possible.

[catbountry]

I think before I go to bed, I should make it clear that my flippancy about the failed assassination attempt on Trump is because this man didn't give enough of a fuck to protect the citizens of the country he fucking ran from a deadly virus that killed hundreds of thousands of people in that country alone.

Like we talk a lot about all presidents being war criminals to come extent but for your average American, it's very hard to put names and faces to the anonymous brown people we hear getting bombed by drone strikes on the other side of the world. Like we know it's bad, but because we don't see these people, it's hard to actually like, internalize that. But with COVID? Your average American knew somebody who died, or almost died, or was in danger or dying. And this motherfucker, pumping his fist in the air after getting grazed by a bullet while a spectator in the crowd died, got to live through getting COVID because he was the President when he got it. He lived when our friends, our family, or neighbors, suffered and died. Hundreds of 9/11s worth of deaths happened while he was running for re-election. It's now gotten to over a million under Biden, but those early days when the most could have been done to curb the number of deaths, we just were at the mercy of a man who could not give a less of a liquid, fast-food induced shit about the average American. Like I know the government gladly serves capital over us but I've never seen it so mask off in my entire life.

I can't speak for when Reagan was president, mind, I was born halfway through his second term. Not a whole lot of memories of that because I was, you know, a baby.

But like Reagan, Trump did not take the lives of our countrymen seriously enough to even look out for us when we needed it most, and it wasn't even motivated by homophobia; just indifference. He failed us, not that we ever expected that much of him to begin with. The blood of people who we know with faces and names and voices and memories are dead because of him. And even if COVID is "over," he's made it clear that if he gets in, he doesn't fucking care if he does shit that kills more people through simply not caring, or just out of spite.

I'm sorry that I find it hard to try and play at good optics and respectability politics for the sake of not giving republicans ammo (they're gonna find ammo regardless, they always do). This man raped our country, and that word choice is very deliberate. He stumbled in, took what he wanted, broke so many rules, violated every boundary put into place to keep him in check, and like a vengeful ex, sicc'd a pack of his flying monkeys to enact violent revenge on the government elected by the people that dumped his ass. He's a petty little tyrant trying to become a dictator so he can huff deep from the most concentrated narcissistic supply known to a modern leader so far this century, and he has apologists who think he should have raped the country harder.

I am going to continue to live my life as normal as I possibly can, to try and focus on what I can do for myself to be happy and have a sense of stability and to be able to like myself, while also doing what I can to support my friends and loved ones. To remember the dead and remember what it was like to come down with COVID myself and how awful it felt. To try not to lose hope and vote if only just to protect the rights of my friends, my family, and myself, and hope that we can get through this together, whatever the fuck it will even be. I'm kinda scared, and jokes make things a little less scary because at least I know there are other people who are just as frustrated as I am, reacting the same way.

We gotta look for each other. Monke together strong.

Stay safe, guys. You are loved.

[burningvelvet]

my thoughts on the tenant of wildfell hall so far (currently halfway through it)

1 Fergus is the prototypical teenage boy - they’ve never changed through time

2 I initially thought that Helen’s big secret was that she was a sex addict or serial adulterer tbh based on her speeches of indulgences, the focus on her being single, her constant guilt and religiosity, her flirtation with the narrator, the rumours surrounding her and Lawrence, etc.

3 (To compare to Pride and Prejudice which I just finished) Helen’s aunt = Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Boarham = Mr. Collins, Arthur = Mr. Wickham, Gilbert = Darcy, Annabella = Lydia

4 Gilbert striking Lawrence and then spending multiple pages contemplating it and trying to rationalize it afterwards LOL

5 The early meetings with Helen and Huntington and the drawings are so passionate — Arthur taking Helen’s hand, addressing her freely, generally swaggering around, “saving” her from the awful dudes, etc. — you can see why she likes him, you can see why he’s attractive, and all of this makes the story so much more appealing rather than if he had just been a total ass from the very beginning. It’s realistic. However, you can see the red flags early on, such as the non-consensual kiss, among other things. I already know what happens due to spoiling it for myself. Still, I absolutely see Huntington’s appeal as well as how Helen has been led toward him by her unhappy prospects (having to reject Mr. Boarham, her aunt’s harshness, her parents not being in the picture, etc.)

6 Arthur is SO Byronic. He’s so fucking entertaining and I know he’s supposed to be a jokester but he’s also hilarious when he’s not even trying. And I’m not laughing at Helen’s expense — of course domestic unhappiness and abuse is no joking matter IRL — but Arthur’s flippance, bitchiness, flamboyance, etc. is just so true to life and brings to mind the meme about men “having the audacity.”

7 I also think that not only is Arthur’s rumoured affair with the married woman probably true, but his sly hint about Annabella the “great flirt” also means they probably had an affair, and I’m sure he’ll have many other affairs exposed later on (I’m pretty sure I read that cheating becomes a major plot point later on). He was definitely cheating on her in London — her being pregnant, his poor excuses, his sad “you don’t love me anymore” mindset, etc.

