#i assume other people are here to do that too - even when our modes of enjoyment look very different

[panharmonium]

What do you think about this: "Kakashi was never interested in Sasuke as an individual, he only projected himself into him and saw a smaller version of himself on Sasuke, Sasuke was never Sasuke to him, just a little Kakashi". I wanted to know your opinion because I miss your meta posts and I feel like lately people are hating Kakashi for things that aren't real :/, also you are really good at explaining and I feel that both characters need love

Hello! Thanks for the question!

The answer to "what do i think about this" is, honestly, that I don't think about it X) I watched the whole show without engaging with the fandom at all (for fear of spoilers, initially), so I was able to experience it without being exposed to anyone else's thoughts, and now that I'm done I generally still avoid poking around, because devoting mental energy to opinions that I find bizarre/not supported by the text doesn't enhance my fandom experience.

Kakashi and Sasuke's relationship is one of the most compelling things about the series to me. I was very surprised when I finished the show/manga and first exposed myself to the fandom only to find so few people invested in them, but at this point I've (mostly) stopped asking myself "what show was everyone else watching" and just settled into enjoying the show that I watched, because that's more fun for me. I can't convince people not to dislike Kakashi if that's what they want to do. I do find it a little weird, because I don't think that's what the story is asking from us, but as long as people mind their business and aren't bugging me on my own blog, they're free to do what they want.

I know it can be frustrating when there are people hating various characters for "things that aren't real," but the fact that these criticisms aren't "real" is precisely why I generally avoid engaging with them. For Kakashi, specifically, there are certain things people can say that will immediately make me stop taking them seriously - "projecting" is one. "Bootlicking" is another, but again, these terms are so wildly inaccurate that I'm not interested in talking about them. The manga and the show are easily accessible; if people want to rewatch/re-read them, they can.

In general, I just prefer to avoid engaging with most of the fandom negativity I see. I think overall most of the rancor I've stumbled across boils down to people engaging with the story in very ungenerous ways, if that makes sense, and that's not how I prefer to read/watch things. Like - back when I was still in the middle of watching the show, I remember someone sent me a message saying that they loved seeing me talk about the story with earnestness/joy, and it was such a lovely message to receive, but it also made me pause and wonder for a second if this was really an uncommon enough thing to be remarked upon. Wouldn't that be the default? Aren't we all here because we love the story and the characters so much? But the truth is that sometimes it does feel like large chunks of fandom spaces (not just Naruto, I mean; I've certainly experienced this elsewhere) are very focused on being negative about "things that aren't real," as you said. Like - people calling Sakura "abusive" for bopping Naruto on the head when he says something rude, when this is not something the text is even remotely trying to say about her. People writing off Jiraiya's entire storyline because of the non-consensual spying on women - which, yes, of course, is disgusting and wrong. Obviously. I am very aware of that. However, I can simultaneously recognize that the story isn't really interested in that or intending me to read it like that; the voyeurism is written as a joke (yes, I understand how gross that is) and there are a hundred potential personal and/or patriarchal and/or genre-related and/or cultural factors that may have gone into Kishimoto writing this particular fail. If I want to understand and appreciate what the story was ACTUALLY trying to communicate with Jiraiya (that he's an idealist who gave up on the world when everything went wrong, who turned to shallow pleasures of the flesh to distract him from the pain of his disillusionment, and who was finally restored to his former faith after meeting Naruto), then I have to mindfully set the voyeurism aside and go, "This writer wrote a gross thing, and I recognize that, but I'm also not going to fixate on it, because I can simultaneously appreciate/find meaning in what he was really trying to say."

I think some of the Kakashi complaints out there very much fall under this umbrella. If I have to see one more person frothing at the mouth about Kakashi briefly tying Sasuke (a qualified ninja who has already demonstrated his ability to escape rope restraints and whom Kakashi has been individually mentoring, sparring against, and connecting with for a month) to a tree for approximately sixty seconds - honestly. I don't know how to tell people they're missing the point, so I don't bother.

Ultimately, the fact of the matter is that people are entitled to dislike any character that they want, even for contrived reasons. As long as they're doing their own thing in their own space and letting me do my thing in mine, we're good.

[sleeplesssmol]

Vertin's personality and traits based on in-game context.

Contains Spoilers.

Will update when I find more tidbits about our beloved Timekeeper.

Updated: March 15 2024

Vertin sucks at math.

Not much to say here. Although, this is another difference between her and Sonetto, who loves math. I hope they do something with this later because it'd be fun.

Vertin is 16 confirmed

While this isn't a personality trait, I did see some debate about her age since it wasn't officials stated until now and it was assumed through context. Prisoner in the Cave explicitly confirms her age. Vertin became Timekeeper when she was 12 and has been the the TK for the past 4 years.

Vertin is a pianist and a painter.

You can see a piano in the back of her office in the Suitcase by the window. It makes sense in regards to Vertin's musically inclined Arcanum. There's an easel and stool in her office too. She doesn't merely collect art, she creates it. Vertin also owns a camera (official artwork released) too and mentions her photography in the begining, so this isn't new but I thought I should add it.

Vertin's still playful under all her composure.

We know baby Vertin was a little menace, but we can still see a spark of that mischief in her later years. For example, Vertin slapping a fake mustache on Regulus to avoid Sonetto really captures this. We can tell from other characters' voice lines that Vertin will most likely play along with their shenanigans. She'll chirp like a bird in response to Rabies talking about his bird friends (Wilderness interaction). She'll help Sonetto during hide and seek (Wilderness). She watches movies with Eternity and An An Lee. X asks her for help with his projects. Going through her crew's voice lines really paints a better picture of how she interacts with others. The voice lines point to someone playful and curious when she's not in work mode.

Vertin was a gremlin.

Vertin's love language is giving.

We know baby Vertin loved to give gifts to a reluctant Sonetto, but that part of her still exists. She tried to grant everyone's last wishes during the 1929 Storm. We also know she gives Lilya alcohol as a gift upon her return from 1929. She is also very direct. We see her ask people what they want or what can she do for them throughout the story. To expand further, you could say she likes fulfilling people's desires instead of limiting it to material gifts. We can see more of instances of this during the Green Lake event, especially in the way she protects Jessica from the Foundation. She also tried to get Regulus funding for a ship. I love the Suitcase Dad meme, but it's rooted in nuggets of truth.

She was a crappy student, yet she was also a resourceful gremiln. Vertin never liked the institution! Honor student? Top of the class? Never. Teachers are filled with that "Godamnit Vertin" energy toward her too. I hope we see more gremlin energy in the future.

One-sided childhood friends.

Vertin is a collector.

Sonetto and Vertin were desk mates but Sonetto couldn't stand Vertin when they were kids. She even tried to avoid Vertin at times but Vertin persisted with her gifts. We can see this in the hallway scene. Sonetto's about to change routes to avoid Vertin but Vertin called out to her to give her a frog she caught. Kinda funny how Sonetto can't stand Vertin but also can't resist her when they were kids. Vertin and Matilda were actually closer back then. Well, at least until the tear gas incident. Sonetto changed after Vertin was hurt and the rascal wasn't around to bother her. I feel like this tidbit says a lot about Vertin and her influence on people.

Baby Vertin collected rocks, bugs, and frogs. Adult Vertin collects painting and mementos of people she's lost. Things were simpler as a kid.

Vertin is stronger than she looks.

She was a wild child and she's still got it years later. Vertin can run for long periods of time, endure injuries, and climb obstacles. That, and she's still essentially a child solider. We see her hold her own when she needs to fight solo doing stuff like dodging bullets. Sonetto and Matilda also exhibit these freakishly athletic traits, especially Sonetto.

Vertin befriends people in every Era, despite knowing she'll lose them.

Compared to the other children raised by the Foundation, Vertin's traveled the world and witnessed loss in every Era. This opens doors to a whole new set of questions. How did she change over time? How do the Arcanists she recruited before the story treat her? Did she have crushes in previous Eras? Were the oranges just as bitter? Vertin seems to get close to people very easily and doesn't build walls around herself despite the trauma. You'd think someone who's lost so much would stop trying to get close to people, but she doesn't.

Vertin is optimistic.

Even as a child, she was full of hope. It's why she fights for the future and is a core part of her personality. She needs to fight for all those she lost and stop the Storm from taking more lives.

Vertin gets quiet when embarrassed/shy.

She'll blush and fall silent, but she doesn't stammer or go all tsundere. We can see this in voice lines. Sonetto's high praises make her cover her face with her hands. Eternity gets a reaction out of her when she holds her hand. She also blushed when she received surprise smooch and fell silent.

Vertin has a unique scar on her back.

Vertin is a tactile person.

Arcana mentions the scar after Vertin was shot multiple times in the back by Schneider. It's a big scar and new theories about the scar are ongoing and interesting!

In several voice line interactions, Vertin is patting people's heads or holding their hands. Not all her crew mates are on board with it, some seem confused, and others play along. We can also see examples in story like her handing Sonetto a frog while gently grasping her hand or her taking Regulus's hand to lead her into the Suitcase. Here is a post with the evidence to back this claim.

Vertin sucks at arcanum but her deep understanding of arcanum is uncanny.

The story mentions her weak arcanum skills throughout the story. They really want you to remember this. Also, her arcanum didn't manifest until sometime after the break away event but before the events in the prologue. During her stay in the guardhouse, she doubts if she's even an arcanist and mentions her arcanum has yet to manifest, which is wild. Smoltin is fighting with her tiny hands and wit in this chapter. However, in the prologue it's mentioned Vertin's understanding of arcanum and her perception makes her unique amongst arcanists. She's also considered more "rationale" than other arcanists. You can read more about this here.

Vertin is stealthy.

Smoltin sneaks around to play outside. She steals food for herself and the Ring from the Staff Canteen, which has better quality food than what the kids get. This tells me she's done this before. Adult Vertin also sneaks around the Walden to find Schneider. She makes maps, tracks guard routes, and avoids detection since whe was a kid.

Tooth Fairy was one of the few Foundation members who cared about Vertin.

Tooth Fairy is the one who gave Smoltin the toffees (chit chat voicelines). She also covered for Vertin on a few occasions to protect her from punishment. She remembers Vertin faking her illness to skip class, but her bruises and wounds were real. The Foundation does have a few kind hearts that genuinely care about the children. The causes of Vertin's injuries is up to speculation.

[kaibutsushidousha]

Another Danganronpa linguistics-based post that has been about as long overdue as the name study post is the post about the language nuances of Fujisaki's unusual gender situation. I'm genuinely surprised I never got a direct question about this, even when the Danganronpa Translation Critique tag was still active, but one post about the subject in this site and a conversation about it elsewhere (read: a place where can easily copypaste my own explanations from) inspired me to finally put this one out. This used to be a heated topic a decade ago, so there's probably too many disclaimers to be made with this one, so assume I made every one you need to read this study in good faith. Thank you.

I guess I need to start with a general explanation of first-person pronouns. I imagine a lot of people know this part already since it's an omnipresent aspect of the language, but it never hurts to review the basics. Japanese has multiple first-person pronouns instead of the single "I" English has. A person's choice of pronoun informs things about their gender, age, social status, and relationship to the person they're speaking to. In theory, there are maybe over 40. In practice, there are only 3, maybe 6 depending on your standards for what counts as "commonly seen". In modern Japanese, most pronouns are things you only find in fiction.

The three genuinely common first-person pronouns are the traditionally masculine boku and ore, and the gender-neutral watashi. Watashi can be easily mistaken for feminine since that's what women default to in every situation due to the lack of other options, but it's a truly neutral formal pronoun that men are using all the time in professional situations. It's especially relevant here that watashi is not inherently feminine in any way.

Now to the relevant question. What pronoun Fujisaki uses for himself? The answer is boku, a markedly masculine pronoun, the same our male protagonist uses. This can be seen in Mondo's flashback with him, in the scenes contained his inner thoughts, the bonus mode/game scenes that have his secret revealed, and if that counts, how Alter-Ego talks as him.

Fujisaki's boku is a traditionally masculine pronoun, so he obviously didn't use it before the reveal. It's easy to spot this and call it a pronoun switch. These kinds of pronoun switches are a very common language trick and come in all sorts of circumstances in other stories, but Fujisaki's case becomes a lot more intriguing when you verify what it was changed from.

The expected answer is watashi. It's the perfectly gender-neutral pronoun, but it's a pronoun women use far more commonly than any feminine-specific pronouns. It's a perfect fit for the disguise and it's very easy to honestly say Fujisaki has no reason to feel any dysphoria using watashi as a man. It's something his male peers are expected to do when talking to teachers and that they'll need to do in their jobs as adults. But Fujisaki never says watashi before or after the reveals.

The actual answer is none. Fujisaki omits pronouns in every line of dialogue he has alive. Omitting pronouns is a completely normal part of dialogue in Japanese, so doing it 100% of the time is not something people normally do, but it is something you can get away with in Japanese without raising many eyebrows.

This 24/7 pronoun omission has always been a fascinating dialogue quirk to me because in my 12 years consuming stuff as a Japanese student and translator, this is something that I've never seen done before or after, and something no translation of DR1 could convey properly in English. It's a truly unique case as far as I'm aware.

Makes this gimmick work requires an extra level of attention and sometimes getting creative with phrasing, both in Kodaka writing out-of-universe and in Fujisaki speaking in-universe. Genuine work was put into making Fujisaki fiercely refusing to refer to himself with anything less than a fully masculine pronoun, no matter how much he felt "undeserving" of his gender.

Anyway, that's pretty much all on the side of Fujisaki's own self-expression. The question I'm mostly copypasting my own answer from was "which characters used which gender expressions in chapter 2" and I yapped about Fujisaki's own answer because that's the special and unique description trick that frequently occupies my mind, but I guess I'll drop the answer here as well.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first point to be relevant is that many characters, including our PoV Naegi, use the honorifics san for the girls and kun for the boys. Naegi is the first to address Fujisaki after the reveal and he sticks to the san he always used. This continues even after the flashbacks give the full context of Fujimaru's situation.

Next, Celes mentions Fujisaki as "Fujisaki... kun", taking a big pause to indicate intent on the pronoun switch and attention to the habits she's trying to unlearn. Kirigiri, Geno, and Ishimaru also refer to Fujisaki in unambiguously masculine terms before Oowada reveals any of Fujisaki's perspectives on the matter. The rest don't say anything gendered, which is easy to do because Japanese is a really easy language to be gender-neutral on (this says a lot about the choices of the characters who did pick gendered words, perhaps).

How Oowada and Junko (Monokuma) address gender is discussed directly in the trial so I don't think I need to cover it here. They're also the only ones with full context during the trial, so it's not comparable to the 4 above deciding Fujisaki's gender based on fragmentary information.