8 I’m at the point where Arthur he’s just come home from London and he’s sick — I feel like this is not only a reference to his substance abuse but also probably a reference to STDs (if there’s anything I’ve learned from studying old lit, it’s that old lit is full of non-explicitly mentioned STD tropes).

9 I really cannot put enough emphasis on how much I love the use of paintings and drawings in this book! I feel like this would make a great play or film tbh — the physicality of her trying to snatch the drawing from Arthur, and the hidden pictures on the backs, such as the painting earlier on. I want to watch the adaptation series now.

10 Simultaneously wanting to cry and laugh at Helen confessing to her aunt that Huntington has no morals but she still thinks she can fix him. Every single time!!! “His wife shall undo what his mother did!” Ummmm!!!

11 It’s sad to see Milicent’s marital fate. She’s basically what Charlotte was to Elizabeth. The narrator’s adorable best friend who gets into a loveless marriage with the narrator unable to help, subsequently straining their relationship. I left off around Milicent’s engagement letter so I hope the wedding is called off but it probably won’t be. Milicent and Helen’s mutual naivety is really sad to read.

[tyrannuspitch]

okay, the completism demon got me. i have now rewatched the empty hearse.

verdict: it was reasonably entertaining, but the tonal shift to flippancy means that what i find *interesting* about the show is already gone. and when i started writing out some more detailed reasons why, a lot of it was encompassed in this: sherlock comes back both better and worse, and neither change works for me.

better: sherlock is smoothly and successfully kind to molly, his bickering with mycroft has been softened to just bickering with little sense of a deeper bitterness (aside from some flippant torture???), and he gives mycroft advice that indicates he's grown much more secure in his own ability to belong while offscreen. both of these should have been harder-earned, imo. of course he can grow, but this is too fast, and it takes a huge chunk of the tension out of the character.

even better: sherlock has two living parents whom he's on good terms with, and just finds kind of boring? come on. that's a decision made for comedy, not for characterisation. mycroft talks about their mother in the past tense in the very first episode! sherlock was blatantly relating to mrs hudson as a substitute mother figure! mycroft and sherlock both are or were habitually alone on christmas! no, the parents don't have to be geniuses or sources of huge amounts of angst, but we can come up with something better than this.

worse: there's no satisfying answer for why sherlock waited *so long* to tell john, and then he plays a deeply cruel joke on john in the climax, entirely without reason. this is a red line for me, frankly. at least the baskerville incident had a purpose. this was literally just for his own amusement - or, even if we try and find a sympathetic explanation, an expression of insecurity that crosses the line from callous to abusive. leave him, john!

despite how this might sound, none of this especially annoyed or offended me, at least not on the first watch. the show has turned into a flippant comedy/adventure and it works okay that way, for now. but if this is what taking things seriously reveals, then it's not a show i can be invested in any more.

the show is, to its core, About Sherlock, and while post-hiatus sherlock is still entertaining, i don't find him interesting or emotionally compelling. he's dark, but he's not tragic, not in the same fundamental way. and he's certainly not a man who could see jim moriarty and wonder if he's looking in the mirror.

[somany-fandoms-solittle-time]

“What’s so Special About the Moon?”

Jamil Viper x Mac

Ch. 1 – Ch. 2 – (Ch. 3) – Ch. 4 – Next – Previous

I never thought I’d finish this chapter…. LIKE HOLY SHIT I HATED OPENING MY NOTEBOOK BUT THE TIME HAS COME Y’ALL!!! I was planning on posting this before Valentines Day, but I got kinda busy and then almost a whole month passed lol! I’m also convinced I no longer know how to write two characters interacting with each other properly… Maybe the break was needed? No song in this one, but there’s so Mac lore and somewhat talking about feelings! The next (and final) chapter of this will be like a romanticized epilogue. Since I’m not sure how much I want to actually write and plan out for this oc, specifically regarding timeline stuff, it’s not gonna be considered “canon” [p.s. The most beta this gets is a quick read through of a 2nd draft after I finish typing it up so there may be mistakes or sentences that don’t make total sense]

The cream stone walls, lined with gold and crimson ceramics, provided an open, airy atmosphere to the Scarabia’s main Kitchen. Gentle breezes shifted Jamil’s long, dark hair while his busy hands expertly prepared baked pakoras. Their delightful deep-fried scent filled the air, making Mac’s already dry mouth water. Another beat or two of awkward silence oppressed the two as the Ramshackle Housewarden lightly sipped at the nearly empty glass of pink lemonade (including a few tiny chunks of dragonfruit).

“If you would like a second glass, there’s plenty left in the pitcher; second fridge to the right, middle shelf. I’d offer to pour but I must make sure these don’t burn.” Jamil finally broke the silence with more than the single-worded responses Mac was using. Xey supposed they couldn’t run away, least they be called out for being a hypocrite.

“No worries, I mean, I wasn’t really expecting you to serve me hand and foot,” they attempted to joke as a way to ease back into conversation.