And the last relevant new factor is Alter-Ego, who refers to its creator as "Goshujin-tama", aside from regularly using he/him. Goshujin-sama used by servants to address the specifically male lords they work for. As maids became a staple anime trope, you probably heard this one coming from a fetishized maid character. The reason why I'm specifying this is that Alter-Ego calls Fujisaki "Goshujin-tama" instead of "Goshujin-sama". The "honorific" tan is a variation of the classic honorific san, used primarily by otaku to address their anime waifus. The -tama there is a -sama equivalent of that. The blatant implication there is that Fujisaki designed his subservient digital clone to be attracted to him, which is categorically weird. That's another character element that the localization doesn't bother trying to convey, opting for a mostly sanitized "Master" as Alter-Ego's title of choice of Chihiro.

Then the next game has AI Nanami referring both to Fujisaki as her father and Alter-Ego as her brother, and I'm closing the post here because I'd rather not to think about how that makes Alter-Ego's title of choice weirder.

[hyacinthusmemorial]

is it only me, who goes like "Apollo must have flashback to hyacinth dying , when he saw Achilles and dead Patroclus,

Am I the only one who thinks of this? Okay

If that’s your personal head canon, go right ahead. Believe what you want to, nobody will stop you. 👍😉 I think its definitely a sweet sentiment, and a fun little brain worm.

But, I don’t think Apollo would react that way for for quite a few reasons. The first is mythology and the second is psychology and the third is genre.

The mythological reason is that Apollo is directly and purposefully responsible for Patroclus’s death, and he definitely hates Achilles. Like actually. The List of Top Ten People Apollo hates has Achilles twice on it. If he was in a room with Hitler, Stalin, and Achilles, and he had a gun with two bullets in it, he would shoot Achilles twice. He wants Achilles to suffer, and when Patroclus dies he tells Hector that he’s the third guy to kill him, but Apollo was the first to kill him. Because I think everyone in the Trojan war knows Apollo and Achilles hate each other. Apollo because Achilles murdered his sons (plural) and Achilles because he knows Apollo’s going to kill him. Reasons for their bitter rivalry can be found in this post here. There are more probably too.

As far as the psychological aspect, let’s assume Apollo’s psyche is like a human’s (which I do not think it totally is, but that’s another post). Trauma and Grief are two completely separate experiences. Grief is a normal human thing which we are given excellent coping skills to overcome by nature. People die. It’s a fact of life. But, HOW people die can be traumatic. For example, if your in a war and you watch your buddy die from a mine exploding and he doesn’t die right away, that’s traumatic. The grief is still separate from the trauma. Its closely aligned, but its separate. Trauma on the other hand is a situation that humans are not equipped to handle—its a situation outside the psychological norm. So our brain adapts normally to an abnormal situation.

I think the only true similarity between Patrochilles/Hyapollo deaths is that they were gay and one of them died before the other. If anything, Apollo was feeling a little vindictive when Patroclus died. He was the arm of fate that killed Patroclus, and Achilles absolutely deserved the death and destruction of everything he held dear in my POV. He was a serial assaulter and a war criminal.

Another reason why flashbacks just don’t work is because flashbacks are a trauma response. I think there’s a separate issue where one might live in the memories of a loved one’s passing, but that’s separate from a flashbacks. Flashbacks from PTSD are when the subconscious fear overwhelms the conscious. It requires a trigger, which can be anything and sinister—subtle and terrible. We know from the ancient authors that one of Apollo’s trigger is a westerly wind. @gingermintpepper had an excellent post providing several sources about Apollo’s approach to Hyacinthus and Asclepius’s deaths.

A flashback is a fear response in a situation that does not require this response based off of a trigger that puts the sub-conscious into a flight/fight mode and makes someone relive a previous traumatic experience. So for example Apollo might feel a western wind and relive Hyacinthus’s death or fear that Zephyrus is about to hurt him or the person he is with. This also depends on coping skills, and whether the person has developed grounding skills to put them back in the present.

I don’t believe that the situation with Patroclus/Achilles is triggering in the right way to elicit a flashback in Apollo. Patroclus and Achilles deaths are pretty different from Hyacinthus’s. So even if he had a grief response it would be minimal. At least from my perspective, one of my parents died when I was a child, and I had to take care of them while they were sick. I take care of a lot of sick people in my day to day, and I will say I rarely ever experience something that puts me back into the mode I was in when my parent died. I walk past the room my parent died in sometimes, cause I work in the hospital that they died in, and I am alright because I recognize the situation and I’m able to accept they died there. Alternatively, what does illicit a response in me is a certain smell my parent had when they were dying. I recognize it in patients sometimes, and I can have a visceral response to that, but again, I have learned how to appropriately deal with these sorts of things because “improve, adapt, overcome.”

Trauma is absolutely just a part of living in the world. Everyone has their own life story and troubles and triggers and struggles. But I don’t think Apollo/Hyacinthus connects to Patroclus/Achilles in any intense way.

Alternatively, I think perhaps something Apollo might have a more visceral response to is Hermes and Crocus, who are quite nearly the same dang story. That’s Apollo’s brother, and he loses someone the same way Apollo lost someone. That would open up gateways of intense suffering.

As far as genre goes, Apollo and Hyacinthus have a horror story parading as a romance story. Zephyrus is a sinister, invisible monster—he causes violence in a place where violence does not belong. On the other hand, Patroclus/Achilles is a war story—violence is expected. They both absolutely knew they were going to fie in that war, so their agony is expected from the beginning. Hyacinthus’s loss is unexpected and therefore, grievous. Not that losing your lover/cousin in a war is less horrific—it’s just prepared for, while losing your lover in a meadow while playing discus is…not.

I don’t mean that your personal view is wrong in anyway. Apollo is a divine character and anybody can have any view of him they would like. A lot of people view him as the antagonist of the Iliad and Achilles’ story, which to me, he just isn’t. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I love perspectives and opinions. I like sharing mine, so I love it when people share theirs.

[charliegyrth]

Alex Gets Soft - Part 7

My Tastes Have Changed

Read Part 6 here.

I woke up the next morning to Alex whimpering. He was standing on the scale.

It was a disappointed whimper.

“What’s wrong?”

“184,” he said. “I guess that’s my real starting weight.” He stepped off the scale and walked toward me. His belly was still swollen, but not as much as the night before.

“You look good,” I tried to encourage him.

“I know.” He placed his hands on his hips and pushed out his stomach a bit further. “Feel great, too.”

“Really? You’re not sluggish or…?”

“Nope.”

Today was the first Monday of the month, which was a busy day for both of us. I had a few Zoom meetings scheduled before noon and I think Alex had some spreadsheets he needed to work on.

We each had separate offices in our house so we wouldn’t distract each other. I fixed myself oatmeal for breakfast, but Alex made a pile of biscuits and gravy for himself. Even though he didn’t engage in any late-night snacking (can you imagine?), he still struggled to get everything down.

I wanted to remind him not to push himself too hard, but I didn’t. He knew his limits. At least, I hoped he did.

I washed our plates after he had licked everything clean. Neither of us needed to log in to work yet, so I figured I’d take my time getting ready and then scroll a bit through Instagram.

Alex stopped me before I got to the bathroom. “Babe, this is usually when I work out.”

“You never work out on Monday,” I corrected him.

“Well, after this weekend, I really want to. And since I can’t…” He looked at me with his typical cheeky grin. “Do you mind?”

“Fine.”

We went to the home gym. My arms and chest were still sore from the day before, so Alex guided me through how he would typically do his “leg day.” It wasn’t as enjoyable as “arm day,” but I was able to get through it.

Alex didn’t do as much snacking while I worked out, but he managed another box and a half of Girl Scout cookies. Tagalongs, the peanut butter ones. (Not sure where he found those. We hadn’t gotten them at Sam’s Club.)

When we were finished, I could barely walk. I felt like I was trudging through wet sand.

“Feels good, right?”

“Sure.”

He held his stomach. “Couldn’t agree more.”

I didn’t see him much after that. My Zoom meetings both went longer than expected, and my boss heaped on a bunch of extra tasks. (I had to fill in for our coworker on maternity leave.) When I tell people that I work online, they always assume that my job is stress-free. It’s not.

And with my full-body soreness from the workout, I felt pretty exhausted by lunch. I was also surprisingly hungry. Usually I only ate lunch to keep my energy up, but today, my mouth was watering and my stomach grumbled.

I sprang out of my seat and headed toward the kitchen, expecting Alex to already be there. He wasn’t. I knocked on his office door but he didn’t answer. “Alex?”

Still nothing.

I pushed the door open. He was hunched over his computer, headphones covering his ears. His fingers were typing away. He was still in work-mode, which wasn’t that surprising. What was surprising, though… The empty snack boxes that littered the floor.

I couldn’t believe it. Despite the hearty breakfast and more-than-hearty dinner last night, he’d managed to graze on an ungodly amount of snacks while he worked.

I tapped him on the shoulder and he jerked back in surprise. His work shirt strained against his stomach. He started choking on whatever chocolatey thing was in his crumb-stained mouth. “Babe, why’d you scare me?”

“Sorry. It’s…”

“It’s lunch time!” he said, hoisting himself out of his chair and pushing past me to the kitchen.

His headphones were still playing. Curious, I picked them up and held them to my ear. Usually, he listened to 80s rock when he worked. But this time, he wasn’t listening to music at all. It was just a man’s steady ASMR voice.

“You’re hungry,” the voice said hypnotically. “You’re a bottomless well, always wanting more. Always demanding food.”

What the hell was that?

I picked up all the empty snack boxes and wiped the crumbs off his table. Then I headed back to the kitchen. Alex was rifling through the fridge.

I couldn’t stop myself this time. I had to say something. “Babe, you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep gorging like this.”

He didn’t look up. “I know, but no pain, no gain, right?”

“Are you in pain?”

His silence was all the answer I needed.

“Look, this is Day 3. You’re going to burn out.”

“Yeah. That’s why I was listening to Charlie Gyrth.” He didn’t say who Charlie Gyrth was, but I knew it was that voice playing on his headphones. Some hunger-hypnosis thing. “Besides, snacks don’t count. I need solid food if I’m gonna concentrate for the rest of the day.”

I didn’t know how his stomach could manage everything that he was shoving into it. Sure, he had a ridiculous metabolism. But if I had eaten even a third of what he had this morning, I would’ve passed out or thrown up. Maybe both.

He pulled out a meat and cheese platter from the fridge and brought it over to the table. The sight of it made my stomach growl. I grabbed a slice of salami and let it slide down my throat. God, that tasted good.

“Oh,” he said as he sat across from me. “You wanna share?” He seriously thought that this entire platter was his.

“So how was work?” I wanted to have a normal, non-food-related conversation with him for once.

“Good,” he said, chewing. “Oh! I forgot something!” He sprang out of his chair and came back with a squeeze bottle of mayonnaise. “Gotta keep it messy, right?” he said with a grin.

He ate each slice of cheese and meat with a big dollop of mayo. He didn’t get much on his face this time, but a few drops stained his work shirt.

Since he wasn’t going to tell me about his work, I told him about mine. As we ate together, I filled him in on our latest projects, and all the extra responsibilities I had to take over. He was listening, and he asked me a couple questions, but he kept eating.

I did, too.

Pretty soon, the platter was finished. So was the bottle of mayonnaise. While most of the food went into Alex’s straining gut, I finished about a third of the meat myself. That surprised me.

He looked at the empty tray. “Wow, babe. You worked up an appetite, too. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. The thought gave me chills. It was so easy to overeat when I was sitting across from the bottomless pit that was my boyfriend. I had to be more mindful next time.

He saw that my water bottle was empty. “Thirsty?”

“A little.”

He grunted as he stood. Still surprisingly energetic, he refilled my bottle with water from the tap and brought back a thermos for himself. I assumed it was filled with the same pink drink as before, but I didn’t ask. Didn’t want to know.

The cold cuts had left me pretty thirsty, so I chugged down my water.

Alex, his eyes locked on me, chugged his drink at a matching speed. He had no more room in his stomach for the thick liquid, but he wouldn’t stop until I did. I didn’t really want to drink the whole bottle, but I did anyway. We finished together.

I didn’t feel any muscle soreness for the rest of the day. Maybe that was a side effect of my lunch. I felt pretty great, actually. My afternoon work sped by, and I was able to accomplish more in three hours than I normally did all day.

By six, I logged out and headed into the living room. Alex was lying on the couch, snoring. The food had finally caught up with him.

I snuggled up next to him, leaning against his wide shoulders and gently rubbing his stomach until he snorted awake.

“Babe, I think I overdid it.”

I wanted to say, “I told you so,” but instead, I said, “You want to skip dinner tonight?”

He looked up at me and whimpered. It was cute but a little pitiful, too. I felt sorry for my big man.

We sat together on the couch. His body radiated heat. It reminded me of last month, when he’d gotten the flu and I had to take care of him. But this time, he’d made himself sick. I put on the latest episode of Drag Race (my choice, not his) and we watched in silence.

I continued rubbing his belly for a while, but my hand got tired. When I pulled away, he grabbed my wrist. He wanted my hand to stay on his belly. I obliged, feeling its gentle rise and fall as he once again drifted off to sleep.

Since I was still in charge of the remote (a rare occurrence in our house), I put on a romcom. It wasn’t good (few romcoms are), and Alex snored through most of it, but it was… pleasant. The male lead had plenty of shirtless scenes, and his ripped body reminded me a lot of Alex.

The former Alex, I had to tell myself. The Alex that we were leaving behind.

I’d seen that actor before. Don’t remember his name. And I always used to find him impossibly hot, but as the movie continued, I kept thinking that something was wrong. He should grow a belly. A rock-hard beer gut to replace those defined muscles. He’d look so much better without those abs.

I guess that was the moment I realized that my taste in men had forever changed.

And I was okay with that.

Read Part 8 here. You can also read all 22 parts of Alex Gets Soft in one ebook (with a bonus story). You can find all my stories here.