“Scalding Sand hospitality would say otherwise,” Jamil easily shot back with a hint of mirth in his tone.

“Well,” Mac dragged out in a tired sigh, “I’m not royalty or a wealthy merchant. Besides, I’m not exactly fluent in any desert customs, Twisted Wonderland or otherwise… Kinda the opposite in fact! So, really, it’s no problem between us. I mean! You don’t need to feel like you have to go through any extra effort or ceremony for my sake.” Their hesitant eyes flicked fervently between filling the lemonade and the calm, sturdy back of the Vice Warden. A panicked symphony of little anxieties added an extra depth to xeir already drooping eyes.

Jamil remained calm. So fucking calm and put together that the Ramshackle Perfect could feel xeir anxiety almost turn to frustration. Almost. That deep well of guilt and shame kept them ‘grounded’ while waiting to hear some type of response.

“No need to concern yourself so much, it’s more force of habit than anything else.”

Mac huffed hardheartedly, “Trust me. I’d rather kill myself than even consider being a bother.” It was meant to be a more lighthearted joke but from Jamil’s reaction, he wasn’t used to such crude self-deprecation. A wide-eyed panic flooded his own eyes quickly as if mentally preparing to start damage control.

“Relax,” Mac continued with a snort, “nihilism is like breathing where I’m from.” A domino effect went through xeir body following their wave of flippancy. A harmless eye-roll, followed by a slightly less strained side-smile, the finishing with a light shrug into a slouch. “Besides, you can only have so many near-death experiences before beginning to think about death with casual indifference. You should try it sometimes… might loosen you up a bit!”

“It seems I’ve gotten too used to Kalim’s more literal style of speech.” the Vice replied through lightly gritted teeth; completely omitting any comment about how he did almost die during his overblot. The forced politeness remained and insisted on the reconstruction of his peripheral walls. It was really starting to piss Mac off. Good thing ze were a nosy bitch!

Fiddling in their lap, they sent a quick message to the ‘Ramshackle Freshies’ group chat letting them know not to wait up. Ze suddenly had a new, and challenging, job to do.

“… Considering how well you two got along I thought you shared that similarity,” the second year whispered under his breath, likely meant just to himself. Seriously, Mac thought, was he really meant to be sneaky? How’d he ever get away with it in the past?

“I was a lot like Kalim when I was younger,” xey replied just to watch Jamil startle out of his thoughtful pout. “Yeah, back when I was 15 before… a lotta things happened. It’s why I can, well, I think I can understand your whole dynamic.” They started rambling again and sporadically moving their arms. It was too easy for him to overshare nonsense that had nothing to do with the conversation at hand.

At least xeir slip of the tongue caught the desert snake’s attention. These two working-class students were both so emotionally huddled up in on themselves, manning their defenses, to properly have a conversation. Both desperately trying to claim secrets and information from the other. (The elder trying to understand and provide comfort while the younger planning to gain back some trust, solve their puzzling nature and…. A little of something else).

Becoming so lost in their own thoughts that the clinking ice cubes in xeir drink began to melt. The only other sounds were of the occasional Scarabia students shuffling path the doors, unwilling to enter the dorm kitchen. It was well-known that the kitchens were Jamil’s domain and kingdom. Add-on the weirdly tense vibes emitting from the two beyond the door. Yeah, this wasn’t the ‘Dorm for Mindfulness’ for nothing. No one would be stepping a foot inside until the other two were long gone.

Looks like it was cafeteria of food from the Lounge this weekend.

By this time, the deep-fried delight was finished and barely cooled down before being devoured. Continuous awkward silence would give the poor magicless Perfect indigestion at this point. I guess I’ll bite first, xey thought, making up his mind.

“This…,” a deep, yet hollow sigh, “isn’t gonna work.”

“What won’t work?” Jamil cautiously prompted, taking his time to search Mac’s body language.

“If we can’t chill out and come to some kind of understanding, everyone will be bugging us for weeks. Or worse… they’ll come up with some stupid, half-baked plan to force us to work it out.” They both felt a disturbing shiver imagining their resident idiot(s) locking them in a closet, or something equally cliche. Not that Mac hadn’t tried the same exact thing before realizing set-ups only work in movies and shojou anime. That would be ridiculous.

“And what do you suggest?” He replied after thinking it over for a moment.

“Twenty questions.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” zeir shit-eating, mischievous, obnoxiously lighthearted grin was practically audible at this point.

“You think some adolescent party game to learn each other’s favorite color will smooth over our interactions enough to fool Vil or Rook?” was the apathetic, snarky argument the Vice Warden shot back.

Mac released a playful gasp as xey jumped to reply, “How DARE you mock the sacred ritual of 20 questions. Or how much a favorite color can provide a little insight. I would know, I passed my Intro to Psychology class in High School.” Their easy wink was all the transition needed to put the testy air behind them. Besides, there might’ve actually been a small bit of truth in xeir joking attitude.

“You’ve tested it?”