[drdemonprince]

Hi Devon,

this might not be a question you can answer, or maybe it is! idk. this is about covid & alike

for context on myself, i’m a white gendrfucky trans guy who’s also autistic & an immigrant (so some cultural context is probably lacking)

as we know, we’re in a 2nd highest surge & the pandemic never stopped and it increasingly dangerous and disabling to so many

i wear my kn95 everywhere i go now, and while i tried last semester, it was a lot easier to abandon masking because of

1. others’ around me negligence

2. some classrooms being IMPOSSIBLY hot and close to unbearable with a respirator on

3. attending crowded events where people needed to hear me

i’ve reevaluated and am rebuilding my practices now, but what i’m finding really difficult is to get people i have in my life to wear a mask again

i feel so lost. i share the informational posts, i talk to my people, i offer masks- what else is there to do?? i know the exhaustion i feel is absolutely incomparable to what disabled and immunocompromised people feel, especially when they’ve done the work for years!

i just don’t understand how i’m supposed to keep moving through life. i mean ofc i’ll keep doing what i’m already doing but it’s so incredibly isolating to be the only person masked in a meeting of 20,30,50 people.

i don’t know how to make people care. i don’t know how to have conversations with my friends in a way that will let our relationship evolve with this new understanding of care. i don’t know how to not polarize people into defensiveness when i talk about the powers wreaking atrocities in falasteen being the same ones shortening an isolation period to 1 day.

i don’t know how to be eloquent enough to be listened to and firm enough where people take what i say seriously. i don’t know how to not start screaming WEAR A MASK anytime it’s a crowded (or even not crowded) meeting indoors with no air filtration.

idk how people don’t realize the “cold” they’ve had for 3 weeks is either covid or direct aftermath of it. idk how they stand for seemingly the right things and then come to work sick & unmasked.

i don’t know how to engage with most people in a meaningful way & find connections because the delusion, the “it won’t happen to me”, the “i don’t care if i catch it and die”, the “this is just the way it is” seems to be a wall made of unbreakable cement and i don’t know what will melt it.

i feel insane for having compassion towards the world and seeing how it can be better. i feel insane for being angry people don’t mask & downplay this issue. i feel insane for even trying to talk sense into people.

i’ve recently been called a lying phony by an account that talks about masking bc a lot of my recent pictures show my face without a mask. i archived the posts since, apologized and reflected. but a lot of pictures i take are in my own room so i am unmasked. idk

i feel like the gap between me and most people i know is growing wider by the minute and with every reading i do about interdependent revolutionary practices, etc.

i know that when one understands something, it is their responsibility to make an impact on their bubble of the world and transform it with their knowledge. but i doubt i’m the only one doing the reading and knowing what’s going on, i just seem to be the only one masking.

i don’t know. i’m sorry it’s such a long ask & i’m sure you have your own stuff you’re dealing with. i just don’t know who else to ask that might understand. i’m sure there are people around me who might but so many are in survival mode and i currently don’t know anyone with the capacity to hold space for this.

i guess it’s bold to assume you do.

anyway, i hope your day goes alright today<3

You are placing wayyy too much responsibility upon yourself as one compassionate and informed individual here, and expecting far too much perfection of yourself in ways that do not help you and do not help the cause. You've done a lot to unpack the terrible individualism that has led to anti-mask sentiment being so rampant, but you are in a way still applying that logic to yourself and your situation by imagining that if you, one humble person with limited power were able to be adequately persuasive, you'd somehow change the actions of thousands. That is not how behavior change works.

Persuasion almost never happens logically or instantly, almost never through one person's remarks. Behavior is shaped by a vast array of economic, sociological, emotional, and ideological factors.

It's also not helpful in my opinion to worry about the opinion of someone who would shame you for not wearing a mask at home alone in your bedroom, either. Obsessing over the optics of our actions and wanting all people to morally approve of us at all times is yet another consequence of individualism and Puritanism. as you well know as someone who masks in a crowd of maskless people, sometimes we gotta do what we know is right and disregard others' opinions.

What you can do, in my opinion, is this: keep masking. Your behavior reminds people of the need for masks and models socially responsible behavior. Bring spare masks with you. Offer them to your family and friends and the people standing near you in public. If they refuse, and you have a good relationship with the person where they have shown they respect you and listen to you, then you can tell them why masking around you is important to you. You cannot change the opinion of someone who has never shown you any respect so don't expect that to ever work.

Even if you do have a good relationship with someone, persuasion is a long, hard process. Do not expect yourself to change their mind. If you can get some people to mask at least around you, that is a victory. Perfection is an unrealistic goal here to expect of yourself, and for public health in general. Any improvement you can inspire is a victory. Even if it's just making one or two friends mask more often when they are with you. That still lessens risk. That still sends a visible signal to everyone around you. You have no idea of the impact you truly have on other people in the long term. It is both more modest and far larger and longer-reaching than you as an individual will ever know.

Please be easy on yourself. You are just a person. An average person with very limited power. So is everyone else for the most part. When you stop burdening yourself with the unrealistic responsibility of changing thousands of people's behavior, you will feel less resentful toward others as well. When we resent other people it always means we are doing too much.

And when you feel less overwhelmed and overburdened, you will be more effective in the conversations you do have with people about COVID too. People do not respond well to (what they perceive to be) guilt or intensity or someone presuming to know better than them. What people do respond to well is to be asked genuine questions, listened to, validated in their feelings, given help where they are facing barriers to action, and being treated with compassionate gentleness.

But to do that you have to work on believing that people who are flawed in their response to COVID have reasons for doing so that make sense to them, and that they aren't all foolish and lacking in compassion. As my friend @kim-from-kansas says, people do not do things that do not make sense. If a person's actions do not make sense to you, it is because you are missing a piece of their context. The sad fact is people have many reasons to think that masking doesn't work or is hopeless. People have been very heavily propagandized and trauma also makes many people value life less.

Convincing people to take COVID more seriously is a tall, tall order, but if you wish to do so, you will need to be more than correct. You will have to put real work into not making people feel judged, and you will have to make peace with not always (or even usually) succeeding. It sucks but that's how it is. Best of luck!!

[a-wonderful-danganronpa]

Veritas Enjoyer Anon, back at it again with some more general questions! (also Hikari’s outfit is so pretty oh my god like THE INTRICATE PATTERNING HELLO)

- Is the death order completely set in stone? If yes, did you write the characters around their predetermined fates, or did things just fall into place as you established their other aspects? If no, is there anything in particular that makes figuring it out tricky?

- About how long will each chapter be (either in terms of gameplay time, or length in days as the characters experience them, or both)?

- Will there be a soundtrack/music of any sort?

- Lastly, because I have a self-assumed title to defend as the Veritas Enjoyer: how tall is he? And do you have heights set for all the Wonders, or is that still in development?

[NO SPOILERS]

oooh! some really fun questions here!! thank you for giving me A Chance To Blab.

Is the death order completely set in stone?

death order is like 99% set in stone, so we'll go with yes. ha. the 1% is like, if we come up with an insanely good idea that blows our current order out of the water thematically or narratively. i'm always open to that. but we're liking where things are sitting right now, even if it took us a thousand years to hash out trials 2 and 4 in particular. (can't wait for you all to experience them.)

it helps that we plan on attaching a "nice AU" mode/"friendship/dating sim" mode as free DLC later, so if we feel shitty about killing a character early, we know we can write a lot more content about them in a better world. (and, hey, isn't the point of a good DR character to want more of them when they go...? Kodaka even said the same thing...about Rantaro, i think, in particular.)

If yes, did you write the characters around their predetermined fates, or did things just fall into place as you established their other aspects?

ooh, i want to talk about this, but so much of it is big spoilers, so excuse the sort of roundabout way i'll discuss it...

definitely "things fell into place as i determined aspects of the characters" WITH THE EXCEPTION of two characters who were doomed from their conception in my silly brain. i will not say who, but they are our narrative tent poles, and i refer to them as such when my beloved Writing Consultant throws ideas at me. go go theorycrafters!

but, yeah, beyond those two? i built the murders and trials around the characters after said characters more or less came into full fruition. even then, some of them got switched around in the last six months as we solidified the outline. quite a few characters had differing roles in my original plan until my consultant made cases for (or against) them. go go theorycrafters again!

About how long will each chapter be (either in terms of gameplay time, or length in days as the characters experience them, or both)?

too early to tell precisely, but if i were to guess, the gameplay itself, if you skipped every optional bit of content i have planned, would be a little longer than V3. if you sat and did everything, it'd be muuuuch longer.

from the start, i decided that what we may lack in "new" gameplay, we'd really make up for in total word count. if you like to read, if you like to spend time in a different world with its people, this will be your game. there will be lots of (optional, skippable) (but i don't recommend it) content to get to know the characters and this strange timeline. total immersion, even if we can't quite make the debates work the way you all are used to them working!

in-universe, like most DR games, i think the plot takes place over maybe two weeks tops. of course, the backstory stretches back 400 years...

Will there be a soundtrack/music of any sort?

absolutely. in my Grand Master Plan, this is one thing i intend to fund, and i have (probably too many) notes about what i want down the line.

it's still way too early to talk much about it, but what i can say is that...mostly, it'd be remixes of existing Danganronpa tunes, since this game is so intertwined with DR as a whole, and since we know precisely where a lot of Takada's samples come from.

there are two characters in particular that i intend to have original themes, though. speculate!

Lastly, because I have a self-assumed title to defend as the Veritas Enjoyer: how tall is he? And do you have heights set for all the Wonders, or is that still in development?

right now, Veritas is the tallest boy at 5'11" or around 180cm. he's the second tallest character in all, with only Yuwa beating him (6'3" or 190cm). and, just for fun, the person underneath him is Senju (5'10"/178cm).

funny you asked about heights, because we set them just the other day! as we're still in super-duper-alpha design stage, so the usual disclaimer that anything could change suddenly, even things i've shared here on the blog, but we're feeling good about where the heights are now.

and as an aside, other measurements are still in flux, as we're still picking over body types. but! i expect to have those to show you all by the end of summer. fingies crossed

thank you again for all the cool questions!

[starryficsfinishwen]

“C'mon, Punchy! Sit!”

“Commandant,” the man sighs, metallic hand covering his handsome face, “Punchy is not a pet. It does not know any pet commands.”

At the Gray Raven lounge where you were residing for a well-needed break, Lee sits across you, intently watching as you curiously eyed the new, tiny visitor.

A small CUB, about the size of your head. You saw it in action a few times; he may be tiny, but he can morph into a large hand, capable of moving from an interdimensional hole, assisting Lee in his battles. In combat mode, you were certain it was made out of Entropy's hand, as you've held his hand a lot of times before. Punchy's screen reflected his usual expression, stoic and unamused.

“Really?” Your face contorts into a baffled expression, eyebrows knitted together and mouth pouting, “I assumed they did. Bianca's CUB knows a lot of pet commands.”

“Like what?”

“Like 'fetch'!”

You gaze expectantly at the stoic-faced CUB, assuming he'd move and do something. Instead, the screen reflected a big [?]. Pouting once more, you opted to scratch his chin— or whatever the edges of his screen were called.

“You treat it like a pet, Commandant.”

“Well, he's a new addition to the family,” you coped, tenderly caressing Punchy, “isn't that right?”

[¬､¬]

The screen reflected the emotion. Pouting once more, your resolve did not waver. Instead, you were determined to make it work.

“Oh no,” Lee sighs once more, before chuckling as he shook his head, “I shouldn't have it brought here. Asimov insisted-”

“-it's actually a great idea that Asimov brought him here,” you quickly interjected, opting to pat the CUB's head, “while Punchy is connected to you, we can at least learn now how they work! Besides, I have a theory.”

“Do tell.”

You look at Lee, beckoning him with a small gesture on your hand (which Lee thinks is too adorable), asking him to sit next to you. Although Lee had a neutral expression on his face, you looked beside you to see Punchy's screen changed.

[>///<]

Even if just for a flicker of a moment. Aha. You grin sinisterly.

“What's that look on your face, you look like you've thought of something.”

You look back to Lee, smiling genuinely. “Oh, nothing. But I did think of something.”

“What is it?”

Before you said anything, you gently took Punchy and put him on your lap, visible enough for Lee to see his expression. Like a villain, you thought, as you caressed Punchy's surface.

“Does this have something to do with it?”

“...do you remember when Noctis was summoned to Murray's office?”

That caught his attention, his eyes wide open and an eyebrow raised. It may seem that Lee was unamused with whatever was happening with Cerberus and Murray, or even with people in Babylonia, but Lee was one who liked gossip apart from anything else.

“As it turns out, Noctis had to beg in front of Murray so he can be forgiven. Do you know what he did next?”

“What?”

“Noctis had to clean every nook of Cerberus' lounge for weeks!”

A deadpan. But you know it wasn't. No, not when you noticed Punchy's screen light up.

[≧⁠▽⁠≦]

“Commandant, it's not funny,” (said he, even though Punchy's screen didn't change from the expression he had yet), “What does this have to do with-”

“-and how about Kamui, you know? He went back to Asimov to ask him to get another port so he could play, but as it turns out, the only available slot was in his forehead.”

[≧⁠▽⁠≦]

Your grin widens. Ah, the clear path to victory when you notice Lee trying to cover his laughter. You decided to throw in your other cards.

“You know, Lee, I asked about Lucia and Liv about us.”

[☉⁠｡⁠☉!]

The shock is evident also in Lee's face. You carefully say your words.

“They think that both of us are cute together,” you wiggle your eyebrows, “they wanted to know when our wedding is.”

[>///<]

Lee's face is only neutral, apart from the slowly creeping blush on his cheeks. “You do realize that weddings are a bit pricey lately.”

“Mm, yeah, but I think it's nice. I do want to get married one day.”

You lightly pat on Punchy's head, still aware of the expression on his screen. Looking down, on your ringless finger, you somehow envisioned what it would look like, should a ring be placed there. Your heart is seemingly full— a fleeting vision, that one day, you'll get married, and the groom would be...

You looked up. Looking into Lee's curious cerulean eyes, you beam a smile at him. “I hope we can get married someday. I really want to be with you, Lee.”

You don't know about the emote on Punchy's screen, but the blush and answer is already evident on Lee's face. You should be teasing more, as you normally should, but right now, you wanted to savor the moment as he took your hand, him unconsciously rubbing your ring finger.

“It would be nice,” he whispers, “as a way to show union, that is.”

Ah, never in your wildest dreams did you think the answer was already evident.

Your heart is overwhelmed with the answer.

“Kiss me, Lee.”

He does not hesitate. Lee leans forward to close the gap, soft lips eagerly kissing yours. It's soft, it's sweet, it's perfect enough to bridge your overwhelmingly full heart of love, poured over his empty cup. Both of you compliment and fit each other.

When Lee pulls away, your foreheads touch, seemingly not wanting to pull away. But he does, hesitantly so, but the blushes on your faces seemed to copy one another.

“Ah,” Lee shook his head, but the blush was still visible, pointing at the CUB in your arms, “w-what does this have to do with it?”

You lift up Punchy. And you grin menacingly.

[ ๑/////๑ "]

“Right, he's quite expressive, unlike his construct.”

Realization dawns on Lee's face.

“Despite Construct Lee's stoic expression,” you began your conclusion, “Punchy taps in his innermost feelings, thus reflecting what he has been feeling over the past few emotions.”

“Perhaps Punchy does know about you anyway,” you shrug, “since he's part of you.”

“I see,” Lee sighs, squeezing your hand, “Thank you, Commandant. I will write a report on it, then.”

“Don't call Punchy an 'it'!” You pout, pretending he has ears as you covered his side, cuddling in your arms, “he's part of you!”

Another realization dawns on you, gasping.

“Punchy is your child!”

“W-what?!” Lee sputters over your words.

[◎⁠д⁠◎!!]

The collective shock from the CUB and your lover made you laugh so hard. It didn't even need to be tested out, you should have done this in the beginning.

“God,” you wheezed, “I didn't know you were a daddy already, Lee.”

“Commandant,” Lee covers his red face, groaning, “please, no more. Don't call me that.”

“Whatever you say, Daddy Lee. We should take care of your child~”

“Commandant, no. Please.”

[ ๑/////๑ " ]

You patted Punchy's surface, before reaching out to cup Lee's cheeks, grinning. “I love you, Lee~”

Your lover only sighs, but you don't miss the smile on his face. “I love you too, [Y/N].”

shoutout to my best fwen @katsuonemars for inspiring me to write about this. they gave me a screenshot of Punchy's story, and motivated me to pull for Punchy as well as write about studying about him.

HEHE

— starry

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2025-03-17

We're so left

Listening: I don't follow Grime Stone Records on bandcamp because they put up like one million albums a month and that means I missed the new album from Curta'n Wall, YR GWYDDBWYLL

You simply have to hand it to Abysmal Specter he can really get the team together.

Reading: I started in on Against a Dark Background by Iain M. Banks, because I saw an excerpt from it on my fortune(1) file and I had to know more. Actually let me just get that sample so you can experience what I did:

"Good afternoon, madam. How may I help you?" "Good afternoon. I'd like a FrintArms HandCannon, please." "A--? Oh, now, that's an awfully big gun for such a lovely lady. I mean, not everybody thinks ladies should carry guns at all, though I say they have a right to. But I think… I might… Let's have a look down here. I might have just the thing for you. Yes, here we are! Look at that, isn't it neat? Now that is a FrintArms product as well, but it's what's called a laser -- a light-pistol some people call them. Very small, as you see; fits easily into a pocket or bag; won't spoil the line of a jacket; and you won't feel you're lugging half a tonne of iron around with you. We do a range of matching accessories, including -- if I may say so -- a rather saucy garter holster. Wish I got to do the fitting for that! Ha -- just my little joke. And there's even… here we are -- this special presentation pack: gun, charged battery, charging unit, beautiful glider-hide shoulder holster with adjustable fitting and contrast stitching, and a discount on your next battery. Full instructions, of course, and a voucher for free lessons at your local gun club or range. Or there's the special presentation pack; it has all the other one's got but with two charged batteries and a night-sight, too. Here, feel that -- don't worry, it's a dummy battery -- isn't it neat? Feel how light it is? Smooth, see? No bits to stick out and catch on your clothes, and beautifully balanced. And of course the beauty of a laser is, there's no recoil. Because it's shooting light, you see? Beautiful gun, beautiful gun; my wife has one. Really. That's not a line, she really has. Now, I can do you that one -- with a battery and a free charge -- for ninety-five; or the presentation pack on a special offer for one-nineteen; or this, the special presentation pack, for one-forty-nine." "I'll take the special." "Sound choice, madam, sound choice. Now, do--?" "And a HandCannon, with the eighty-mill silencer, five GP clips, three six-five AP/wire-flechettes clips, two bipropellant HE clips, and a Special Projectile Pack if you have one -- the one with the embedding rounds, not the signalers. I assume the night-sight on this toy is compatible?" "Aah… yes, And how does madam wish to pay?" She slapped her credit card on the counter. "Eventually."

There is a little "sci-fi author writing women" here but it is also Mr. Banks so you know he's clearing the bar most of the time. Our protagonist is Sharrow, a minor noble of dubious reputation who has to recover a lost artifact to avoid getting hunted to death by a strange religious order.

When you think Banks you think Culture and this is Not At All Culture. The Culture novels are, if not serious, somewhat self-serious and contemplative. This one is not. He has the range! Sharrow is something of a Doomguy-style protagonist whose primary means of interacting with things is hitting them and I love this for her.

This book luxuriates in doing long lists of stupid shit to build the world, like a half a page naming the types of autonomous authorities controlling land on the planet. I am having a great time.

Watching: Nothing really.

Playing: A few! First up, Skin Deep, the demo of the upcoming Blendo game.

I have been looking forward to this forever and it's going to be so good. Blendo has a great knack for both environmental storytelling and making very quirky and obnoxious interface modes work well. If you haven't played Quadrilateral Cowboy you really should.

In Skin Deep you are a deep space insurance commando, who lives in cryosleep hidden aboard interstellar ships, to be defrosted when pirates board the vessel so you can reduce the insurance payout by rescuing the crew and their cargo.

It's basically an immersive sim, but with characteristic Blendo quirkiness. You can crawl around sneaking up on enemies, whacking them with objects, and taking them out. If you break open a washing machine, a layer of soap on the floor will make anyone who walks through it fall over. If you come through the garbage chute you'll smell and give away your position, but also falling in soap will clean you up! If you're crawling through vents dust buildup will eventually make you sneeze.

Another game from Next Fest, Wheel World, a bicycle open world racer. It's a very Annapurna game. The demo is out on Steam, you can check it out!

I have enjoyed playing a lot of Descenders so this caught my eye, I like Moving Fast in video games and this seems like it might scratch that itch.

You have come into possession of a haunted bike that is basically Charon's Boat But A Bike, except it's been stripped of its holy parts and torn down to junk. You adventure through the world racing other people to earn parts and upgrade your bike.

It seems good! Movement is smooth and obvious, different bike builds feel noticeably different, and I feel like the writing will be fine, if not exceptional. We'll see! It's only a demo.

Lastly, Balatro and Slay the Spire, which I got into because I accidentally got a friend into them and I've felt bad that I don't even play them. They're good! Up to like Ante 5 in Balatro and cleared the first boss in Slay the Spire. Nice games for the Legion Go's touchscreen.

Making: Sewing on pillow project, I keep on putting it off because I'm nervous about silk.

More 3D printing for the handheld.

Printed off my test photos for decorating The Thicket, I need to set aside some time to go to Ikea and look at their frame options and decide if I want that or something else.

Tools and Equipment: Lactase pills can really just solve your lactose intolerance temporarily. I felt like making a big mac and cheese style thing which really fucked me up day one but I ordered in a bottle of lactase and I have had zero problems.

[sadcupcake]

Winchester in Mystic Falls Part 5

So far tailing Elena and her friends has been entertaining to say the least. I've learned that she's still friends with Bonnie and Caroline. Bonnie was never cruel to me, she just ignored me like everyone else in town did. Caroline on the other hand was right there with Elena. They both tortured me my entire childhood. Most of it was emotional, the name calling, making everyone in my life ignore me and pretend that I didn't exist. Sometimes though they would go on some sort of power trip and hurt me. Looking back on that now I remember being so scared of them both, but now they look like weak little dolls in my eyes. What they put me through made me who I am today, it set me down a path to meet my brothers and for that I am grateful to them.

It doesn't surprise me that the three girls are still friends, just like it didn't surprise me when I learned Bonnie was a witch or that Caroline got turned into a vampire. What did surprise me was the fact that Elena is a doppelganger. Apparently it was one of Elena's doppelgangers that turned Caroline. Another interesting thing I learned was that the originals where in town. Sam and Dean learned about how vampires came to be when they captured one and had a little chat. That vamp was about 900 years old so they still knew the stories of the originals, it even claimed to be turned by one. I had yet to see one running around town but from what I've gathered they came here to sacrifice my sister to break a curse. If I had to take an educated guess it would be the curse placed on the hybrid.

If it really is the originals in town then I really need to hit the books to find something to kill them with. All of the lore I've read up to now had never mentioned a way to kill an original. As far as I know they are truly Immortal. Maybe I could just kill all the non original vampires in town and then hightail it out of here before they get wind of a hunter. Lets be honest I'm going to end up dead by the end of all of this.

I haven't talked to Elena since I got interrupted before I was able to have a little chat with her. I assume she's told her little boyfriends about what happened by now, so me getting within 10 feet of her again is out of the question. So making a scene in public is now my only option to find out what she knows. This whole thing is getting tiresome already. If it weren't for the innocent people dying I'd cut my loses by now. But I am a Winchester and Winchesters never back down from anything. Hell not even from the actual devil, and the Mikaelsons are no Lucifer.

getting back to my hotel room I get comfy on the bed with my laptop, if I'm going to find anyway to kill the originals I have to channel my inner Sam. Full on research mode. After hours of sitting and looking at the computer screen I've come up with one possible lead, one impossible lead. White oak. It's almost too good to be true but It's all I got. Some hunter in New Orleans had a story passed down generations in his family. Apparently the only thing that could stop an original was an original themselves, or a weapon one of them possessed. A dagger dipped in White oak ash. If the ash from this tree could put them to sleep imagine what the real thing could do. Unfortunately all records of the white oak tree say that it went extinct centuries ago. Another dead end.

Deciding that I've had enough of the headache that is research I get dressed and head back to the Grill. I'm starving, one of the things Dean and I have in common is our appetite. I think he was secretly happy to have someone around to out vote Sam on where we'd eat. Maybe if I'm lucky I can run into Elena again there, kill two birds with one stone.

When I walk into the Grill I spot them right away. Elena and her little gang looking directly at me. By the look on dumb and dumbers faces she defiently told them what I was going to do to her. I  sit down at a table ignoreing them the best I can until I can at least have somthing to eat. While I'm waiting on my food I notice two guys sitting at the bar again. Talk about deja vu. The vibe coming from these two is defiently dangerous but there's something else I can't quite place, It's like a comfort almost. Just as I'm about to stand up to go to them I get snapped out of my daze by my food arriving.

While I'm enjoying my food I start to notice everyone slowly leave the Grill. EVeryone apart from Elena and her friends, and the two guys at the bar who have now turned around to face us obiously interested in what is happeneing. I look up from my food to see my sister and her friends walking over to my table. Bonnie and Caroline are behing my sister and her two boyfriends are infront of her. Anyone would think shes the president with the way they protect her.

"How can I help you Elena, would you like some of my fries?" I question her, I always have to have the first and last words. Something Sam and Dean both love and hate about me.

"No I don't want you're fries Y/N, I want to know why you're in town and how you know about vampires" Elena says, she looks so serious I burst out laughing.

"Sorry, you acctually think I'll just tell you because you asked. Wow you really have no idea who I am now do you Elena?" I stand up as I ask my question getting ready for a fight. By the way everyone clings to Elena's side I guess they are too.

[her-devils-advocate]

Through the Mist | Part 3

pairings: Femshep x Garrus

summary: When a routine mission to rescue and recruit a handful of scientists goes wrong, Shepard and her team are left to fight against something they had never expected to face. Now stranded on a heavily fog-covered planet, they realise there is more to the strange weather than they originally thought, especially when they hear things from beyond the fog; calling for them.

word count: 4,742

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60592000/chapters/155683033

Part 1 | Part 2

Shepard limps aimlessly around the room. All of Garrus’ consistent protests for her to sit fall on deaf ears as she relentlessly searches every nook and cranny for information. Despite her meticulous rummaging, her attempts lead her to nothing but dead ends. Her hands curl into tightly held fists and despite the thick material protecting her hands, she can still feel her nails digging into her palms. 

The sensation helps to ground her, if only for a fleeting second. A million thoughts begin to rush through her mind as she forms plan after plan, each one falling short for one reason or another; not enough information, not enough visibility, or not enough people.

“You’re not enough,” she thinks briefly, the thought shocking her out of her hyperfocused state. It rattles around her brain, hitting every concealed sore spot with deadly precision.

The lamp flickers, casting an array of shadows around them for a brief second. It was only a slight flicker, barely noticeable under any other circumstance, and yet Shepard felt her lungs constrict. Her past experiences have trained her to assume the worst at all times.

She watches as Garrus falls back into his past C-Sec mode, still scanning through dozens of old reports and making mental notes of anything that stands out to him. He works silently, with the occasional hum breaking her concentration and pulling her amused eyes over to his corner. 

He stands still besides the occasional shuffle to keep his legs awake. The clinking of metal and rustling of paper encase his space while his mind processes everything. She watches him tilt his head to one side, deep in thought, before slowly nodding to himself in agreement—a gesture of hers that has rubbed off on him, no doubt.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” He mumbles to himself, flicking through the same report for the hundredth time. He turns to meet her gaze, gesturing down at the collection of records. “Nothing here seems to be relevant to the planet or the research bases. It’s like someone’s made a collection of random reports to throw people off their trail, nothing is linked.”

“What sort of stuff is it?” She asks wearily, half-expecting the bad news before it had been delivered.

“Noveria stock reports, biology reports on all council species, Attican Beta transport routes, ‘The Art of Live Subjects’: A published dissertation by Dr Ross.” He reads out before dropping the datapad back onto the shelf. “You’d think someone would have left at least one piece of evidence behind.”

“If it was a harmless project that went wrong, then maybe.” She says, her mind filtering through what little information she has. “But from what we’ve seen already, I don’t believe any of this was a mistake.” 

“Cerberus?” Garrus asks, his voice hardening as he struggles to hide the small growl threatening to follow the word.

Shepard simply scrunches up her nose and shakes her head, “It better not be, otherwise I’m going to be even more pissed, but I don’t think it's them this time. As resourceful as they are…The stuff it…” 

She trails off and her shoulders relax when Garrus picks up her sentence for her, “Hm, you’re right. It was far too personal, almost tailored to hurt us in a specific way. Even with their connections, Cerberus couldn’t have that much accuracy on our weaknesses.”

“Yeah, about that, how are you doing?” The words come out hurried, as if speaking of the events might summon a new round within their sanctuary. “I know I said we’ll talk about it on the Normandy, but that was… intense.” 

He gives her a half-hearted shrug, “No better than how you’re probably doing, all things considered. It was weird, but it’s nothing I've not already told myself anyway. You were right before though, we will have time to spill the lions or whatever once we’re back on the Normandy and not waiting for it to strike again.”

That startles a laugh out of her, and if the proud smile on his face is any indication, his plan was a success.

Now safe from what awaits them in the fog, Shepard finally lets herself drop down against the wall. Her armour clunks against itself while she shuffles to rest her injured ankle on top of the other. The pain throbs up her leg, the swollen appendage pressing painfully against the firm fabric of her boots. She lets her head fall back as a new wave of pain washes over her, all the adrenaline that had kept her active now fades away into bone-deep exhaustion. Her mind feels like it’s been set alight, buzzing with ancient anxieties and long-buried memories that have been dredged back to the surface.

Her skin prickles and a heavy weight falls over her like a blanket. Familiar feelings overtake her, feelings that she has since tried to forget: regret, loss, and helplessness. 

It has been a long time since she let the sensation of failure fall over her. With too much to do and far too much to lose, it had been much easier to push them deep down. 

The room suddenly feels too hot, a sickly oppressive feeling seeping in through the cracks and into her flesh. The walls close in on her and Shepard has to bite her tongue to hold back the strangled groan clawing up her throat. She suddenly feels like the scared sixteen-year-old girl she was and not the thirty-two-year-old, battle-hardened woman that she is.

The safety of the building is beginning to feel more and more like a gilded cage, whatever respite she had is being rapidly sucked away from her with each passing second. Something unknown sneaks inside of her, urging her to move. The stillness burns at her flesh.

“This is all your fault, you brought them here. And now one of them is lost, dealing with who knows what.” Something whispers in the back of her mind in an unrelenting caricature of her voice.

“Do you think James is alright?” She asks if only to drown out the thought. Her eyes are trained firmly on the ceiling.

Garrus pauses his work for a moment as he considers her question, “We’ve gone through worse so I doubt he’s in trouble. He probably got the lucky side of things and reached the others to let them know the situation.”

“Have we?” Shepard’s voice is quiet, almost a whisper as she lets her eyes fall shut. “Gone through worse, I mean.”

“Shepard?” The concerned trill of his subvocals floats around her, loud enough to fill the small room.

“Can you honestly say you’ve been through worse than what we’re currently up against? It’s not like we can exactly shoot our way, or talk our way, through this.”