“Online dating was a complete bitch and a half. Any ‘simple question game’ keeps the conversation going and vets out creepy weirdos.”

“But I already know how strange you are,” Jamil scoffed out the quip like second nature.

“Sorry, Babydoll, but you have no idea how much of a Freak I am.” Mac shot back with a laugh at the embarrassed look ascending Jamil’s neck and over his face. He seemed to tense on instinct, but decided to push through while he could still look his older underclassman in the eyes.

“Did these type of lines actually work for you?” He asked, standing up to try to brush of his initial reaction and to get started on their dirtied dished.

“If that’s your first question, then yes! I’m pretty good at adjusting to all sorts of personality types, which is great for a hook-up but doesn’t last long when it comes to serious relationships.” Xey answered somewhat matter-of-factually but still tasted of insecurity. Mac wasn’t ashamed, per say, of the occasional good time, but was borderline unhealthy with their distraction of choice.

With that the young servant raised a judgmental eyebrow that arched with a misplaced possessive jealousy, before becoming slightly thoughtful. Jamil had gone through extensive training in order to gain (and retain) a similar skill, he supposed. Not that it was anything he’d revel to the Perfect sitting across from him. Nor did he have to explain or like the venomous feelings he was actively shoving down the back of his throat. Just another poison to keep from spilling over, he thought trying to ignore the blatant irony of the whole situation.

“How about you?” Never mind!

Mac motioned xeir hand out expectantly. Behind his smudged glasses were gentle, pleading puppy dog eyes meaning to encourage Jamil only made him curl in on himself all the more.

“Is that you’re question? Seems hardly fair to just project the same question back,” He responded in a jilted, caved-off taunt. “Shouldn’t you have enough braincells to think of your own questions… instead of making me do all the work.”

Instead of backing off—or acting offended or snapping back with an equally sarcastic response—they simply laughed. Just… laughed. It wasn’t a patronizing huff like his own or a naive giggle like whenever Jamil said something that went over Kalim’s head. Xey laughed with a heavy nostalgia and in relief of finding the groove of conversation once again.

“Sorry, sorry! The version my… friends, I think, played we’d always have to answer whatever we asked. Prevents anyone getting ganged up on or an imbalanced type of questions.” Xe replied with ease.

Jamil answered dryly in response, “I spent the majority of my life following in Kalim’s shadow; we did grow up together after all. When I wasn’t by his side I either had work, chores or school. This didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for deeper friendships, let alone dating.” Surprisingly, the majority of what he said was the true.

It wasn’t the whole truth, but true nonetheless. Equal measurements of shame and embarrassment for being a servant always made the young Viper hesitant to pursue any real relationships while in middle school. Casual friends were one thing, superficial and somewhat difficult to maintain, but achievable. Dating, however, would take his focus away from his duties to Kalim (and possibly endanger the heir)

While Jamil’s thoughts were grim and filled with resentment, the other student hummed in consideration. How the two connected to people; how they both learned how and when to respond to the people they’re forced to be around felt oddly similar. Not the same, not by a long shot, but definitely similar.

“Well isn’t that just completely depressing,” Mac started to say under her breath before quickly transitioning to their own question: “Okay, well, how ‘bout your favorite type of music?” The answer they received back was a ‘cut-the-bullshit’ type of frown. Clearly, he didn’t consider it an equal exchange.

“Okay! Fine! What was your dream job as a child?”

This time Jamil couldn’t control his reactions so seamlessly. The Vice Warden’s eyes bulged as the startled intake of breath entered his body. His entire body took on a different type of hardheadedness to guard compensate his apparent embarrassment. He’s been feeling embarrassed a lot lately.

“Oh c’mon~ Every kid had a silly dream job! I probably went through a dozen, at least. So just spill already.” Ze said, trying to urge him to uncoil the tension from his jaw.

“It doesn’t matter! I knew I was destined to remain a servant my whole life, there was no reason to bother making silly plans.” Jamil hurriedly snapped in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Doesn’t mean some 5-year-old Jamil didn’t want to be a firefighter at some point.” Mac countered.

“I never dreamed of being something so foolish and mundane as a firefighter…” Jamil said, raising a defiant eyebrow.

“But you dreamt to be something or the other! C’mon, Viper, throw me a bone here wouldja?”

The two stared the other down, prepared to go back and forth. Clean-up had already been finished by the end of the first question and now Jamil brought out two, small fruit plates. It was a nonverbal offering to keep the conversation going despite his own dodgy replies. How was it possible that relatively harmless banter could be pulled from a subject as touchy as his lack of childhood?

Mac’s ease and understanding, even with their awkward or overbearing, of conversation had charmed the Viper’s unsettled and distrusting nature. If xey weren’t painfully honest (and particularly bad at keeping secrets for long), Jamil would have been worried she was a spy. Whatever I tell them—Kalim’s probably already told his club members, so there’s little harm to be done, he thought begrudgingly.

“A dancer,” his soft whisper blew past the lightly dripping faucet and over the desert’s dunes. In the heart of his answer—an unexpected level of raw honesty—cascaded over the billowing heat in a brutal, stubborn calm.