“Well…Yeah, I can, Shepard.” His voice is tense and he awkwardly shuffles to lean against the wall, idly adjusting his gloves just to have something to do with his hands. “We’ve already gone through the stuff it’s throwing at us. As much as it hurts to re-experience, it’s not exactly new to us, in a way.”

That catches her attention and she slowly drops her eyes from the ceiling to fall upon him. She can’t read his expression, which is rare for her after all the time spent by his side, yet the look in his eyes causes her heart to crack.

“Garrus… I’m sorry, you’re right. What would I do without you?” She lets out a long breath, feeling her lungs and eyes burn. 

“We both know you would kick just as much ass with or without me, Shepard. I’m just here so you can do it in style.” He tries to joke, but the words come out too slowly, his voice wavering with each word. “I’m scared as well, for the record.”

Her eyes fly open and her head snaps to look in his direction. Garrus is avoiding her gaze, purposefully shuffling his evidence around as if it could drown out his admission. Her protective instinct wakes up from its slumber and she slowly rises to her feet. She has to use the wall as leverage, palming at it firmly while she shuffles over to the door. She runs her hand through her long hair, parts of it falling loose from the braid she wears during missions. 

“Where are you going?” Garrus asks warily, refusing to look away from her.

“To get some air and to check our surroundings, there’s no point in having both of us cooped up in here. I might as well make sure nothing is trying to break in while you scan through all those.” She waves her hand in the direction of his small pile of records and datapads, neither of them willing to address the way her hand trembles.

“Are you insane, Shepard?” He counters automatically, his voice echoing in the space between them. She turns to stare at him with a single, slender eyebrow raised. He breathes in slowly, holding his breath as he considers his words. “Look, we don’t know what we’re up against. It’s your call, but… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Alright, so I’ll stick my head out of the door and shoot anything that approaches,” she says bluntly.

“Spirits, Shepard.”

“We’re never going to know what we’re up against if we stay hidden away in here, Garrus.” She argues before relenting, giving him an apologetic smile. “Look, I understand your concern. I’ll keep the door open and I won’t leave your line of sight unless it’s strictly necessary, okay?”

Garrus gives Shepard a long look before slowly nodding. He turns to lean against the wall so he can watch her, grumbling something about “stubborn humans going to give their boyfriend an aneurysm” under his breath the entire time. She gives him a soft look before flaring her barrier and letting its soft, blue light encase her form.

She opens the door slowly, her body thrumming with built-up biotic energy at the ready. The air is still as if the breeze they felt upon their arrival never existed. The pair hold their breaths as the fog snakes its way into the room, yet nothing follows. The night is silent, no shuffling or groans breach the darkness. She strains her ears to be certain, not wanting to be ambushed by god knows what, but the only thing she hears is the frantic thumping of her heart. Shepard lets out a relieved sigh, her body keeping up its protective glow.

“See, everything is fine.” She says casually, her tense shoulders doing little to help her calm facade. 

“Sure, but that doesn’t explain where the horde of corpses went. They have to be out there somewhere.” Garrus calls from his corner, watching her like a hawk. 

Shepard shakes her head as the fog curls around her, feeling heavy on her flesh. She lifts her arm and extends it out of the door, she’s mesmerised by how it floats around her and sneaks into the small gaps in her armour. “Do they?”

Garrus cocks his head at her, he carefully places the datapad to one side before rising to his feet. She watches him for a moment before turning her head to stare outside. She lets the fresh air wash over her, cooling her skin. As she stares deeper into the darkness, not a single star or moon in the sky above, she spots something. Someone.

She squints, willing her eyes to focus while her hand twitches with the urge to grab her rifle; if only to feel the comforting weight of it in her hands. The figure moves closer and the fog almost seems to part itself to reveal the person within. She feels her heart stop before solace sparks through it instead.

“Vega?” She calls, hope blooming in the words. She’s already moving, letting the fog pull her further outside. “Garrus, stay here.”

She hears Garrus sprint forward, not caring about damaging any of the reports scattered around him as he reaches to grab Shepard’s arm. 

She’s too quick and is instantly swallowed by the consuming darkness, leaving nothing but mist in his grasp.

“Shepard?” Garrus shouts into the night, the words coming out frantic. She turns to give him a reassuring smile, only to find that she is alone. Her smile becomes strained and her cheeks begin to ache from the expression now frozen upon her face. 

Where the building had been just a second ago now sits an empty void, fog and darkness as her only companions. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, the thick air sticking to the back of her throat. A rare, yet naive part of her hopes that once she opens her eyes, she will be back in the room. Garrus will be in his corner complaining about a lack of evidence. 

Too late to regret her every move, she exhales slowly. She opens her eyes to stare into nothingness once more.

She grits her teeth, “Garrus, can you hear me? I can’t see you.” Her words come out desperate, her lower lip beginning to wobble. There is no answer and she has to bite back the shaky sigh that threatens to escape her. “For fuck’s sake.”

Her heart begins to race and her hands begin to shake, but she pushes forward towards James. She had already let him slip from her side once before, this time she refuses to let him be snatched away.

“Garrus will be fine, he’s inside the base. Just grab Vega and find wherever the base is. Then we will get the hell out of here.” She mutters to herself, believing her own words less and less. 

She hobbles over to the younger soldier, glad to see that he’s unharmed despite everything that’s happened. She reaches out to pat him on the shoulder but makes no contact, her hand slides right through him as he flickers in the fog.

“...James?”

“Commander,” he answers, his voice disjointed and wrong.

She stares up at him, her pale eyes morphing into a glare. “What are you?”

James lets out a low laugh, the sound coming out deeper than normal. “Can’t you tell, Lola? Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

She freezes, completely taken aback by his words. The eager lieutenant would never dare to speak to her like that. She wants to argue, to demand what it’s done with her squad member, but James pins her with a cold look.

“Nah, I guess you’ve always relied on luck, haven’t you?” He begins to circle her like a shark, the movements are sharp and jagged compared to his usually casual actions. “Is luck gonna win us this war, Commander?”

“I don’t know what you are, but you’re wrong,” she replies while his words stab at her heart. “We are going to win this war, all of us, united together to defeat the reapers.”

“Uh-huh. How can you unite a galaxy when you can’t even help yourself, Commander?” James looks her up and down, appraising her before scoffing, the action expells a small puff of fog from his lips. Shepard feels a hot flush of anger and moves to jab a finger at his chest, feeling more fury when she simply phases through him.

“I don’t know what you are talking about considering we’ve done a fairly good job so far. We have the turians, the krogan, the quarians, the geth, and even the rachni.”

James just smiles, his eyes dull and void of life. “What about the asari? What about Thessia?”

She bristles, white-hot guilt running through the fresh scar. Since the invasion of Earth, things haven’t been perfect, but Thessia was a whole new level of misery for her. Shepard’s jaw tenses and her teeth grind together while she slowly builds her composure back up, small brick by brick. “Thessia was…a failure.”

“Yup,” he drags the word out, letting the sharp pop of the word ring through Shepard’s ears. “Maybe that’s why you’ve been so careless, Lola.”

“What?” She asks coolly.

“It’s not like you to rush in so carelessly, is all I’m saying. You hardly had any info and it’s not like it was a time-sensitive mission. But you just charged in and dragged us into hell with you, all because Hackett asked nicely.” He replies, his tone equally unfriendly as his eyes bore into hers. “What were you hoping to achieve with this mission, Commander? Redemption? Payback? To prove that you are still worthy of our support?”

“I was…” She clears her throat, letting conviction fill her voice, “I was doing my damn job. We need people to build the catalyst, so Hackett sent me to get people.” 

The figure with James’ face just laughs, the sound is harsh and ragged against her ears. She clenches her hands into fists, teeth digging into her cheek as she stares at him. She watches as his mirthful face warps and flutters before he fades from sight, “keep believing that and you will stay lost, Lola.”

Shepard is left alone in the darkness. She is alone and cold, and as much as she would rather die than admit it out loud, she is very afraid. The black void around her sinks into her heart, weighing it down. 

She drops to her knees and her armour cushions her fall. She presses her forearms against the ground, leaning against them and feels as if her body is made out of lead. She lets her head drop, her inky hair covering her face as she struggles to breathe.

Her chest is tight, too tight to allow enough air to pass through her lungs. Her chest burns with each attempt. Her fingers curl against the floor, digging in as deep as they can as she gasps for air. Panic claws at Shepard’s throat with an icy touch, her fingers move of their own accord to mimic its ghostly caress; her chest begins to heave with every syncopated breath.

“What a sight,” she mutters miserably, “the renowned commander on her knees in the middle of a mission. Another mission that I’ve fucked up as well.”

A gentle touch on her shoulder sharply brings her back to the present and she jumps to her feet with a strangled gasp, instantly unholstering her rifle in the process. Her muscles ache from how tightly she holds herself together and she stares up at the turian standing in front of her with wide eyes.

“Garrus?” She chokes out as she lowers her weapon and attaches it to her back. She gives him a watery smile as she moves closer, seeking comfort in his presence. “You startled me there, big guy. Did you have to sneak up on me like that?”

He just shrugs, his mandibles flicking out too quickly for her to discern the emotion.

“Did you find anything?” She asks quickly.

He repeats the action, looking over her head and deeper into the night. Shepard tenses and crosses her arms against her chest to hide the shiver that shoots through her.

“Did something happen to you as well?” She tries again, trying not to take offence when he simply looks away again and begins walking away. “It’s alright, Garrus. It’s difficult now, but we will make it back home.”

She has to scramble to catch up with him, his longer legs letting him cover more ground. Worry gnaws away at her while she watches him out of the corner of her eye. He wears an expression that she can’t quite pinpoint, his mandibles are too stiff and his eyes are unfocused. Without any warning, his pace begins to quicken, turning into a small jog. She tries to match his pace and her ankle protests with each step as she runs alongside him.

She grits her teeth and pushes through the pain, refusing to leave his side again. His silence unnerves her. Each moment slips by without a word, only the sound of their boots hitting the floor and her muffled groans accompany them.

He comes to a sudden halt, staring down at the ground with a frown.

“Garrus, what’s wrong?”

“You really wouldn’t be able to do anything without me, would you?” His voice cracks out at her like a whip, the duel tones of his voice ringing out with his discomfort.

“What do you mean? Where is this coming from?” She keeps her voice sharp, hoping that the bluntness of her regular ‘commander voice’ can hide the hurt within.

“Where is this coming from?” He repeats, disbelief colouring his words. “Maybe the fact that I have done everything for you. I left my job at C-Sec to follow you. I was ready to throw away my life for your suicide mission. I am the only reason you haven’t worked yourself to death and lost us this damn war.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but no words come out. Garrus stares at her before rolling his eyes and continuing, “But what have you done for me, Shepard? You weren’t even there for me when my mother died.”

“Garrus, I was under Alliance custody. I would have done everything in my power to support you regardless. But I was locked up without any form of contact or information.” Her voice wavers and she can feel her pulse race.

He moves closer, now towering over her. She refuses to meet his eyes, unable to cope with what she might see in them.

“You always have an excuse, don’t you?” He lets out a hollow laugh, moving closer. “And why were you in Alliance custody again? Does the number three thousand and five hundred ring any bells?”

Shepard feels something snap inside her, a burning coil that warms her chest and laces her tongue with a bitterness she only reserved for the mirror. “No, you do not get to use that against me. You don’t get to use any of that against me. It was the Bahak system or the galaxy, I didn’t have much of a choice and you know that. I know you do.”

He gives a lazy shrug. His mandibles flick out and he opens his mouth to reply before she interrupts him, “I’m not finished. You have always had the choice to follow me, so don’t put that on me if you’re regretting it now.”

“Yes, because you are perfect and can do no wrong.” He moves closer, the fog growing more opaque. 

“I never said that.” She argues, her vision wavers with the tears she refuses to let fall in front of him.

“That’s why you worked with a terrorist organisation.” He takes another step, ignoring her distress.

“That’s not why, I had no choice.” She takes a step back, his face distorts and warps as he follows her.

The air around her drops, and her skin freezes when she looks back at Garrus. His features are now missing entirely, nothing more than a shadowed figure flickering in the fog.

“You always have a choice, maybe you just pick the bad option every time, Shepard.” His voice is followed by the familiar static, ringing loudly in her ears.

Shepard flinches, startled by the sudden, almost deafening noise. Her heel catches on something hard sticking out of the ground and she topples backwards. She throws her hands out to soften her fall, trying to prevent yet another sprain. Her eyes are shut tight as she tries to keep her tears from falling. 

When she finally sits up and reluctantly opens her eyes, the figure is gone. 

She remains on the floor, her limbs suddenly feeling heavier than an elcor as hot tears begin to flow down her cheeks. Her heart pounds against its skeletal case with a frantic beat and she has to bite down on her fist to muffle a sob. Fury and anguish dance inside of her, mixing and stealing away what resolve she had left. Her body begins to shiver, growing worse with each sob.

Something sharp pokes against her thigh. There's something solid and freezing protruding from the ground, but Shepard can’t find the strength to move from her position. She would have to move eventually, too many lives depend on her continued survival, but for now, she lets the shock wash over her; far too tired to fight against it. The fog sits heavily against her tears, sticking against the wet trails they’ve left down her cheeks.

A sudden tap in the distance breaks her out of her wallowing. She tilts her head to listen, the sound repeating in a soothing pattern. 

The taps grow louder, the rhythm becoming more recognisable as they grow closer. The sound of boots against stone. Heavy boots. 

She curls her hand into a fist, letting her biotics flow down to cover it in a shield, waiting for her to strike. She remains frozen on the ground, letting the fog wash over to cover her. She has never felt more like the predator and prey than she does in this moment.

She hears the familiar click of a thermal clip sliding into a rifle. It causes her to flinch and she whips around with a dizzying speed. She darts towards the figure, her glowing blue fist raised to strike. Her biotics drown them in a bright light and moments before she makes contact, she spots a very stunned turian staring back at her through the blue haze.

Shepard quickly pulls her fists back, letting the power die and taking the light with it.

“Spirits, Shepard. I didn’t realise that was you.” Garrus powers up his omni-tool, shining it in her direction to get a better look.

“No, get away from me,” she commands as more tears rush down her cheeks. They glitter in the orange glow of his omni-tool. “Not again, I don’t want to do this again.”

He falters for a moment, watching as she shrinks away. He watches as she hunches over, gripping her chest tightly as she struggles to breathe. Garrus ignores her order and reaches for her. He gently places his hand on her elbow, pulling her closer to him so he can press his forehead against hers.

“Shepard, sweetie… What happened?” His voice is a whisper and his fingers curl in her hair, grounding and soothing her with each stroke. She is tense, but the more she breathes in the familiar scent of metal and gun oil, she feels her traitorous body begin to relax.

“You’re not real.” Her voice cracks at the admission. 

“You are Commander Raven Shepard. The best damn CO I’ve had the pleasure to serve under, the most reckless one as well. You are also the kindest woman I’ve met and the love of my life. Shepard, I’m here, this isn’t a trick.” He moves to nuzzle her, wiping away the rest of her tears with his hand. She lets out a soft sigh when he moves to cup her cheek, gently stroking her cheekbone with his thumb.