Mac wasn’t surprised, but he smiled at the second year anyway. That soft look, a fresh morning dew covering the forest floor in the late spring, both cooled and energized the flustered boy. It was an expression he wasn’t often familiar with; such genuine patience and pride over 3 short syllabus was uncalled for when it came to a servant like him. Such an insignificant moment held so much weight when they looked at him like that. A sight and experience that a much younger Jamil would’ve thought impossible to even dream of.

“I’m pretty sure I wanted to be a ballerina, for a time.” A hushed excitement at their shared interest.

“Really?” He’d seen them dance and… never got that impression before.

“Yeah, for like a week. Then it was a police officer, before I found out how much running around I would have to do. After that it was an engineer; who knew there was so much math involved? For a little bit I was dedicated to become the President.” Xeir answers tumbled out easily with plenty of humor behind each one.

“… President of what?” Jamil asked in confusion.

“Of the country! There’s not a whole lotta royal families back on Earth, but anyway, Politics is messy and absolutely soul-crushing. I would probably have twenty breakdowns a month even attempting to jump into THAT cesspool!”

“Ah…” Jamil mentally noted the casual explanation over the bewildering differences between Mac’s world and his own. It wasn’t the easiest to wrap his head around a country with no king, queen, or Sultan.

“Right?! Felt like I wanted to try a little bit of everything, but I always came back to performing on a stage…” For a moment there was a wistful look in their eye before quickly being pushed away.

“… In what way? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, anyway I can. A pianist, an actress, a singer; all I wanted to do since I could remember was to entertain a crowd of people on a stage while I felt those warming lights beaming down on me.” The wistful expression was back with a small tug of a smile.

“Why tell me all of this in the first place?” Jamil knew he had already asked multiple questions at this point, but he had to know. He had to know everything that made up the strange magicless student across from him even more than he wanted to conceal himself. There was just an insatiable need to be their confidant, an archive of Mac Trivia, to just be anything xey let him be. It was strange and powerful and scared him almost as much as they intrigued him. It was an emotional tight-rope he never expected to need to walk, even now, as he studied his companion’s reaction.

“Because even if I do forget it all again, maybe I won’t have to loose myself entirely. Maybe then at least a part of my story will live on and be remembered. Why would people tell stories or gossip or do anything at all, if not for it to be at least remembered by someone?”

They both took a quiet moment to contemplate the sudden serious tone. It wasn’t the fighting or finger-pointing from earlier, but the air felt different from before. Like the next topic, which was Jamil’s to choose, would make or break the tension that was floating around all day between the two of them.

But what in the Twisted Wonderland was he supposed to ask zer after all that?!

There were so many things that still remained a mystery when it came to who Mac was or where they were from (or even why they were sent here in the first place). An uncountable amount of possible questions sped through the 2nd year’s head, trying desperately to pick the right one.

But this—this moment—was an opening to move forward from any awkwardness. Moving past the caring, nosy nuisance to a bond made of understanding. And if Jamil was honest, something he rarely was but making an effort today, than there was really only one specific he needed to know in the moment:

“The sun or the moon?”

“Huh?”

He had blurted it out less like a question and more as an overall demand. An unconscious hiss slipping from between his twisted lips and tempting tongue. Truly, an oversight considering how much the Scarabia resident was overthinking his options… he somehow lost control of his words.

“Sorry! Um… I meant to say, are you a day or night person? Basically do you prefer the Sun or the moon?” Jamil internally cursed himself as he back-pedaled. The earlier courage lost and desperately hoping to skirt passed awkward tension that might follow.

“Bullshit.” Oh for Seven’s Sake!

Mac slowly let xeir eyes glide over each of Jamil’s facial features. Thinking. Analyzing. Committing to memory the very real, very vulnerable intensity the original question had posed.

“The Sun and Moon are considered two halves of a whole, even if they aren’t necessary opposites; why should they be compared in the first place? Why put two celestial bodies against each other? Figuratively or metaphorically.”

Suddenly, the non-native Twistian held the same intensity as Jamil’s initial slip had if not more. It was the stubborn authority he felt in the laundry room—the same focus and need to understand. To be understood. To struggle with the truth while desperately, insistently, needing it to be said.

It scared him. More than hostage situations or poison testing, Mac scared and impressed Jamil more than he could describe. The fact that they were saying exactly what he needed to hear since he was 6-year-old.

“What’s so special about the moon? The sun will always outshine the moon—it can’t even make it’s own light. Then forced into the shadows without the Sun’s light.” He stated in response, trying to opposing his shaken heartbeat, but his tone sounded recited. It was a line he’d told himself time and time again as a mantra from his parents.

“I don’t think so,” the Ramshackle Perfect answered as simply as breathing, “because the moon is beautiful and mysterious and needed. It can do things even the sun cannot. Yes, the sun is beautiful and lovely and celebrated—but I don’t think you understand just how important the Moon is!”