“Then the stuff you said. You didn’t mean it?”

“The stuff it said was wrong.” He sighs and Shepard feels his hand shake against her skin. “If it was anything like what I had thrown at me, then yeah, it was wrong.”

That gets her attention and her head snaps up to look at him, her eyes shine more than sadness now. “What happened?”

Garrus rubs the back of his neck with the hand not clutching her, as if she might slip away again. “Oh, you know, the usual. I’m sure we will have a day-long mission debrief to go through all the wonderful experiences we’ve had.”

“But are you alright?” She questions, catching his hand and holding it tightly. She rubs small circles on the back of his hand.

“I feel like I should be asking you that.”

“Well, you know, the usual,” she echoes, giving him a small smile before rolling her shoulders and taking a deep breath. “So, James wasn’t actually James. Which still leaves us a squad member down.”

Garrus lets out a small hum as he surveys the new area they’ve reluctantly found themselves in. “So, something is trying to separate us? It would make sense, or maybe…”

He trails off, letting his words fizzle out when he nudges something with the tip of his boot. The loud clank of his heavy armour hitting its target confirms his thoughts.

Shepard watches as he squints, waving his omni-tool closer to the ground. “Shepard, this looks like a hatch. There’s something below us.”

[rezcowgirl]

I may be accepting applications for an emotional support clown soon. I can pay you in vintage Sylvanian Families. Do you know how much those go for these days? You'll basically be rich.

I don't want to talk about work forever and always, so I'm not going to. But the first layoff might come as soon as next month. We're waiting on news about whether one of our biggest projects will be refunded.

My project working with elected officials is over. It died with little forewarning. I'm a permanent employee, so I'll be worked in somewhere else at least, but that's assuming there is somewhere else.

My project was as tame as "here's how to talk to your community about substance use in a non-stigmatizing way", and I guess that's too political and "risky" now. So let me tell you, this does not bode well for our other projects.

It will either work out, or it won't. And either way, I'll be okay. I'm trying to stay level headed.

Anyway, on to the real important stuff: I am now best friends with Kuromi and My Melody. I regret to inform you that you cannot in fact marry My Melody or any other character in Hello Kitty Adventure Island. But I do not regret to inform you that I got to dance to Urban Heat's 'Right Time of Night' at goth night. And two people also asked me to dance!

Despite my occasional post-event prickly bitch bitching, I'm not often mean when people approach me with obvious romantic and/or hook-up intent at events. Provided they're not being creepy. So far, most just approach me along the lines of "Hey. Wanna dance?", and that’s fine. I’m probably alone. I get that some have the wrong assumption that I might be looking.

I do understand people who take a more aggressive shut-it-down approach. And I have been 'rude' and aggressive before. On Halloween, a guy grabbed my wing in an attempt to start up a conversation, so I yelled “WHAT THE FUCK MAN. What’s wrong with you? Piss off.” and he did actually piss off. Very quickly. Was on the other side of the room in seconds. I could tell he wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction, and I hope he learned something. 

But generally, I am really friendly in response to the question. I don't mind being approached. I will accept the compliment. I always say "Oh, thank you! JSYK I'm not looking," and I will occasionally counter offer with "But we can still dance as friends if you want?" if I like their vibes. Given that goth dancing together is usually just bopping around and occasionally smiling at one another, it’s not that weird. Maybe we’ll sing the occasional lyric at one another (I.love.this.). 

I mean, it does take courage to ask. At least for the type I seem to generally attract. They’re usually a little bit awkward and shy, like they can sense I am too and that I won’t be mean. I’ve only been brave enough to approach that one old school woman to dance myself, and I think it was very obvious I was just looking to be friends, and even so, it was still nerve wracking. But we are friends now! So it worked!

The two people that approached me were a solo woman and a solo guy. Both were really sweet. The guy was like “oh damn! So sorry!” and a bit mortified when I mentioned I'm in a relationship. The woman was a little more awkward. She started the discussion by asking me outright “are you native?” which like...what?? She was a WoC, so she got a pass, but that’s always a weird way to start a convo with anyone that isn’t also native. She asked me about a queer venue, wondering if I’ve ever been there. It was obvious she was scoping out if I was queer, so I said “me and my partner have gone there before” (which is true). Anyway, as I danced with both, I didn't feel like there was any expectation once I said my bit.

Turns out, it was BOTH of their first times at goth night, and I immediately fell into my "welcoming the newbie" mode. It’s now an enmeshed practice of mine born of being the unofficial "shy newbie welcomer" at kink events. I could tell they were both relieved to have someone to talk to. 

The “we can dance as friends” works! Most still say yes! Now these two people are potential new friends, even though I understand they might not approach again and may have just said ‘yes’ after my “not single” bit just to be nice. I don’t mind either way.

They may not have gotten exactly what they were after, but I hope they felt welcome and unafraid to go solo again.

Also, I was cute as hell.

Finally

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE GET "MOTHER RUSSIA, MOTHER RUSSIA, MOTHER RUSSIA RAIN DOWN DOWN DOWN" OUT OF MY HEAD????

[anonymousewrites]

Logos and Pathos (Book 3) Chapter Twenty-Nine

TOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Festival of Psychics

Summary: (Y/N) and their friends take on the Ogawans to protect Celia.

            “We haven’t seen what Ainoi did to (Y/N) and Alekto,” said Bones, worried. “You’d think he’d’ve come to gloat by now.”

            “Or at least tell his men,” said Kirk.

            “Captain, they don’t have communicators,” said Uhura, glancing at the guards.

            “It is interesting that none of the Ogawans speak to each other. It would suggest another mode of communication,” said Spock.

            “Have you noticed anything about the Ogawans that might help us?” said Kirk, looking at the Counselors.

            Helle shook their head. “Their emotions show up stronger for us, but their psychic abilities make it clear why.” They furrowed their brow at the memory of what the Ogawans could do.

            “Have you seen how they communicate with each other? If we could intercept something and figure out their plans in advance, we’d be able to create our own plan,” said Kirk.

            “We have no idea how they communicate,” said Coronis.

            “The only one who ever spoke over calls was Ainoi,” said Hyperion.

            “It was as if they already had every response planned. He never needed to pause or confer with anyone before responding to us,” said Leander.

            “That’s impossible,” said Uhura. “Even the best negotiators have to check with their superiors when new topics and ideas are brought up.”

            Bones nodded. “We’ve seen (Y/N) work on the fly, but even they check with Kirk with their empathy to ensure he’s satisfied.”

            Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is it possible the Ogawans are using the same technique?”

            Everyone turned to stare at him.

            “Spock, would you want to maybe explain?” said Bones.

            “We are assuming the Ogawans are only capable of psychic attacks,” said Spock. “It is possible they have additional abilities.”

            Uhura perked up. “Could telepathy be the answer to how they communicate?”

            “It would explain everything we’ve had questions about,” acknowledged Spock.

            “And it would still work with them being psychics,” said Coronis.

            “Their emotions due always seem very similar,” said Rhea. “If they share minds through telepathy, their emotions would be linked, too.”

            “So a psychic link between them all,” said Kirk.

            “Well, I’m no psychic, so how does that help us?” asked Bones.

            “People with psychic bonds are often weakened if their companion is,” said Hyperion.

            Helle nodded. “We see it commonly in married and bonded Celians sharing feelings.”

            “It is likely the Ogawans may share sensations as well,” said Nereus.

            Kirk put it together. “So if we defeat one Ogawan, we may defeat them all.”

            “A chain reaction,” translated Bones, getting straight to the point.

            “However, not all psychic bonds are strong enough to affect all members,” said Spock. “You would need to choose the right Ogawan, or else you’ll only affect the closest ones.”

            “Ainoi,” said Uhura. “He’s the leader. He has to be the center of the bond, creating all of the links with the others. Like a hub for communications—if it goes down, all channels go down.”

            Kirk furrowed his brow. “Alright. So we get to Ainoi and take him down, and it’s all over.”

            “Two problems,” said Bones. “First: We’re stuck here. Second: how do we do a psychic attack?”

            Kirk furrowed his brow. “Oh, uh…”

            “I specialize in negative emotions,” said Rhea. “I could try to affect the guards around us with fear or anger to disorient them so we have a chance to fight them.”

            “And if we get communicators, we can tell Alekto and (Y/N) to handle Ainoi,” said Uhura.

            “Wait,” said Hyperion. “This presents a risk to them.”

            “Ainoi knows their abilities,” acknowledged Spock.

            Hyperion shook his head. “No, that’s not it. The problem is their empathy. The strain of having to affect so many people are once…it will be draining.”

            Nereus nodded. “It will exhaust their mind and body.”

            “Does it risk their life?” said Spock, instantly on guard for (Y/N). He remembered the incident with the strange infection that had caused his and so many people’s inhibitions to lower. (Y/N) had combated their volatile emotions and passed out from the stress.

            “It may,” admitted Hyperion.

            So this would be even more dangerous. Spock didn’t like that. He didn’t want (Y/N) in danger.

            “Ambassador Alekto specializes in negative emotions, but she isn’t accustomed to such a large group,” said Helle worriedly.

            “But (Y/N) is strong,” said Uhura. “Alekto told us their empathic abilities are strong even for Celians.”

            “That is true,” said Leander. “Their scores in schooling were impressive. We were sad to see them go off-planet. However, this sort of strain is unprecedented. It will be fighting against other psychics’ minds and manipulating their emotions simultaneously.”

            “What if they worked together?” asked Bones. “Spread the burden.”

            “It would create less of a risk,” said Rhea.

            “Okay. Then we tell Alekto and (Y/N) to take on Ainoi together,” said Kirk.

            “Okay, then we need to decide how to get the communicator,” said Bones. “Or we’re toast.”

            “Counselors, are you willing to risk yourselves for your people?” said Kirk.

            “Of course,” said Coronis, and the others nodded in strict affirmation.

            “Then on the count of three, take down the Ogawans around us,” said Kirk. “Bones, stand by with hypos in case some of the Ogawans resist. Uhura, Spock, and I will aim to get the communicators.”

            “One…” The group readied.

            “Two…” The Celians raised their hands, and Bones flipped open his medical bag.

            “Three.”

            They all rushed forward. The Ogawans turned in alarm and raised their guns, but the Counselors grabbed six by the arms. They forced every negative emotion they could muster—even those that specialized in positive feelings—and the Ogawans collapsed. The ones untouched fell as well, the psychic links spreading the sensation through the group gathered in the room.

            Kirk, Uhura, and Spock grabbed their communicators, and Kirk flipped his open once he confirmed it was in working condition.

            “Kirk to (L/N).” Nothing. “Kirk to (L/N).”

            “What if they don’t get to their communicator?” said Bones as the group began to head into the hall to find another place to hide.

Undoubtedly, ten Ogawans going silent in the psychic link would provoke a response.

            “They will,” said Spock. “They will.” (Y/N) was the toughest person he knew. If anyone would fight for Celia, it was them.

l

            “This probably isn’t the best idea you’ve ever come up with, is it?” said Alekto.

            “Nope,” said (Y/N), picking up the chair of the office. “But at least it’s not a stupid one.”

            They threw the chair at the wall, and it broke with a cracking sound that reverberated off the walls. Within a moment, the two guards swept into the room with guns drawn.

            “Hi,” said (Y/N) brightly the moment that Alekto stepped out and grabbed their necks, forcing fear into their bodies and causing them to collapse.

            Alekto took a deep breath and looked at them. “It’s been a while since I had to actually manipulate someone’s emotions like that.”

            “Oh, really? I did it last week,” said (Y/N), looking through the Ogawans’ pockets for their communicator.

            “What?” said Alekto.

            “Yeah, there were power-hungry psychics,” said (Y/N).

            “Those seem to be common,” said Alekto.

            “Unfortunately,” said (Y/N), pulling out their communicator. It beeped, and (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief as they turned it on and Kirk’s voice came over it.

            “Kirk to (L/N),” he said.

            “(L/N) here, Captain,” said (Y/N).

            “(L/N)!” said Kirk happily. “Are you and Alekto safe?”

            “Heading out of our cell now,” said (Y/N). “Have you figured out a way to deal with the Ogawans?”

            “They’re psychically bonded,” said Spock, and (Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat at his voice. “If you affect one, the others are affected.”

            “And we need to get to Ainoi since he’s the center for all the bonds,” said Kirk.

            “But you and Alekto must work together to subdue him since the strain of such empathy risks your deaths,” said Spock sternly, communicating his worry through strict adherence to the plan.

            “Right,” said Alekto.

            (Y/N) just glanced at her. They knew the exhaustion empathy could cause. And they knew they couldn’t let anyone they cared about else risk their lives. Not if (Y/N) could do something about it.

            “Got it, Captain,” said (Y/N). “We’ll handle Ainoi. Try to get the Counselors out of here.”

            “Good luck, (L/N),” said Kirk.

            “Be smart,” said Spock. “Please.”

            “I will, Spock,” said (Y/N), and then they switched off the communicator. Smart enough to make sure no one else has to get hurt other than me. They reached out, grabbed Alekto, and forced exhaustion into her.

            “Hey-What—” Alekto collapsed.

            (Y/N) caught her and laid her down. “Sorry, Alekto. I can’t let you get hurt.”

            They looked around themselves. Ainoi wants to make a point. He needs to be able to see other Celians. So…a view of the lawn. They looked out of the room and spied the staircase near them. Oh, a roof. Lovely. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. Alright. Empath vs telepath. Let’s go.

l

            “Alright, where do you think they’re storing the device that’s keeping us in?” said Kirk as he, Spock, Uhura, Bones, and the Counselors of Celia crept through the halls of the Council Building.

            “Close to the entrance,” said Spock. “We didn’t have a chance to look since our immediate concern was the counselors, but it is the most likely place.”

            “Can you rewire the device or at least break it?” asked Kirk.

            “The Ogawans were relying on their psychic attacks to control the Celians. They didn’t anticipate much need for technology,” said Spock. “It is possible it will be a simple device.”

            “I can give you some help,” said Uhura as they neared the entrance.

            “We’ll cover you,” said Kirk as he spied the Ogawans and ran out with the Celians.

            The Ogawans turned and focused their psychic abilities on the Counselors, who cried out and fell to their knees.

            “Spock, Uhura, now!” said Kirk.

            The pair ran forward to the doorway and searched along the edges until they found a thin device. Behind them, Kirk and Bones dodged blasts from the Ogawans’ phasers. Kirk punched out and stole the weapon. Bones sunk a hypo into another while Kirk fired for cover.

Spock pulled the device out, and Uhura pulled a pin from her hair. She forced it open, and Spock broke apart the right wires. The force field went down while Kirk fired for cover.

            “Go, go, go!” shouted Kirk.

            Bones, Uhura, and Spock grabbed the Counselors and helped pull them outside while Kirk continued firing the phaser. Ultimately, it stalled, but he had managed to give them a chance to escape the building.

            “Oh my god, are you guys alright?” said Merope, running out from behind the courtyard statues and various decorations people were hiding behind. “Where’s Alekto?!”

            “Yeah, yeah, we’re dandy,” groaned Bones.

            “Alekto’s with (Y/N),” said Kirk.

            “What’s going on out here?” said Coronis.

            “Where’s Alekto?” repeated Merope. “Where’s my wife?!”

            “The Ogawans took her and Alekto,” said Uhura. “But we got word from them, they’re alright. She’s alright.” Merope breathed a sigh of relief, and her shoulders sagged. “Now, what’s going on?” asked Uhura gently.

            “They keep targeting Celians,” said Merope, looking around at the Celians stuck on the lawn due to the attacks. “From up on the roof, balconies, and the windows, those assholes keep using psychic attacks. People are badly hurt, but we’re not letting anyone else from the city come up because we can’t let anyone else get hurt.”

            “Is anyone dead?” asked Helle, frightened of the answer.

            Merope shook her head. “No.”

            “Take me to them,” said Bones. “I’ll try to help.”

            “Alright,” said Merope, leading him away but not before glancing back at the Council Building worriedly. Her wife was in there…she wouldn’t rest until she knew Alekto was safe.

            Spock had the same line of thinking. (Y/N) still hadn’t reported back in. He hated not knowing if they were safe and not being there to help them.

            “Captain Kirk,” said another Celian, running up. It was Eirene, (Y/N)’s mother. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

            “They were with you when you went in,” said Nikomedes, their father. “What happened?”

            “They’re alive,” said Spock. “They escaped the Ogawans holding them with Alekto.”

            “Why aren’t they with you?” said Eirene, brow creased in worry, and her husband reached for her hand as her emotions swirled in a cloud of concern.

            “They were separated from us,” said Kirk. “But they’re alright, and they’re doing their job.”

            “You mean they’re still in there? But…,” said Nikomedes protectively.

            “Mr. (L/N), Mrs. (L/N),” said Spock, and (Y/N)’s parents turned to look at him. “(Y/N) is an officer of Starfleet—an exceptional one, at that. This is what they were meant to do. If anyone can succeed, it is them.”

l

            (Y/N) found the hatch to the roof already open. They took a deep breath and pulled themself through it. They dared a glance down and found themself high above the ground below. They could just make out the yellow, blue, and red of their friends’ uniforms.

            They made it out, thought (Y/N), smiling. Good. That was one less thing to worry about.

            Turning, they inched their way out farther onto the roof and spotted Ainoi standing at the edge and staring down at the people below. Every Celian he stared at cowered as psychic energy attacked their mind.

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. They wouldn’t let him and the Ogawans hurt any more people.

l

            “Is that (Y/N)?” said Uhura, eyes widening as she stared up at the building. “On the roof?”

            “It must be Ainoi,” said Spock.

            “But where’s Alekto?” said Kirk.

            Spock stiffened as (Y/N) had done just what he should have known they would. “(Y/N) subdued her so she wouldn’t be put into danger.”

            “But that means (Y/N) will be using their own mind to take down an entire army of psychics,” said Uhura in shock. “That could—” She didn’t dare finish the sentence.

            “Yes,” said Spock, staring upwards. Come on, Thy’la. Please. Come back to me. I love you, T’hy’la.

l

            (Y/N) lunged forwards to grab at Ainoi, but he turned, his telepathy stronger than the other Ogawans. He sensed their empathy reached for him and glared. (Y/N) cried out and fell to their knees as the pressure in their mind increased tenfold from what it had been last time.

            “Do you really think a simple empath can take on an entire army of telepaths?” sneered Ainoi, looking down at (Y/N). “The only reason your type of psychic even exists is to appease everyone around them.” Ainoi scoffed as (Y/N) groaned and held their head. “Just another pretty face that is trying to be powerful when they’re not. Pathetic.” He turned away to face the Celians below again. “It’s time for your type to roll over and die if you can’t do what you’re told.”

            (Y/N)’s hand reached out and grabbed his ankle. Ainoi looked down in surprise as (Y/N) glared at him, and the heat of their anger began to spread into his body. He stumbled back and fell.

            “I am not just a pretty face,” spat (Y/N), dragging themself to their feet. Ainoi scrambled away and tried to summon more psychic power, but (Y/N)’s empathy strengthened with their emotions, and they pushed back against his attempts to hurt them. “And I am powerful.” (Y/N) grabbed his face. “More powerful than your people will ever be.” Ainoi’s eyes widened as he felt the empathy begin to invade his mind. “Because emotions are powerful.” Ainoi gasped as (Y/N)’s power spread into the psychic links between him and his people. “I’ve taught a lot of power-crazed people that lesson.” (Y/N)’s eyes blazed gold. “It’s your turn.”

            (Y/N) summoned all their strength and sent their pure empathic power through Ainoi and all the psychic bonds he held within him. They find the threads connecting the Ogawans and snapped them with golden power.

            They felt each Ogawan struggle against them before collapsing. Theirs was a power the Ogawans had no way—no hope—to combat. (Y/N) refused to let up until Ainoi’s mind was alone in the universe, isolated from every other beings’ thoughts. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he went limp as (Y/N)’s power overwhelmed him.

            (Y/N) let go and stepped back. They stumbled and tried to stay standing as their vision swam. The strain of what they had just done set in. (Y/N) was exhausted—body and mind. The world spun around them, and (Y/N) couldn’t tell if they were falling unconscious or their body was just giving up on them.

            (Y/N) grabbed the slope of the room to hold themself steady and opened their communicator. “Spock,” they croaked. “Spock.”

            Instantly, Spock’s voice came over the channel. “(Y/N), you did it. The Ogawans are subdued; the Celians are alright. You can come down, now.”

            “Oh…good,” breathed (Y/N), the exhaustive effort they were putting into remaining awake clear. Everything ached, and they just wanted to let go.

            “(Y/N)?” said Spock, hearing the dangerous amount of tiredness and pain in their tone.

            “Spock, can you tell my mom and dad I love them?” said (Y/N), blinking as their vision darkened at the edges.

            “You can tell them yourself as soon as you come down,” said Spock, his heart clenching as he realized what (Y/N) was doing. They were speaking as if these were their last words.

            “Sure…” murmured (Y/N), groaning as their head ached agonizingly. “Hey, Spock, I want you to know…I want to be with your forever…if you’d have me. I love you, Spock.” They collapsed, and their communicator fell from their hand.

            “T’hy’la?” said Spock, staring up at the roof where (Y/N) lay in their gold dress, unmoving. “T’hy’la, stay awake. You have to stay awake…because I love you, too.”

            (Y/N) smiled as their consciousness left them. If those were the last words they heard, they’d be content.

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[innytoes]

Chaotic Prompts II: Electric Boogaloo

It fucken wimdy

What do you mean, the raccoon stole the ring you planned to propose with?

I am straight up not having a good time right now

Come here you little gremlin

I am being so normal about this

Should I even ask or should I just assume the answer to your current predicament is 'I'm stupid'?

Excuse me, I'm not done saying hi to your dog yet

When I said 'be gay do crime' I did not mean this

Stop flirting with yourself in the mirror

It's a trash can, not a trash can't

Okay but serious question: What's your favourite dinosaur?

Get down from there

Oh, you're being gay. Good job, carry on

My tummy hurts but I'm being so brave about it

Yeet!

I got you Oreos as a peace offering

I came out to have a good time and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now

I am a pretty, pretty princess, thank you for noticing

Oh no you activated their Mom Friend Mode

So basically your roommate is a cat?

Okay so I can explain

Why is your arm stuck in the vending machine?

Let's go, lesbians!

I can't believe our first date ended up in the emergency room

Hi Hungry, I'm dad

You bought him a cake that said 'nice ass, bro'

How am I supposed to Kiss Kiss, Fall In Love in these conditions?

You know, because of colour theory

If I were an alien I'd abduct you first

You could if you weren't a fucking coward

No thoughts, head empty

Please don't ever refer to yourself as that again

I feel like you're not taking this powerpoint presentation about why you should date me very seriously.

I'm just a silly little guy

The last thing you ate is what we have to name him... um, okay maybe not that.

I am a grown-ass adult and if I want to spend my hard-earned money on this I will!

Weird flex but okay

Fire solves all problems

What would your rather find living in your attic? 1000 roaches or one person?

I'm too pretty to be dealing with this

The house is burning, and you can save the cake, or me, what do you choose? / That's not fair, the cake doesn't have legs.

Have you no shame?

You are the yee to my haw

In my defence the five year old started it

So hear me out... we kidnap him...

I'm sorry I can't keep making out if your cat keeps staring at us like that

Kissing the homies goodnight

I'd beat up Satan for you

Eff this, I should be at the club

Eff this, I should be at Build-a-Bear

How are you going to gaslight gatekeep girlboss your way out of this?

You may not believe in mothman, but mothman believes in you

I am so totally chill right now

At the next inconvenience I will start biting people

They smell like sparkles and sunshine and I want to kiss their stupid face so bad

I'm sorry you broke your arm how?

We take stuffed animals very seriously in this house

Yeah that sounds like a you problem

Do you need a hug? You just seem very upset over the shape of these potatoes

Mistakes were made

I'm not like other girls. I'm worse.

They cut your grilled cheese into triangles, that means they're in love with you, bro

Is this a mid-life crisis because if it is I'm a bit worried about your lifespan.

Just because you can buy a box of five hundred tiny plastic meerkats does not mean you should.

Aww, it's baby's first war crime.

I don't think pancakes are going to fix this. I think I need ice cream too.

(For more chaotic prompts, part one is here.)

[chicaotaku-fanfics]

There's Three of You?! Pt. 18

Now, finally, FINALLY, part 3/3 of the arc... which ended up being longer than I ever thought, so, my bad on that front. Stillo, hope you enjoy.

Also, yes, this pic if from the actual YouTube promo pic of the trial scene.

Warnings: foul language, might be some medical inconsistencies .

CHAPTER 18

I was standing outside the courtroom, trying to comprehend what had just happened when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist and a voice whispered in my ear.

“So dear wife, what should we do about this seemingly huge problem of people assuming we’re married?” Jay asked me, I leaned on him.

“No idea. I mean, we do share our mom’s face shape, but your hair color and mine are two tones apart. Not to mention you have green eyes and mine are brown.” I paused for a second, we heard footsteps approaching us, we turned as one and we were face to face with Erin, Dr. Charles, Al, Ruzek and Atwater.

“Do we really look so different that people can confuse us with a married couple instead of seeing we’re siblings?” we asked at the same time.

“When you do that, you’re clearly siblings.” said Erin.

“Hell, even your expression’s the same.” Ruzek added.

“But then you act like that…” started Atwater, pointing to how Jay was hugging me from behind. “and I can see why people think you’re married.” he added.

“I honestly thought you were a couple the first time we met Lilly.” said Al, I blushed and then groaned, at the same time Jay groaned too.

“Anyway, where’s Voight?” asked Jay, going into business mode again.

“He’s speaking with Dana about taking the stand.” said Al, we nodded, just then we heard a phone ding, one of us had a text message, we all checked, it was mine. I raise my phone to indicate it was me who got a text.

From: Big Red ❤️

Why did I have to hear from the hospital’s rumor mill that you’re at court today?

To: Big Red ❤️

To be honest, no one should’ve known

But when you have someone like Doris in the ED… news fly

From: Big Red ❤️

Fair point.

Still… what are you doing there?

Is this because of Jay’s call the other day?

To: Big Red ❤️

It is.

I’ll explain as soon as I can.

From: Big Red ❤️

Very well. Take care, please.

To: Big Red ❤️

I will.

Love you Will

❤️

From: Big Red ❤️

Love you too LilyBloom 

❤️

To: Big Red ❤️ ❤️

“Excuse us.” we heard, making us all turn to see who wanted our attention. To our surprise, some of the former patients of this… monster approached us, and I listened to each and everyone of them. I extended my business card, the hospital one, to all of them.

“I know it’s not much, and you all may not even trust doctors at this point. But if it’s worth something, here’s my card. You call me and I’ll make sure you are referred to the best oncologists Chicago Med has to offer.” I said, extending the card to the sixth woman of the group standing before me.

“Not only that, on my part, I can offer free therapy sessions with the best psychiatrists and psychologists Med has to offer.” Dr. Charles said, extending his business card. They all took the cards.

“Thank you. It’s nice to see that not all doctors see us as a way to cash a paycheck.” said one of them, I nodded.

“«If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.»” I recited the exact part of the Hippocratic Oath that always resonated with me, since even before entering med school; to always stay humble and understand I’m not God to save everyone.

Everyone looked at me, the Intelligence Unit were all shocked, Jay looked at me with pride in his eyes, Dr. Charles looked satisfied and proud, the women smiled, I smiled at them. One of them walked to me and took my hands in hers.

“Thank you, Dr. Halstead… for giving us back hope that’ll we get better.” said the woman, I squeezed her hands.

“You have nothing to thank me for.” I said, the smile still on my face. Then, the woman pulled me into a hug. I was surprised for a second, but hugged her back.

Not long after we were all called back inside, I guided the woman I was hugging, and the rest followed her lead. We all let them go in first, then we entered and it was then that Voight was called to the stand.

“All three victims were in contact with each other, comparing notes. We know this from their phone records.” Voight started to explain  “After their December 10th meeting with Dr. Reybold, they agreed to an experimental treatment which, in actuality, was simply twice the usual dose of chemo.” he continued. “The following week, he upped it to three times the amount. By the time they wound up in the hospital, it was at seven times.” he added.

“Because they confronted him about what he did, and he was afraid of being exposed.” Dana said, I wanted to facepalm myself, but couldn’t.

Don’t say it like that or they’ll say you’re…

“Objection. Counsel is testifying.” said Reybold’s lawyer.

“Sustained.” said the judge.

“In your investigation, did you find it suspicious three patients met with the doctor one day…”

“Objection. No one knows what transpired in this meeting.” that woman interrupted, again.

“That's because everyone in that meeting besides Dr. Reybold is dead or in a coma.” said Dana, looking at the jury.

“You Honor.” said the dirty blonde woman.

“One more time, and you're in contempt.” said the judge, I started to worry.

“Could the amounts the patients received have been lab mistakes?” asked Dana.

“No, Dr. Reybold's signature was on every order.” Voight answered.

“Well, what about a dosing error?” she asked this time.

“His staffer testified that Dr. Reybold personally administered those doses.”

“But the staffer cut a deal.” said Dana.

“That doesn't mean it wasn't the truth.” said Voight, I bit the inside of my cheek not to laugh.

“Objection. Improper opinion.” said Dr. Reybold’s lawyer.

“Sustained.” said the judge.

“What about any other witnesses who…” Dana started but was, again, interrupted.

“Asked and answered.” said the doctor’s attorney.

It’s starting to get really hard not to slap her.

“Yes, Ms. Shelby, move on.” said the judge, I believe two seconds away from slapping Dana.

“Your Honor, someone has to speak for these victims.” she said.

“You don't speak. You ask questions. And if nobody else saw the doctor dosing…” said the judge, before he was interrupted by Voight.