Jamil responded in the last possible way either students expected him to: laughing his ass off. It was hand to describe any undertones of his laughter, but it wasn’t cruel or crazed like when he overblotted. A familiar bite of bitterness lingered in the air while the body of his laughter rang with astonished sincerity.

This was not the same Vice Warden that had tried to scheme against his childhood friend for a small taste of freedom. It wasn’t the snippy, exasperated retainer simply building back his reputation. Nor was it the frustrated, closed off second year that had been yelling all bout how the Perfect didn’t understand him.

He finally felt a little more free, placated and relieved, now that he’s taken a moment to grow. To learn. To feel and be validated in being his own person. Allowed to be better and show it to someone; show himself, at least partially, to Mac.

------

I hope you’ve enjoyed the story so far!! This is one of the longest fiction works I think I’ve committed to! I’m between two different songs to round this story out (Blue Moon by Billie Holiday or Here Comes The Sun by George Harrison) but I have an ongoing playlist of songs that remind me of Jamil. Some of them are jokes or ironic, some a little bit more spiteful, and others that really embody aspects of his character… at least to me lol! Feel free to add random songs that make you think of Jamil and if it’s not already in the monster of a thing.

[walkman-cat]

hands up tell me abt Your star trek au right now!! on the double bro. what are the tensions it all looks too kind & magical i don’t trust it yet

(if it is literally kind & wonderful i am grateful i am thankful i am honored i’d just like to hear more)

-@jack-kellys

i'm ngl my star trek au au is mostly running on vibes wbwbwb so it is pretty kind and happy and warm (i just really like how much everyone in the enterprise's crew has such a respect and care for each other yknow. found family and all that innit).

that being said, here are some funky things about the characters ive been thinking about lately (under a cut because i'm incapable of being concise):

the stars were essentially jack's santa fe. he grew up surrounded by stories of starship captains and space and it became his lifelong dream and ambition to captain a starship, something which he dropped everything to attain. now he is captain of a starship– one of the youngest in starfleet's history– and it's wonderful and fantastic and he's never felt more alive! but there's always something gnawing at the back of his mind (he's based his entire life up until this point around this moment, it was a driving force and a beacon to look up to when times were tough. what if the experience is nothing like his dreams and he ends up disappointed? what happens when the mission's over? what'll become of him?).

also starfleet's assigned him a galaxy-class starship with families onboard and he's having a Time because of it (what if they get hurt under his watch. what if he gives the wrong order and a child dies. starfleet officers know the risks of space travel and are aware of this but the families. the children). other than that he's having a great time !!

kath's half-betazoid on her mother's side, but she never knew her mother nor has she ever been to betazoid (i really went woe! being mixed and only connected to one of your cultures but still being unable to fit in even there because of the fact that you're mixed be upon ye!). she's trying real hard to learn more about betazoid and who her mother is even though she knows she won't really feel like she "belongs" in betazoid either. she's working on understanding and using her empathic/telepathic powers more.

oh also!! pulitzer is a notorious and not-well liked admiral, when kath joined the acedmy she officially had her name changed to plumber and has since told no-one that they're related (this surely won't backfire terribly on her in the future)

also because this is the spot (cat) show, kath loves spot (cat) and wants to babysit her and play with her but alas. she is allergic to cats

race cannot catch a break– he's got a massive losing streak at senior officer poker night, spot (cat) hates him, he can't grow a beard but every time theres an impostor/clone/mirror universe situation the other version of him always has a beard (this is half in jest but also it amuses me wbwb)

jokes aside, i've been having a whole bunch of race as first officer thoughts (and a lot of riker and race parallel thoughts but. that's another story). i don’t really know how to explain it other than the way riker acts in the last episode of tng season two (yes, the riker montage episode) when facing death (joking around and keeping up the appearance of flippancy and courage in the face of agonising death because he’s first officer and there are people who look up to him and he has to set an example) seemed very race and very kony to me, in a way. (youve got this to blame for riker beard race. im not sorry)

race is also one of the first people to advocate for les becoming acting ensign. he makes it very clear that he's in les' corner and makes himself responsible for his studies and sometimes his training (and he teaches him poker).

OH ALSO! sarah and davey didnt know les ws going to be onboard and only found out about his presence after they'd set off. did he sneak onboard?? mayyyybeee (he just really wants to be a starfleet officer). after the initial shock (and notifying their parents) sarah and davey start the Let Les on the Bridge campaign (letting him watch the bridge from the turbolift, helping out in sciences and engineering, etc etc) the that eventually leads to les becoming acting ensign. it reaches a point where most of jack's senior officers would probably mutiny all for this kid.

there's more stuff but i'll stop rambling now because, again, i have a problem with being concise wbwbw. thankyou soso much for the ask rizz once again i love your star trek au so much and am always eager to hear more wbwbw!!! :D

[nicepersondisorder]

What is your favourote and least favourite character from hazbin? Would you change anything about them?