“Someone else did.” he said, making everyone turn to him. “Me. I saw Dr. Reybold dose a patient. My wife. I saw Dr. Reybold dose my wife Camille who died of cancer under Dr. reybold's care six years ago.” said Voight, leaving me speechless.

I turned to see Jay asking if he knew about it with my eyes, his expression told me it was a first for him too.

“Sergeant Voight…” started Dana

“I'm a witness. I saw him dose a patient.” he said.

“The state has no further questions for this witness.” she said, going back to her seat.

“Well, I have a few.” said Dr. Reybold’s attorney.

Oh no… Lord help us all.

“Losing your wife to cancer must have been very painful, sergeant.” she made a pause. “Can you talk about your wife's illness?” she asked.

“Camille was referred to Dr. Reybold when her ovarian cancer returned. He recommended an aggressive course and then a second round when that didn't get it all.” Voight started to speak. I was in absolute shock, and by Jay’s expression, I could tell he was in the same state I was. “She was cold all the time… Couldn't keep food down. Memory went in and out. She… She was depressed. She fought as hard as she could, but…” he continued, but had to pause.

“She sounds brave.” the woman said.

“She was.” he added.

“You're still in mourning over your wife's death.” said the lawyer, taking a step forward. “Isn't that what this is about?” she asked, my jaw almost hit the ground.

The AUDACITY?! Have some respect, lady!

“No.” Voight said firmly.

“How gratifying would it be to help convict Dr. Reybold?” she asked.

“It would be very gratifying.” said Voight.

“No further questions.” she said, sounding smug as if she had won, while going back to her seat.

“For all his victims.” Voight added, making the woman turn to him again.

“I said no further questions. You answered exactly as I expected you to.” she said, as if explaining her reasoning would make a difference.

“Redirect? What other victims are you referring to, Sergeant Voight?” asked Dana, and I could finally see the pieces falling into place.

“Objection.” said the dirty blonde lawyer.

“Ms. Green questioned my witness about one prior patient, Camille voight. Now she opened the door to the other 42 patients he treated.” explained Dana.

Oh… so that’s her name.

“She's right. Overruled.” said the judge

“What other victims?” Dana asked again.

“Helen Graham… Nia Felten… Priya Parvati… Anne Gamerman… And 38 other people this doctor diagnosed with cancer they didn't have and treated with chemo they didn't need.” Voight said, listing four women literally making me want to strangle Reybold.

“And how do you know this to be true?” asked Dana.

“Because he said so himself in court under oath.” Voight answered with zero hesitation.

“Objection!” exclaimed Ms. Green.

Not so confident now, huh?

“Overruled. Continue.” said the judge.

“Dr. Reybold confessed to personally poisoning 42 patients, ruining their lives, terrifying them and their families, and he did it all for a payout, and he admitted to all of this as part of a deal he made with the state of Illinois, copping to fraud." Voight pretty much accused Reybold, looking directly at the jury.

As he did that, Dana walked to her seat and grabbed a stack of papers.

“This deal, Sergeant Voight?” she asked, as she made her way to Voight, only to show him the deal.

”That's the one.” he said.

“The state would like to enter into evidence case number 111 496 and amend its witness list by 42 people.” Dana said, as she went and handed a copy of the deal and updated list to the judge, and then going towards the side where Reybold and his team are seated to practically slam that same document in Ms. Green’s seat.

Oh my God… it looks like we’ll actually win this thing.

We were allowed a break while the jury deliberated the verdict, and I could only hope for the best. Just then, Ruzek walked over to me, standing at my side.

“Hey.” he said, hands in his pockets.

“Hey Ruz.” I said, a coffee cup in my hand.

“What you did was really brave. Helping us by going undercovered, and now testifying against this… monster.” he said, I turned to look at him.

“I’m a firm believer that, if you see someone doing the wrong thing and you don’t speak up, then you’re just as guilty. This man caused three women to land in the hospital, the exact same day, two of them dying because of an overdose… that’s a very long shot away from the « First do no harm » part of the Hippocratic Oath.” I said, he turned to look at me, I turned to look at him.

“Still, I just wanted to say, great job. And thank you.” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. I nodded and smiled at him.

Al was the one to come get us for the hearing of the verdict.

“On the count of narcotic induced homicide of Danielle Frank…” asked the judge.

“We find the defendant guilty.” said the jury.

I let out a sigh of immense relief, Jay mirroring it, and reached out to hold his hand. He grabs on to me without hesitation, I turn to him, and he turns to me. Our eyes say it all.

We got him.

“On the count of narcotic induced attempted homicide of Carol Shepperd…” the man asked again, this time with another woman’s name.

“We find the defendant guilty.” said the jury again.

“On the count of narcotic induced attempted homicide of Leah Kamen…” asked the judge, again with a different name.

And that was the last one.

“We find the defendant guilty.” said the jury a third time.

I nodded my head once, glad that we got justice for all these women.

“Defendant is remanded into custody until such time as a sentencing hearing is scheduled.” he slammed his gavel down, finally putting an end to this torture,  “Bailiff.” he added, calling on to the court officer.

“Hank, your wife did not suffer needlessly. You have to believe me. The cancer did come back. I never harmed Camille. These patients, I was their only hope. They got years because of me. You can't put someone away for saving lives.” Dr. Reybold started saying, desperation clear in his voice and expression, even more so apparent when the officer put the cuffs on him to take him away. “You can't!” he practically growled at Voight. “I wasn't harming them. I was helping them. Helping!” he exclaimed, even as he was led away from the room.

I stood up as soon as Jay did, looking down at my blazer to fix it.

We all walked out the courtroom, Jay behind me, and I said goodbye to all the victims of the man we just got sent away. As we continue to walk out of the courthouse as a group, I suddenly feel Jay’s presence fade, and eventually, only Dr. Charles and I are walking out of the place, only to be surrounded by news reporters.

That little shit… of course, Voight’s number 2 rule: never show your face to the media.

It takes about 20 min to finally manage to escape the reporters, because yes, even if we tried stopping them from asking us questions, they know which buttons to push to get answers, like the last question they asked me.

“Dr Halstead do you think those women are at fault here?” asked one of the reporters.

“Excuse me?” I asked back.

The fuck he just insinuated?

“Yeah, I mean, they trusted Dr. Reybold for their treatment. Shouldn’t that make them responsible for how their life’s turned out for the worse?” asked the man. I took a deep breath.

“First of all, that was rude as hell, and I will not tolerate any disrespect towards the victims of Dr. Reybold’s horrible schemes.” That sentence alone seemed to make all the idiots shut up. “Second of all, have some empathy, imagine if one of them was your wife, or your mother, your aunt, your daughter, would you dare ask such a morbid question?” half of them had the decency to look ashamed of themselves. “And third of all, they were deceived by a psychopathic doctor who has a God complex and absolutely no remorse for his actions, even going as far as still claiming he was helping these women as he was escorted out of the courtroom.” I made a pause, looking to my right when I noticed movement, it was the women. I turned back to the crowd. “As a doctor, I took an oath to do no harm, and what Dr. Reybold did is an insult to that oath. So no, these women are not responsible for what that monster did to them. And if you believe that for so much as a second, then I recommend you reevaluate your life choices so far… because somewhere along the way you chose to become a self-centered asshole who only looks after himself.” I said, turning to leave, then I turned again to see them all. “Sorry for the crude language.” I said with the fakest sweet smile I could muster and then just walked away.

We all made it to Molly’s for a drink, as soon as we entered Herrmann called the attention of everyone there.

“The heroes have arrived! Please give a round of applause to the elite team who got a psycho out of the streets!” he exclaimed, everyone started cheering, I then noticed that not only were the members of 51 present, but also Will, Connor, Sarah, Ethan, April, Ms. Goodwin, Maggie and Natalie were here too. “And please, an even bigger round of applause for Dr. Lillian Mariane Halstead, who humbled a bunch of reporters on national TV!” Herrmann added, unmuting the TV just as the reporters appeared back on the screen, there were two women -Camille Robinson and Dianne Johnson- and a man -Bill Klint-, watching the end of my outburst, waiting to give their opinion.

“That was Dr. Lillian Halstead, giving a statement earlier this afternoon after the trial against Dr. Dean Reybold, and she couldn’t be more right. What happened to the victims of this unfortunate case is nothing short of a horror movie, but thanks to the Intelligence Unit from CPD’s District 21, Dr. Daniel Charles -head of psychiatry at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center-, and Dr. Lillian Marianne Halstead -a junior resident emergency medicine physician at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center-, these women can finally put this nightmare behind them. Our condolences go to them and their families.” said Bill, then Dianne turned to him.

“Absolutely Bill, but not only is Dr. Halstead right, she proved that there are still doctors who see their patients as human beings and not another paycheck, which personally, gives me back hope in the people working in the medical system.” she said.

“And not only that, we also got footage from inside the courthouse, where Dr. Halstead can be seen comforting the victims and reciting, by heart, part of the Hippocratic Oath.” said Camillethis time.

“No way! By heart? Really?” asked Bill.

“Really, let’s check it.” said Camille. The image on the screen changed, I could immediately tell that the person recorded this from the corner of the hall where our courtroom was.

“«If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.»” and indeed there was I, reciting my oath for the victims to see that not all doctors are a lost cause. The scene ended with the woman hugging me, and me hugging her back.

“Woooow!” exclaimed Bill, seconded by Dianne.

“Well, that was just beautiful.” said Dianne.

“Not to mention inspiring.” Bill chimed in.

“I know right! Guess we now know that Gaffney’s the place to go in case of emergencies.” Dianne spoke again.

“Definitely, I can honestly say that if I want anyone treating me in case of an emergency is, hands down, Dr. Lillian Halstead.” said Camille.

“I second that!” exclaimed Dianne.

“Me third!” Bill exclaimed. “It’s nice to know that there are still doctors out there that are not all ego.” he added, then he turned to the camera. “Dr. Halstead, if you’re watching this, thank you for being an example of what a good doctor should be like.” he said, starting to clap, Dianne and Camille joined him.

“Indeed.” said Dianne.

“Maybe you won’t be able to hear this, but everyone at the studio is giving you a big round of applause Dr. Halstead. Thank you for helping the people of this city regain their trust in medical professionals back.” said Camille, and with that Herrmann muted the TV again, I was as red as a tomato.

“Come on doc, give a little speech.” he said, I declined, not really feeling like I did a big thing, but everyone started chanting, so I calmed everyone.

“Okay, okay. Uhm… I honestly don’t know what to say. I just… I saw these three women arriving in the ED, two sadly passed, still having their whole lives ahead of them, and a greedy doctor cut those lives short. I wasn’t gonna stand there doing nothing when someone was breaking the most important part of THE oath every doctor takes before practicing… we could say that I just acted. And I’ll continue to do so, for the benefit of my patients, and the city.” I said, everyone cheered again, Jay hugged me from the side, Will stood up and walked over to us to hug me too.

  Well one of the reporters was right. Finally, the nightmare is over.

FINALLY! The arc is over, and with Lilly appearing on the news, she'll be benched from UC work for a while, meaning, she'll focus on her doctor work! Yey!

[incorrectmahabharatquotes]

I know the history of the word Hindu. I was simply using it to give you clarity.

You've made your perspective clear. Deflection and whataboutism are your weapons.

You are so quick to play your dalit card everywhere, but you forget that dalits were among the persecuted Hindus too. I never denied that the caste system is evil and needs to be gone completely. Why bring it up in a conversation where it wasn't even an issue?

You're so far into your leftie liberal mode that you don't even realise that you're here because of the efforts of fellow Hindus' efforts to abolish the caste system and bring in reservations to compensate for the oppression. It's still a work in progress but there's definitely progress.

Moreover, had this nation been running on the same values as Islamic rulers of the past who broke our temples, you'd be killed just for being a queer or being a Hindu who didn't convert.

Just look at the minorities in other Islamic countries.

But you won't, I know. Because hating fellow Hindus and denying history is more important for you. It's the cool thing to do these days.

One day you'll learn, hopefully soon. I wish you luck. 🙏

How dare you say Babasaheb Ambedkar was a Hindu when he died a Buddhist and swore to not die a Hindu. How dare you insist that the real people who worked towards societal change for women, Dalit and Adivasi people, like Jyotiba Phule and Savitribai Phule, did so at 0 cost of their 'Hindu' society. Savitribai Phule did not have shit flung at her every day by brahmins for you to say 'Hindu' as though they weren't the ones who opposed her attempt to educate girls.

How dare you, lastly, insist that Dalits are ALSO Hindu, as though they haven't been dehumanised and humiliated for centuries on end and prevented from entering temples out of 'Impurity'.

In all our arguments, I find it INCREDIBLY funny that you seem to always focus on Muslim invaders, but never at all focus on the kind of bullshit the British wrecked on us. I'll tell you why: its because the British were the ones to club ALLLLLLL these varied identities together under a wishy washy 'Hindu' label in censuses. Dalit people are also under this label BECAUSE OF CLERICAL LAZINESS.

And this shit worked PERFECTLY for Hindu Nationalists. The more uniform our 'identity' got, the better. But of course, caste was essential to the functioning of 'Hindu' society.

So I give you this chance to inform me: What kind of society acts like this? Why are Dalit children beaten in schools for touching the wrong water pot? And forgive me for assuming, but if you have a household help who comes by, why do you treat her in a way which is 'different' to your family? Why is your circle of friends the same 3 people from the same community? Why do we live in this kind of society? What morality are we functioning on? Tell me, without resorting to justifying henious acts by saying 'Dharma'. I dare you.

-Mod G

--------------------------------------------------

Hello again, Anon-Who-Has-Unfollowed-But-Is-Still-Here-Inexplicably,

Mod G actually replied to you before I did. You didn't say about their reply. That's fascinating. They answered your ask in a far more direct way so I thought adding the same thing would be redundant. Turns out, it wouldn't have been redundant because you didn't even read what they said. Who knew.

You know what? I actually did say what the conquerors did was wrong. I directly talked about it. That's not what-aboutery. Did you not even read that part? I said what they did was wrong and what you're doing is wrong too. (I'm saying it again because you seem to be under the impression that I'm not holding these historical figures responsible for their actions sufficiently enough for your taste.)

I talked about being dalit in terms of reclamation and reparation. It is directly related to the topic you were talking about. Sure, free to tell me that I should be grateful to my "fellow Hindus" and should express that gratefulness by shutting my mouth and not criticizing them when they're doing something wrong. Got it. All that work-in-progress you talk about but I should still know my place and not speak over savarna Hindus. Understood.

Newsflash, the said beloved Hindus will ALSO gladly kill me for being a queer, as you put it. Right now, in fact. We're not exactly a queer-friendly nation, if you haven't noticed.

You also seem to be under the impression that Hindus=Hindutva which is just a wrong assumption on your part. In fact, from all the replies we're getting it seems to me that the other Hindus disagree with your hindutva politics. What do you make of that?

But yes, I'm a filthy leftie liberal blah-blah. I'm hating Hindus because I said something they're doing is wrong. But all you do is keep talking about Muslims and Islamic countries and don't even wonder why.

-Mod S