THANK YOU FOR QUESTION !!

i have MANY favorite characters from hazbin !! depending on the traits and the lense we're sorting them by

they're all so interesting and cool!! charchar is amazing and i love how she refuses to give up and sees good in everyone (AND HER VOICE ACTOR IS SO GOOD. SHE HAS SUCH PRETTY VOICE.). she's determined and goal oriented and her dreams are so good and while she has issues and problems, she's genuinely such a good person. i also like the fact that she's a sweet bubbly character, but she still doesn't shy away from swearing and she was shown to lose her cool several times. i love her. i really should reblog more arts with her. okkkk once i finish writing this answer i will go and queue more arts with my babygirl !!!! o7

have i told i love charlie? yeah? i love her. i love her a lot. sorry. next segment

in the next segment we have "pathetic losers", which has two sub-types: "dorks" and "just genuinely pathetic. like. good lord they're so fucking pathetic. (/neg)."

at the top is lucifer ! he's a fascinating critter. he goes in the "dorks" category, but he is really pathetic. dipping toes in the second category even! loser <3 (speaking of losers, i LOVE husk's design. no i'm not biased because he's a cat what are you talking about !!)(i'm lying)(don't have a special opinion on his overall character though, sowwy </3). ANYWAY continuing with lucifer! majority of the scenes with him were Physically Painful to watch due to Second Hand Embarrassment (also i did skip almost all of the episode due to Reasons tm. i need to go and actually watch it. sloooowly). his "TAKE THAT DEPRESSION" lives rent fee in my brain and reminds me of a "could a depressed person make this?" meme. he's pathetic wet beast of a man and while i dislike his absence and flippancy towards his daughter, i understand him (LOL). im also extremely depressed 🤝. that doesn't excuse his actions but i do get why he acts the way he acts. also i don't have "more than anything" playing on repeat. don't look at my music app

second in the "dorks" category is sir pentious! not gushing about him as much as about charchar or lucifer, but he is just so. he evokes cuteness agression in me. i need to make a balloon animal out of him. he is such a nerd. i loved him when the pilot came out (the only character from pilot i drew in 2019 actually!)(you should be honored sirsnake!!). he's not on the list of my favorite favorite characters, i just thought i'd include him since i brought up the "dorks" subtype.

breaking the segment to talk how i find charlie endearing. she's such a sweetheart..... she can do it i believe in her and her dreams <33 (sir pent DID get redeemed after all!!!! the hotel is working !!). she's so silly. love her. ok moving to subtype "pathetic /neg"

the one and only character in this category is vox. he's so fucking pathetic. tearing my hair out i LOVE him for this. okay so i might be a liiiiitle bit unfair to him BUT . his crush on alastor is just so. shaking crying i don't have words for this. he has such bad taste in men (affectionate). AND THE WAY HE ACTS ABOUT IT IS ALSO SO PATHETIC. "oh i learned that the guy who i have love(unrequited)/hate relationship with is back from 7 years absence??? i must broadcast how i don't care about him at all IMMEDIATELY". has the vibe from the joke i've heard somewhere "i've been chasing you for seven miles to tell you how much i don't care about you" or something like that, don't remember the exact wordinb unfortunately 😔. he IS a cool character tho. i love his design, im really weak for tv headed characters. i could run doom on him.sorry. also his powers are sick as fuck!!! but he's so pathetic it's easy to froget how much influence he has an how strong he is.i want to pick him apart on the vivisection table. sorry again. no im not

okay ! next category! "fucking dick holy shit". valentino. he's So Terrible. i need him boiled in oil and i also hate him and i like him and i hope he dies ten thousand deaths and i want to see him suffer. kind of niffty-like type of like for him! he's really fascinating in the worst way possible and he's like. hmmmm im not sure how to put it? he's a genuinely good character (NOT person, two different things) and he can be both absolutely terrible vile etc etc, there are scenes shown that humanize him, which i think is also a good thing, because irl abusers are not one dimensional, and so fictinal ones also shouldn't be, especially in a show that wants to bring up serious themes correctly. controversial opinion but people bitching about how val's design is wasted on him are completely missing the point. yeah.

um! moving on !

there are more characters that i Like, but if i'd be listing them all im afraid itd take years 😭 like you asked for one (1) favorite character and i wrote you a whole essay LMAO

and i don't think i have a least favorite character? it takes too much energy to dislike a character that i don't have XD (i do have a slight distate for alastor, but it's for personal 🍎 reasons so i'm not gonna include him in the post! or in the tags)

nvm i lied i don't like zestial. i Can Not understand what he's saying 💔 bless the subtitles ! that's a silly "least favorite character" don't take it seriously !

ALMOST FORGOT TO ANSWER THE SECOND QUESTION. i don't think i'd change anything about the characters !! except maybe making zestial's speech more understandable. please bitches with auditory processing issues can't understand what you're saying zestial please im begginb you on my knees WHAT ARE YOU SAYING

[vigilskeep]

What's Evrion like with the rest of the Kirkwall crew? Is there anyone he gets alone with super well? Is there anyone he can't stand?

i’ll flesh these out when i write up some banter but preliminary thoughts!!

for the mages, evrion supports anders’ goals more than any of the other companions but also, you know, the obvious unavoidable tensions of him being a straight up mage hunter. i would say early tension in act 1 as they figure this out -> more of a friendship in act 2 -> breakdown again in act 3 where despite him trying to reach out, anders can’t trust him and closes off. with merrill he’s wary of blood magic yes but he doesn’t know now what to believe of what he’s been taught and he also knows more about blood magic—from hunting blood mages, admittedly—than most of the others which is a dynamic i’m really interested in writing. (his mother also potentially having been a maleficar...)

he gets on worst with aveline who he sees as the true believer in the sigil on her armour that he used to be, if that makes sense. i also can’t see him doing great with sebastian for similar reasons although i think they have a little more common ground with the chantry and everything

i think he has a pretty easy friendship with both fenris and isabela. i would say he’s a little serious at first for isabela’s tastes and in turn startled by her flippancy, gets more comfortable around her as the game goes on until they’re joking around easy as anything by the end of the game. i’m fascinated by the idea of him and fenris discussing anything i think i have to do some writing to figure out that dynamic

varric he gets on well with, i think varric kind of wants to look after him and get him out of his own head like he does with a lot of them, bring out that lighter side. evrion feels indebted to him for helping with the lyrium as well. sometimes varric finds evrion’s seriousness and like moral considerations a little intense and discomfiting, will immediately try to lighten the mood or dodge the subject

[amischiefofdeets]

BLITZØ

>--------------------------------------<

CHARACTER SUMMARY

>--------------------------------------<

Blitzø is a deeply traumatized imp constantly trying to prove himself to those around him, while also sabotaging his relationships left right and center. He can't fathom anyone actually caring about him, so often treats relationships with a flippancy that isn't appropriate Most of his time is spent doing something for his company, Immediate Murder Professionals, who are hired to take out targets in the living world for those who have already passed.

>--------------------------------------<

MUSE DETAILS

>--------------------------------------<

Name: Blitzø Buckzo Nicknames: Blitz Race: Imp Born: [Unknown] Age: [Unknown] Height: 5'4 Gender: Male Sexuality: Pan Location: Pride Ring in Hell Occupation: Owner of I.M.P. Abilities: Skilled with various weaponry, capable fighter, charismatic (even if he is an ass) Reputation: Most think Blitzø is an asshole, especially given the amount of people he's hurt with his disregard for others feelings. Those who work with him still think he's an asshole but at least know he has more heart than one might think. Mental state: Deeply traumatized, he blames himself for his mother's death and believes he doesn't deserve anything good, much less to have people like him.

Scars: White scarred skin on right side of his face, along with countless patches of scarred skin all over his body, with large patches from palm to mid forearm. Tattoos: Brand/Tattoo/Marking of a heart-like symbol on his forehead. Alignment: Chaotic neutral Goals: Make I.M.P. successful, keep his team together, try to find happiness Hobbies: Collecting horse-themed items, cooking, watching horse-themed shows Likes: His little work 'family', horses, sex, killing, telling nasty jokes to make Moxxie squirm Dislikes: Having nothing to do, being still for too long, having to be polite Family: Loona Buckzo - Adopted daughter Barbie Buckzo - Sister (Estranged) Cash Buckzo - Father (Estranged) Unnamed mother (Deceased)

>--------------------------------------<

VERSES

>--------------------------------------<

#BALLOON ANIMALS - Set during his childhood in the circus up to later teens.

Blitzø was never particularly skilled with the safe showmanship of the circus, his balloon animals never worked, his humor was too crude or focused on topics that never captured the audience. It's a rough time growing up second fiddle in they eyes of your own father, especially to someone who isn't even his son. Still Blitzø spends most of his time with Fizzarolli, being silly children - as long as they're not busy performing.

#SCRAMBLING TO THE TOP - Set during his time before IMP, from the accident to just before IMP began.

His mom died in a circus fire, one started by Blitzø himself - unintentionally. But this makes him lose everything. Barbie won't talk to him, his dad pushes him away and even Fizz says he wants nothing to do with him, at least according to his father. So he starts fresh, decides he'll make a life for himself killing people. Before IMP he focused instead on hits within Hell, taking out anyone that he's paid to.

#IMMEDIATE MURDER PROFESSIONALS - Set from starting IMP to current day.

Forming his company wasn't easy, he'd fought tooth and nail to set it up and find the right people to work with him. Now they're doing well, regularly getting payments to go up to Earth and kill specific targets. Unfortunately his love life is down the drain, he feels alone and has realised that all the time he spent pushing others away was cruel, even if he was trying to spare himself hurt. Maybe, just maybe, he'll realise he can't keep being selfish. Not anymore.

>--------------------------------------<

TAGS

>--------------------------------------<

Main tag - Headcanons - Ask tag  Likes - Aesthetics - Musings - Wardrobe

RELATIONSHIP TAGS

TBA